My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

Born-Again Virgin Seeks Semi-Chauvinist And Meaning Of Life. Or A Job. P.S. Vagina.

I'm at The Broken Spoke, an espresso-slash-bicycle shop. It reminds me of Deus Cafe in Venice, California, only Deus has pricey cafe racers and low quality coffee. The BS has affordable pedal bikes and rich, delish espresso. As a California-converted coffee snob, I now drive across town (seven minutes) for the best stuff: thick as molasses and smooth as Rihanna's clam. (I assume.) Speaking of vaginas—and, in my case, cobwebs—I went to my urologist the other day for more tests on my taco. Actually, they were bladder tests, but that's not nearly as fun to write, or say, aloud. Seriously, try it. "Bladder." "Taco." Or ... "Vagina!" Vagina: the funnest to say. The doctor is mid 30s and kind of...

The Turkish (d)Rug Dealer.

Boracay Beach, Philippines Blog Seven. I'm walking along the Strip one day, and a man just sort of appears beside me. It happens so naturally that I'm not caught off-guard, and the next thing you know we've walked several beach blocks together. He tells me he's a rug dealer but, with his accent, it sounds like drug dealer. (Later, when I get to know him more, I'm not sure I actually heard him wrong.) He's touchy feely and has rug- (thug-?) beating meaty hands that constantly graze my shoulder, hip, and hair, and make me adjust my I(heart)BoracayPhilipinnes satchel to a more secure placement. But he laughs a lot and is charming. And alarming. I followed you, he...

Silver Lining Syndrome and The Art of Acceptance OR Hiking with Strange Men

So I’m thinking to myself, “Is this guy a serial killer?” as we travel along the Pacific Coast Highway presumably to a remote (in my mind) hiking destination, me and this man who I just met. Did I mention I’m in the passenger seat of an older van with no windows, no back seats, padded ceiling with rips and brown stains and Texas plates? Blink blink—is that sea bass I smell?—blink. Okay, so before I scare the crap out of you (too late?), I should probably note that I met “High Risk” (his pseudonym) at a coffee shop—of course—and he was with a few (normal seeming) friends—though not all serial killers are reclusive or anti-social. Then a few...

 Showing 3 Posts