Saturday, September 30, 2000:
Watching:  TV documentary -- a surgical resident just quit.  Quit.
Latest Dreamcast Game:  Ultimate Fighting Championship -- I can't get into it.  No women.
What's eating ... The LIGER!?  Heck if I know but he better shut the hell up. 
 Beating It Hard And Fast link: Feng Shui Drummer.

 

---

IRON GIRL

I've been watching the Olympics.  Yes, especially the women's gymnastics.  I loved every minute I got to watch and I'm sad that it's over.  I don't really care that Team USA didn't get a medal.  I was still rooting for them, and adorable Team China, and every one of those amazing specimens of grace and power.  I loved Yelena Produnova's striped "warrior's brow" and stony thighs.  Liu Xuan's bright smile was a jewel after each flawless routine.  

Beautiful functionality, iron will, inhuman agility, and heart-breaking sacrifices.  I am still in awe.

More than any other event, I find women's gymnastics the most inspiring and beautiful, both in its action and its discipline.  They made me believe that a girl could fly.  

I'm going to stop now before I say something lewd.

---

MISS FORTUNES

My fortune at Chinese Buffet: 

"You will enjoy good health; that is your form of wealth."

Amy's reaction:  "Good for you baby!"

Amy's fortune: 

"Unexpected romantic and financial gifts surprise and delight you!"

My reaction:  "What the hell?  I want to talk to the manager."

MALL TALK

AMY (leaving women's restroom):  "Ugh!  That bathroom is so filthy.  Someone didn't even flush the toilet."

ME:  "Now you know what it feels like to be a guy."

There are two malls near our apartment.  There's the newer richer UpperCrust Collection mall, where you can call the "concierge" to help find that special store.  Then there's the Other Mall, or as Chris Rock would say, "the mall that the white folks used to go to."

I like the Other Mall better.  I worked as an usher in the movie theater there during high school.  I became master of the Double-Cross-Arm One-Handed Ticket Snap.  I also had to see Weekend at Bernie's 43 times.

I worked with two Asian girls there, which in retrospect, was extremely unusual for my hometown at the time.  It was the first time I discovered Asians that could party, smoke, drink, sleep around, cuss like a sailor, leave home, drop out of high school and NOT have every Asian gene ripped from their double helices by the sheer fury of their parents and great-grandparents' ghosts.

In my high school, there weren't many Asian kids, and of those there were only two kinds of Asian students.  The kind that studied hard and went to medical school (or law or engineering), and the kind that came straight off the boat (they also went to medschool, law, or engineering).  Or at least that's where they said they were going.

Anyways, I digress.  The movie theater closed over a year ago.  And all the Asian stereotypes were broken over a generation ago (by Amy's family alone).

Another reason I like the Other People's Mall is that it finally has a video arcade.  Many a time I have defeated the Dark Lord of The Sith in saber duel or flogged an opponent with my double-barreled nunchakus in Soul Calibur.  But that is a story for another time (and yes, I will be writing about video games again).  

But today I was dragged to the clothing store with Amy.  While Amy changed in the dressing room, I avoided looking in the direction of the bra and panty bin, or the dressing room doors, or at any particular woman in general for too long.  Is this how girls feel in not-girl-friendly comic book stores, I wondered.  There was one other guy in the store, twice my size, but he was an employee.  I found a spot on the floor where it was safe to stare at.  Hmm, my shoes are black.

Finally, Amy left the dressing room.  

"Well, huullllloooo."

No, I didn't say that.  Amy didn't say that.  The big ass m*therf*cker employee said that to my Amy.  She ignored him.  I turned to look at him.  He was clearly staring / drooling over Amy.  We left.

Outside,

"Did you hear that guy?" I asked.

"Yeah.  He was just being friendly," Amy answered.

"Please, he wanted to get down your pants faster than an out-of-work Ob/Gyn," I said.

"You're crazy, baby," she said.

"He totally broke The Code," I stated firmly.

"What?"

"The Code.  You do not hit on another man's partner, especially his wife, if he is standing right there.  I was clearly waiting for you, and you were clearly walking towards me.  Is this guy a retard?  He is a rude-ass sonovabitch, that's what he is," I stated with the doctrine of gentlemanly behavior on my side ... or instinctual male sexual  territoriality and insecurity, I'm not sure which.

"Who cares?  I'm hungry," Amy shrugged.

"Would you have talked to him if I wasn't there?" I asked, most unwisely, still in my threatened-male mode.

"No, baby, why would I?" Amy said and hugged my arm.

Estrogen wins again, of course.

 

On the way to the restaurant, we saw a little Asian baby and his parents.  The baby boy stared at Amy as she smiled at him.  (No, I didn't go all ballistic that time.)

AMY:  "He probably thinks I'm his cousin.  Heehee!"

 

We went to eat at a Mexican restaurant.  Amy had a margarita and the following conversation ensued as a result.

AMY:  "You know what my favorite part of sex is?"

ME:  "You're drunk already?"

AMY:  "That minute right after orgasm -- ahhhhhhh -- everything feels so good just lying there."  

Amy shrugs and leans back in her chair when she says that.  The guys in the table next to us turn to look, I notice peripherally.  They're not breaking The Code, by the way.  This was renamed as the When Harry Met Sally's Fake Orgasm caveat.  One is forced to look if there are clear visual and auditory sexual cues in the vicinity.

ME:  "I think you've had enough to drink, baby."

AMY:  "Ahhhhh!  It's so good."

I hear a fork drop somewhere.  Amy clearly loves being the center of attention, especially after a few drinks.  I abhor attention in public.  The opposite is true for us regarding online matters it seems.

AMY:  "I just wish we could have sex again and again after that.  But you always get tired right after, baby."

ME:  "That's hard work, baby.  Haha!"

AMY:  "You don't get tired after you masturbate though, do you?"

No one is looking now fortunately, I think our 2-guy audience just became disgusted.

ME (speaking barely audibly):  "Please, I can do that three or four times in a row easily."

AMY:  "Why is that?"

ME:  "Hmm.  I think two reasons.  One, it's a lot easier.  I'm not exerting my whole body, so I don't get tired, you know.  Just my hand.  And two, well, each time I'm looking at a different picture, a different woman.  I think that makes a big difference."

AMY:  " ...."

ME:  " ... um, but it's mostly the first reason, I'm not exerting myself when I'm masturbating."

AMY:  " .... "

Oops.

ME:  "Uh, want another drink?"

 

By the time we get out into the parking lot, I've back talked my way into last month.

ME:  "Did you know those guys were watching you when you did that orgasm thing?"

AMY:  "So, that's all those hicks will get."

ME:  "You shouldn't say hicks, baby.  It's not proper.  The new term is 'cracker.'"

AMY:  "Maybe they thought I was your escort for the night trying to put the moves on you."

ME:  "You know, there's a niche for Asian model escort services.  How am I supposed to pay you though?  We have the same account."

AMY:  "Oh, you'll be paying me tonight alright.  Aww yeahh .... "

 

Amy and I fell asleep as soon as we got home.  

 

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