jump-start needed

by nature i am not a girlie girl. pearls and pinks do not come easy to me. i only wear new underwear because the mother in my head tells me: What if there was an accident, and they saw you wearing old grannie panties? i put on makeup sparingly even though my home is a veritable museum of every color, powder, cream, plucker, trimmer, waxer shampoo conditioner, liner and lipstick known to woman (and quite a few men too). the only reason why i am not an uncharted forest of hairs for most of the year, is because i abhor the yucky thingies. if i am on a dinner with a date, it always turns out i have ordered the messiest stuff, which then i will try to eat elegantly and ladylike-y. no comment.

in short, effort does not come to me naturally and this dating business is a lot of effort. i mean why do i have to squeeze into the control top panties/chastity belt for a man i do not know? and perish the thought of not having the perfect blowdry. it is a well-established fact that curly hair is daticide. so are unplucked eyebrows. in short, i discover that to get a man i might or might not want, i have to put on my armor and go into battle.

identity crisis. what am i fighting for here? i am not getting any tonight (control panties remember?) and neither is he. our phone conversation with its too long silences, unflattering jokes (which i laughed at anyway) and frequent background noise are not a good sign either. and i do not think this is the father of my future children, more like the guy whose daughter my son would never ever ever date.  

“well maybe he is not that bad. besides, he is the only one with a car, own place, job and teeth, and no wife”. and just for this maybe, for this sliver of hope, i have to pull out my high heels that heat up his libido but blister both my pinkies. the math just does not jive here. so maybe i have to draw up a list, to sort of remind me of all the goodies i am hopefully getting out of this. a jump-start so to speak, something to bring my sexy back.

and this is all i could come up with:

Saturday musings

We sit at the opposite ends of the same table, a half-eaten pizza slowly disappearing in between us. She is savoring her wine; I am mourning the untimely end of the breadbasket. We are nearing the end of a day spent together in search of the perfect portrait. She is a gifted photographer, and I am in need of a magical snapshot.

It has not been an easy journey. We have spent the whole day together, she trying to get the perfect shot, me trying to let go of the panic attack. Shoot, this pic is too dark, my face is too dorky, shut my eyes again, whatever happened to my nose, just look at those teeth and watch all desire to kiss vanish.

My problem is that I hate to strike a pose that I am obviously posing in. It looks fake. And cameras refuse to fall in love with me no matter how I try. Thank God for her patience, and her smile. We started in Astoria, laid on the grass of Central Park, walked the very expensive mall at Colombus Circle, ended up at Academia di Vino, and she still did not abandon me.

On the plus side, we got a chance to talk. And we had the kind of conversation I love best, sporadic, flowing, with no apparent agenda or purpose, something that cleanses and helps without fanfare, just like chamomile tea.

See, we are derivatives of the two sides of our Albanian past. By all rights, we should be on the corners, shouting insults at each other, working up the fierce temper and sharp tongues our region is so famous for, or at least trying to convince each-other that our parents were right, and the other side is simply the evil seed one should have no dealings with.

why albanians make perfect villains

well, guess who the new villains of films are?!!! we are, we are, we are.

now that even the rats have been transformed into lovely intelligent creatures (check out Ratatouille), films need new villains. and albanians are more than ready to step up to the plate.

reasons to use albanians as villains in movies:

1. location, location location. no one knows where this country is, not even albanians themselves. the boundaries change all the time, bits and pieces fall off or come on occasionally. who’s going to care if the script writer adds on the kalahari desert or borders it with iraq?

2. historic and linguistic accuracy. Huh?

3. bad boys. now that the cold war is finished, mafia and yakuzza have been done to death, people are bored with terrorist rights violations, russians are our friends and  french have their own film directors, thank god for albanians and their antics. never mind that the country only has 3 million people, they all love guns and direct human trafficking rings in france.

“Doruntine” something worth seeing

Well, I have spoken to several people who saw this show and the verdict is unanimous: IT IS EXCELLENT!

reasons:

2 languages, English, Albanian.

actors are formidable in both languages. especially physically i heard.

represents our best legend in a deserving way.

it is wonderfully executed and faithfully to the original.=

if you need one more reason, something is wrong with you

I am planning on going this week, but all of you NY Bunnies should see it too. Drop me a line if you want to go together.

info as follows:

sleepy verse

 such strange food you are

an all around ethopian combo

burns my tongue

then soothes it with that sweet silent wine

I am so full,

I can’t do anything but dream

and wake hungry again.

the prostitute (warning!!! sensitivity offender)

The car stopped at her feet and she got in it quickly, almost as if she did not want to be seen. She was surprised to feel a bit of shame still, even after six months into this thing. The quick entry hiked her skirt almost to her waist, exposing her thighs in the process and she unthinkingly tried to fix it.

-Don’t! – The driver said and put his hand on hers. – The skirt is fine where it is.

She left it like that and stared straight ahead fully conscious of his hand rubbing her thigh. She did not know why it was irritating her so much today. It was not the first time he had rubbed her thigh, or palmed her breasts while he drove to the little abandoned parking lot. It was usually like this. He picked her up, he drove her to the parking lot, they had sex and he dropped her off either at the same place or at a bus stop nearby. She’d tried conversation before but had found out that no matter what she said, she only got a grunt back if it was not related to sex. And if she tried after they were finished, he would be too sleepy or too pressed for time to talk to her.

Today too he kept pinching her nipples, which she had to admit, made her wet immediately and sort of muddled her mind.

She had no illusions about why she was in that car. She was completely aware of what he expected from her, and she was fully bent on giving him that. It was just that, well, it would be nice to pretend that that was not all there was to it, and that he possibly had other reasons to meet apart from sex. She did not like that the truth was dancing naked in front of her, just as his, um, private thingy would be in one, two, three, four, five…and go. Yep, there it was, bouncing and winking its only eye expectantly, begging for her mouth. It needed her warmth, the release that she could give, and the sweetness of her already salivating mouth.

She stayed where she was, looking at it. He waited, then took the initiative and kissed her on the mouth while his hand stopped molesting her chest and went on to rub her neck. She kissed him back fully and with tongue, but otherwise kept her hands relaxed on her sides. They went on kissing for a while until he realized nothing else was going to happen and broke the kiss.