Good day, Percivals. Did it kill me yesterday when you all signed into the comments as Percival? Indeed it did. June. Easily amused since she first heard the name Spiro Agnew.
Hey, did I tell you guys I put an ad on Craigslist for a gay best friend? I was bemoaning to ...friend (straight ...friend) that I missed my gays, and let me tell you what. I parTICularly miss my gays when I hang around ...friend, who is so not gay. I mean, I guess this bodes well for me in general; if I can't reach him I don't have to fret, Is he at the glory hole again? But when it comes to, say, discussing purses or The Real Housewives, ...friend is woefully no fun.
Usually the people I date are at least somewhat metrosexual. Or, like Marvin, they hate sports, so we could bond over that. But not ...friend. He is the most traditionally male person I've ever been with. It's kind of exciting! It's a novelty.
My point is, I was needing somene to call and say bitchy things with, or to scream with about Vicki Gundvalson, or to say, "Wow, Anderson Cooper. Who knew? Pfft." Okay, I guess those last two things fall under the category of "say bitchy things with." I was looking for a fellow bitch. In boy clothes.
Okay, but seriously, did ANYONE find Anderson Cooper's coming out to be a surprise? Clearly you have not read this blog, then, seeing as my OWN cat Anderson Cooper was gay just like his namesake, and I mentioned it all the time.
So, it was ...friend who said, "You should put an ad on Craigslist," but he was kidding. Sadly for him, I had stampeded to the Internet before that sentence was even finished.
"Single woman, 46, needing a gay man who is not married and playing organ for his church," I wrote. Because honestly. All the gay men I meet here in the South are HELLO! Nice closet! Yes, I SEE you out with your family in your It's Raining Men t-shirt, and you are not fooling ME, Bub.
And I did get replies. Right away, in fact! And you know what gay men do when they answer your ad that appears in the Strictly Platonic section of Craigslist? They immediately tell you their height, weight and body type. I guess they are all so used to needing to provide this info that they even do it when they are auditioning to be Will to their next Grace.
There was even a woman who replied (no, I don't know her height and weight. The last thing women would do is provide that info. But in case anyone was curious, I am 5'9" and 120 pounds. Also, I invented the Great Wall of China. I built it using only my ass muscles.) just to say, "I KNOW! It IS hard to meet gay men here!" So I had an empathy reply.
At any rate, no one who answered me seemed like they were going to be in the least bit fun, and it kind of makes me think of all the weeding out I had to do when I was Internet dating. Lots of swath-cutting during that Internet dating. However, I had less vested interest in getting Harvey Fierstein to flap his hands over my outfit than I did in finding romance, so I took my gay ad down.
Where does Dooce get her gays? She has that gay assistant. Maybe I need an assistant. Well, I DO need an assistant, but there's that pesky part where I am, you know, unemployed.
Speaking of my lack of jobage, I have just one more thing to do and I am done with that statistics book. I should be done by noon. Which would be exciting had they not FedExed me more stuff to do right after.
Lily can't get enough of my work. She finds it riveting.
In fact, both cats seem to be obsessed with my papers. I remember when my cat Mr. Horkheimer died, my cousin Katie said, "He's in cat heaven now, sitting on everyone's keyboard and papers." Look at Lily up there, hogging just everything so I can't work on it. At least Iris compacts herself when she's being annoying. eyeriss bunch up, then look at you wif wonkee eye.
I guess that's all I have to tell you about my riveting life, over here. Can't find a gay, statistics are almost done, my cat has a wonky eye. Everything's about where it should be. Talk at you, Percival.
