THE DUDE CHRONICLES CONTINUED

“She went from being Christie Brinkley online to Bette Midler in real life.”

That’s what Dude said about his recently arrived love from Down Under. Disturbingly outdated pop culture references aside ( I might’ve said from Fergie to Rosie O’Donnell) he apparently had quite the uncomfortable experience at the airport. It’s best summed up this way:

WHAT DUDE WAS EXPECTING: A thin, youthful-looking woman in her mid-forties whose every movement dripped with class and sophistication.

WHAT DUDE GOT: A pudgy, old looking lump whose awkward movements and verbal delivery made him wonder if this was what an Australian redneck looks and acts like.

Here’s how it went down: Dude arrived at the airport where he had to wait for longer than expected thanks to delayed flights. He finally wound up in baggage claim, looking around pensively for the woman who was going to rescue him from the raw emptiness his life had become. So far, he hadn’t seen anyone that looked like her. Suddenly, someone yelled out, “Hi, Dude!”

“Um, hello,” he said. Who was this woman?

“It’s me!” she said, smiling big and wide.

Dude’s world fell and shattered like a cheap snow globe. When he was later asked if he’d recognized her, he said he had not. Even when she said hello to him, he still wondered who this woman was and how she knew him. It didn’t click that this was “her” until she said so, despite the Australian accent. Not only did she look nothing like her online picture (the same **** pic with different backgrounds) but her outfit was…well, it was pretty fucking strange!

She had on sunglasses and a large, weird hat along with her tight bike shorts. Dude felt the entire airport staring at them as they walked together, him unable to believe how old she looked. She doesn’t look like she’s the age she says she is, according to him. He’s going to sneak a look at her passport.

The details of their drive back to his house are unknown to all except them but I know where he lives and that is a long drive from the airport. It was probably less lengthy because of the time of night but something tells me he was hoping it would last longer.

The following day Dude seemed happy to be at work. EFB, his supervisor, said she’d never seen him so productive. But despite that happiness, he also presented the appearance of someone who had been severely traumatized. When she asked him how he was doing, he said, “It’ll be all right.”

Later he asked her to help him make some copies. Of course she knew he already knew how to do it so she said, “Sure, let’s go for a walk.” In the copy room, Dude admitted that there had been ***. Lots and lots of it. Apparently, the Down under Wonder has quite the appetite and liked what she saw. Dude worked out and got himself in shape for months, even going so far as to shave his chest hair and use bath salts on his pores. By contrast, his description of her makes it sound as if she did NOTHING to present a decent physical appearance. Hat’s not a good sign.

Dude descried her by saying her face was pretty but she looked old. He wasn’t even sure she was the age she claimed online. She’s busty, he told EFB, but they’re like grandmother tits and the rest of her is pudge to the left and the right. Why he allowed further manipulation by sleeping with her more than once I don’t know. Makes me ashamed of my fellow men.

Look, my mom taught me something invaluable in life. She said there were two things malicious women would try to use as a control mechanism: Sex and food. If you could control your libido and cook, they had no power over you, especially if you never had kids.

Dude doesn’t get women. I know! Try to get over the shock. According to him, she really loves him. Her eyes lit up when she saw him looking pretty much the same as the ten-year-old photo he uses and she’s really sweet and really nice and she really, really loves him!

Okay. Fine. Let’s take that at face value for a mo-mo. Let’s assume this woman who walks into an airport wearing sunglasses at midnight with a giant stupid hat is only here to start a new life. Let’s assume that the fact the she won’t allow him to photograph her isn’t suspicious at all…noooo, not at all! I’m sure her love is genuine…

Anyway, Dude’s all in a tizzy over this for obvious reasons. Sadly, I find myself going into “bro” mode and sympathizing with him. Already I’ve come up with two exit strategies for the poor *******, one of which involves INS. He wants both EFB and myself to meet his new lover and give our opinion. He wants to know if we can spot any chemistry between them. We were all supposed to be going out Saturday night to see “Bruno” because eh thinks the movie will relax his tension. I saw it and a homophobe like him would be far from relaxed. Trust me.

I pushed for us to do it Friday because EFB’s piss poor advice could ruin everything. She told me that he’s stuck with this situation because she isn’t some woman who came from the next town over. She sold her house and left her country. All true. She said he needed to go home that night and fool himself mentally by imagining they were childhood sweethearts who met again years later no longer looking the same.

“But he does looks the same!” I yelled as she told me this. “That’s the problem. She deceived him and showed up as a human tub of goo while he got all svelte for her!”

“Basically,” I said, “You gave him the advice women were given back in the 1600’s regarding sex. Just lay back, think about cleaning, and let him do is sinful business.”

Oh, my god, it’s happening isn’t it? I’m crossing over into the Bro-Zone. But I can't stand this guy! AaAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!

I’m a man, dammit! I am not ruled by emotion and spitefulness, but if you hurt my feelings I’ll spend years stabbing you in the back before I destroy you! I can put my differences aside and work for the common good: Namely, getting that Aussie cow back where she grazed from! Okay, maybe that was harsh but she played him like a fiddle and now it’s time for the big leagues to step in!

I’ll let you know more after I’ve met her~

IRONY, THY NAME BE DUDE.

Brief recap: This guy I call “Dude” who is an unlovable slacker, sexist, racist, macho ******* has done it again. As you may recall, he married a younger woman from Canada who wound up pregnant by an illegal Mexican guy, they separated and Dude started fishing online for a new woman. Several failed attempts resulted, most notably the chick that told him first she needed to go to Florida and seek out a porn star. Eventually, he “met” an Australian woman who was older than him with an evil husband (they all seem to have these) supposedly sexually assaulted both of their daughters and is a pretty violent guy. Here comes Dude to save the day!

Now he and the Down under Wonder have formed a relationship that stretches the entire way to the other side of the world although they’ve never met. Despite repeated entreaties from EFB, he insisted he knew this woman inside and out and that they were in love. She sent pictures to him of herself and he drooled over them. I saw these pictures. I didn’t drool but I did notice something else: NO matter what the background, it always seemed to be the same photo.

Even EFB, normally a visually oriented person, didn’t notice this. Ah, the keen eye of the Scribe misses nothing! It was always her in front of different stuff, sometimes turned around but always that same outfit, facial expression, and hairstyle. For some reason, both Dude and another former co-worker I will call “Mr. Mackey” thought we were crazed conspiracy theorists when this was brought up. Obviously, my status as a writer caused my wild imagination to run free and start running scenarios through my head in order to make life more interesting.

A couple weeks ago, during a surprise birfday party for me, Mr. Mackey gave us the most recent scoop. Apparently, the Aussie dame had sent a newer photo of herself and dude was freaking out a little bit. This was not the woman in her early to mid thirties he’d been spankin' it to for months now. Mackey wouldn’t give details but he did keep saying she was definitely not the younger woman seen in the earlier photos. That in itself wouldn’t be a problem, I guess, but Dude always steps it up a notch.

He and the Aussie had worked out a plan. She was going to sell off all her things and move to the U.S. with Dude. Yep, she was leaving her abused daughters to live with their father who supposedly bribes them with gifts in-between legal battles. I’m not the only one that found it odd that she was willing to leave her children, no matter how old, to their own fates and move all the way to the other wise of the Earth. It’s almost as if she’s running from something.

I have been looking forward to her arrival for months now. In fact, it keeps me going on those nights when ‘m feeling low. EFB had started wondering if it would even happen. She thought it was possibly an online joke, but I had faith. You hear that, Green? I had faith in something! Enjoy it while it lasts, my friend.

The Big Day finally arrived. Dude ran to Costco to stock up his shelves with healthy food since that’s how she supposedly eats where she’s from. In an amusing side note, he admitted to feeling rather uncomfortable when he walked up to the cash register with strawberries, a giant bottle of olive oil, whipped cream and condoms. The cashier, he said, was angry with him and treated him badly.

Now, let’s step a little further to the side for a moment…the cashier was angry??? What right does some fucking cog in the warehouse club machine have judging a paying customer? So instead of simply doing the job she was hired to do like a good little robot, she had the nerve to display anger. Imagine me in that situation. I woulda been all like, “Oh, snap! I only got one box of muthafukin' condoms??? Sheeeeiiitttt! I need the rougher ones for when we switch it up and start doin’ it in the ass! Be right back!”

And fuck yeah I would’ve actually brought more!

Okay, back to Dude. As he waited around at the airport for her impending arrival, EFB and I texted him amusing comments. Well, mine were amusing anyway. I told him I was expecting a real-time pic when she showed up or else. When he expressed his nervousness, I assured him nothing would happen and that she wouldn’t turn out to be a psycho. If she did, I wrote, “we’ll avenge you.” It was a forced joviality on both of our parts, his because he was scared and mine because I was pretending to like him. Then everything changed when I received his text message at 12:18am.

“OK. Home now. Just a little bummed. Nothing like pics. I’ll be ok man.”

Jackpot! This was what I was waiting for! I texted back to find out what was wrong.

He wrote: “Now what am I gonna do right now. You know I’m a nice guy.”

Of course. Nice guys always wish babies dead because they are an inconvenience. No matter how upset you are, you don’t have the right to wish a baby hadn’t made it because it was born of an affair. But I digress. There was more.

“She’s really nice. Very sweet. Doesn’t look remotely like her pics. Maybe 20 years older and 50lbs heavier, she understated things she told me. Um don’t know.”

It took several hours for him to respond to my text messages the next day telling him I was sure it wasn’t that bad and to send me a pic and, oh, yeah, I’m worried about ya, man. (tee-hee)

Finally he replied with a rather uninspired, “Sorry didn’t get back with you. Will have to call later. I’m ok thanks.” I reiterated how “worried” I was and he thanked me. Now, the waiting game began…

Fortunately, it didn't last long. I texted EFB and asked how he looked. The following is our text conversation on the topic:

SHE: They boinked so he looks good but...

ME: LMAO He hit it anyway? But what?

SHE: She has saddle bags a huge gut and her bra strap got swallowed by her shoulder fat when she wore a sleeveless shirt and people were looking at them weirdly in public.

ME: Daaaaammmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnn!

SHE: Maybe not that bad. He is begging us to meet her cause he doesn't want her.

ME: What? Are we supposed to take her off his hands? LOL

SHE: LOL He needs to know if we see any chemistry between them.

ME: Maybe it is made of fudge?

SHE: He said she wore biker pants and shorts and pudge to the left and pudge to the right spilled out.

ME: This is so much irony!

SHE: I said, "You did wrap that weiner, right? He was like, "With the thickest condom they make!" I said, "Well, at least you got tap it cause you looked relaxed."

ME: Well he was obviously able to ejaculate!

SHE: YUCK-O! I guess. Didn't ask.

ME: You know his shot his load like a super soaker!

SHE: STOP.

I'm so under-appareciated. This one is going to require updates I just know it! Yeeehaaaaaa! I am so happy right now!!!

FUN WITH ALTER EGOS

So, I decided to create a wacky Facebook character out of sheer boredom and frustration with the self-serving, mind-numbing posting that passes for actual communication on that site. A certain friend and colleague of mine had created a smug, pretentious artist character and it seemed a natural for me to come up with a brash, more combative protégé.

Within two days of this character being unveiled, I’d incurred the righteous wrath of a tranny in Canada who didn’t seem to care for my “Hot dog! We have a wiener!” comment at all. However, I smoothed things over by writing in my character’s dubious multi-ethnic European dialect “No offenses, feisty kitten…I feel the pains of all the humans being.” Soon we became steadfast friends and (shudder) some flirtation took place. Mission accomplished I screamed from a battleship in the Mediterranean. Now it was time to firmly ensconce myself.

It’s amazing how many people will blindly add someone to their Friends list without knowing them on Facebook. This is especially true of those who have a product to sell such as novels, movies, music and Viagra.

Recently, EFB has come to regard her former martial arts instructor as a conceited asshole whose entire existence seems to be based around himself and what he’s doing. He considers himself a filmmaker and churns out low-budget action and horror films that look like the sort of thing that might have been cutting edge fifteen years ago. But what apparently got to her most was when he posted a pic of some weird-looking chick with the caption, “Now that’s what I call beautiful!” Others echoed the sentiment. I must admit I didn’t get it either. She had crossed eyes, shapeless lips and bizarre cheekbones covered in bronzer. I was asked to comment as the alter ego. I wrote, “Yes, is very beauty. She reminding me of the cross-eyes lady who cleaning the toilets in Minsk…I never been to Minsk but I hear story.”

There was no response to what I wrote, although the guy’s (we’ll call him Mitch) childhood friend wrote that she was very beautiful. A few days later I logged in as the character and grew annoyed at the guy’s constant data mining of his friends’ pages with his crappy movie stills. In this case, they were scenes from a strip club in one of his action movies. I wrote the word, “Repulsive” underneath the post.

A few hours later my cell phone received an email through Facebook from him headlined, “Repulsive?” The message demanded to know what the negative comment was about. Already this guy was showing his true colors as not only unprofessional but also unable to take criticism. I wrote back, “Why? Is only allowed to making the comments that are kissings the behind?”

In the meantime, Mitch had gone ahead and replied to my comment about the “beautiful” woman by writing. “Well, whoever the hell you are. God wasted a perfectly good ass when he put teeth in your mouth!”

I started laughing while driving home, already knowing what my comeback was gonna be: “Yes? Well, God make a perfect and complete ass and named it Mitch!”

That was all it took; he went into a blind rage at that point, threatening me with physical harm and proving what Id always suspected: His BS act of total mastery of his negative emotions was exactly that. Another one of EFB’s idols and secret crushes wore no underwear (metaphorically speaking, I hope).

I decided to fan the flames of a potential ass kicking by writing on his wall for all to see, “Why you talkings like street trash? We settles this like the true artists and see who making the better moviefilm. I use my cell phone camera to making it even.”

The following is the actual conversation thread between my alter ego and the increasingly scary and violent martial arts master who was stupid enough to leave a paper trail:

Subject: Bring it on!

Yeah well I knew you were a coward wimp you freak! I say lets meet up right now with that cell phone of yours. That phone will be filming the inside of your bloody hemorrhaging ass ! I live right in the Metro area.

Reply: so you are fighting type? How you know my ass hemorrhage?

Him: You don't know who the fuck I am but I will find out who the fuck you are ..You can count on it pal, Freak, whatever you are and I'm gonna make you pay for this shit!!

(3 minutes later he added the following) You can talk your shit on the internet coward but sooner or later I'm going to find out who you are.... and I won't even say what I'm going to do to you just for sport!! You better start asking around before you start picking fights with people you know nothing about!!!

Reply: I didn't picks fight with you I gave my opinion and you get all moody blues. IF YOU CANNOT TAKE HEAT LEAVE OUT OF THE FURNACE! I challenge you as artist and you threaten me because you can see I am real deal. I leave to you the alone if you not willing to be adult.

Him: Give me your opinion to my face if you have the balls any time anywhere. Now is just fine. Just tell me when and where. I know you aren't who you portray yourself to be on here.. I'm in the mood today to do some real serious damage!!

Reply: why you so angry? Where I am from we gives the opinions and has the debates. One times my mentor antonhe tell me my sketch make his rectal twitch then we go for rice puddings. If I am givings you bad day not what was in planning.

Him: That's ok man. I'm going to be proactive in finding out who your real identity is and then we will see what we'll see. (another 3 minutes later he responded to the twitching rectum comment with...) I don't care about all your internet ramblings to me.. i just want to exterminate you like a bug... Agree to meet me somewhere. Bring whoever you want.. Bring gun.. knife.. I don't care whatever makes you feel like you have a chance..Here is my number. You call it...(number reluctantly omitted)

Reply: You are too the violence. I no call you. Goodbye good lucks.

As much fun as I had with Mr. Testosterone 1985, I had even more when his much more reasonable childhood friend decided to contact the great artiste and give his two cents:

Friend: I think you owe this woman an appology for the words you said ..

Reply: (Alter ego) does not apologizes for this. You american are too sensitivity! I POO AT YOU!

Friend: You are too strange .. I poo every morning and often times 4 times a day . do you think the words you say offend me ..Never will happen ..Doesnt matter to me that your Russian Brain is about the size of a pea either ..I have many Russian Friends ..Or MAybe you are French ..I dont know , to hard to tell from all the hair and make up you have on ..Either way ..Enjoy ..I just think it is ignorant to make rude comments , if you do not even know the person you are talking about ..

Reply: do not need to know person to critique why mine get bad spanky? He is moviefilm maker but cannot taking the criticals. You seem like nice man dude. not like mean violence man who scare me and want to squash me like bug sounding like wrestler of america united states. Alfonse is very hurt and will leavings the bookface to finding places where complimentaries go to women who are the deserving. Oh and that is not picture of alfonse you no understandings the irony.

(This is the picture he thought was "me." Really dealing with some brain trusts here)

Friend:You were Critiquing of a beautiful woman ..You cant compare a beautiful woman to someone who cleans toilets ..No comparison there at all ..If you said those same words about my wife , I might want to squash you like a bug ..I guess maybe you might try to think before you speak .In other words on face book if you cant say something nice , just keep it to yourself ..So how about going back and deleting the comment you made on that beautiful woman ..If not because someone wants to squash , how about because a nice Man asked you to ..

Reply: well I am sorry to insulting violence man's wife but seriously new friend. What is beauty about woman with crossing eyes and fat lips. color is the striking but that due to makeup. I am artiste I have eye. But (alter ego) is finished with these monkeying of business. Tell violence man (alter ego)meaning no offenses. Cannot deleting comment because no longer friend with he.

Friend: I see , I think make up can be overdone as well ..I dont think he is violent , was just angry , I cant speak for him though ..I live to far away ..I am sure the comment will be deleted ..Anyway , that photo was probably a photo shoot done by a modeling agency ...As for the amount of makeup I assume the modeling agency is responsible for it .We will just leave it at that .

Reply: I am wishing more american man were like you. I TAKE BACK POO FROM YOU. you are good man.

There is more to this story that I won't bother posting here yet but isn't it amazing how much fun you can have with idiots and slightly less idiotic friends of idiots?

SCRIBE'S LASTEST ENDURED CRITICISM...

Hi. How are ya? Oh, that’s too bad, I hope things get better. Me? Eh, can’t complain…well, actually I’m not allowed to complain so I don’t bother. Apparently everything that could possibly fulfill a human being has befallen me so I need to shut up and let others wallow in their own misery.

So, this is going to be a rather cold and dispassionate entry where I tell you why I am a horrible, horrible person.

As near I can tell, it stems from the fact that I don’t experience jealousy regarding what others have and I do not. For some reason, one of the major tenants of every major religion on the planet is either wrong or simply does not apply when it comes to me. I am a horrible person because I’m not jealous of other people and the lives they lead.

You’re probably wondering why I’m bringing this up – actually, you’re probably experiencing the old fourth paragraph eye-glaze and clicking onto something infinitely more interesting, in which case I don’t blame you…are they gone?

Good. Fuck them. Buncha fair-weather taint sniffers.

Now that we’re alone, I shall continue. How can I couch this in rhetoric so no prying eyes will be able to know who or what I am talking about? Ah, yes…

I was talking about what a little sell-out bitch-ass whore my former friend Ed is with (former although teetering back into deserving the name) EFB. Regular readers (all two of you remaining) might remember that this was the guy who stabbed me in the back during a low point among low points about three eyars ago. He basically chose the chick with the rack over his friend of a decade and in effect rendered himself totally untrustworthy. I still maintain a connection with his punk ass because she seems to like being friends with him and his woman and because I believe in keeping one’s enemies close for purposes I shan’t reveal this day.

She launched into this annoying diatribe about how he probably changed his opinion of me because of my then irresponsible and self-destructive behavior. I responded by telling her that frankly it was none of his goddam business how I chose to live my life and that I shouldn’t feel any pressure to change because of him. That, I said, is supposed to be what differentiates friendship from romantic bond. She disagreed because she has so many friends and so much experience with…oh, right. Scratch that part. Permit me to rephrase:

In a purely theoretical reply, she said real friends are supposed to judge us in some tough- love-spur-you-toward-positive-action-sense. She was, of course, wrong. Real friends are there for us as part of a support system that can take over in cases where no other system is functioning…sort of like a backup family member. In other words, although close friends should feel comfortable being honest and forthright with each other, they should rarely if ever use what they know about their friends as weapons or as a method of disregarding them. If they do, they have crossed over from friend to antagonist and msut be dealt with accordingly.

For example: I have a friend who refuses to get a job despite the fact that his wife works. Do I “approve” of this? It’s not my place or right to approve. However, I have a negative opinion of this and have told him so. We are still as close as ever and never once did I tell his wife that maybe it was time for her to move on or anything like that. That’s for her friends to say. Even if she and I were friends, he and I have a longer history and so he deserves the respect of his earned seniority. EFB doesn’t understand this because she doesn’t have any friendships of long-lasting quality that have been truly tested.

When I told her I no longer care for Ed she hinted that I felt that he’d passed me by in life because he has a great job and a (slightly) larger home with far less property than I do. As insulting as it was to have it implied that I felt “passed by” by someone who lived with his mom and dad until he was thirty so he could go to school and move out when finished while notsuffering a fucking thing or a single setback, it was baffling as well. This may sound strange especially to female ears, but I don’t compare myself to others. I have no interest in what the Joneses are doing and, in fact, despise the Jonses and whatever spiritually and morally bankrupt path they allowed to choose them.

So, ain’t no hatin’ goin’ on up in heah!

This is nothing I am proud of. It is just me. Blame my mother, I suppose, who instilled in me the pervasive belief that no one is superior or inferior to anyone else, regardless of their lack of social class or ambition. That doesn’t mean there aren’t people for whom we will have disdain, but if someone isn’t doing anything worse than not trying to match the lives of others, that person is not someone to look down upon. Perhaps she felt this way because her brother, my uncle, was so much the opposite.

To be fair, the argument can be made that the truly materially successful among us are indeed those personality types that seek to emulate what they see and possibly acquire more. EFB thinks these people are wonderful. In her mind, this is how one acquires the life we should all aspire to having…well, those of us that fit within a certain limited framework of intelligence, social background and ruthlessness.

Apparently, I lack ambition because I don’t want to be like Ed, a person working in the Finance department of an automotive firm that is laying people off left and right. Because I choose not to live the whitebread fantasy he embraces wholeheartedly, I am somehow lower than him.

Hmm. Okay. Let’s examine this for a moment, shall we? Indulge me, dammit!

I am a person whose father died when he was just twenty and whose mother's health had already begn deteriorating by then. Within a year or more she was wheelchair bound and my entire life was based around taking care of her throughout most of my twenties. Despite her being a profesisonal and having a decent social security disability and retirement income, money was tight and whatever meager earnings I made went right into the pocket of her homecare medical assistant because Blue Cross wouldn't provide that service for anyone under 65. I watched my mother fall apart gradually until one final seizure destroyed her mind and took her body a few weeks later. During all this, I somehow found a way to maintain a relationship, keep writing and attend school which I usually paid for. Now I maintain the home she originally purchased which was not willed to me so that caused a protracted legal issue and lost the love of my life right before all that started. Yet, despite it all, my novel came out last month and the one and only thing I believed I could do well -WRITE - continues to receive positive responses online and on paper.

Passed me by? Fuck her and fuck him too. The only thing that little bitch passed by were his nuts. He hasn't experienced loss or a single stumbling block. Far as I'm concerned, we're not even on the same level.

I will not be made to feel like shit because I don't succumb to envy! There was another guy who didn't succumb to envy either. He had long hair and funny ideas and people created a religion around him that lasts even today.

That's right! I'm talking about the Big Lebowski!

Can you believe this shit??? Is it me?

SCRIBE'S TOP FIVE REASONS YOU ARE IN A BAD RELATIONSHIP

For Men. The female list will be posted in a few days:


1. HER FRIENDS & FAMILY CAN SAY WHATEVER THE HELL THEY WANT ABOUT YOU & YOURS, BUT YOURS BETTER NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT HER & HERS- It doesn't matter what hers say, they are either correct or have the right to say it. But yours do not because apparently she and her friends and family are impervious to criticism. This kind of primal, tribal mentality will only get worse as time goes, even possibly leading to the old "the kids are mine" outlook that leaves men feeling castrated and purposeless.

2. SHE TREATS ORAL SEX LIKE A FRINGE BENEFIT OF HOLIDAYS OR BIRTHDAYS- Remember when she blew you like it was a kiss? No? Well, in that case you're a dumb-ass for getting involved with her in the first place! But if she did and she's not orally fixated, she was only doing it to make you think she's the ultimate lay. Wait until she finds out you're not the ultimate catch she thought you were. If you're lucky, she might go down on you for your birthday or just long enough to cause arousal, but you'll be fortunate if her knees come with a key to unlock them! Especially if you have kids and she goes into that "We're parents now" shit where sex is a thing designed to acheive a singular goal and you're a pervert for still wanting it. Oh, but "GOD" invented marriage so obviously it's all part of the plan.

3. SHE THINKS YOUR INTERESTS ARE "SILLY" & DOESN'T MIND SAYING SO IN FRONT OF COMPLETE STRANGERS- In the beginning she may have feigned interest in what you liked. Maybe she went with you to a game or a science fiction, fantasy or action movie, but now the very fact that you have memorobillia from your hobbies is cause for scorn and derision. She now contemptuously refers to your silly little habits as the activities of an adolescent mind while boring you to tears with her constant viewing of HGTV and procedural crime dramas that require no imagination and even less intelligence. Enjoy!

4. SHE TELLS YOU SHE'S NOT SURE IF SHE LOVES YOU OR HER PREVIOUS GUY MORE-That guy she was with before you who either (a) died, (b) dumped her, (c) cheated on her, or (d) started wearing her panties sure was great. So great in fact that they're not together anymore. But she doesn't mind comparing you to him whenever she feels the need. Oh, but when you mention his negaive traits of which there were several, she stonewalls you until the next time she feels the need to do it again. On top of all that, she still can't decide who she loves more but says reassuring things like, "I'm with you now." If you marry or move in with this woman, you might as well buy your Jerry Springer tickets now.

5. THE VERY ACT OF RAISING YOUR VOICE CAUSES HER TO CRY "ABUSE!"- Maybe she was knocked around before you got to her, maybe she wasn't. Either way, she seems to think a male expressing anger is a prologue to a beatdown. If she was beaten before, you can understand it and try to work with her unless she uses it as a weapon. Since you're not a guy who hits women (I hope) you should only tolerate so much of this before you bolt. If she was never physically abused, she's either a panicky bitch or a manipulative one. It's your choice. Either whisper for the rest of your life, or yell goodbye over your shoulder as you get in your car and drive the fuck away.

SCRIBE'S BOOOK SIGNING FIASCO/DEBACLE

For those who aren’t on Facebook or who don’t read my writer’s blog, I had my first book signing this past Saturday, June 11. It was an unmitigated disaster. Here’s why:

It started with the venue location. Keep in mind this little expo was the brainchild of my publisher’s partner who works in the City of Detroit at a Sports Center where the Redwings practice. The area where the ice goes is sizable enough that, when dry, it can house several vendors hawking their particular brands of merchandise. In this case, the merchandise included collectibles such as comic books, actual books, movies, pop art and face painting by at least one chick that made my tongue swell like I was having an allergic reaction.

In the midst of all this sat myself and two other writers from the publishing company, me at one table and the two of them sharing the other. Each of us had our own books on the tables as well as each other’s. At most I expected to sell two or three books in a venue like that.

As I mentioned before, the location of this thing was a huge determining factor in its success or, in this instance, significant lack thereof. Or perhaps I should say the perceived location was the problem.

The guy who spearheaded this whole thing made it sound as if this place was in an area it turned out not to be in. I’ll call this mad genius Joe so you won’t know his name is actually RUDY.

So, anyway Rudy…I mean, Jack…wait, what did I say he was gonna be called? Rudy? Wilbur? Well, whatever his name is in this post, Rudy described the event as taking place in Detroit’s famous Greektown section. Allow me to explain:

Greektown is just about the most jumping part of Detroit, especially for white suburbanites. It is arguably the safest part of the city due to it being a virtual police state and it houses one of the three casinos in the area in the midst of several Greek restaurants and bakeries. People love hanging out there these days and the idea of an expo being located at its heart would undoubtedly have appealed to quite a few fanboys and girls alike who could have parked and walked there.

The expo started at 10:00 a.m. so I was required to be there at least a half hour early. All I can say is thank Zeus for the GPS program on my Verizon Wireless phone! Since I thought I knew where I was going, I kept making what I thought were the appropriate turns and having to wait for the GPS to recalculate the route. I didn’t understand why. Greektown was within sight, why did it want me to make a left turn? I trusted it and wound up driving away from Greektown. About three miles down the road I noticed the worst high school in the city and thought this couldn’t be right. A quarter of a mile down the road I realized it was.

The expo was located in the middle of nowhere, next to a fire station and butted up against a cemetery! Filled with giant monuments to people whose surviving relatives are probably unaware of their existence.

But I figured what the hell? Surely people will find the place. It’s only five bucks to get in.

Once we were seated at our tables, people started filing in at exactly ten o’clock. In fact, about thirty people walked in within the first hour. By eleven another thirty had shown up. By noon two or three people drifted in. By one the vendors outnumbered the patrons by a ratio of three to one.

On top of the lackluster turnout, the place was a sauna. Not only were we on a concrete floor but also we were in an area that’s normally covered in ice so the ventilation system was practically non-existent. I was told that turning on the large fans at the top would make it even worse. So there we sat in the sweltering heat on a humid day with no relief outside. People filed past us, their eyes momentarily drifting toward our tables, some of them wearing smirks as they kept going.

Eventually two pudgy pre-teen girls showed up and actually purchased a book. SOMEBODY ELSE’S BOOK! Of the four books present, the one that got bought was the one written by the only author who hadn’t shown up! I couldn’t even entice these girls to do the two for twenty purchase and get a second book.

At this point the minutes started ticking by at an agonizing rate of slowness. Most of my time was spent talking to my friend and colleague Nora Cook Smith, author of “A Not So perfect Christmas,” walking around to look at other tables, reading, and trading lustful glances with that fine-ass face painter.

By three o’clock vendors started jumping off this sinking ship. The guy behind me packed up half his merchandise and wheeled it out to his car. I glanced back and saw the vendors in the rear had left like thieves in the night. Talk began circulating that we might be leaving early by three. Did I mention this thing was slated to go until seven?

Nobody I’d invited showed up so my strategy of stacking my odds and making it look as if my table was worth checking out backfired horribly. (Former) EFB’s sisters were on their way but because of the idea that the place was located in the heart of Greektown, they didn’t trust their GPS either and wound up making a wrong turn not half a mile from where we were. Apparently wherever they wound up scared them so badly that they sought out the freeway and headed back home, apologizing profusely and promising to buy the book the next day. None of those on my “Maybe” list from my Facebook invitation showed up. So I sat there like a dumb-ass and wasted my day off.

I couldn’t even do any people watching because there were no fucking people!!!

Meanwhile, Rudy…er, I mean Fernando looked like the walking dead because of his severe exhaustion from the so-called planning of this thing. I’m not sure what he did because half the people listed in the ad slated to appear were nowhere to be found. At one point he confessed his disappointment to me but this was early on and I was still in denial that people would arrive in the later part of the day. No such luck.

At this point, you might be thinking this was all because of the poorly worded description of the location. I wish you were right because this next part is so mind-numbingly idiotic it begs the question: Should the mentally retarded be allowed to plan expos?

Why the harsh language, you ask? ‘Cause in addition to being an *asshole, I also know not to plan a new event in the City of Detroit when there are two major events occurring at the exact same fucking time!!!

Not only was there a Tigers game but also the annual boat show was going on, a huge draw in the Detroit area. Now, it is possible that we could have received the overflow from some of those events but that’s where those poorly worded directions come back into play.

(Former) EFB insisted on coming after work despite my protestations to the contrary. I told her we’d probably be wrapping up by the time she showed but she seemed to think it was possible that more people would arrive. I was right, she was wrong. She got there at five while I was in the bathroom and when I came back out I was told we could leave.

If nothing else, she is a natural when it comes to PR. She asked Rudy…wait, I mean Abdullah, why he’d claimed this was Greektown when it was three miles in the other direction. She also advised him that people probably got lost and said the hell with it. She also reiterated what Id said earlier about this being the instant communication age so people are able to call or text others about how lame an event is thereby preventing them from wasting their time.

(Former) EFB advised me the first thing she would have done would have been to check the Detroit events calendar as to avoid what happened that day. She also would have advertised it as being 3 miles south of Greektown. I reminded her that she took herself out of the picture a couple years ago and she replied, “Yeah, well I’m back in! I didn’t realize these people were such fucking idiots!”

Right now, I can’t summon a single argument to dispute that~

NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS!

They's good news afoot! Two things, actually...

Sara Palin is no longer governor of Alaska, thanks in no small part to the results of my Douche of the Year contest...you're welcome.

And the second and far more important thing: My novel is available for ordering through my publisher's website!
http://www.com-publishing.com/books.shtml

There are other great books there as well so order away.

I just wish I wasn't sick today but two out of three is the best I've been able to attain this year so I'll take it!