Why I Will No Longer Be "Dating" (or complaining about not dating)

Today proved enlightening on several fronts. In my yoga class, the teacher asked us to stand with our legs together, knees bent, arms in prayer position and then twist sideways and balance on one leg as he read to us from the Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh's writings about the third Parmita: Inclusiveness - which allegedly means making an effort to understand the world of others, and likewise, to include them in your world, and thereby to cultivate patience and acceptance of "what is" (what ever).

In a conversation with Dr. A (in which he actually rolled his eyes), I learned that I do not flirt early or often enough, and the result of not dumbing myself down when I meet a man is that he finds my emotionally intense, intellectually demanding, and highly sensual nature too "real world" and he runs away (c.f., "business trip guy"). Dr. A had a point there - I mean, when confronted with all of that, who wouldn't run?

I also gave serious thought to why no one has been commenting on my posts as of late - posts that I've been told repeatedly are "the best ever". This lack of response to apparent brilliance made no sense, until through devoted contemplation on the A train (the easiest way to avoid pan handlers and those noisy dancing kids, IMHO) I came to understand that posts about self-humiliation and weird dreams concerning early 19th century poets and British arcana may not leave much "emotional space" for other people to contribute their thoughts, feelings, and desires - which, apparently, are just like mine. If I were more inclusive and way more flirtatious, for instance, I would have not waited until the end of this post to note that on the revised John F. Kennedy Presidential (Memorial) Physical Fitness Test I recently scored as follows:

Sexpert or Slut: "The Happy Medium" - 35% experience/21% sluttiness
Cunnilicious: "Delicious" - 81% cunnilicious (but over 99% for my age and gender! - wait ...gender?)
Who Would You Be in 1400 AD (traditionally, the Medieval has always been a weak area for me): "Prioress" - with high marks for "Lady" and "Monk"
Curl Ups: 97%
Shuttle Run 81%

These scores are quite revealing apropos my current conundrum: a delicious but decidedly moral and extremely formidable senior nun with strong abdominals and slutty proclivities - but limited experience - is not exactly what most men are looking for in a prospective date, unless those men are seriously into B&D (hello! - can't you read? I have limited experience!). I think Dr. A may be on to something. My question for him - and I put it to you, dear Readers - is, "when I meet someone new, how do I not be the nun/slut with a penchant for "oral" poseur that God made me?" Moreover, in this era of extreme self-acceptance, is this advisable - or even possible? While I can flirt a little, I have no idea how or when to deploy my nuclear line - or, for that matter, what it is - and even I know that my "I used to write porn" story only goes so far.

So I'm hanging up my wimple, folks - it's safe to let your sons, fathers, and sexually frustrated professors out to play.



↑Yeah, you (and I) wish

Welcome to Indianapolis

5/29/05
(Crick in neck, fitful sleep)

I am flying across the country in stages, stopping to rest for a few weeks or a month to as I go. But I am worried that I won't make it as far as Indianapolis before winter: I can't fly at all in winter because the air is too cold and I do not have adequate protection from snow storms.

Then I arrive in Indianapolis. It looks exactly like it does in the movies. Ecstatic, I fly around downtown, soaring around the buildings and the giant clock tower for which this great Midwestern city is known. Suddenly, it's the middle of the night. I fly under a massive metal bridge and get covered in something wet. It is paint: they are painting the bridge red. I move into the airspace above a huge high-rise apartment complex, but then it occurs to me that I might be seen. A person covered in red paint swooping around at night could easily be mistaken for an angel covered in blood - and in this "Red state," a probable harbinger of the promised End Times - which would not be good. I realize that I need to get out of Indianapolis really soon.

My Life as a Fashion Victim

The Highlights (as interpreted through Google)

1976: The souvenir Muumuu

1978: Gauchos

1979: Dittos

1980: Rainbow belt
and Gunne Sax

1981: The Izod fallacy

These exact Nikes

1982: Androgynous beginnings, New Wave intimations: Shiny Skinny Tie

1983: Esprit

1984: When Mod goes wrong (when doesn't it?)

1985: Hippy-hi (Think "Mod" + a lot of pot)

1986-1988: The Salvation Army is stationed in my closet




1990-2005:
The extended 15-year remix of 1984-1988, with interludes of (relative) taste, punctuated by brief periods of fantastic delusion and identity crisis

The Stuff of Nightmares (selected)

Ages 2-10

Tarantula

Slugs (recurring)

Vampire bat

Trains (recurring)

Frankenstein's Monster

Hut on a cliff, falling over cliff

Ghosts

Clown Puppet in the bottom of my bed (recurring)

______________________________________________________________________

Ages 21-36

Anything as portrayed by Francis Bacon

Furby
"Furby" is a registered trademark of Tiger Electronics, Ltd. This site is neither endorsed nor supported by Tiger Electronics nor by its parent company, Hasbro, in any way.

Mother

Real Ghosts

Plane Crashes

Bloody Murder Scenes

Teeth Falling Out

Penis

Republican Furbies (recurring)
"Republican" is a registered trademark of Tiger Electronics, Ltd. This site is neither endorsed nor supported by Tiger Electronics nor by its parent company, Hasbro, in any way.

Your comments and lay analyses are welcome

Ritual Humiliation: What's In It For You?

Strategies, or "coping mechanisms," are little games we play with ourselves when we cannot play well with others. Sometimes, if we are not careful, these "personal games" can extend outward again to include others, but often without their explicit consent. And this is where the trouble usually begins.


One strategy I use to keep my other strategies in order is ritualized humiliation. When we were children, humiliation was an activity best experienced with, and at the hands of, our playmates. Now that we're all grown up, it's harder to find people who will indulge our peculiar "neurotic" compulsions. Children, who enjoy a spontaneous imagination and rich inner life, understand these things without being told: who knows how many times was I humiliated by my little friends without even having to ask. Now it's like getting someone to pull my teeth out.

For this reason, I've opted to develop and hone my self-humiliation skill-set. For those of you who are wondering what I mean, imagine "sex" (or "masturbation") as a skill - only in this case, while the emotional, physical, and psychological effects may be (initially) less pleasurable, they are longer-lasting, and there is less risk of bankruptcy, a slipped disc, or permanent nerve damage.

As part of my strict regimen, therefore, I'm going to share with you some choice and generally fool-proof methods of my humiliation praxis. Any or all of these "prompts" may work for you, so be creative and don't hold back. The key is to use your imagination and go with your gut instinct: that little inner cringe tells you it's working. Actual results may vary according to age, diet, and crippling life experience.


Method #1: Have yourself Had


Find ten ads on Craigslist that seem, somehow, less than "above board." Respond.

World-traveled actor/writer/handyman looking for a woman (or two, even) to share massage with.

SEEKING A WONDERFUL FEMALE FRIEND WITH GREAT BREASTS

We've got your entire Darth Vadar Costume- Sale or Rent. Ask for Chewie too. The full 100% Chewie outfit.

Come to a Dianetics seminar and learn how to handle stress before it handles you. Learn how to improve your career, your relationships, and communication with others.
Ads are edited only for length and confidentiality and otherwise reproduced verbatim from Craigslist New York


Method #2: Expose Yourself to Ridicule or Derision

Think of the least trustworthy person (or persons) you know – a mere acquaintance or co-worker is ideal. In this person’s presence,
a) do something you promised yourself would never do
b) tell something you promised yourself you would never tell
c) agree to something you promised yourself you would never agree to or espouse

Here are some examples to get you started, but for best results try to “personalize” them as much as you can:
a) For one week, wear at least one article of 100% spandex to work
b) Have loud lunch-break phone-sex with the Blimpie employee who always takes your order - or if you’re “hard core,” real sex with the delivery person in the breakroom
c) Reveal what you had to do (and how many times) to get this job/apartment/iPod
d) Explain what “changed your mind” about the Imperial Wizard, Dr. James Dobson, and/or Phyllis Schalfly

Over the next several weeks, note how people who were not privy to your revelations treat you, and the overall “vibe” in your social or work environment. Of course, only you know that you have been grossly misunderstood and are not really "like that."

Keep a diary so that you may revisit this experience after you move and change jobs, friends, and/or spouses.


Method #3: What's your favorite food?


Did anyone ever tell you "your eyes are bigger than your stomach"? How did that make you feel? Guilty? Infantilized? Out of control? If you had learned to externalize your feelings in a healthy manner, you'd have only been "angry." Pretty boring, huh?

To begin, eat whatever and as much as you need to recapture those feelings - if this means a consuming brick of cheddar cheese, 8 bags of Dorito's (Cool Ranch® is best), or a half-gallon tub of curly fries with chili, so be it. When the food has settled, take a good long look in the mirror, and remind yourself that once you're over 30, it all starts sliding south and there's nothing you can do about it.

If you were prescient enough to keep an article of clothing from your high school days, now is the time to dig it out and try it on.


Method # 4: “I Shouldn’t Have" (small group activity)


To play this game, invite your friends (or anyone you can convince) to come prepared to tell the absolute truth – and to bring lots of cookies, brownies, beef jerky sticks, or other snack treats (chips of any kind are not permitted). With everyone sitting in a circle, distribute as many snacks as there are people to each player. Then, have each contestant, in turn, make a fictive statement that begins with “I shouldn’t have …” and ends with something - anything - the player hasn’t done - or would never be caught dead doing. Anyone present who has done what was mentioned must raise a hand. Each player then gives the guilty party one snack item, which the culprit must immediately consume in the presence of all. There’s only one catch – if no one else present has done that particular thing either, the declarer must then make a truthful “I shouldn’t have” statement, followed by mandatory snack consumption.

Here are some examples of promising “payoffs” (remember – you’re on your honor to tell the truth!). “I shouldn’t have …”

• Flashed for beer outside the 7-11 every Saturday night the summer of 1983
• Believed anything about sex as described in the oeuvre of Danielle Steele
• Stuffed
• Indulged my erotic attraction to (Bugs Bunny/fictional character others would find most disturbing)
  
• Told you-know-who about you-know-what
• Insisted ad nauseum that Dark Side of the Moon is actually the “secret soundtrack” to the Wizard of Oz
• Pretended to dose the Sacramental wine, or that the Host was a giant tab of acid
• Agreed to be videotaped
  
• Googled myself
• Expected I could fool anyone with my Lando Calrissian costume at last year's Halloween party
• Lied about the size of my (panties/RAM)
  
• Let the smooth taste fool me
  

Keep a tally of who has eaten the most. When the game is over (all snacks are eaten and/or someone is weeping in the bathroom), the “winner” moves to the center of the circle, whereupon the other contestants make comments such as “What a loser!,” “Look at the freak!,” and “Boy, your eyes were bigger than your stomach, but not for long!,” etc.

Remember - in each of these games, as in the game of Life, there are no winners. (Because - say it with me - "everyone is a loser.")

Am I in the zone yet?

The Zone Diet has spawned countless imitations, spin-offs and adaptations, such as the ubiquitous Hate-free Zones, Drug-free Zones, and Nuclear-free Zones that have become de rigeur - dare I say, passé - in the more "enlightened" geographical regions of the USA (namely, the lovely but spiritually-impoverished West Coast). As a happily transplanted New Yorker, then, I'm pleased to learn that closer to home, yet one more ground-breaking Zone wanna-be has materialized, with the recent announcement that a NJ Town Considers "Pedophile-Free" Zone.

Let's hope this tough legislation sends the right message, and that the targets of all such Zones - including Jennifer Aniston and her ilk - will now think twice about moving to New Jersey, and perhaps the entire Tri-State Area, if God loves the righteous.

Naturally, news of the P-FZ's cropping up all over the Garden State like mushrooms on a shitlog led me to wonder "Why did it take so long for society to recognize the pressing need for a pedophile-free zone?" Although, I didn't go so far as to ask "Why couldn't I have grown up in New Jersey?," because, frankly, that's a tough call.


And I bet you thought this was going to be a funny post, like the last one. But see, now I'm trying not to bore my analyst.

How to succeed in boring your analyst to death, without really trying

I have found that this is easily achieved by any number of simple methods. The key is to complicate straightforward situations and recite them ad nauseum, or conversely, to dwell for short but intense periods on complex matters that can never be addressed through simplified reasoning, and/or as articulated by you ("the analysand").

One surefire strategy is holding forth for 45 minutes* on such situations as the following,** either building your rant around a single "issue," or any combination thereof. Be creative: the only things stopping you are those early withdrawal penalties, and that last remaining shred of diginity!
(The list below is provided by the author solely for example. Any resemblance to real issues, situations, or traumas resolved or outstanding in the reader's life is the result of "unconscious" projective identification, because nothing is unintentional.)

Childhood Traumas

First time I saw parents having intercourse (and why I was glad this was not with each other)

Rectal thermometer humiliation, ages 3-6

Enemas I do not remember but am sure were administered

Side effects of masturbation, imagined and perceived

Precocious development: 78% nerd by age 12

Abnormal development: sadomasochistic fantasies on the playground

Running away and what to bring: Holly Hobby™ sleeping bag, favorite books, & alarm clock so I won't be late for school

Why did all my 'friends' in junior high pick on me? (and why am I still talking about it?)

Why didn't my dad love spending the weekend with me as much as he loved spending a weekend in Las Vegas?

Am I remembering it, did I dream it, or am I lying?

Bonus public humiliation topic: Buying clothing in the "chubbette" section at J.C. Penney

Adult conundrums

If I don't know I'm making mistakes, how can I be expected to learn from them?

Why are all the men I date the same? (each being, in his own special way, a species of seductive, lovable, and emotionally corrupt bastard)

Why do the men who love me, love me because they know from the start that I'll be such a good friend?

Years of my life I have wasted (tally may change weekly)

Dissertation: Year 0

Sadomasochistic modalities of interpersonal relations: origins and outcomes

Ticking clocks vs. digital technology and the illusion of time, and also

Why 35 is the new 25 (and therefore 36-40 is the new '30 and under')

Living alone with the same cat for 15 years: pros and cons

Will you be my daddy?

Am I remembering it, did I dream it, or did I see it on TV?

Bonus public humiliation topic: my blog, or "letting it all hang out"

Good Luck Everybody!

*In NYC, this is defined as a 'therapeutic hour.'
** All situations, obsessions, and traumas are actually, almost actually, or believed to be, true.

Today's Recipe: Back despite lack of demand

In keeping with our as-yet unsuccessful "Reader Participation" campaign, Bloygevalt is bringing back the not-so-popular Today's Recipe feature. We feel that if readers don't care to show they care by contributing their thoughts and observations to a forum specially designated for engaged, informed discourse - thereby creating a dynamic sense of community in which we all prosper - then at least they can get some culinary information that could be useful (assuming they get off their asses and do some work). Now you're finally getting something for nothing, so please don't grace me with your complaints. In this case, you're getting a prized Bruser* family recipe, straight from the old country by way of Saskatchewan.

My Great-Grandma Ann's Orange Cake

1 cup sugar
1 heaping tbsp. butter, softened
1 egg
1 orange, seedless
1/2 C sultanas (those yellow raisins)
1 C sour cream
2 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350℉.
In a large mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar. Beat in egg.
Cut orange into small sections (leave peel on) and chop with sultanas in a food processor until a chunky paste is formed.
Add orange mixture to egg and sugar and mix.
Dissolve baking soda in sour cream, add to mixture and stir well.

Sift flour, baking powder, spices together in a medium mixing bowl.
Add dry mix to wet mix in small amounts, stirring well.

Turn batter into a greased loaf or square pan (double the recipe for bundt cake), evening out the top with a spatula.
Bake until cake is firm and knife comes out clean. Cool in pan and turn out onto a plate.

This cake is extra delicious with cream-cheese frosting. (Mix 1 C cream cheese with 2 C powdered sugar, vanilla, and enough milk to form a smooth consistency. Refrigerate until ready to use.)
I made chocolate cream-cheese frosting, and it was extra extra delicious - especially on the cake.




*My maternal grandmother's family, the Brusers are distinguished in many ways - not least in that we're (allegedly) the only family with this terrible name in all of North America. Translated from German slang, Bruser means "person who laughs too loudly." If you meet a Bruser while walking down the street, shoot him (chances are he's related to me).

Today is not my birthday

But if it were, what would you say or do?
(This presupposes that you - and you know who you are- would do something, so save your flip rejoinders for my real birthday, please.)

If it were your birthday,* I would do something.







*I prefer to operate in the subjunctive tense whenever possible.

Word for today (or tomorrow, since it's after 8:00)

Toothsome



When you read or hear the word Toothsome, what do you see?

Thought for today

In the spirit of the much-undervalued minimalist tradition, today’s post is intentionally stripped-down, straightforward, modest, and uncomplicated - and offered entirely in good faith.



Today I take the opportunity simply to provide a prompt and an open forum for discussion, with the hope that this will be enough to provoke the sort of informed, engaged, and un-ironic discourse that is all-too-absent from blogs of late. You know exactly what I mean: those blogs that have come merely to serve as elaborate conduits for meaningless ruminations; going-nowhere virtual flirtations; self-aggrandizing parades of baroque stylistics and obfuscating vocabulary; and the sort of exclusive and dilettantish intellectual play that would have us all become cunning linguists, given the opportunity (and, perhaps in EGIT's case, a back issue of Leg Action).

So, in the timeless words of Donna Summer and Barbra Streisand, "Enough is Enough!"

*********************************************************************************************

Thought for today:

Stasis: It’s what adulthood’s all about.
- J.S.M (& Cletus)

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Now, please, talk amongst yourselves.