Sunny-Side Up

As I posted earlier, I’m planning on doing this World Naked Bike Ride. Well, it dawned on me yesterday (while at the bar preaching on the virtues of riding a bicycle naked) that I was lacking color on much of that that would be on display during the ride. In other words, the only thing distinguishing my torso from a snow field was chest hair!

Well, me being the brilliant man that I am, I thought I would take advantage of the 85 degree weather to get some color! Good idea, right? Yeah, I thought so to!

So, I lathered on the sunscreen, grabbed my kindle, and headed to the pool! It was glorious! Sunny with a cool breeze and a great book (Lamb, the Gospel of Biff, by Christiphor Moore)! I was gonna read, get some sun, expand my sexual appeal, and relax!

And I did! In fact, the book was soooo good I just kept reading… for two hours… until I had finished!

Girls like pink, right?

The Sunburn

This is what HOT looks like!

Still single… pink for sure… but still single!

Scott

P.S. Did you know that sunscreen has an expiration date? Yeah, me either!

Advertisements

Secret Crush

Secret Crush
written and read by Scott Weaver

She’s tall, around 5′ 11′, maybe even 6 foot.
She has raven-black hair that runs straight, all the way down past her shoulder blades.
She’s pale like a winter moon.
She’s beautiful.

She’s not fat, but not skinny.
She has a soft round face with deep-set eyes.
She looks naive, and shy, and wholesome.
She’s quiet.

I see her punching timestamps on receipts a couple of times a week.
Sometimes she goes to lunch with a short, fat, funny-haired old guy from the office.
She wears dark floral skirts that cover her knees and simple flats on her feet.
When she’s cold, she wears a shiny black-suede jacket, tied in the front.
I don’t think she’s noticed, that I’ve noticed, that she’s beautiful.

She’s my secret crush.

Slowly, I return…

Oh, dear reader, it’s been too long! How are you? I’ve missed you terribly! I hope everything is well with you.

Well, I have completely moved back into my apartment (except for 2 more paintings to put up, that’s tomorrow). It’s beautiful!!! I will send pictures soon, I promise!

I also have the boys back! And let me tell you, they are soooooo cute! (I just don’t remember this much hair!!! Damn!)

So, I actually did it! I formed a book club with a couple of girls from the bar! Our first book is Memoirs of a Geisha! And today we’re all bringing in our baby pictures (they don’t believe I was at my sexual peak as a 1st grader!). Woo Hoo!

Nothing on the dating front. Who has time for the drama of dating with work and moving and reading and watching tv?

Well, I have to go. Subway, the sun, some good jazz, and Memoirs are calling my name!

Still single and okay with it,

Scott

P.S. What the hell have you been up to, dear reader? Anything good? I’d love to hear about it!!! S.

Date Night Jitters

It’s 1:20 pm on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, the apartment is clean, soft jazz is playing in the background while the cats lounge in front of the balcony door chattering at the birds eating at the feeder. There’s not a cloud in the late summer sky, the thermometer reads 81 degrees, and the forecast is for a high of 90.

It’s 1:20 pm, I haven’t showered yet, I’m smoking like a chimney, and watching the clock. I tried watching football, briefly worked on some writing I have to do, and have even done some last minute strengthening exercises. Nothing works. I still hear it, the “Click! Click! Click!” of the clock. No matter what I do, I hear it. “Click! Click! Click!”

This is a problem, you see, because my clock is digital, doesn’t display the seconds, and doesn’t actually make a sound. I hear it though, none the less. “Click! Click! Click!” in my head it goes.

“Click! Click! Click!”

I’m keeping time…

“Click! Click! Click!”

…going nuts…

“Click! Click! Click!”

…second after relentless second.

“Click! Click! Click!”

The plans are set. The place and time agreed upon. It’s actually going to happen…

“Click! Click! Click!”

…if I don’t go nuts first.

“Click! Click! Click!”

We’re meeting at 5:00 o’clock for drinks at the Island Cafe. It should be perfect. A floating, outdoor-patio bar with fancy tropical concoctions, fish and chips, and beer. The faint breeze off the harbor and the shade of the umbrella should keep the temperature pleasant while the sun sets in the West. We can watch the ducks in the harbor scrabble for each fry we toss them. We can watch as the power boats, yachts, and occasional kayaker go putting by. We can talk.

“Click! Click! Click!”

But it’s only 2:00 and I still haven’t decided what I’m wearing.

“Click! Click! Click!”

I’m leaning towards the clever and funny “Zombie Love” t-shirt and shorts.

“Click! Click! Click!”

But will she appreciate the zombie homage to our first conversation, or will she think me weird for wearing something with bloody zombie heads on it for our first date?

“Click! Click! Click!”

Maybe I should wear something black and slimming?

“Click! Click! Click!”

At least I got my hair cut last night and don’t have to worry about that.

“Click! Click! Click!”

But I still have to put product in my hair.

“Click! Click! Click!”

Spiky or flat?

“Click! Click! Click!”

Combed or stylishly mussed?

“Click! Click! Click!”

It’s still too early to shower.

“Click! Click! Click!”

I need a smoke…

“Click! Click! Click!”

Single and suffering… still,

Scott

“Click! Click! Ring!”

It’s 2:15 pm, my phone just rang, and clicking of the clock has stopped. It’s my date. An emergency with a friend. Babysitting. Sorry. We just have to laugh at this point. Monday or Tuesday after work? I promise it will happen. A text tomorrow to figure out the day. Sorry again.

The soft jazz is still playing. The cats are sleeping. In my head…

silence…

a little sad…

a little relieved…

a lot funny.

I wonder if Travis still has that tee-time reserved?

Turning Over A New Leaf

After much consideration and a fair-lot of beer, I have decided that it’s time for something new! I’m obviously in a rut and need a complete change of pace! So, in my common spirit of adventure, and with the gusto of a hundred fat men at an all-you-can-eat spaghetti feed, I have decided to grow long hair, adopt a British accent, move to London, and buy a crap-ass car!

The New Me

The New Me

Why? Cause that’s what women want! They want the longhaired dude with an accent that isn’t in to material things! It’s romantic and chic and because I make it look good!

But why London? Simple, I’ll hit on Sabina when she gets there! No woman could resist my charms!

Ooh! La! La!

Ooh! La! La!

Besides, if that doesn’t work out, I can by a truck and drive Sabina around!

Honk if you got a big blue bed and know how to use it!!!

Honk if you got a big blue bed and know how to use it!!!

Then, when somebody asks, “Do you drive lorry?”, I will say, “No. I drive Sabina!”

How cool would that be?

Yep, gonna do it! My dreams will come true!

Still Single and now out of beer,

Scott