Archive for the ‘ Personal ’ Category
On the eve of my mini-vacation, (more on that later), I’m reminded and confounded by the day-to-day interactions that can cause a variety of emotions. From laughter and joy to bitterness and resentment. I’m no angel, but I do strive to be positive and help others.
Before I divulge the details, and hopefully wonderful stories from my trip, here’s something that brought me balance–and hopefully you too.
Mom: “Hey, you want to see something really funny? There’s a show on right now on channel 41, it’s so funny!”
Me: Ok, sure. What show is it?
Mom: Intervention
Thank you to the kind folks at okcupid.com who have provided me with the following glimmer of hope after completing a survey they offer.
So there you have it. If you live in Alaska or Slovakia, please send me an eMail. I’ll be waiting at the airport terminal with the disgusted look on my face, clearly not dressed for cold weather.
iPhone 4
I was due for a little splurge, so I bought myself a little happy. Because I’m pretty rad, I was one of a select few that received mine the day before it was publicly on sale. I don’t know why exactly, but I spun it in a way that made me superior to others. Naturally, some people’s first question was, “Who are you sleeping with?” No one, actually–but that’s neither here nor there. The fact is that I have it.
I must admit, it’s pretty nice. I have no real complaints to this point. Granted, I really just use it for making calls, texts, playing music, and eMail. I’m sure there are some nice features for playing games and detonating devices, but I just want to make a phone call.
They have that video conferencing thing, but it requires both people to have this phone and you have to have a Wi-Fi connection, which is not always available. This is probably a good thing, considering when I’m not at work our out and about, I’m the epitome of the “casual” male. I’m talking hot shorts, a tank top, and a bandanna–you know, to hold my hair back. This isn’t a visual fit for public consumption, I realize that. But I clean up nice!
I read an article from Mail Online and was quite disturbed by their “findings.” According to them, the desirable amount of time was surveyed to be between seven and thirteen minutes. What? I hope you share my confusion and disbelief.
I’m calling for a complete recount and I want to conduct it. Not really, I’m far too busy but still. Who are these people? My guess is that they’ve been having lousy sexy time for far too long.
Couples who think they’re not measuring up because so many celebrities boast about sex sessions that last all night can take some comfort.
Contrary to popular fantasy about the need for hours of passionate activity, sex therapists say around ten minutes is perfectly satisfactory.
In fact, shows such as Sex And The City and Desperate Housewives have created unrealistic expectations of bedroom performance that can only lead to disappointment.
Now, I’m no way trying to toot my own horn, but toot toot! Ten minutes? I’m sorry, I require much more than that. When I’m having sexy time I have a goal in mind, and that goal is a good time. A really good time. Ten minutes is barely enough to remember a person’s name or wonder if you have enough cash to pay them afterward. Maybe I’m I romanticize it more than most, but I’m more partial to forty-five minutes to an hour, if not more. There are things that need to be done.
I’m going to find comfort in the fact that the article was based on a survey in the UK, and not to perpetuate a stereotype but they aren’t known for being the best lovers, I’m just saying.
I’ll be the first to admit it, I am horrible with names. I’m not opposed to the use of name tags solely for my benefit, but until I can launch that movement, I’ll have to continue my tradition of giving everyone a nickname–something I learned from my family, but more on that later. I do, however, take issue when people don’t remember, or mispronounce, my name. Selfish with a twinge of a double standard? You bet your ass it is.
As long as I can remember I’ve been giving monikers to people based on their choice of outfit, behavior, or characteristic. We all do it, you know who you are. On the playground there was Cool Hand Luke, the best handball player in our Catholic school. Granted, none of my peers knew what the hell I was talking about because they had never seen Cool Hand Luke, and they certainly didn’t know what the hell the “egg scene” was all about. But that’s their loss. We also were in the company of Sister Mary Bitch, which needs no further explanation. The kids thought I was a riot, as I was and still am. Needless to say, I didn’t fare too well in Catholic school, but at least I left an impression.
As I aged, gracefully I might add, I continued to rename people left and right. I finally realized that this was not something everyone does, but my family has always been doing it. “You mean your parents didn’t call people The Slut or Crazy Pussy? You’re missing out then.” To this day my mom and gram have renamed everyone in their apartment complex. Here they are, translated from Spanish where appropriate, in no particular order: Jennifer Lopez, Cow Tits, The Blacks, Sad Ass Cheeks, Erectile Dysfunction, The Bicyclist, The Midgets, The Gardener, and Putita (Little Whore). Mind you, no one is spared, men, women, children, or entire families. It’s become so commonplace that I don’t think anything of it, but I suppose I can see where some people would take offense.
In my own adult life, my friends and I have followed suit. We meet a lot of people all the time. We consider ourselves part-time socialites. Part time because we have real jobs, and real things to talk about. When people actually approach us, which is something of a rarity because we’ve been told we seem intimidating (we’re not intimidating, we’re just right), we are gracious, entertaining, and an all around good time. But this is where the formalities end, because for the life of me, or us, the minute they walk away their real name is gone and the nickname is born. It’s a subtle art, really. We have to analyze them, both on what they say and how they act. Heaven help you if you have a character flaw, visible or not, because that usually rises to the top of the list. If you have a hair lip, you might want to stay away.
In our many adventures over the years we’ve met some lovely people, and in turn they have given us some wonderful names by which to call them. Now, I must offer up that not everyone, few really, know that they have a nickname. And, we really don’t know what their real names are, but that doesn’t really matter.
Again, in no particular order, I’d like to introduce you to our friends:
I could go on, as you can probably tell, but I think you get the picture.
So next time you see me out, or meet me for the first time, know that you’re in my heart but under a different name.
Well, after a very long time, and a very long list of complaints, I’ve decided to re-launch the locally world famous adriel.com. I could bore you with the ups, downs, and sideways of my hiatus, but let’s just jump right into the actual good things. Here are a few updates to keep you in the loop on the pertinent information regarding yours truly.
Work:
Surprisingly, I have managed to navigate through these horrible economic times quite well. Sometimes I wonder if I can ever get fired regardless of what I do. I’ve joked that I would be in my office, punching women and committing various lewd acts, and people would just say, “Oh, that Adriel! He’s such a riot! Let’s give him some more praise.” Now, it’s not that I’m not appreciative of this luxury. On the contrary, I’m honored. I guess I do some pretty damn good work after all. Those that know me closely are very aware that my work is very important to me. Come to think of it, it’s the longest most successful relationship I’ve ever had. Oh Lord, I’m becoming one of “them.” The people who think that they don’t need anything else in life but a clean inbox and a minimum of four conference calls a day to feel complete. Who am I kidding? I’m nowhere near being one of those people. I’m a socialite. Damn it.
Family:
Mom is still as crazy as ever. Now, I know many people say, “my mom’s crazy!” But seriously, mine is. She’s borderline delusional and clearly has irrational ideas. For example, she believes that unicorns exist because they didn’t have them in Cuba, so how should she know? Or that as many times as she watches documentaries on the Menendez brothers the outcome is still the same. She thinks it’s funny that she calls my brother and me the “Menendez Brothers.” Uh, did she forget what happened to Kitty?
Friends:
Ahh, the oasis in the desert of lameness. My dear friends are still around, of course. I have “keeper” friends, not fly by night folks. They’ve helped me get through some rough times, as well as been there to elevate me during the great times. (Side note: because of my petite stature, I get elevated a lot, and I like it.) We’ve met new acquaintances, of course, and dazzled them with our charm and wit. Stories involving said new friends will be forthcoming.
Love and Romance:
Now we’re talking! And by talking I mean weeping gently into a pillow. Sadly, there’s not much going on in this department. Not for lack of trying, believe me. As a friend told me, “What are you waiting for? You won’t be Fertile Myrtle forever.” There are just a lot of jerks out there, not that I deal with all of them, but the ones that cross my path tend to be black belts in heartache. As I recently said, ‘I have plenty of suitors, but none that suit me.’ (Pretty good, huh?!) But enough of that.
That’s all for now. I’m happy to be back, and you can expect much more from me with greater frequency.
XOXO,
Adriel
