SIX THINGS YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT ME
I've had several people over the last few months ask me why I sometimes smell like blueberries - not exactly the most masculine scent. I never noticed it, but as soon as someone pointed it out I smelled it everywhere. And it took me forever to figure out the answer.
Last year, I spent a lot of time with a certain adult entertainer/performer, who would occasionally drop in for weekend visits. She kept a supply of basic toiletries in my shower. After it became apparent that our lifestyles wouldn't mesh and she wouldn't be returning for her rather pricey-looking stuff, I figured I'd go ahead and use them. I'm a guy...I don't care. Soap is soap, right?
If I'd actually bothered to read the labels, I would've realized that what I thought was facial scrub was actually blueberry-flavored sexual lubricant.
Hell, it looked like that Nivea stuff... It did, however, actually taste like blueberry cheesecake.
I learned to read cards in college and have been told I'm quite good at it. When I lived in California, I used to read cards - for free - in front of a coffee shop in Morro Bay. I gained some level of popularity because of it amongst fishermen, surfers, and skateboarders, mainly because I didn't claim to channel any psychic gift to predict the future. I simply used the cards as a means to help folks find answers for themselves and cut through most of the mumbojumbo.
I also taught several women how to read cards for themselves, which earned me the wrath of several "professional" psychics in the area. One of the strangest experiences I've ever had reading tarot cards happened in 1999, when this Sister Whatever, Storefront Wiccan literally burned sage and prayed for the goddess Diana to "destroy my manhood" while I was teaching a homeless high school girl how to interpret the Major Arcana.
[4.]I have this tendency to scratch my ass when I'm trying to solve a problem. And yes, I've even been known to do it in public.
I also do it when I get nervous. I once asked a girl out in college. She politely declined. Months later, I found out through a friend that she was completely embarrassed by the fact that I asked her out in a crowded coffee shop...while scratching my ass.
I actually live the overwhelming majority of my non-work life like a hermit. Or a monk. Or both.
I also bore rather easily. I view becoming a librarian as being almost quasi-retirement, having already earned my emeritus status in the esteemed School of Hard Knocks.
I had someone send me a text message late Friday, inviting me to a "dance club" here in Oxford. (Take a subpar disco from some impoverished Baltic republic, magically transport it to the American Midwest, and fill it with rich girls who think they're Paris Hilton - that's the level of sophistication of Oxford's nightclubs.)
Given the problems I've had living my normal hermetic life because of this blog, I don't frequent these kinds of places. The girl who sent the message - a simple STADIUM NOW - has poked fun of me in the past because I only drink at "adults-only" establishments. Well, there's a reason for that...
I decided to go, in spite of my better judgment. I was a bit tipsy and didn't want to risk driving. I paid a three-dollar cover to be bored out of my mind, have eight girls insist on taking photos with me in my Stetson (I really don't want to know), have some girl rub her ass on my crotch, and watch the woman who'd invited me make out with this guy who resembled an Eminem/John Kerry lovechild.
I was bored shitless. I'm in this club where everybody's bumping-and-grinding and I end up leaning against the wall, trying not to draw attention to myself. I should've let loose a little, but I couldn't help but notice the bad sound design, the crappy light rig, and the fact that the security staff are about as worthless as a dead poodle.
I can't drive without music playing. Correction. Without loud music playing. And as sick as it might sound, I don't really care what pedestrians think.
I do turn my radio down by schools and in residential zones; I'm not one of those assholes with thousands of dollars' worth of Alpines and subwoofers crammed into the trunk of a used car.
I'm a horrible librarian. I don't really enjoy reading novels. Honestly, I'd rather wait for the movie version.
I read nonfiction and poetry almost exclusively. I also read a lot of UN documents in my free time and am addicted to the Journal of the American Society for Information Science and Technology.