*** Readers who don�t like catty folks should close their browser now�as the following is a bit of a male-meow-moody-moment. ***
Sadly, my son and I had to do the mall-crawl this evening. He is growing so very fast that he is passing through his clothing before he fully rips the knees out of his jeans�which is phast as phuck for a testosterone-driven-youth.
I am such a human as hates malls.
Further, I am not happy about shopping in general, unless it is for technology or grocery-stuffs or haggling over a major purchase. I actually never try on clothing. If it doesn�t fit, I probably don�t return it� But that is deeply rare as I am a simple sort and almost always manage to get the same types O� things. Except that those assholes at Structure got rid of my favorite boxers. This is what is known in New England Parlance as a wicked-pisser. I am still foraging by doing mail-order-testing of a single pair from various Internet underwear suppliers. No luck yet. Nothing feels right around the gonad region. So I am wearing out the old Structure units. At least I wear them these days, as from puberty through my early twenties, I couldn�t stand the prospect. But enough about my unmentionable-clothing needs.
Anyway, I got sideways on the topic as a result of HAVING to tell you WHY I was at a mall. Clearly, I am also the type who has to explain his raison�d-shopping-mecca. Which should tell you quite a bit about DaPersonality O� DaSauce.
So.
My son.
He pulls in the fairer sex like some sort of five-year-old ginger-haired-Clooney.
Tonight we had, five (count �em) five, OVERLY/OVERTLY LENGTHY encounters with gals who were so enamored of him that they even thought that my dumb ass� including my slight belly-of-the-Buddha, and cinderblock-sized skull, sophomoric-perspective, and all�was of interest.
Bad. Wrong. Not-good.
You see:
This would be incredibly-swell-and-fine if not for a couple of things.
1. He seems to call to the Blonds of the World. [And your diarist�while a long-time serial monogamist�has slept with a fair number of young female persons and not one of them has been blond. Well. Not naturally so. You see, I believe I have what is technically called Dabrunettes attract DaSauce gene. This by the way is a fair number by MALE standards�not like the female pals I have�actually�as the number is in the mid-teens, not the upper 80�s (and some near-friends have done more than that for a living�but how I know a number of sex-industry-persons should be another day and another time.]
2. Worse, (as I could forgive the blond thing if she were a wonder and a joy and could give my noggin a woody--as well as the rest of me) he pulls in the AnaFans (locally known as Auschwitz-Diet-Types) who are augmented and have Nancy Reagan necks. Yes. Lollypop-heads. All of them. The Flockharts, the Spears-types, the Ack-U-Lara�s, the Boyles (even though she is a brunette,) the Gellers, and on. [Full-Body-Shudder]
Now. That isn�t to say that these folks aren�t swell. I don't KNOW them, and I wouldn�t have a clue. Maybe each and every one of them is a total gem, and as magically attractive-inside as Jennifer Connelly was on the outside before she became a lollypop-head.
But my kid has it all wrong. He gets the Toe-Headed Tiffany/Alexis/Sierra-style-folks and draws them in like a pied piper would call rats. They all have nipples pointing in weird NE/SW configurations and gravity is never allowed in the vicinity of their bust lines. If they are over 25�they have injected neurotoxins that are still favored-over-Anthrax-in-past-and-future-chemical-warfare into THEIR OWN FRIGGING BODIES! On purpose and after having paid someone for the goods?!?
O� baby! Bring on the Clostridium Botulinum bacteria!
My �nads shrivel and wanna crawl into my hipbone at that prospect alone.
Couldn�t he just once or twice�attract a nice, relatively sane, moderate-intoxicants-at-maximum, smart, witty-mouthed, swivel-hipped, darker-haired, normal-to-attractive individual with natural teats�large or small?
I�d be good.
I would.
I�d bring all kinds of interesting things to the party. And I�m even told I�m a great kisser with nice big soft lips for a white boy.
Please?
Pretty please without Lollypops on top?
--DaCattySauce
PS. The previous content was channeled by the-guy-hiding-inside-me-who-is-willing-to-consider-a-relationship-at-this-juncture. I�ve just thrown his arse out for a decade or so. Continue with your evening. Thank you for your patience. Control is regained. Nothing left to see. Move along quietly and gently--especially if you are a nice-brunette-person. He should be back in his box by now.