What do you get when you cross the horror of, say, Pearl Harbor with the folly of Janet's wardrobe malfunction?
My life at the moment.
There is a cacophony of noise in my head and heart right now that does not fit well into my duty of blogging. My mission, gentle readers, is to entertain, not to use my Toaster Oven as therapy. So, I will employ the skills I've learned from my Midwestern upbringing and discuss a bit of trivial business instead. Once the emergency crew clears out some of the rubble, I can discuss matters of the heart in a way that won't make you want to jump through your monitor and shake the bejeezus out of me.
I had a date this weekend and found myself to be the victim of the mirage known as flattering bar lighting. The Landscaper was pretty appealing the night we flirted over drinks, but in the daylight it was a different story. He is a sweet man, but I knew it wouldn't work between us when we met for lunch Sunday.
He was wearing a torn dirty sweater that used to be white and was two sizes too small. While he was talking to me I found myself thinking, "with some new clothes and a beard trim he could be much more attractive. Maybe he could cut his hair and use some product. He may be dateable with some work. "
My Pygmalion fantasy was shattered when he pulled me from my reverie with the words, "I can't stand those guys from Queer Eye from the Straight Guy. Trying to make over guys and change them. That is not my style."
Oh my god, I am a Queer Eye guy.
I just hope I'm not Jai, the useless one, but I have a feeling that's exactly who I am.