Now who is the Romeo?

After I wrote the last post I actually went to the website mentioned, which I didn't even do prior to the writing the post. I was pretty amazed at what I saw.

Since hot wife is the girl of my dreams, I thought I would put myself in the shoes of the Subway Romeo. And here is what I came up with, as if I had just saw hot wife for the first time, and had to resort to sketching us to track her down.

Come get some hot wife... come get some...

Nick

The Subway Romeo?

Now here’s an interesting story . If we are so led to believe, a New York man spots the girl of his dreams on a subway. Wait, is this the first time you’ve heard of this too? Anyways, before being able to approach her (read: catch and mug her), he loses her in the crowd. Of course. Frustrated at his inability to make this once in a lifetime catch, he goes home and fires up a website (www.nygirlofmydreams.com) devoted to finding her, complete with a sketch, and more than likely some foolishness about not being a complete psycho/stalker/rapist/murderer. Within 48 hours the story catches on with New Yorkers (suckers), phone calls and emails come pouring in, and eventually the woman’s friend spots the picture and passes on the word. They meet, they go out for a few months, they break up, end of story.

Pretty normal stuff right? Dontchya think? Uh, no. You don’t think that. Who thinks that? Who actually believes that this shit happens? I see the girl of my dreams, I start a website devoted to finding her, and then I FUCKING FIND HER? And meet her? And go out with her???

First of all, how does this guy convince this woman he’s not crazy? “Hey, I saw you, on the subway, and then I went home and started a website devoted to tracking you down?” Isn’t that just a tad bit creepy? Maybe sorta just a little? I mean, you hear of guys seeing a good looking woman, they go home and rub one off, and that’s it. Maybe they write a craigslist post about it or something. But to start a website?

Beyond all that, who sees the girl of their dreams? Is the girl of your dreams even a real person? And if she is, what the hell is she doing riding the subway? Most people probably have some idea of what they like in another person, and maybe you actually have an ideal person in your head. But to not only find out that person exists but is on the same subway car as you?

It just seems the whole idea of having a girl of your dreams is misguided. Think about it. What are the chances that the girl of your dreams would ever give you the time of day? If the girl of your dreams was anywhere near your league, she wouldn’t really be the girl of your dreams, but rather, just another girl you’d do if you had the chance. Nothing special about that, and certainly no reason to start a website... unless of course, you’re into randomly starting websites about girls you’d do if you had the chance. Who am I to judge?

I wonder who is more unrealistic about the girls/guys of their dreams, men or women. On one hand, I would say women are because the ratio of men who are dream quality to the rest of us doesn’t exactly favor women who have a man of their dreams. My guess is that most women probably have a man similar to Brad Pitt as the man of their dreams, and where do you find men like that? Nowhere. Contrarily, hot women are everywhere. But I think for the same reason, men are more unrealistic about the girls of their dreams. Most men don’t have the skills to score with anyone much less the girl of their dreams. And it seems that the more hideous a guy is, the better he thinks his skills are. That’s why only nasty dudes hit on women in bars. Or start websites devoted to tracking women down...

Nick

Is this going to be a problem?

Whenever I tell people that I don’t really care to fly, they’re always shocked. “Oh, it’s so much safer than driving” they say. Yeah, well, my car doesn’t just fall apart for no reason while I’m going down the highway. Actually, I take that back. The driver side window does have a tendency to come off the track and fall into the door. While driving down the highway. In -30 degree weather. 30 miles from home.

They say that when this “airplane” fell apart in mid-flight, it lost cabin pressure and had to descend 20,000 feet so the passengers could breathe without oxygen masks. The normal descent in an airplane is enough for me to want to barf. Could you imagine having to do it fast enough so that the passengers can breathe??? I barfed just writing that.

Is the descent in an airplane not the worst part of the flight? At that point the airplane is making noises and movements that you get the feeling something flying in the air probably shouldn’t be making. There’s metal pieces moving around trying to slow the plane down, the pilot’s throwing in some hard banks to get into position and then there are weird vibrating noises that you’re not sure you’re even hearing because your head feels like it’s going to explode from the pressure. And then, of course, you have to land this huge plane on three little wheels.

I’m sure at one point man looked to nature to figure out how it could travel faster. So some dude sees a bird, and says, “hey, why don’t we just fly?” Well, maybe it’s time we realize that dude was a douche bag. There’s a reason that birds aren’t made of metal and don’t carry hundreds of people.

It’s so they don’t fall apart.

Nick

Yeah, I'm back. Again.

Ever since the servers at my place of employment decided that blogging was not a work related function, I’ve struggled to find a creative outlet. Or rather, I’ve struggled to find a way to access my creative outlet, which is this blog (or any of the other several blogs I’ve had over the years). I tried the whole blogging while at home bit, it just wasn’t me. Besides having a life and a kid and a wife and what not, I don’t have a consistent desire to sit on a computer all night. Then I found a work server friendly place to blog, the local newspaper website. But after being asked in a comment, “can’t you find something better to do with your time?” I get the feeling my work isn’t necessarily appreciated there.

No bitch, it’s my lunch hour. Actually I can’t find anything better to do with my time.

I can’t actually write that, which is kind of depressing. It’s even more depressing to have to endure such negativity. On a newspaper website blog. How low have I sunk as a blogger?

The other day I joined Facebook. Wow that actually kind of felt good to write. I was kind of nervous, since I don’t really have any friends who own computers (read: I don’t have any friends) and well, it’s Facebook. I guess it’s kind of like Myspace for people who aren’t really 10, and don’t lie about their ages. Or do they? Anyways, while I was filling out my Facebook profile, it provides a space for your website(s). And I thought, hey, I have a website. It’s a blog. This blog. This lonely and long forgotten blog. And I went back and read some of the oldies. And the goodies. And I was taken back to a day where my creativity ran wild and free. Blogging friendships were conceived. Life, it had meaning... you know, outside of family and work and all that other non-important, non-blogging stuff.

Essentially I realized that I miss blogging too much to not find a way to make it work. It’s who I am. It’s who I’ve been for the last four years. I’m a blogger. And this blog simply must go on! It must come back to life. I must find a way to make it work. I must create. I must... be alive.

Dammit bitch, we’re back! Again...

Nick