there is a knock on the door

 

There is a knock on the door.

It is the balcony door and the balcony is several feet off the ground and also barricaded so not a normal entrance way.

I open the door.

It is the squirrel.

 

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I think maybe I’m not ready to get quite this close to the squirrel so I close the door and give him some space.

 

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The next time I open the balcony door, there is a ginormous acorn on the door step.

 

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There are two ways to interpret this:

One: A ginormous acorn fell on the balcony and the squirrel was on his way to retrieve it when I rudely interrupted him by opening the door.

Two: The squirrel left me a present.

 

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Who knew squirrels were so romantic?

 

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PS: Because I know at least half the people out there — and probably more — think I am overly imaginative and make this stuff up to be whimsical, here is a photo of the ginormous acorn the squirrel left me as a present. (It is next to a lighter too for scale.)

 

the guacamole chronicles

 

Long long ago —

In a galaxy far far away [okay Austin but quit it I am trying to set a tone here] I moved to [yes] Austin and I and a bunch of friends went to the Austin film festival. [Okay two years ago stop it what about setting tone here was not clear?] And a bunch of us were roaming about after a festival movie looking for a place to land and decided that place was my place but we needed supplies so we hit Whole Foods for snacks and beverages and spent way too much money and brought our supplies back to my place to carry on the party and —

Someone tried to make guacamole.

One of the friends here on that fateful night was Kitty, and Kitty [who has known me a long time and also was my hostess on an occasion over an entire summer] had never actually seen me do anything more crafty preparing food than make coffee [which she taught me to do but that is not my fault, that coffee machine was crafty] or pull string cheese out of a refrigerator.

 

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[Seriously, that’s me making coffee below on Kitty’s “coffee” machine, look at that machine? It has extra controls to go to Venus and also to re-establish the space time continuum if anyone is dumb enough to break it.]

 

 

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So Kitty was utterly agog when I took the guacamole fixings away from a native Texan and said, That’s not guacamole, this is guacamole, and —

Made guacamole.

Which, grant you, is not cooking, but since the most food preparation Kitty had ever seen me complete was to pull string cheese out of a refrigerator, was like the second coming to Kitty. And also, the guacamole was good.

 

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My friend Kitty is from Louisiana. Where everyone can cook and dance. I kid you not. Men. Women. Children. Small house pets? They all dance and cook. This is really cool if you like to dance. [I do.] Also Louisiana is the only place in the US of A where you will see eighteen year old men arguing over whose red beans and rice recipe is better, or see three year olds arm wrestling for their grandmother’s secret recipe for the perfect file spice combo.

When you come from a land where everyone can cook, like Kitty does, and can really cook, like Kitty can, if you have a female friend who cannot cook, you sort of get worried about her. She’s handicapped, and you do not know how she will find love, with this tragic handicap. And if you love her, and want her to find love and be happy, you really worry. Which Kitty does. So Kitty worried about me a lot because of this strange cooking handicap, and then —

Holy crap Max can make guacamole!

 

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The guacamole discovery would appear in funny ways over the coming months [okay years, quit it]. Saint Patrick’s Day rolled around and Kitty planned a party. And, told me to be there three hours early to make guacamole. And, she got all the guacamole fixings!

It does not take three hours to make guacamole. But this was Kitty’s strategic way of showing off my guacamole making skills to the menfolk.

It didn’t work. I’m Scots. That’s right next to Ireland. I’m not showing up three hours early to make guacamole. I hit Sixth Street, drank way more than was healthy, and no guacamole got made.

Kitty was sad.

Flash forward —

 

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There have been multiple guacamole incidents. You do not need all those details. We are moving forward. I met a man. He’s nice. I like him. Kitty likes him. I told him the guacamole chronicles. He thought they were funny. I think they are funny. But I said, Watch, Kitty will want to do the guacamole thing.

The next day, Kitty said, Make him your guacamole.

Score! I am a total sooth sayer here! YAY!

I tell him. He laughs. I laugh.

Here is the thing. He told me a secret.

He hates guacamole.

We are trying to figure out how to tell Kitty.

 

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Still here? Bonus guacamole read yay! : :::gangrene and the avacado thumb of death:::

 

love and the big yellow dog

 

There is a woman —

Who walks a big yellow dog past my place. She always wears a nice dress and shoes. She is always quiet and frowning a little. Tonight she and her yellow dog went by with a nice man. You could tell he was nice because he had a good smile and that sort of good timber in his voice that says someone has heart and he bent his head just so to listen when she talked. And she was laughing and smiling and suddenly pretty. I love that. I hope he walks with her and her dog again.

 

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where that art work comes from :
that is from the inktracks blog

 

how you may fall for a girl on facebook

 

 

dear cbs

 

Examining yourself for —

Testicular cancer is not “A Valentine’s Day Gift.”

Just sayin’

 

Love and Kisses,

That Adams Girl

 

where the art work comes from:
that is from chaovsky

bad dates

 

No, that is not a Raiders quote —

“Date” dates as in the tragic courting ritual our society has melded into an extreme form of torture involving a man and a woman — or, if you aren’t straight, two people of the same gender — who are somehow trapped in the same room together with a suggestion romance might in some way ensue from the experience of small talk and chewing lettuce while surreptitiously checking your teeth to make sure there is nothing stuck on them that might make you look like a glaring dork to your prospective soul mate.

For some reason, people think of me when they hear about bad dates. I have no idea why –– okay I do but I am not telling — but I get lots of links and anecdotes. This started on FB tonight and mildly snow balled and I am not one to miss an opportunity to post something that requires the bare minimum of typing and wit from me so you get the benefit of the bad date snow flurry. Yay!

 

•from david l: :::The Italian from Brooklyn:::
[really this is all David’s fault too he started it]
•from raincoaster: :::Worst Date Ever, AKA Dear Rebecca:::
•from max: :::Breadsticks from Hell:::
•from tommy t: :::A Wink & a Slap:::
•from max: :::Run Olga Run!:::
•from teddy z: :::How Not to Act on J-Date:::

 

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*Did you hit all the links? Do not be a fool! Hit those links!

 

where the art work comes from :
that is from garron nicholls

return of my favorite valentine’s day cartoon ever

 

Probably my favorite favorite cartoon in the whole world happy Valentine’s Day yay!

 

 

 

where that comic is from :
that is from cyanide and happiness at explosm.net

oh my god score!

 

Oh my God! Score! Remember the Shatner/Koko story? I got so much crap from that from this person who kept writing me and posting me vilifying me for that story telling me it was made up and wrong and calling me severely questionable names.

Well. Today someone sent me Youtube proof! Shatner met with Koko. Yay! Take that you internet stalker!

[Okay the music is kinda cheesey but I am so vindicated! Yay yay yay!]

 

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special thanks to :
@clmerle for sending this clip

return to max saves ginny’s marriage

 

Ginny has this —

Hot new arborist. According to Ginny, he is hot in an “I fix shit and I’m strong and the wattage of my smile powers small nations” way.

Wow.

You know that just spells trouble and is clearly a danger to Ginny’s vows. She cannot have some hot arborist trotting around her yard doing manly things she could succumb any second but fortunately for Ginny she has me and I am just throwing myself on my sword here Ginny next time the hot arborist is over just wave a cross and chloroform around until temptation and he collapse then stuff him in a box and ship him to my address.

Whew! Marriage saved.

 

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[Speaking of romance which we were not but now I am go read this essay at Eclectic Garden it makes me want to be another woman in another place.]

 

where the art work comes from :
that is from serendipity came across

this post inspired by men who date badly

 

Ahem —

Things Men Shouldn’t Do On Dates :

Announce you broke up with your long time steady three days ago — in the car before your date’s seatbelt is on or you turn the engine on.

Tell your date you are on a budget — suggest she stick to the house salad and breadsticks.

Suggest your date wear high heels — then suggest a [long] [budget friendly] walk after salad & breadsticks dinner.

 

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*feel free to contribute additions….