The Inner Slut

Let's see:

    1.  Met with John, Brit, 44, married to a Filipina, last Wednesday, the 26th;

    2.  Met with Mario, Italian, 50, married to a Filipina, last Monday, the 31st;

    3.  Meeting John again tomorrow, 6.30pm, for some fun;

    4.  Picking up Tom from the airport tomorrow midnight;

    5.  Meeting Dale sometime later this week.

Man, I am one busy girl!

What's a cool development is that I've kinda set up this informal partnership -- conspiracy? -- with Marge. She tries out some new playmates; I try some of mine; and we swap notes, choosing which ones we can play with again, those we can share, and those we dump. Nice!

My Dale's back from New York, brimming with pride with his successful business ventures. And stories about having taken a pedicab (good gad, a pedicab in the middle of New York City!) and the crappy thing being hit by a bus! Good thing he and his friend weren't hurt at all. But the pedicab was bent out of all proportion.

He had stories about how large the portions were in the places they went to eat. He had ordered at one time a veal chop and the thing came in weighing about three pounds or so. He was aghast! And the sandwich he ordered at a Jewish deli was almost five inches high for all the meat it had in between the slices of bread. No wonder a lot of Americans are obese.

He came home with such a horrific sense of excess, he vowed he'd start eating healthy. Good for him! I've a surprise for him myself: a new bra, fuschia all over, with floral embroidery of white on the cups. It is so gorgeous! I can't wait to see his face -- all over my breasts! What's that got to do with eating healthy? Nothing. Hah!

No, it's just that it was such a surprise to hear him full of passion for the excess he'd seen in New York. He must've been really scared with all that unhealthy eating, he decided to take better care of himself. I don't know what his wife's doing. What, she's too busy to take care of her husband?

Before I get too bitchy where I've no business to be, Carl's called several times, sent emails saying he's working really hard to get us together again real soon, and even learned how to send a text message through his mobile phone. I teased him, saying I'd be storing that lone message in my phone's memory in case there'd be no others to follow.

Just now, I received a fone call from an old friend from my Bar review days, Bles. She married a widower, some 15 or so years older than she. Her husband's a justice of the Court of Appeals, and his office is presently looking for a legal researcher/writer. She called to invite me to apply for the job. I'd applied before with her husband for a lower-ranking position but didn't get any further feedback. Anyway, she says that her husband has a good impression of my skills and myself. So I'm hauling my fat ass over to the court tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed.