"Crazy," sou nan desu ka?

My kyuubi no kitsune sent me another hate email- OK, just an email header about me spending yet another night in front of the computer instead of on a hot date, or any date- but so what??? I'll just have to tell people that she's still in love with me - I have no other explanations! Yeah, that's the ticket. Good thing they have no clue about my life and will believe me.

I will never take her back for the following reasons.

• Bad teeth (like Vanessa Paradis)
• Small chest (like Audrey Hepburn)
• Petite (like Natalie Portman)
• Weird (like Angelina Jolie)
  
• Tempestuous bitch (like Josephine Bonaparte)
  
• Her extraordinary memory for details (like Anaïs Nin-- damn!), especially in conversation ... and most of all
• Way too intelligent for me! I'm tired of having to reach for the dictionary every time she emails me or ask my mommy to explain one of her puns

She will forever be just plain and crazy to me (though people I've introduced her to think otherwise).

I'm going back to nice, normal girls... like phone answerers, bartenders, aging temptresses and graduates of mediocre state colleges!

Meanwhile, I shall have to tell my side of the story. With the same blog site that she uses. Aren't I original??? I also still eat shwarmas and drink jellabs from the restaurant that she led me to one day. Imagine that- simply crossing the street can lead to such treasure! Yet another thing I should thank her for, but since she's being a bitch these days, I won't give her that.

I say to-may-to, she says to-mah-to

No, it would never work, despite the garden of sensual and intellectual delights I often found myself in.

Why? She's hyperaesthetic. With fine feelings, sensitive, nervous, excitable. Abnormally tender, constantly wounded, all nerves. She reacts to all the harsh, strong colors and tones of everyday life as if they were shrill and ugly, even psychically painful. And then the cramping of her self into herself - her volcanic writing. A loaded gun always cocked and ready.

Me? She called me anaesthetic. In my presence, alone or in rare company, she felt at times in contact with something flavorless and boring. Beyond my flat affect, a dark, hollow-eyed nothing-affective anemia. Behind an ever-dull facade, which twitches uncertainly with every expiring whim, nothing but broken pieces, black rubbish heaps, yawning emotional emptiness, and the cold breath of an arctic soullessness.

Is that a summer breeze blowing into my bedroom? Nah - it must be Marianna, waiting for me to succumb to sleep so she can gently poke me with her horns and tempt me in my vulnerable and receptive state to marry her again! Silly succubus.

¨The Internet is not a good place to meet girls!¨

Yes, I´ve whined that a million times already.. but since I have no other option- and no game in real life- that´s how I meet chicks. You´d think I´d get the point by now and realize that I have no connection with these girls besides their sexuality and availability but I have no real friends besides Tim who can keep me company, and he just got married. Just ask anyone who has spent a whole weekend with me (in the past 3 years). Casual ¨friends¨and booty calls don´t count.

In this dry spell maybe another Marie or Jennifer (see above) can contact me out of the blue and "keep me company." I tell those girls they´re hot and sexy but avoid introducing them to my only real friend in LA outside work, Tim, who lives only three doors away. Who cares if they can only turn me on in one way??? Or that they usually speak only one language? Or that we have nothing on common?

Meanwhile, the cool girls are traveling around the world with their own money, finishing PhD or MD programs, moving forward in their highly respected careers, learning new languages, accepting their bodies as they are and refusing to maim themselves with plastic surgery... and here I am on myspace looking for ¨friends¨ with webcams. Maybe someone will fall for that "I'm hot sexy crazy cool" schtick. Maybe someone who's not a teenybopper this time! LOL There's also meetup.com... finding new faces - fully-clothed - for a change - because there was no previous one-on-one introduction where I can show just how bland I really I am. No, it's a free-for-all; you RSVP yes or no and nobody can stand you up. After all, they're not meeting only me, right??? Voila, ready-made company! Why can't it always be as easy as this?

The first time I brought Orianna. I know- a bit inappropriate, but I had no other option as usual! A group full of adults with careers and a plethora of life experiences, yet my guest is a fillette barely out of college and spends her free time looking for pretty boys on myspace, not to mention can't utter more than "Bonjour...c'est moi... bisous." And her idiotic Botox smile. But I can't relate to people my age! The women are all bitches who don't give me the time of day and the real men scare me!

A lot of married women in that group - YAY! Maybe one of those French-speaking Asian chicks will show up. Maybe she'll have big boobs. Maybe she'll have an OK face this time. Maybe she'll be lonely and desperate, too, and want to hear what I have to say. Hmmm, gotta think of something interesting to talk about. She may not be into anime, porn and masturbation like me. Not much nihongo since Caro left, just lots of hentai. Uhhhh......

Sushi??? Yeah, I'll brag that I order natto!

And have a big dick.

That always works.

There's not much else to me, anyway.

American Literature 101

When all else fails (and I usually have no other recourse besides "You dumbass!"), I like to call that psycho a "loser" who somehow must still want to be in my life. Why else does she so frequently (and easily) make me the butt of jokes? And that blog!

Yet... Arthur Miller wrote a whole play about a loser, Willy Loman (google, it, girls). The Everyman with an oversized sense of entitlement, bitter because things aren't the way he feels they should be. Rails against life and his loved ones. Has trouble distinguishing between illusion and reality; dreams of greatness; grandiosity and self-deception propels him forward. The play is considered by many to be a caustic attack on the American Dream.

Like Willy, I don't come to anagnorisis- full self-realization. Willy kills himself while I complain endlessly yet do nothing in my life of torpor, punctuated by stints on myspace, looking for "company."

That crazy bitch likes to write. Blog or play, she has an amazing and sometimes diabolical sense of detail.

Pssst! Don't tell her anything- she'll remember.

Too late for me. :-(

"Girlfriend" - qui me fait compagnie

...whoever keeps me company, whether it's for 3 months or 3 hours. Who cares if I'm not even into her? or if I'm too embarrassed to introduce her to my friend, Tim? So, my live-in girlfriend of two years from college, Chrisann - who still talks to me and is one of my closest friends - is the same as Tess, the convenient booty call who threw herself at me through myspace, the one I called "sexy" in all my emails even though I obviously didn't mean it, who I hooked up with twice, because none of the pretty or brainy or interesting (or sober) girls wanted me.

So.. any of the above girls (and the granny with the fake tits) are technically my girlfriends.

D'accord, maman??

Are they around on my birthday??? LOL

Chrisann Lucchetto, Marie Simer

....WATCH THIS SPACE ......

Otaku-do

Hello. My name is Mehdi and I am an idiot.

I rewrite and update my profiles constantly, hoping that the right combination of words and the sight of my abs will make the perfect woman scream in delight and just fall into my lap.

The trouble is I often misspell even simple words or use them in the wrong context. Will the perfect woman, with multiple degrees and a deft tongue, overlook that? I hope so- I have a big dick.

Sometimes I request qualities that a former girlfriend possesses, even if she is a psycho. Even if I can't match those qualities myself!

I demand that a girl be "balanced" and well-rounded when I work 12-hour days and then go home to another computer screen, trolling for pussy that I can't get in real life, and end my Saturday nights updating my profiles like a pathetic teenybopper, not to mention strain very hard to add hobbies and interests in my profiles, some of which I haven't pursued in ages or I've tried only once (after just tagging along with company).

I say that TV bores me though I am in fact addicted to Youtube. And regarding those times I've denied an Asian fetish, more homely Asian girls in a lip-lock!

I claim to love reading when I can count the books I own on one hand. The authors I mentioned? I read their book in high school or one novel on a long plane trip 2 years ago. Or it's a silly New Age-y book translated for the middling masses. Ask me about a novel and I do my Rain Man imitation.

I expect a girl to be cultured and international yet my passion for Japan is mainly rooted in anime/manga, video games and hentai. Ask me how many kanjis I've learned since I dumped my Japanese girlfriend 4 years ago. Then ask me how much money goes to my monthly subscription to streaming hentai video. Or better yet, let's start an intelligent , informed opinion of other aspects of Japanese culture in which I don't mention my Japanese ex.

I brag that I'm some sort of bon vivant, with a love for the delicious dish in equally delectable company, but I usually have to search online for such company, and then tag along to group events. I'm rarely invited individually. My fall-back "friend" is not usually a connoisseur. Ah, the photos don't lie- among the many heady group photos in the archive, there's one of me, sitting alone at a table, with everyone else's head turned away from me. My clueless smile, my rapidly receding hairline. Ouch, it was so cold that night!

I want a lively girl, adventurous, with an edge. And then I post photos of my lone outing this year, again to a group event. I tagged along, of course. Ask me what I like to do and I'll just complain about life in LA.

I brag that I'm brutally honest... as far as I know... but never about myself. (Ask me about one of my "hot" Philippinas (see above), e.g., why she's a "quality girl.")

I want a girl who's insanely sane and will flatter and accommodate me... wait a minute! I had one and got bored after three months. :-( Now I want someone awesome again. The ones who've lived fully will tell me that awesome doesn't mean perfect, but I'm a golden boy and really deserve such a fantasy. My family tells me so.

I want someone sharp and wise.. yet I can't pinpoint the reason why I'm perpetually unhappy in my relationships and why most girls who completely flip for me are usually 1) unattractive (scare away my friend), 2) only mildly educated (like me), 3) not worldly, sophisticated or cultured (also like me) or 4) don't have careers, only low-paying customer service or clerical jobs. And why is it that, even after dating 4 girls at one time, I still spend most nights alone???

Le premier cafard

Midget granny

When you can't make any new friends based on common interests or values, you can always fall back on old booty calls, or since I was too young to know any better, "girlfriends."

I haven't seen her in about ten years (yes, for lack of trying) but she contacts me relentlessly. Convenient for me since I don't have many people to bitch to who will always agree with me and run to my defense. She doesn't know me on an intimate, or even daily (or at least not for a long, long time) basis but she believes everything I say. Isn't that what friends are for?

Regardez, Maman et Papa, I always chose cafards. Or, rather, they chose me. Every girl after her has been an improvement, lol.

Where shall we start? She's about 2 cm short of a midget, is a self-professed motormouth (lucky for me since I have nothing too interesting to say usually) with a petit boudin body, about as mildly educated as me, and even worked as a maid for a spell (mon pareil). Yes, she ditched her illustrious career as an Administrative Assistant in the States to follow her pretty boy husband. A handsome face with a career, some education and life experience wasn't in her cards so she grabbed what was available! But girls like these don't get the whole package. They chase and woo and sometimes manage to convince. Proof that the humble-looking want what they don't have. (N.B. Orianna/Alison!) And after a few years in France, her French is just as good as Orianna's.

If you've been in my life for any significant amount of time, maybe you've heard me explain their marriage in this way: that her husband, being almost ten years younger than her, doesn't know any better, that he hasn't had any previous Philippinas, so is unduly overwhelmed by her.. um.. talent. Me? I've had plenty of them, as you should know by now (though the stellar ones elude me).

She dissed that psycho ex of mine on my blog but is it so bad to be insulted by a maid/circus freak??? Especially one with pedestrian literary tastes who's now resorted to selling T-shirts and aprons to her family and myspace friends. Everyone has at least one bad photo but what if all of yours reveal the same characteristics- small, round eyes; formless stub of a nose; slight, chunky torso punctuated by a heaving chest. A bit like a pug. Don't forget that she meets her husband half-way, convenient for him.

Ouais, Papa- c'était la mienne! Je l'ai pas refusée. Just imagine her Vienna sausage body with DD boobs straddling me and rubbing away furiously. Isn't that so H-O-T??? I could barely contain myself. LOL The original Pequeña Prohibida. Ouais, Yassmine- c'est mon pareil, habitue-toi à ça! On s'entend encore, même de loin (c'est facile).

A few years ago after a tearful break-up with Mr. Romy in Philadelphia, she insisted that fly to LA so we could have sex. I graciously refused. You don't need to have met her to know that. If you've seen enough of her photos, you'd know why. I had moved on, became pickier. I wasn't that desperate... yet. I know, I know- if you had read everything up to this point you may wonder why I refused her yet allowed raisin-faced Marie into my home that one barren summer. I must have been in my MILF phase.

So, these days I'll email her in spurts but she's the one who posts messages on my profiles pleading "Send me some news!.... Where are you?" because I've forgotten about her once again, buried in the mind-numbing tedium of my corporate slavery and deficient social life.

Someone must have lost sight of the meaning of the word "loser." It's not the American connotation that you just throw around to someone who disagrees with you (but that's certainly useful sometimes!). Of course, her family and friends will tell her that she's beautiful, intelligent, talented, etc. - but don't yours tell you the same???

She hilariously misidentified a friendster profile as Marianna. She should have known better than to mistake yet another plain Jane butterball as her. If she had been around me recently, even for 3 months, then she would have heard the candid comments I've made about Marianna's appearance- her olive alibaster skin and lustrous hair, her face (because one blurry photo doesn't reveal why she was in my life for over a year)...and other body parts whose equal I can't seem to find... or she can ask Tim... or maybe a coworker. You know, someone who's seen her in person??? But nothing beats echoing my sentiments and thoughtlessly sticking to my side. :-)

I seem to have a thing for Office Ladies. After all, they make me feel so.. manly, clever, and ambitious... superior in every way. I wouldn't want a girl who upstages me, would I? A bit difficult to explain to Maman et Papa et tous les autres who want me to find a girl who's my equal. lol