It’s 3:55am. As usual, I’m suffering from insomnia (http://lettersfromval.com/2011/06/13/your-friend-insomnia/ ). So, what have I been doing? Watching eighties music videos on Youtube of course. I’ve already watched the Dexy Runners, Janet Jackson, Jermaine Stewart, The Jets, Al B. Sure, Jody Watley and am currently on Tiffany’s “All This Time” …memories are forever. Since you know that Youtube takes you by the hand to the next video, you know that Debbie Gibson is the next selection, right? Yes, “Foolish Beat” (I’m not ashamed– I should print that on a t-shirt).
Last night, my first dream in a series of snatches was that I was walking with my friend Tanique by a river. I remember saying to her, “I need your help.” Sadly, I have no recollection of what she said, but I know she told me something that made sense. She’s just one of those people that makes sense– stable (the very opposite of me). I’ve known her as long as I’ve known myself and would listen to anything she said (well, listen, but not necessarily take the advice). The last time I spoke to her, she told me to get a phone and start looking for an apartment.
Maybe, if I fall asleep right now, I can re-dream and hear her words again… Damn it, I’m still awake. (Oh, it could be the two Red Bulls I had at work this evening. My co-worker SL called me “Whitney,” because he said I looked all “crackheadish” licking the last drops of Red Bull from the can). What he said was actually a little worse, but I cleaned it up for my mother who’s reading and may not have heard the term crack whore before.
A few posts ago, I told you guys that I had crushes on two younger guys. Every time, I say that I have a crush I feel like I’m fifteen… fourteen… thirteen. Now, I’m here to tell you that both those attractions have died untimely deaths. They’re floating face-up in the water, bloated and ugly. And get this, remember the German guy I told you about in the Roppongi letter (http://lettersfromval.com/2011/12/01/nuthing-but-a-g-thang/)? Well, I’d gotten his number, so I called him to meet up with me for a drink before he goes back to Berlin for the holidays. My other coworker B, on our walk to the train station, told me to forget the crushes by finding a new guy; I completely agreed with him, hence the phone call. Please see the email, Mr. Berlin sent me after our phone conversation this evening:
Here’s my phone email. Seriously, thanks for calling/keeping in touch. I think it could be fun to meet up but give me some time to sort things out… and… get a phone.
Dude. Let’s examine the two places where his email went wrong: 1) I suggested that we get together for a drink, and he tells me he has to “sort things out.” What is there to sort out– Vodka or gin? Olives or not? Straight or on the rocks? Geez. 2) “I think it could be fun to meet up”… of course it would be fun to meet up, didn’t you see that I’m a ball of fun?
The worse thing about getting older is that the tolerance level goes way down. Should I blame my annoyance on an overdose of taurine, lack of sleep and hormones? The one thing in his email that made sense was “get a phone;” one of my resolutions for 2012 is to get a phone, though 2011 will end phone-less.
Okay, it’s 4:23am. I’m going to “cool it now” and try to sleep… after just one or two more videos.
Notes: a) These boys couldn’t be cuter if they tried. b) Please notice that Mike, Bobby and Ricky’s “little ladies” are about 30yrs old.