Tags: girls and women

coo-coo-ka-choo

Love, and being a man

So I was talking with my wife and a couple of her female friends last night about the guy with the gun and the aerobics class. This is the kind of thing that makes me crazy, the kind of thing that gives men a bad name. This is what makes women fearful of men, when most of us just want to love and protect you. This is what makes women afraid that any new man they meet is one "no" away from turning into a crazed homicidal stalker.

I've been rejected. I've been lonely. I've wondered why I couldn't find someone. I didn't, however, get angry or blame women in general. This is because I'm not a narcissistic sociopath, I'm not a child who thinks that the love of a woman is one of man's basic freedoms. I don't call people like that "men." Honor, respect, trustworthiness: these are the kind of things that make one a man. And even if you are a man, you're not deserving of love.

That is to say, you're no more deserving than anyone else. But then, no one is deserving of love. There's nothing you can do to make someone love you. It's not something to be bartered, or earned. It's a gift, given freely and without regard to reciprocation. This is what knowing my wife taught me.

You can never deserve a gift like love, just as you can never deserve the grace of God. But that doesn't mean you don't try. When you love someone, you try to be worthy of their love in return. You might get it. You might not. But you try. Love is a never ending quest. If they give you their love, you owe more than you can ever repay. But you try. This, I do believe, is what makes a man.
nirvana

Quote of the day

    The truth of the matter is, if teenage girls were any more irritating to Roast Beef, his body would attempt to form a pearlescent enamel casing around them.

-title text of Thursday's Achewood

Achewood is a surrealist non sequitur comic with regular characters and continuity, and if that sounds like a contradiction in terms, you're right, but that's just part of the fun. My suggestion (unless you're my mom, who's probably never ever ever gonna like it) is to read it for a month, see if it sticks with you. The fanbase for Achewood, from what I hear, is rabid, but I can't speak to that, I don't know if anyone I know is an Achewood fan. So I guess they can't be that rabid, after all. If I seem like I'm rambling, then you get a gold star; I'm still riding the high from a good night last night, between the Eddie Izzard show (which would be old news to those who follow my Twitter feed), the Battlestar Galactica at the Alamo, and a very nice BLT in between. Plus, I think I found a renter for my condo, which was the main obstacle between me and a new mortgage...oh, did I not mention I'm moving in with my girlfriend? Yeah, that's really happening. Okay, done now, ramble off.

nirvana

One year ago

As of yesterday, I've been dating Susann for one full year.

Whoa.

This is big for me. This is the longest relationship I've had since...well, ever.

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Yeah, one whole year. I feel I should say something, but I said what I needed to say to who I needed to say it last night. For the rest of you, I just have to say...

I am so lucky.
nirvana

Dining Out

So for lunch, I went to Bagpipes. If the website doesn't explain it to you properly, it's a Scottish-themed Hooters, without the self-awareness. I went to dine on some fish and chips and practice not looking at other girls. (Susann actually called me on it once when we were out at a show; I was mortified, I thought I was being more discreet than that. In my defense, I was single for a long, long time and watching girls walk away, in multiple senses, is instinctual for me. I'm working on it, though.) The waitresses are outfitted in short kilts, knee-high socks, and shirts designed to reveal both cleavage and midriff.

At least, that's what I gathered from all the not-looking I was doing.

Ahem.

Anyway. My waitress (too skinny, but friendly, in the Hooters way) brought me three cod on a bed of fried potato discs. A compromise between what Brits call chips and what they're known as over here? If so, I find that vaguely insulting. Which should be the actual theme of the pub, in my opinion: I found the fish and chips right between the Celtic Tacos and the selection of pizzas. You can get a more authentic experience at Epcot Center. The menu for "Celtic Specialty Beverages" was unavailable on the website as I write this, but suffice it to say that the list is topped by the Apple-tini, and there were no less than three margaritas on there. And none of the drinks had any form of whisky, or even whiskey. You ask me, a Celtic drink is a glass of whiskey, neat. For an authentic experience, insult a mate's sister and get him to smash it over your head.

But I digress. The fish itself reminded me a lot of Long John Silver's, but without the flavor (not enough trans fats, I suspect). And I don't mean flavor of Long John Silver, I mean any kind of flavor at all. There wasn't enough salt and vinegar in the world to bring it around, and believe me, I tried. Thankfully, the fish comes with a tartar sauce that tasted a lot like plain mayo, and a cocktail sauce that was weakly spicy.

The lesson for today, boys and girls, is that just because it's local (even if it is designed like a franchise in the making), doesn't mean it's good.
nirvana

And what did YOU do for your Saturday night?

Ten years ago yesterday, a little show about the horrors of high school from a then-unknown TV writer debuted on the WB. Buffy the Vampire Slayer went on to surprising and unpredicted levels of critical and popular success, blah blah witty writing blah blah character development blah blah lesbians, if you don't know what I'm talking about, that's okay, but if you do, then I shouldn't need to recap it here. If you don't know and you want to, here's a good place to start.

Last night, the Alamo Drafthouse presented a celebration of the series in the form of an all-night Buffy party. From midnight-ish to the not-so-wee hours of the morning, there were selected episodes from all seven seasons, a trivia quiz, a costume contest, a vampire piñata (that we took turns staking instead of beating), and Nerf crossbow duels. Oh, and a breakfast taco bar in the morning, because this is Austin and there is no better salve after a morning of gleeful idiocy than a couple breakfast tacos. Usually it's a hangover cure, but I don't think anyone was drunk on anything other than fanboy (or -girl) giddiness.

If you have to ask if I was there, then really, you don't know me at all. If you have to ask why I was there, when I have all of the shows on DVD and can watch them at my leisure and don't have to roll in to work on three hours of sleep...that's a little trickier.

It's not that I was out to prove anything, that I can still party like a high-school geek. I'm not part of any kind of fan community who would make fun of me for not going. No one I know will be impressed that I watched an old TV show until nine in the morning, and right now my mom and my sister are planning an intervention (wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last).

Speaking of: if you didn't know, Pancake is getting a little brother. Flapjack is due in June or July. As a little brother myself, there will be much to teach him. Mwa ha.

If there's one thing that the Alamo Drafthouse has taught me, it's that good TV just gets better as the appreciative audience gets larger. It's the entire basis for their TV Party line of shows; it's not that you can get a burger and a beer with your TV, you can do that at home. It's being with like-minded folk. And when it's a show with as passionate a following as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, with the whole "going 'till dawn" aspect to weed out the wannabes, well, you're gonna get a fun group of folk. (And here's another reason I love this town: despite the midnight-to-dawn showtime and the $30 ticket price, they still filled two theaters with fans.)

And here's why my girlfriend, besides being gorgeous and smart and funny and sweet and kind, and even though she's not a special fan of the show (her exact words, if I can recall: "I've seen a couple episodes. Meh."), is the awesomest: she still came with me and lasted as long as I did, up until the showing of "Once More, with Feeling" singalong (which would've been the best part but again, had to work today, and the difference between two hours of sleep and three hours is huge). She sat there, all night, with me. For a show she's not even a fan of. Ladies, gentlemen: I love my girlfriend. I loved her before last night, but I love her even more now.

As we were leaving, she said, "I think I could be persuaded to watch some more episodes." Behold, the power of Buffy.
nirvana

Random link time

Or: What I do when I know I need to update with something but have nothing I'm thinking about and nothing in my life I feel I need to share.

"But Eddie," you ask. "Didn't your beautiful and smart and funny girlfriend meet your beautiful and smart and funny rest of your family last weekend?" Only most of it. Last weekend was mom, the sister, the brother-in-law (aka BIL), and The Greatest Niece Ever, aka Pancake.

(Side note: if you didn't know, Pancake's getting a little brother or sister in the summer. Which presents a problem, of course: how to refer to the new little one? Flapjack and Crepe have been turned down. Biscuit and Waffle are the current contenders. Submissions will be accepted until July 1st. Winner gets a hug.)

It went well, as expected (by me, at least). Among all those involved, I think I was the least nervous about it; Susann wanted my mom to like her, my mom didn't want to scare off one of the few serious girlfriends I've had...it was kinda funny, actually. Next weekend is my dad and Jenifer, which I'm even less worried about.

Okay, enough of that, now there's this:

  • Today is the memorial for St. Romanus of Condat, 5th century French monk. Pretty unremarkable, really, as far as saints go, patron of drowning victims and the mentally ill, but this sentence caught me: "Hermit in Condat (modern Saint-Claude) with his brother and sister where would-be students were attracted to them." Maybe I'm missing something, but if you're with your brother and sister and taking in students, are you still a hermit?

  • Fun Fact: February 29th is the memorial day for two saints. Which has to be annoying for them, I'd imagine.

  • Random, but cool: a lowrider bicycle

  • Random, but cool part 2: a very much not-low bicycle. It's gotta be weird to worry about low overpasses when you're on a bike.

  • Do you own a "dangerous" breed of dog? Tired of all the looks and whispers and legislation? Turn your Doberman into a very large poodle!

  • When Paris Hilton's CD was released in the UK last year, a "guerrilla artist" who goes by Banksy replaced 500 copies with CDs of his own making, with remixes with titles like "Why Am I Famous?" He managed to swap them out while leaving the case intact with the barcode so people wouldn't know they got a doctored CD until they listened to it. Here's the most telling quote from the BBC story, IMO: "No customers had complained or returned a doctored version."

  • One more, but it's a fun one: pictures of people jumping on hotel beds. Page after page of them. Everyone just looks so...happy.

  • The end.
nirvana

My apologies to Sergio Leone.

Good: I'm in love on Valentine's Day.

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Hee. Awesome.

Bad: I'm at work instead of with her. But she has chocolate-covered strawberries, so it could be worse. (Susann, if you're reading this and don't know what I'm talking about, go out on your porch and look around a little.)

Ugly: My jeans are too tight. Dammit. I need to start on the real dieting again. So annoying.