April 27, 2005 :: Married people need not apply

For some reason, I find the warning on this page to be uproariously hilarious. I guess there probably are a whole lot of married men trolling for sneak tips, jumpoffs and side pieces online. But the referenced Title 18, Part I, Chapter 63, Section 1343 of the U.S. Code suggests that such deception only constitutes fraud if money or property is involved. I guess that means that True.com considers women (or at least the relevant portions of said women) to be property. Of course, I am not a lawyer, so none of this can be construed as legal advice, just my own random musings.

posted by Rainmayun at 2:05 PM -

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I think, therefore...

I'm having a minor identity crisis. For some reason, I think I'm fading away like Marty McFly's brother and sister in the family photo from Back to the Future, and being replaced with somebody else.

When I went to drop off my vacuum cleaner for repair yesterday, the sister front desk clerk took my information. She asked me my name and I proceeded to spell it for her, slowly and in pieces as I have learned to do.* I started with "T... A..." and then paused to watch her write those letters before I gave the rest. She hesitated, but managed to get them on paper. I continued with "J... H...", speaking as clearly and slowly as I can, sounding like I am teaching a kindergarten class. She hesitated again, and wrote "JAH" on the paper. Where that extra "A" came from, I have no clue. I was flabbergasted. I also didn't bother correcting her, because I knew that exercise would be of no consequence, as I am frequently positively identified regardless of rampant misspellings of my name, and she called me "Mr. Taylor" anyway since she was apparently afraid to incorrectly pronounce my first name. Woe be unto Stevie Wonder for popularizing the "Give your babies Swahili names" fad.

When I went to pick it up today, a different sister was working the desk. She took my claim ticket and then proceeded to say, "Do you know that you resemble a celebrity?" I've only heard this approximately 52571752774198 times in my life. It never fails, especially with older black folk, that they not only see this resemblance (which I really don't see), but they FORGET THE NAME OF THE CELEBRITY! "You know, you look like what's-his-name, from the TV and the movies- do you know who I am talking about?" Yes, I know. No, you're not the first person to tell me that. No, I don't think I look like him.

No, I'm not going to tell my readers who it is. Figure it out yourselves!


* In a strange yet annoying coincidence, the verbal spelling of my name is homophonic with "THAH", especially if you say it too fast. That's why I pause between the "A" and the "J". I occasionally get mail addressed to Thah, which is a sure sign it's junk mail of some sort.

posted by Rainmayun at 11:28 AM -

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April 18, 2005 :: Hot pot shots

Just a few things that were on my mind this weekend and today:

• Although we had two great weekend days, they were just a little bit cold. Why is it 77 degrees and sunny today, when its Monday and I have to work?


• When the temperature heats up in DC, people start to do crazy things. It's like clockwork... you know it's spring when you start to see insanity. I saw some fool driving down the street in DC this morning with his hazard lights on and with his hood up. What the hell!!!! We can already see you're a hazard because you're driving down the street and can't see what's in front of you. He was apparently trying to peek through that little space under the steering wheel and under the crack of the hood. Fool!


• Apparently, because I don't like hot, crowded, Amistad-type sweatboxes like Dream, H2O and now Ozio, I'm bourgie. If it makes me bourgie to enjoy seating, elbow room, table-side service at non-insane prices and not sweating out my shirt, then bourgie I shall be.


• I was at a barbecue yesterday, and this particular young lady came dashing in the house and sat down next to me. I asked why she was in a hurry, and she told me she had just been hit on by a man she described as "developmentally challenged". I said "so you got hit on by handyman?" and I could not stop laughing. I may go to hell, but the ride was worth it!


• Also at that same barbecue, I noticed a group of three young African ladies when they came in. One in particular caught my eye, until later on when I noticed her in full mouth-to-mouth osculation with this tall Curt Kobain lookalike. She instantly became less attractive to me. I am still not sure what this says about me.


• It may indeed be ghetto for me to cut my entire backyard (all 20 feet by 13 feet of it) with a weed whacker, but it's just not enough yard to buy a $200 lawnmower. And I can't seem to fit any mowers into my trunk (nor do I want to), so 2nd hand mowers seem out of the question. Oh well, at least I have a fence, so hardly anyone can see me. One of these days I am going to convert my remaining weeds to grass. I got rid of most of the truly nasty stuff when I got there (poison ivy, some mysterious red strawberry-lookin things, and sprouting trees), but I have a few more to go (the occasional dandelion, some random plants with little purple flowers on them that actually smell kinda nice, and the dead patches where nothing grows because I had junk on it for 3 months this winter).

posted by Rainmayun at 11:58 AM -

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April 12, 2005 :: The shady side of springtime

Spring is a time for rebirth. Trees and bushes and flowers bloom again (see below). Baby bugs hatch and crawl forth, buzzing around. Nature, which lies dormant for winter, bursts forth again with renewed vigor.

Apparently, this renewal extends to people long since gone from my life. In the past week, I've received online correspondence from two women who I thought were long gone. Both were part of my life when I lived in California (which means at least 2 1/2 years ago). One was rather benign; a local girl in whom I took an interest, until the day I decided to give her a foot massage, and when she took her shoes off, her feet were, um.... fragrant, to say the least... plus her legs were hairy. People who know me know that one of my few fetishes about women's appearance is depilation... (People who know me also call me the Seinfeld of dating, but that's a different post.) I don't care much if you wear makeup, or what kind of clothes you wear, as long as it all compliments you, but please PLEASE don't have more hair on your legs or under your armpits than I do! So I was quite turned off at that time, and things died out. She resurfaced last week, just to say hi... and she's moved up in the world a little, working now as a radio DJ on one of the hip-hop stations in Sacramento. Nice to hear from her, or at least harmless.

The other woman to contact me was a poisonous snake. I had a crush on her (from long distance), and she befriended me, abused my adoration in her, and then kicked me to the curb like a neckbone sucked dry. I would not care if she were to disappear from the earth forever. She came back, so she says, to hook me up with her administrative assistant at her job, because the girl needs a friend like me, and I was such a wonderful friend to her. Yeah, whatever.

So is it just a coincidence, or is there something about spring that makes people return? I wonder.

posted by Rainmayun at 12:14 PM -

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April 11, 2005 :: The sunny side of springtime

Spring is in full bloom here in the nation's capital. We had our first bonafide beautiful weekend. I almost forgot I missed California. On Saturday, I went to the National Arboretum and took some pictures.



You can see the rest of the pictures here. They aren't super wonderful, but you may just get a taste of what it is looking like here. I didn't get down to the tidal basin to shoot the cherry blossoms like I wanted, but that's all well and good, because there were probably tens of thousands of people down there. I have some higher rez versions suitable for use as desktop backgrounds, maybe I will upload those later.

posted by Rainmayun at 12:26 PM -

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April 04, 2005 :: Slave wages

Today I got a wholly annoying "reminder" email from a friend. The contents:

Just wanted to remind everyone that the "Moving Day" party is on Saturday, April 9th starting at 10am! Food will be provided.

Did I mention that I'm annoyed?

First of all, attempting to disguise this conscription of able bodies with the word "party" is insulting. It ain't no party, especially not at 10:00 am on a coveted Saturday morning. On top of this, I never responded to the first email to confirm my attendance, mostly because I have absolutely no intention of attending this "party". I am thirty years old, dammit, and I am old enough (and fiscally responsible enough) to hire movers to move my stuff when I want stuff moved. I haven't asked people to help me carry my earthly possessions from one house to another in almost a decade. One piece of furniture, sure. But your whole damn house? Stop being cheap.

No, a slice or two of pizza isn't ample compensation. Besides, as I already mentioned, I'm thirty now. My pieces and parts don't work the same way that they used to, particularly my suspect lower back. I am not risking traction and disability because you can't fork out a couple hundred dollars. Hell, I don't even like carry my own stuff. I sure wouldn't ask "friends" to do something I don't even want to do myself.

Which leads me to my biggest beef... if said person had actually been anything resembling a friend in the last 12 months or so, I might be inclined to set aside my philosophical differences and help anyway. That is what friends do for each other, right? But we haven't been. Said person has been pretty much unreachable, and unresponsive to voicemails. So to come calling now, I think, is the height of presumption.

Besides, I have a prior engagement at that same time. I've had a standing date with my pillow on my calendar for years.

posted by Rainmayun at 2:59 PM -

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