Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I’m going through a bit of a “dry spell” with the ladies. Seems like they all “like me” but want to be “just friends.” None have actually said “pathetic loser,” but its been implied.
Last one just gave me the “friends” call. I could kind of see it coming. She hadn’t returned countless phone calls, emails, or even waved as I followed her at the grocery store, mall, and every other time she left the house.
Just trying to show that I’m interested.
The one before that never made the friends phone call, but made it pretty clear.
When I mentioned something about church, she said “oh, I bet you ring the bell” and then looked really closely at my back.
I asked to kiss her goodnight after a date and she suggested I just send her a fax instead.
Another announced that she was not going to have sex with me. Since we happened to be in the McDonald’s drive up I didn’t really think the topic was on the table.
At the time, I was more concerned with quarter pounder or Big Mac, or possibly: both.
Its gotten so bad, the other night I had to slip myself a rufi to get me undressed for a shower.
Any ideas Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Come to think of it, I never have seen you and old Quasi at the same time.
Hang in there Romeo. You’ll find someone who can see past your flaws.
(think: girls with white canes)
Just be yourself. Or better yet, don‘t.
Mrs Higgins
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Exit Strategy
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
One of the downsides of skiing is the rich people. I try not to dislike someone who makes more or less money than me, but rich guys can really be annoying.
Here is how it works: they start out all “regular guy,” but when the conversation begins to slide into what looks like peer status, they make sure to clarify the class difference.
Me: “Great skiing today! Hi, I‘m Mike.”
Rich guy: “Yes it is. My pleasure, I‘m sure. Rodney.”
Me: “Good to meet you, Rodney. A lot less windy than yesterday.”
Rich guy: “Well, heh heh, it was calm as could be in the Swiss Alps yesterday.”
Me: “Wow, you were in Europe?”
Rich guy: “Yes, the Westwind was tied up in Rome, so we were stuck in the Lear last night. Just doesn‘t have the roominess or ride, but we struggled through.”
Me: (in my mind) “Yeah, well my 747 was in for an oil change at Jiffy Lube, so I just came out in the space shuttle.”
Me: (in real life) “Wow.” (always quick on my feet)
Rich guy: “So Mick, what do you do?”
Me: “Uh, its Mike. I’m a programmer. How about yourself Rodney?”
Rich guy: “Software eh? Well I’ve had my share of software companies. Such a bore dealing with nerdy little geeks.”
Me: (in my mind) “I know the secret handshake to THAT club.”
As Rodney continues detailing his life’s accomplishments, I‘m looking for a smooth way to exit the vicinity.
Unfortunately, at this point, we happen to be on a chair lift about 40 feet off the ground.
I’m mentally weighing: bailing out of the chair with a likely compound fracture, versus spending another 3 minutes with Rodney.
Then I remembered Lamaze breathing.
Rich guy: “… and as I was saying Mark, I absolutely stole this little villa in the south of France…”
Me: (concentrating on the tip of my left ski) … hee hee hee hee hee hee hee …
This can’t be much worse than your average contraction.
Anyway, Mrs. Higgins, I’m happy to say I made it to the top without injury.
Saw Rodney later in the day talking to a guy who appeared to be about to impale himself on a ski pole.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Glad you could get past your pain.
You know dear, you could be a little more patient. Did you ever think that maybe Rodney was dealing with insecurities in other parts of his life?
Everyone needs someone to talk to.
And, you’d last about 10 minutes in real labor.
Mrs. Higgins.
One of the downsides of skiing is the rich people. I try not to dislike someone who makes more or less money than me, but rich guys can really be annoying.
Here is how it works: they start out all “regular guy,” but when the conversation begins to slide into what looks like peer status, they make sure to clarify the class difference.
Me: “Great skiing today! Hi, I‘m Mike.”
Rich guy: “Yes it is. My pleasure, I‘m sure. Rodney.”
Me: “Good to meet you, Rodney. A lot less windy than yesterday.”
Rich guy: “Well, heh heh, it was calm as could be in the Swiss Alps yesterday.”
Me: “Wow, you were in Europe?”
Rich guy: “Yes, the Westwind was tied up in Rome, so we were stuck in the Lear last night. Just doesn‘t have the roominess or ride, but we struggled through.”
Me: (in my mind) “Yeah, well my 747 was in for an oil change at Jiffy Lube, so I just came out in the space shuttle.”
Me: (in real life) “Wow.” (always quick on my feet)
Rich guy: “So Mick, what do you do?”
Me: “Uh, its Mike. I’m a programmer. How about yourself Rodney?”
Rich guy: “Software eh? Well I’ve had my share of software companies. Such a bore dealing with nerdy little geeks.”
Me: (in my mind) “I know the secret handshake to THAT club.”
As Rodney continues detailing his life’s accomplishments, I‘m looking for a smooth way to exit the vicinity.
Unfortunately, at this point, we happen to be on a chair lift about 40 feet off the ground.
I’m mentally weighing: bailing out of the chair with a likely compound fracture, versus spending another 3 minutes with Rodney.
Then I remembered Lamaze breathing.
Rich guy: “… and as I was saying Mark, I absolutely stole this little villa in the south of France…”
Me: (concentrating on the tip of my left ski) … hee hee hee hee hee hee hee …
This can’t be much worse than your average contraction.
Anyway, Mrs. Higgins, I’m happy to say I made it to the top without injury.
Saw Rodney later in the day talking to a guy who appeared to be about to impale himself on a ski pole.
Mike
Dear Mike,
Glad you could get past your pain.
You know dear, you could be a little more patient. Did you ever think that maybe Rodney was dealing with insecurities in other parts of his life?
Everyone needs someone to talk to.
And, you’d last about 10 minutes in real labor.
Mrs. Higgins.
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