Failed Negotiations

Three of the four major powers came together today to declare a temporary truce. The fourth and strongest of these combatants declared the treaty, however tentative and short-lived, a farce, and refused outright to participate in any peace talks. Despite the cautious optimism raised by this show of solidarity among the three lesser sovereigns, the coalition quickly collapsed, and within hours any hopes for long-term stability were dashed.

 

Lunchtime Musings

On my lunch break I saw no less than 5 joggers meandering through my neighborhood, seemingly impervious to the off and on rain we’re currently experiencing. Seeing these fitness devotees got me thinking about one of my favorite shows:  Law and Order – Criminal Intent. I know. Just stay with me for a minute. At one time I also enjoyed watching Law and Order – SVU, but the stories broke my heart or induced rage-filled mutterings and who needs that from a television show? So, anyway, one thing I’ve noticed in these shows is that there seems to be an inordinate amount of joggers who meet their untimely demise. Who knew fitness was such a magnet for crime?

At any rate, it just so happens that I came across the below the other day and it seems very apropos for today’s observations and musings on exercise, crime, and Robert Goren.

 

Personal Shopper

So, I was at a grocery store in my old stomping grounds the other day – it should be noted that said stomping grounds are not much higher in the suburban hierarchy than the rural area where I currently reside. But apparently they a have a bolder dating pool.

Now, normally, bulletin boards at the grocery store tend to advertise pretty benign services. Dog walking. Child care. Art workshops. Yoga classes. You know, typical fare for shoppers with bags teeming with fresh fruit and dinner fixings.

Or so I thought.

When I was leaving the store I saw this gem of a posting on the board.

 

 

At first I was a little taken aback, but after really studying Eric’s honest attempt at finding a real connection with someone, it’s really not that bad. Humor me for a minute here, folks.

He makes it pretty obvious that nutrition is important to him. That’s nice. He gives options on how to reach him in case a phone call right off the bat is too personal. Nice again. He gets right to the point and doesn’t brag about himself. Okay. Best of all? No picture of him shirtless that I didn’t ask to see in the first place. Thank God.

By and large, this index card is better than what I currently see when I dip my toe into online dating. But, let me be clear, it’s not THAT much better. It’s still weird. Trust me, that hasn’t escaped my attention. His random use of capitalized letters is off-putting. The handwriting that looks like it was scribbled by a 5-year-old is odd. And I don’t even know what to think about the smiley face and “oil too” because for the life of me I don’t know what that means! Not only is it incomplete sentence structure, but I don’t think I even want to know the underlying implication.

So, don’t worry, I will not be getting in touch with this fine gentleman. But perhaps some “sexy woman” will. And if so, I hope they hit it off. Or at the very least that she returns home safely.

Fine Lines

Sometimes I think to myself that if I were wealthy, like super-wealthy – I mean, otherwise, I’m just spending that cash on travel – I would have plastic surgery to correct a few things that nature, gravity, and age have done to my overall “look.” But then I think, you know what? I worked hard for these wrinkles! Besides, surgery means needles, and who the hell wants that shit?  Botox be damned, I am rocking these wrinkles with pride, folks.