"Requiem pour un con"

That loony liked to taunt me with little ditties. This time she changed the words to "Annie aime les sucettes," a sweet song about lollipops - and blowjobs - written by one of her idols, that dirty pun-loving Jew, Serge Gainsbourg (and sung by a 14-year-old girl). Love those Jews.


(Original)

Annie aime les sucettes
Les sucettes à l’anis
Les sucettes à l’anis
D’Annie
Donnent à ses baisers
Un goût ani-
sé lorsque le sucre d’orge
Parfumé à l’anis
Coule dans la gorge d’Annie
Elle est au paradis

(The loony's)

Mehdi aime les cocottes
Les cocottes aiment Mehdi
Les cocottes simples ou paumées
Donnent à sa vie beauf
Une lueur fausse
Lorsqu'une femme lui téléphone
Il commence à sourire
Et lache les boutons de Sony-
Il est au paradis.

Mehdi loves the tarts
The tarts love Mehdi
The simple or even clueless ones
give his dingy life
an artificial glow
When a woman calls
he starts to smile
and drops those Sony controls-
He's in heaven!

Emotionally stable and proud of it

There are pretty girls out there, some with singularly outstanding features (boobs, ass, skin, hair, lips). Or interesting, cerebral girls who could stimulate me in many ways. Girls with a life, maybe a few thousand frequent flyer miles to their names. On the same career level as me. Possibly even capable of thoughtful, sophisticated conversation. Fun in an unconventional way. Ideally they have something in common with me- Japan, animation, sushi/sashimi, Miyazaki, Richard Pryor. I see their profiles. I contact them. But they don't usually reply to me or want to see me after the first date.

The girls who contact me are like Orianna. A long string of flaxen-haired pretty boys on her pimped-out myspace page. (Tacky and overdone... like a teenage girl!) Writes what no mature person would say - "I speak four languages- yay!" and has to remind people "See, I'm smart - I told you so!" (If you have to, then you really aren't- see Manouschka above). Trying really hard to sell herself. Brags about being emotionally stable and enjoys revolutionary pastimes like going to the beach and to the gym. Watches "independent" films... like "Gladiador [sic]." LOL Interested in international cultures and people as long as they're White and better-looking than her. (She even has a Caucasian name - Alison.) Claims to know French but can't string more than two words together (not that her even less savvy myspace friends would notice). Half-Spanish and half-garbled Portuguese to go with all things Brazilian and hackneyed (the shabbier Latin Americans like to identify with sexy Brazil and Argentina).

But that doesn't matter when you can't get the girls you want to give you the time of day!

Unlike other girls, she was full of enthusiasm around me- gushing about my good looks to even strangers and her spud eyes sparkling when she saw me. Most plain girls are like that at the sight of a rock star-god like me (1, 2). Since nobody else online replied to my cheesy come-ons, I was happy that someone wanted to talk to me - my very own groupie! Now I know what Justin Timberlake goes through. I didn't even have to convince her that I was cool- being a fair-haired, light-eyed pretty boy was enough. We went dancing for a few weeks in the typically cheesy samba clubs that amateurish Brazilophiles flock to, sometimes with my work buddy Jason. She even added him to her myspace list but didn't seem too sad when he suddenly disappeared from it (she doesn't like the darkies). My psycho ex showed me some samba earlier (a whole crowd gathered around her to watch at the Temple Club) but I pretended that it was my first time with Orianna. I told her that she danced well (what do I know?). Plus, lots of eye candy at Café Danssa. It was a sad irony to be surrounded by all those sexy Brazilian girls - round asses like my recently departed psycho - but accompanied by a Latina discount diva (from the Valley). She had the flattest bunda there (I notice these things). Puny Peruvian with ambitious heels. "Nice" but thoroughly conventional. Would stick out in more fashionable or stylish dens. Of course, I said she looked nice and sexy to be gallant. I do that to every girl (see Jennifer, Tess , even women I openly find frightful), especially to those who I think need to hear it, since I'm much harsher with my girlfriends (if you knew me long enough, you'd see this.) Kindness never hurts, even if it's insincere. No matter; I was happy just for the company, especially after being dissed repeatedly by the girls I contacted first.

Near her ghetto neighborhood we went to the same lively and authentic restaurant that the psycho introduced me to, so I can have my Pho Dac Biet. Or as Orianna calls it -- "sooooup"! LOL Good thing we didn't have mechoui ("BBQ"???). I also brought her along to a couple of Sony dinners so that my coworkers would think that I was getting some action, even if it was just with a shabby girl from the Valley. Who brings a girl he just met online 2 weeks ago to meet his coworkers??? Someone with no friends, who can't get a date, that's who. I have to keep up the myth that a pretty boy like me can get any girl he wants. Too bad it usually is just any girl. :-(

I thought we were dating all this time but she wasn't even interested in making out. To me, that's just affection- tongue wrestling, polishing my purple-headed storm trooper, practicing the downward facing dog. Any real friend would do that for me, I casually mentioned to an ex-date (also one of the few who actually was interested in me). I mean, with me. However, she was flattered that a pretty boy like me - live, in the flesh - would want to have sex with her, so she insisted that we remain friends. Little did she know that I was desperate at that point. Three months after I stopped seeing my psycho ex, a pretty boy like me still couldn't get pussy!

So I lost interest in hanging out with La Lastimosa, preferring to spend Summer 2005 indoors with my rigs and Sony PS and trying to date older women (hoping for the desperate horny ones). In July she forwarded me a fake match.com profile written by the La Terrorista. She found it "weird." Well, of course, it was- she didn't know that side of me, after knowing me only casually, hanging out for only 3-4 hours at a time, the last time a few months before! LOL So I told her that Marianna was just making it up and didn't know what was going on, plus was still in love with me (have to preserve the ego, you know!) Simple explanation for a simple girl. She believed me (these young girls!). LOL She sent me an email during Labor Day weekend, but I didn't have any desire to hang out with her. Instead I watched Tim's dog, Otto, while he was out of town. She would still email me throughout the Fall- she thought we were good friends by then (so American, these fast and superficial relationships), probably because I introduced her to my coworkers. I apologized for disappearing - what else could I do? She didn't get the point and kept emailing me. She posted numerous comments on my myspace page, like a starstruck school girl trying to get my blond, blue-eyed attention. I didn't post anything on her page- why should I? She continued begging me to have "soup" with her again. ("Pho," you dim Valley peasant). Or have coffee, walks on the beach- anything so she could gaze at my tawny hair and blue eyes (just like the others I had nothing in common with). "Soup" and blue eyes, that's how cultured my usual company is...

Even when I settled very briefly with a nice but dull girl, I wasn't dying to hang out with Orianna again. She sent me Holiday greetings and I replied out of politeness but preferred to stay with my thoroughly emotionally stable "girlfriend." At least I got sex out of it. Plus she was a little older, had some semblance of a life. A woman. A boring woman. With big boobs. And a student of medicine, not one enrolled in a low-rated state school. Sigh. I can't seem to attract stellar girls, just thoroughly mediocre or conventional ones. I didn't introduce her to my lady doctor. Upon hearing that I was finally seeing someone, Orianna could only muster "Is she pretty???" (Typically inane- can you imagine our other conversations?) I didn't reply (more about that later). I would tell others that my "girlfriend" was nice, that's all. Orianna isn't much more than that, either. If she were, I would hang out with her more often! As it is, I'm already looking for more "friends" online... again. Maybe they'll be closer to my age, with some life experience and a career, so that we have richer interactions and not just "nice" times. Maybe they'll be more compelling so that I'll see them more often, rather than just when I have no other company.

Other girls would get the picture after my disappearance of 6 months but she really needed a free meal and an escort on Saturday nights! And I'm the only pretty boy she has ever succeeded in meeting. Apparently her online profiles aren't too successful. Uninspired text. Her photos are cheap, grainy webcam shots from the same sappy angle, one even with her cheek resting on her hand, waiting for her unattainable blue-eyed Prince Charming to sweep her away. Awwww. Besides, how interesting can a girl be when the highlight of her day is updating her myspace profile and adding more Italian Backstreet boys to her list? I mean, people with rich lives can attract interesting or like-minded people in real life and don't need to collect "friends" online, right? I bet she's even unaware that myspace is the butt of jokes in many circles. Ay ay ay, the psycho was right- you attract what you are. :-(

I would ask her to introduce me to her friends or cousins but I'm still at the nice and polite stage with her. Don't want her to think I'm a pig. I save that for my girlfriends, long-term and otherwise ("Wooaaaah, your friend has nice boobs. Would she be interested in a threesome?"). Besides, I prefer my women kinda slim. And educated. As I told my mommy in an email (and as anyone who knows me more than casually has heard), "Latinas get too big!" Her friends and cousins are just as attractive as she is. No, thanks.

I didn't learn too much from her besides some samba, pagode and bossa nova. The clichés of Brazil, but cool to someone as green as she is. Plus all that music sounds the same after a while, anyway. At one point I pretended to be interested, to be nice. But ask me now if I still listen to Marisa Monte or Jorge Ben Jor! I could've learned about Cinema Novo, Mario Japa, had an eye-opening convo about the sertao, or tasted something besides churrasco or seen Seu Jorge in concert but... that's not to be with an ordinary 22-year-old. I don't even like all that sappy Latin pop (ask me who I listen to). Typical for her age, not too much depth (not that I have much). I know it sounds like I'm complaining (as usual) but I don't usually attract dazzling girls- why not? Only les petits mortels- little people - like papa says. I went from a girl who writes French poetry like an estrogenized Verlaine to someone who doesn't even know that Michelle is a French name.

But to her credit Orianna's a good listener and believes everything I tell her about that psycho and the rest of my life without question! :-) Critical thinking skills are so overrated. She gladly tolerates my excessive complaining about Americans, women, dating, etc. Anything so she can gaze at my lovely blue-ish eyes. Did I say that she was only 22???? She considers me a good friend because I reply to her emails and we spend 3-4 hours "hanging out" every now and then when I have nothing better to do and no dates to rush off to (which is most of the time). She assumes I have many friends in town yet she's only met coworkers. As I told my mommy, I take her out to eat and we chat, that's all. "No sexual tension." Do I call her in the middle of the night to unburden my latest bête noire? Do I feel the urge to celebrate my latest career milestone with her? When I want to go izakaya-hopping is she at the top of my list for company? Would she appreciate an early morning marathon of Takashi Miike farcical-horror-musicals? ("That ees too weird, Mr. Mehdi! I no understand," she would probably say.) Or even Naruto (or as she would call it, cartúns)? Do we talk about the latest unnerving NPR piece? Can she drive to my home or workplace without needing directions? NO WAY! haha I don't lend her CDs, DVDs or books - when will I see her next??? As with my last "girlfriend," ça me fait compagnie- she keeps me company- when I have nobody else.

At least Orianna learned "bizous" from me. Now she's looking for French-speaking pretty boys, since I shaved my head to get away from that look, and keep forgetting about her. If she learned a few more French words maybe we can actually have a decent conversation.

But when I can't get a hot date - or any date - she's good company and I can always use her to throw off my coworkers. She even drives all the way through 405 traffic to see me. (For obvious reasons, I won't go up there- she's not worth it. Why should I do any of the work? Homely girls will do anything for me, they're happy for any attention. See above. Besides you don't have to spend more than $20 on them. What a bargain.) It's easier than seeing my old classmate, Jennifer M., or Atsuko, my lively former Japanese coworker - you know, people I have something in common with, who've lived a little, with a passion in life besides myspace?? But it's easier to call Orianna. I like easy! She's not always up-to-date with my life (or email addresses), etc. and doesn't know me as well as someone who's spent consecutive days or whole weekends with me, sharing my meals and my bed, observing my highs and lows (including my vicious black moods in which I complain about her physical and other flaws), glimpsed my impolite and unguarded moments, my special trick to get the bowels moving, my shit-stained underwear - and she certainly doesn't know about my porn/masturbation addiction (in the shower)! - but oh well, she's got a pulse, no?? You may laugh but a few hours of casual company every now and then for lack of anything better is a friendship to me! (Just like Jennifer B., Sharda, etc. - but they got the point eventually and didn't keep begging me to take them out.) She's also good for squealing on my psycho ex's cyber-devilry. You know those teenyboppers with nothing going on, trying to ingratiate themselves with the only pretty boy in their lives!

Il eût mieux valu revenir à la même heure, dit le renard. Si tu viens, par exemple, à quatre heures de l'après-midi, dès trois heures je commencerai d'être heureux. Plus l'heure avancera, plus je me sentirai heureux. À quatre heures, déjà, je m'agiterai et m'inquiéterai; je découvrirai le prix du bonheur! Mais si tu viens n'importe quand, je ne saurai jamais à quelle heure m'habiller le cœur... Il faut des rites.

It's better to return at the same time, said the fox. If you come, for example, at 4 o'clock, at 3 o'clock I will start to become happy. The closer the time comes, the happier I will be. At 4 o'clock, I will get agitated and worried. But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is ready to greet you. One needs to establish rituals.

I see Orianna at just any time.

--------

These days, because of a mean-spirited and spot-on blog, Orianna deleted her original myspace page and created a new one, far from her original ditzy, pretty boy-crazy one with close to 300 "friends," trying this time to present herself as a normal, level-headed, mature person who just happens to spend too much time on myspace. Once again, her comments are full of ridiculously misspelled Portuguese and botched French. Makes you wonder if she really knows those languages. But her equally mildly educated friends don't seem to notice.

And, of course, she asked me to add her to my friend's list (gotta have one pretty boy, right?). I wouldn't have noticed or cared. And not surprisingly, she already posted a flurry of inane comments with broken links on my page. I inserted YouTube links, so she inserted them, too! See how original my "friends" are?? The much sexier girls who I just recently added haven't posted any comments yet. They're just collecting friends. Even if I secured a date with one of them, they would be unimpressed and not call me again, just like Lannsters, plus the other ones who went to the trouble of deleting me from their list. :-(

Orianna even added a picture of us from the "LA French meeting" (stupid little girl- that's LA French Quarter meeting- what do you expect, she only knows two words of French! I know, not the most appropriate company, but as usual I had no other options that night). Just wait, as soon as one of these skanks on myspace wants to hang out with me (hopefully less than 40 yrs old this time), I'll drop Orianna like a hot patata peruana. None of my peers with full lives from the "LA French meeting" is yet a friend, so I'll have to do with Orianna for now. She doesn't seem to have the perceptiveness to realize that I'm just using her as fall-back company, since she's so impressed with my looks. Girls her age (mentally and otherwise) are my bread and butter.

Oh, yeah- she also emailed Marianna "I want to keel you!".... I no like what you write. Too many big words- I only graduate from CSUN! I eh-speak francés muito bem, so eh-stop making fun of me!



Back to the beginning.

Orianna/Alison Vento, baranga ... the girls who throw themselves at Mehdi Yssef are from the peasant underclass

Myspace is the place for skanks

Friday, June 9, 11:28pm.

Like the otaku that I am, I end my Friday night once again not in the arms of a hot babe or with real friends but in front of the 'puter, creating another myspace account to do some pussy trolling on the down-low. Even though I already have a legit account.

My username: Hitozuma.

I'm so awesome! None of those ditzy chicks who usually talk to me will even know what it refers to: hentai, specifically, crazy monkey love with married women. You know, the bored, horny ones who don't get it enough from their husbands??? Yessss- booty at last! I'll be going through those profiles like they were free coke! Last summer it was older single women; this is the summer for freaks with negligent misters. I don't mind being Stud #3 or even 4. Husband is away in Sudan with Médecins sans Frontières investigating a meningococcal meningitis outbreak. Achingly beautiful lover #2 just flew to New York to accept a Carnegie award for his latest sculpture. Maybe that hunky Colombian gardener with the sexy cumbia moves caught a cold this weekend? That leaves moi- smelly-illiterate-corporate-slave-animator-with-the-funny-gait. Good for a cheap fling every now and then; never the top dog. I don't deserve a loving relationship, anyway. Or one longer than 3 months.

Well .... no married women just yet but one of the girls I bookmarked had a photo of her with some guy grabbing her left breast. Ah, another quality girl. If only maman could see...

I know, I know- I've announced a million times before that the Internet is not a good place to meet girls but what are my options??? Stupid LA bitches who don't give me the time of day...

Oh well.. back to spanking Charlie until he throws up.


otaku n. one who is obsessed with anime, video games, or computers, has lamentable social skills and rarely leaves home
syn. retard, loser, boob



Back to the beginning.

Tearin' up my heart

I can't believe it. Lance Bass beat me to it.

"I love women. I've definitely, you know, been with women.... It's just I grew to a point where deep inside I knew that I could never truly have a relationship with a woman."

How much more of my "LA women suck" spiel can people take?

It's not me- it's them. I can't help it if I lose interest after a while- their boobs aren't big enough, they're not witty enough, not fun enough, don't speak enough languages well, can't entertain me sufficiently, they don't dress sexy, don't have sexy hair, their shoes don't match their clothes ... in short, they're simply not fabulous enough for me!

The perfect woman should be as hot as this:






Back to the beginning.

"Gentille, sans plus"

I broke up with her just before Valentine's Day. Hooray- I didn't have to look for a gift or take her out to eat. But I told her from the very beginning that I didn't want to get serious.

I waited a few days to tell my mom about our first date. She pressed me for details (Maman likes to know about my love life). I told her to relax, that if there had been any fireworks I would have told her sooner. The new girl was a medical student (i.e., much more intelligent than me); I told her I liked smart girls. She was tall for a Japanese. She chewed her fingernails - c'est nul, it sucks, I told mommy.

But we went out again and again. By late October I was telling people she was my girlfriend. Hey, I wasn't seeing anyone else, right? By that time I was fed up with going on new dates, anyway. Orianna was a distant memory. Besides, it was nice to have a girl interested in me for a change. I told my mommy that we got along well (doesn't everyone the first 3 months???? -Ed.). I sent her photos for my family to look over, always eager to see if my women were good matches for me. My mommy's reaction: "Did someone set fire to her face??" My lovely mom. My little sister found her frightful and couldn't bear to the think of my lips on hers. She begged me to find my equal, someone as beautiful as me. (Yes, my short sister with the hook nose.) My papa also urged me to dump her before she went psycho on me, too. He also observed that I must be afraid of pretty girls, like my brother- we have a thing for ugly girls (that includes Chrisann and Carolina). My brother? He's too busy living and enjoying life to comment. (My parents also don't pump his head full of lies.)

She was sweet and kind to me, ma doctoresse, patiently listened to my self-delusions and ridiculous worldview, my bitter condemnations of that psycho and even tolerated my rampant pussy trolling - right in front of her eyes! But alas, she didn't light my fire.

After a while I told my family that she was "nice, that's all," but ça me fait compagnie, at least I have company. (My mommy thinks it's OK to use and then throw away girls who are less than perfect.) I complained that she annoyed me because she didn't talk about anything particularly interesting- psychotic patients, grossly sick children and people in really bad shape with some nasty diseases. How boring! Who the hell wants to deal with that??? Can't she talk about something else more fun?? Like Marianna used to do- that psycho bitch!

She was also constantly sick, asking me to take care of her. I drove all the way to the Valley, did what I could and then ran home to complain to mommy that she was a big baby. I can't have that! It takes too much attention away from me. I should be the one indulged and coddled. I'm the pretty one.

I went to Montreal over Christmas and New Year's to see Carolina and Chrisann and also interview for a job at Ubisoft. Saw lots of cute chicks at the clubs. They actually talked to me. :-) I could live there. I returned to cold, dry, boring LA. Ma docteuse picked me up at the airport and we spent that night in my apartment, as I told my mom. I also told her not to worry- on rigole, sans plus- we weren't serious (or at least I wasn't).

In the coming weeks I complained to my mommy that she was getting clingy. We got into a fight one weekend- she accused me of not being affectionate enough with her. She agreed to leave me alone for a short while. I went home to my true love- pussy trolling. Match.com, Yahoo, Matchmaker, myspace. I don't like fights. Needed a new girl now.

I moaned to mommy that I was getting tired of her, even irritated. I remembered all the fun I had with Marianna, who was a lot more interesting and intellectual, always thought of cool things to do. Psycho bitch! I knew I was getting difficult, but that would just make it easier to meet new girls. Time to look for zee perfect woman again.

By the end of January, I had enough. She asked if we could hang out one weekend but I wasn't really excited about it. I agreed to see her, then I announced that it wasn't working out. I reminded her that I didn't want to get serious, anyway. She left quietly.

And then the shit hit the fan. Marianna broke into my email account. I'm sure it's because she found out that I had a girlfriend. There was that phone call in my apartment that weekend. She must have heard the new girl's voice and was outraged. Bitch. It took me a few weeks to get back into my accounts. Yes, more than one. Yes, a few weeks. I'm slow.

So, all that time telling her that Marianna was psycho, difficult, contrary, too excitable (and also fun, a thrilling conversationalist, extremely intelligent, passionate, with perfect hair and perfect skin and an unforgettable booty), I got bored with her nice-all-the-time schtick.

Do I really know what I want???

Back to the beginning.

Lucky Luke

Pssst!

Lucky am I to have casual or absent "friends" who believe my heavily filtered and hallucinated life stories. Too uninvolved in my life to know what I actually do and say beyond the veneer of politeness and self-aggrandizement. A few still need directions to my workplace or home- that's how out of the loop they are! They'll believe me when I say that my nutcase stands outside my door through the early morning hours, that she constantly begs me to marry her, that she calls me at work trying to get me to have dinner with her. When in fact, she's quite happy to know that I'm still churning my walrus in front of the computer and in the shower, socially deprived as usual.

My real friends live in Morocco, France, the East Coast.

Here I have dates, booty calls, coworkers, homely girls who want my attention and will drive to see me at the drop of a hat.

I complain to maman and papa, my cousins, Chrisann and Caro, that girls here are no good. That they can't see me for my elegance, glamour and mystery. They get the impression that I'm picky (= have standards) and turn down girls down en masse. The truth is, most girls aren't interested in seeing me after the first date. The pretty ones, the ones with good careers, the interesting ones... the ones with a degree! But I won't tell anyone that. I'll blame the girls. They're the ones with the flaws, not me! But anyone with half a brain who spends more than a few hours with me at a time can see the truth. That the ones awestruck by me are nothing to write home about. Les petits mortels, as my papa says. They're plain or even homely, uneducated, uncultured, monolingual, dull, ignorant, pedestrian, gentille, sans plus... frigid (ha! I'm not l'homme moyen sensuel, you know).

Like Bush, I present nothing but platitudes, false bravado, blame games and strident self-delusions. Also like him, my audience is happily ignorant and not too keen to probe deeper. Therein lies my advantage. If they spent any significant time with me these days, they'd see differently.

They'd know that the girls I seek are not the ones who contact me. It weighs on me, hence my bitter tone. They'd know that when things go well in a relationship, I eventually get bored. That when I'm with the type of girl I know I may never meet again and things get rocky, I reserve the right to cheat on her, so I can be with a "nice" girl for a change (even if it's just 30 min in the sack and inane conversation), and when she overreacts at the news, I cheat on her again, because she's not being nice. (She should have been more accommodating and just excuse my behavior as part of being a man. That's what a young, adoring girl would have done.) They'd know that I look for casual relationships ("generous and shamelessly sensual"), take the scraps who agree to such an arrangement, then moan about not being married. They'd know that I don't want to marry one ex because she's too American, too short, not well-traveled, not freaky enough in bed and too picky an eater. Another ex I don't want to marry because she's too frail, also not freaky enough in bed, a pothead, too emotionally high-maintenance (why should I spend my time comforting and reassuring someone? So what if we're close?). They would know that I spend most of my time in "relationships" (longer than two dates) complaining about everything, eventually unappreciative of my generous and understanding (sometimes even adoring) companion, while raving on and on about the perfect woman and wondering out loud why my present company can't match my ideal in looks, breast size, multilingual ability, degree level, intelligence, gastronomic aptititude, entertainment quotient, etc., bemoaning my work deadlines, meals, my favorite porn sites and video games - in short, spend most of my time engrossed in myself. Why can't women these days be "strong" enough to put up with that?

Once I emailed my player-mentor, Jean-René, about Danielle, my first psycho ex from college. Ridiculous pseudo-philosophizing about girls... and...that she fell in love with me, then with Otmane, flying to Switzerland to see him. After that I never saw her again. Or so I told him.

The truth is I saw her several times again in LA, the last was my farewell party before Morocco in the summer of 2003 (there are witnesses). She wanted to have sex with me. I didn't refuse, even though I thought she was a bitch. How can I say no when I had no other options? But of course, I won't tell people that. I'll tell them that she's still asking about me, desperately waiting for me to tell her that it was love after all, begging me to take her back. Little do they know, I check out her friendster profile every now and then. As Tim knows, when I see Julianne Moore on the screen, I stop in my tracks and my briefs start to get tight thinking about Danielle.

My sister asked me once why my psycho ex was so angry at me. I simply told her "It's too delicate- I don't want to go into it." Pheww! Why tell her the whole story when it'll just make me look bad???

I won't admit to anyone, esp. to my own little terrorist, that I'm unhappy with or without reminders of my deficiencies. Regular company (not casual friends) can witness my perseverative rants about that psycho's vicious email taunts. They would know those emails bother me because they pinpoint my anomie- anxiety about meeting girls (and keeping them), relationships, getting married, not having real friends, my career, my intelligence, my feminine body, my hairline. My self-esteem is too important to admit stupidity or bad judgment.

When I need company, I don't juggle a long list of options- people I have something in common with, buddies through thick and thin. I just call whoever is available and interested in hanging out with me. Since Tim has his own life, that usually means just one person. ;-) The only thing we have in common? She can't get a date, either (see previous). Some people just aren't involved enough in my life to know certain details and to verify tall stories and will believe anything I tell them. The ones who've been in recent close relationships with me? Well, they don't exactly want to be fixtures in my life, hehe.


Back to the beginning.

Kitten with a quip

My little terrorist keeps sending me vicious taunts.

She found out that I created a profile on www.datingdynasty.com with the username "Misterbigg." Correctly pointed out that I wasn't on a date that early morning but online as usual, looking for cyberchatte, pussy, because I can't get it in real life. Nothing to take to court there! :-(

The rotten missive?

"El-'ein baSeerah wel-eid qaSeerah LOL" (Your eyes see but your hand can't reach.)

...I think. My Arabic sucks.

Damn your black heart, Marianna!



Back to the beginning.

"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