Quit While You're Behind (part I)

A 30 year-old man with gainful employment and above-average grooming habits should, in a city of 4 million-or-so residents, be able to find a pretty girl who not only enjoys pizza but also who will occasionally tolerate a perfectly-timed fart in the checkout line at Kroger.

However, finding that girl is not as easy as it seems:

Earlier this fall, I headed to my old neighborhood for an early morning coffee and bagel. While enjoying my breakfast, I had the unexpected good fortune of having a cute blonde sit down next to me ("unexpected" because the clientele at Benny's Bagels in Lakewood rarely extends past "Yuppie Outdoorsy Granola Couple With 2 Big Dogs" and "Weatherbeaten Workout Chick").

Blondie and I talked for nearly a half hour (I cheerfully sacrificed finishing the Sports page for this girl!) and my verbal repartee was, I must say, flowing very well. She took the bait with little resistance. Sadly, after only 45 seconds of conversation it became obvious to us that we had absolutely nothing in common, and that some of my second graders could outscore her on the SAT, but we nonetheless exchanged numbers and agreed that we would have lunch sometime the next week.

Our lunch went smoothly (we even finished at the ice cream shop!) and subsequent food-centered activities were quickly planned.

Blondie's countenance was refreshingly perky, she appreciated my taste in neckties, and she loved the Bagel/Egg/Cheese sandwich from Benny's.... What more could I desire in a girl??

Well, for starters, I could desire the ability to speak in complete and coherent sentences... I could want a girl who's aware that we vote for president every four years, rather than every November... I might desire to date someone who isn't on a first-name basis with every overly-tattooed bartender on Greenville Avenue...

The whole thing lasted all of 24 days.

Going in, I knew that a quality Gentile relationship could not be built on bagels alone; but my loneliness (and my weakness for traditionally Jewish breakfast items) must have gotten the best of me.

She ended our brief rendezvous to "work things out" with her ex-boyfriend, a considerably older and (presumably) richer man with whom she had spent the previous 3+ years of her life. Given their long history together, I was in no place to object to her decision to try again with her old [pun intended] love interest.

Still, it stung my fragile ego to know that this girl had, in all probability, compared the pros and cons of dating me vs. dating another man, and she simply picked the other guy (however balding and sagging and prone to wearing tube socks with loafers he may have been).

I tried to numb this sting by convincing myself that this Older Guy must have had in his possession a number of "grown man" assets that I sorely lacked (and that--operating on my teacher's salary--I would continue to lack until the year 2084); assets that Blondie decided she could not live without. While crafting her list, Blondie probably realized that Older Guy owned a big house, a vacation lake house, a truck, a boat, and a diversified investment portfolio. Conversely, my much shorter list of assets tapered off rather suddenly after "V6 Accord" (which, technically, is still owned by American Honda Finance, but hey, cut me some slack here!).

When viewed in this light, it's clear that I never even had a fair chance... I was not even truly "dumped," I was just "upgraded."

So I eat ice cream alone nowadays; and I constantly ponder ways that I can gather more assets without actually spending any money (which I don't have anyway).

Short of signing up for that $25,000 line of credit that EZ Lending in Oak Cliff says I'm eligible for, there's not much I can do except pout and mope and continue buying 75 scratch-offs a week, waiting for my lucky day...

I complained to a married friend the other day about the woes of the Single Life. He frowned, then dry-heaved, then advised me to stop trying to date:

"Dude, just quit while you're ahead," he said.

"But I'm actually pretty far behind right now..." I replied.

He shrugged, "Oh.... well, in that case, keep doing what you're doing."

And so I trudge on...

Dallasaurus

Apparently, some geek found a fossilized dinosaur skeleton while digging around at a construction site in Cedar Hill. This particular dinosaur had never been seen before, and has been named "Dallasaurus."

In case you don't believe in dinosaurs, here's the story link.

They named it "Dallasaurus" not because it was found in south Dallas (which would have been a good enough reason), but rather because of all the tell-tale signs of Dallas-ness that the fossil purportedly revealed:

Some scientists are guessing that the remains are of a female, partly due to fossilized, out-of-proportion breast implants found at the scene. A further inspection of the bones also revealed that the lady lizard wore too much makeup, over-bleached her hair, and had an eating disorder.
It is not yet known if $800 Manolos and a $1500 Louis handbag were found in the vicinity...

Paleontologists are at odds, however, because some believe the Dallasaurus was a male. They believe this because the dinosaur was White, drove a BMW, traveled in packs of three or four, drank RedBull and vodkas, and wore untucked light-blue button-down shirts with overpriced designer jeans. The male Dallasaurus also (evidently) made only $37,000 a year, yet lived in a well-furnished Uptown highrise and spent 6 nights a week carousing at Primo's with underage female dinosaurs he met while trolling SMU.

Though scientists cannot come to a consensus as to the gender of this Dallasaurus, they do all agree that this dinosaur--after marrying an equally blond Dallasaurus of the opposite sex--immediately bought an SUV, moved to Colleyville, and hired some mexican Dallasauruses to do their yard work.

For another version of Dallasaurus, click right here!

All Apologies

Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm sorry for all the shame and embarrassment I've caused you guys over the past 30 years... I'm also sorry about wasting that whole "college" thing you paid for... I'm sorry about totaling the truck a few years ago... Lastly, I'm sorry that you probably have to shake your heads and avert your eyes when people back home ask about me... But honestly, is that really the reason you two have been acting like THIS in public lately?!?:

















Dear Chewie,
I'm sorry I used to lock you in the laundry room for days at a time. I know it was dark and boring in there and all you wanted was a bellyrub... But do you have to throw it in my face that you get more "action" than me?!
I mean, everyone already knows that I haven't seen a boob in years; let's leave it at that, OK?:

Dear Patti Labelle,

I'm sorry I never truly "got into" your music... I'm sorry that, even if you offered me $100, I could not name even one of your songs... But could you please release my friend MJ from this trance-like grip you have him in! He is obsessed with you and, frankly, we don't know what to do with him anymore. He's been waiting with bated breath for years for your next album, and until it comes out I am fearful that he will continue to embarrass himself, playing the same old tunes, day after day...

Charlton Heston is My President

While driving home from work earlier this week, I heard on the radio that the Conoco filling station on the corner of Main Street and I-35W in Burleson was selling unleaded gasoline for $2.11 per gallon.

"Hot damn!" I said (to no one in particular, since I was the only one in the car), "Let's go to Burleson and git us some cheap gas!"

Since I was at the corner of NW Highway and Central, I reckoned I'd just shoot on down Highway 67 South and meander towards Burleson (anyone unfamiliar with the layout of the Metroplex will just have to take me at my questionable word regarding the "proximity" of this Conoco station to my apartment). With any luck, I'd be there before that sucker was pumped dry...

I arrived at the Conoco to find myself at the losing end of a very long line of vehicles. Wow, I thought, everyone here is just as fiscally responsible as me (and it made perfect sense, considering the Republican, Bible-Belt leanings of this fine hamlet--if they don't buy lots of gasoline, then the terrorists have already won). So I had little reason to complain, as these small-town patriots were faithfully performing their civic duty, and honestly, what the hell else did they have to do on a Tuesday night in Burleson, Texas?

I decided to wait in this 278-car-long queue because, well, what did I really have to do that night?!? I had already driven the few extra miles and not only did I not want to leave empty-tanked, but also--though I sometimes overstate its urgency--my CD-alphabetization project could be pushed back a couple of hours without incurring any self-imposed late fees (and since I've been working on it for 5 weeks and am only up to "Coldplay," it was painfully clear that the Project wasn't going to be finished in one night anyway).

What struck me as unexpectedly refreshing about this gas station was the amazing diversity of the assembled crowd. Waiting in line for their inexpensive fuel were 2-door pickup trucks, 4-door pickups, king-cab pickups, long-bed pickups, and dually pickups (the huge, 6-wheeled kind that inspire uncontrollable self-loathing, male inadequacy, and downright shame in a native Texan man who drives a Honda Accord). So much variety... so little gas!!

The diverse fashion choices exercised by the townsfolk were equally as astounding. Had I been drugged and put to sleep when I left work, and awoke with no prior knowledge of where I was, I would have guessed that I was in Times Square in Manhattan, or maybe Union Square in San Francisco. I mean, who knew such trendy clotheshorses called Burleson home (and who knew they sought cheap gas like the rest of us)?? Such varied styles!! Such multifarious fashion palettes!! The scene was practically a United Nations of Walmart-issued NASCAR shirts. Every owner of every different breed of pickup truck had his own unique Tshirt designer (by "designer" I might mean "racecar driver"): Tony Stewart, Rusty Wallace, Joe Nemechek. Even Greg Biffle was emblazoned across the belly of one pregnant woman (whether or not she was barefoot was not determined, but the smart money would be on "YES").

And the denim choices favored by these customers were just as differing: tight Wranglers, extra-tight Wranglers, faded Wranglers, acid washed Wranglers, indigo Wranglers, and the top of the line extra-starched white Garth Brooks Special Edition Wranglers. Breathlessly in awe did I spend the next few minutes...

Such a mixed bag of sartorial splendor!! I felt utterly humbled, to be in the presence of such dandy diversity, while I cluelessly represented the frumpy Common Man in standard issue Kenneth Cole khakis, a mall-bought oxford shirt, and a Banana Republic handmade silk tie.

Why do "urbane" Dallas denizens look down their noses at this place? The Conoco in Burleson is obviously the new Milan.

And not only fashion is diverse in Burleson, but also their political sway is multifaceted. As evidenced by bumper stickers on their pickups, residents run the gamut in who they support at the polls: there's "George W Bush for President" ... then there's "W '04"... and the understated "W - The President" ... then the old-school "Bush-Cheney 2000" ... then the even more retro "Clinton Lied" ... and finally, in an apparent nod to Throwback Fashion, there was "Bush-Quayle 92". These were almost contrasted by the "Michael Moore Should Be Shot" and "Hunters For Bush" and the classic "...From My Cold, Dead Hands" (which may or may not have caused my to cowardly shrink down extra low into the leather seats of my four-door sedan).

This eye-opening experience at the service station has made me exponentially more self-aware. I have been forced to re-evaluate my position on the totem pole of Dallas society (i'm now a few levels lower, apparently). Thanks to the customers at Conoco in Burleson, I now feel guilty about being so closed-minded and "set in my ways" (and for consistently refusing to 'branch out' and eat Indian food). It's time for a change!

Alas, lost in all the soul-searching that I've done in past few days is the fact that I drove too many miles out of my way, waited in line for five hours, gorged on Funyuns and beef jerky, and impulse-bought a Dale Jarrett sweatshirt... all to save three damn dollars on a tank of gas.

Mom Will Be So Proud!

Wow! My younger sister's fledgling modeling career has finally hit its stride!

I grudgingly acknowledge that I may have a reputation for being somewhat of a BS'er, and some might consider everything I say to be a complete fabrication (or just an outright lie), and you may dismiss my ramblings as those of a man whose misplaced brain has not functioned properly since I befriended the girl down the hall who hooks me up with the Valium and painkillers and antidepressants (I love you, Unethical-Pharmacist-Neighbor-Chick!!), but this time I am being completely honest: My sis is officially a model!

She's been trying to break into the industry ever since moving to Dallas in 2001. Though beset by frustration after frustration (except for the occasional "non-resume" photo shoots, such as the Mesquite Chamber of Commerce's "Girls of Town East Mall 2003", or the North Texas Tollway Authority's "Booth Babes" ad campaign, or her regular appearances--waving goodbye during the closing credits--on WFAA's La Vida), she never gave up on her lifelong dream to be a fashion model.

I understand that by revealing so much of her personal information here, I may be inviting a rush of stalkers and ne'er-do-wells and sycophants to make their unsavory presence felt in her life... But gosh, Rebekah, I just can't help it! We're all so pleased with you!

So, it gives me great pleasure to announce to everyone (all 4 of my regular readers, at least...) that she was recently hired to work for Ann Taylor!!
And not Ann Taylor "Loft", mind you, I'm talking about the real Ann Taylor. The expensive stuff!

If you have time to search their whole website, you can look for her here.

If not, here's her first-ever shot! Enjoy:

"Yeah... and what of it!!?"