Facts and Figures.

Yeah okay, Army sure knows how to pick them. I have an uncanny ability to pursue ambiguously straight men, yada yada. Firmly established.

If you're new to the program, check out my Beaucoup of Beaus.

So of course, when I met Feyonce's classmate a few weeks ago, noticed his good looks, sweet charm, and genuine quality, I became immediately skeptical. How could he be available AND gay?

Our first meeting was serendipitous, really. I had worked until about 7 p.m. and on the shuttle bus to the Parking Lot at the End of the World, my Fey boarded with a small group of others, including one dashing young gentleman. I was at the back of the bus and she didn't notice me. So I just observed their group talking and made eye contact a few times with Classmate.

At the Parking Lot at the End of the World, Fey saw me and we started chatting. She introduced me to Classmate, whom I'll call Jay. We exchange hellos and Fey is quick to casually explain the Feyonce/Fauxance bit is just an inside joke, thus debunking any idea that we're anything more than good friends. Good one, Fey.

Jay's all, we've met before. And as it turns out, I gave a presentation at Illinois State a few years back and he was in attendance. I thought he looked a little familiar but who knows when you see so many people every day. Hmm, so he remembered me, eh?

Anway, as soon as I part from them, I watch from my car until Fey is alone so I can call her up. Laughing at my haste, she says she doesn't know about his "status" and promises to keep an open ear and eye, thinking we would make a cute couple. And um yeah, we would!

Now it's speculation at this point, but I may or may not have joined a social networking website run through our university to find out more about Jay and imbed myself into his unconscious mind. I'm playing it like George Constanza... remind the person of your existence in small ways. It's a subtle approach, a whisper campaign, as I like to call it. Soon enough, I'm like a radio jingle he just can't shake. He'll be humming my tune.

Plan now engaged, I lay low for a bit as part of the hush phase. Today, I get a phone call. From Feyonce.

F: Yeah, I have some bad news.

A to himself: Great, he's another ambiguously straight man. I'm going into rehab.

F: Your "boyfriend" already has a boyfriend. I befriended him on Facebook and there it was with photographic evidence.

A: Figures.

I finally find one of my own people that I'm attracted to and want to pursue and he's taken. But that's the second story of my life. You know the first.

A: Is the boyf cuter than me?

F: (laughing, placating) No. Of course not!

A: Do they look happy? Or is there some discord underneath it all?

F: Well the boyf goes to Arizona State.

A: Oh please. I can work myself into this one. The long distance thing never works.

F: That's not tacky!

A: Desperate times, desperate measures.

In all seriousness, who's to know their true status. Fact is, I've known people to maintain an "in a relationship" status on MySpace et al. simply because it was uncomfortable to change it. I tell you, these websites are life-support for failed relationships of every measure and kind.

He still seems like a guy worth knowing. And I'll just see what happens. If it's merely a friendship, then great. If I attack him in a fatal attraction kind of way, well, I'll write you guys once I'm out for good behavior.

The Balance of the Universe... On My Middle Finger.

I suppose some would say it isn't good Karma to extend a middle finger to the vast universe out there... but then again, I am the universe (as are you), so in a way, I'm merely flipping off my greater self. And well, Karma can kiss it, too.

Why the dramatic huff, you ask? Why, let me tell you, in even grander throes of blopera (um, that's blog opera to you)!

Don't trust The Universe. Just when you think everything is in its place, there is balance, and the answer to the meaning of life is 42, The Universe
steps out from behind the curtain with a guttural "Mwu-haha" and the episode is over...

Seems now the meaning of life is 50. Because of inflation? Nope. Hazard another guess? Well, it's because that's how old you have to be to join AARP... and I JUST GOT INVITED!!!!

That Benevolent (or should I say, Malevolent) Order otherwise known as the American Ass-ociation of Retired Persons (now cowering under the acronym of AARP) sent me a damned Membership Order Form today! ME!

Look at this face? Is this the face of a retired person? Or of a pretired person? I'm not even close! I still have my allure... my twinkle! In fact, at a conference this past week, my fellow colleagues from across the nation kept mistaking me for a student.

Usually, I have to do what I can to be seen as a professional because of my youthful appearance. Especially on campus when I have to belly-up to the bellies of Provosts, Directors, and Deans, oh my. And now, this Undistinguished League of Biddies wants to set me on a course for the planet Geri
atrix at warp speed? I think not! Check the records and your trifocals. I haven't made your short list yet, pappy!

So listen up, AARP, you old fogey. Take back your lousy AARP-SVP and the offer of a free pedometer when I join or renew. My clutch purse is off limits to your coffers (and incidentally your coffins). And rest assured that whenever I aimlessly aim my finger at The Universe, you will forever be at the center of my affections.

iRant: Highway Musings

Are We Where Yet?

So yeah, I'm skeptical of a lot of technology when it first comes out. I always have to ask the question, why do we need that? And why shouldn't I ask that question? Lord knows there are plenty of solutions to problems that don't exist out there... Someone has to police this techno-crap and gripe about it.

Here recently, it seems everyone needs some kind of navigation system in their cars. Whether it's TomTom, Magellan, or some other dude's name, folks need that GPS like never before. On a recent trip, I couldn't help noticing the numerous glowing screens in so many dashes and suctioned to the windshields. How did we suddenly become so directionless? Just a few years back, people rarely consulted paper maps, and those were usually road trippers. If you didn't know the way, you went to MapQuest or (if you know what you're doing) Google Maps. Now, we can't go to Walgreen's without depending on the robo-broad bossing us through every right and left turn. I mean, seriously. This is a perfect example of how technology has made people passive and responsive instead of planful and (dare I write this trendy word) proactive.

Out of no where, we are constantly lost and at a constant loss of where to go... Thank god we took thinking out of the equation.

The Unofficial Pace Car of the Highway

Why is it that whenever people see a Highway Patrol cruiser, they immediately jettison their brain, as if it was a smuggled illegal cargo? My favorite response comes from the lead-foot nosedive brake-job guy. Good one, smooth operator. The Statey will never suspect your speed correcting tactic, only, he's already clocked your dumb ass. See, when you notice the Statey from about 100 feet away, yeah, he's already clocking ten cars behind you. 'Member? Back where you ejected your common sense? Perhaps if you weren't on the phone while changing tracks on your iPod and finishing that Star-too many-bucks coffee, you wouldn't look like the ass hat you are.

And my favorite witnessing this week is when the Highway Patrol car pulled out into the fast lane from the median. And suddenly no one will pass him. Even when he's driving under the speed limit. Hey morons, we aren't in the first lap of the Indy 500, and besides, I don't think your P.O.S. Chevy Aveo would even qualify for a go-kart race. He's not the pied piper, you Lemmings. Pass him up! He's probably doing 60 MPH just to laugh at you idiots with your timid little toes tapping the pedal.

If you aren't blessed with the ability to split your attention and still operate your vehicle, don't do it. Maybe you should let TomTom take the wheel.

And Another Thing...

The entrance ramp exists so that you can achieve the speed of the highway by the time you reach it. Do I really need to say anything else about this? It seems that I do...