THE OXFORD (FUCKING OHIO) DICTIONARY OF QUOTATIONS: Summer, Sleep, and Other Sordid Things...

I have a sixth sense for drama. One would think that means I'm good at avoiding it.

Trouble is? I'm a fucking idiot.

- The Wombat, Ramblings of an Idle Insomniac,
" Drama, of Varying Scales," BOSTON, Mass., Aug. 17

Preach on, Brother Wombat.

Sums up the final days of Summer 2007 for a whole hell of a lot of folks, I think.

* * * *

I trust you. Besides, _____ says you're, like, completely dense and that I'd have to, like, be really obvious or something if I wanted to hook up. Like say 'Jason, I'm in your bed and naked and I want to fuck.'

- Woman No. 1, who crashed at my apartment,
In bed with me last week.

Kinda true, actually. Extremely hot 21-year-old, friend of an ex, who needed a place to stay until she moved back home. I don't use air conditioning, so we both slept pretty much completely naked.

And, nope, nothing happened. The only thing she asked for was for an extra pillow. She did, however, ask me to post something about it the next morning.

Just to piss off her ex-boyfriend. He apparently fuckin' hates me.

Heh.

* * * *

Three words.

Midget. Monkey. Wrestling.

- Local bar manager and friend,
discussing not-so-serious
ideas for school year promotions.

Trust me. You don't want to know.

But I will recommend the Orange Jell-O shots to local readers who know where I drink. Stiffer than a four-day-old corpse in a meat locker.

* * * *

No sweats? You don't own ANY sweats? Fuck it. I'll sleep in my underwear.

- Woman No. 2, who crashed at my apartment,
In bed with me last week.

Extremely hot 22-year-old, two nights later. And, nope, nothing happened. Just nice to sleep beside someone sometimes. I probably need to apologize for getting a little too touchy-feely, but, well, it's been ages since I last did the whole just curl up beside me so I can sleep thing. Not sure how those sorts of deals work these days...

* * * *

_______is like such a whore... does she, like, know about B___ and me last year?...They were, like, fighting, and he was, like, cute and I was, like, really trashed that night and...

- Local U. female undergraduate,
cell phone conversation,
outside of the ZenFo Pro Library, 7:42 AM ET

* * * *

When people suggest that men are more promiscuous than women, I always wonder how this is possible unless the men are having sex with each other.

- Liz, The LibraryTavern Wench,
"I'm Not a Mathematician, But...," Ohio, Aug. 14

There's a reason I'm throwing in this stellar quote from Liz, one of my favorite feminist colleagues and fellow bloggers, after the overheard mobile conversation quotation. I'll let readers draw their own conclusions about the nature of womanhood and internal gender conflict, human sexuality, and the complex, almost incomprehensible eccentricities of life in a sex-negative, secretive society...

Okay. That's way too deep for a Monday. Moving on...

* * * *

The only thing I learned as a sports reporter was how to hate the fanboy shit that goes along with men's college and professional sports. I love the competition, but hate the celebrity worship.

- The ZenFo Pro, to a guy who thought it
was so cool that I used to be a sportswriter.

First time in months I've had a conversation with anybody about my sportswriter days. Most folks are shocked to learn that, no, it wasn't a dream job or a chance to just talk about sports all day. It was hard, grueling work, keeping up with beats, tracking down leads, and meeting tight deadlines.

Don't miss it one bit.

* * * *

So. I guess we're not talking anymore, 'cause ____ says she saw you talking to a bunch of girls outside of M____& J_____'s Saturday night. And some tall girl kissed you. You are such a fucking bastard!

- Voicemail, one of five, from a very creepy woman.

I met the caller only last week, gave her my number, and told her to give me a call if she wanted to hang out sometime. Number now blocked.

Look, I'm almost 30. I'd like to say that the last time I played the talking to game was in high school, but I didn't do it then, either. I tend to hang out and socialize with more women than men, especially when I'm out on the town. I'm not too awfully interested in talking to a woman who obviously read way too much into me giving her my number.

And the girl who kissed me? Just a friend. She pecked my cheek as she and her boyfriend headed home for the night.

Drama.

Ugh.

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