Making up a story about myself
Not that I haven't thought about it -- I'm a decent actor, not to mention an extremely accomplished liar (if I do say so myself), so I'm sure I could spin a fairly airtight yarn about having flown an A-10 "Warthog" in the liberation of Afghanistan or being a talent scout for the Boston Red Sox or something like that. Particularly if it was just for a one-night stand, and I wouldn't have to play it out for more than 12 hours or so, I think I could pull that off. But every time the thought enters my head, my Catholic guilt kicks in not long afterward and I can't go through with it. Might still be worth trying, though, as a . . . sociology experiment. Of sorts. Yeah, that's it.
Making up a "Canadian" girlfriend
Again, I'm sure I could put together a ripping good tale of some ridiculously hot synchronized swimmer from Vancouver I met on vacation or something, but I can't do it -- and this time, it has nothing to do with guilt over telling a falsehood; mainly, I've never been able to bring myself to do something that pathetic, no matter how well I'd be able to pull it off.
Getting a girl drunk
I know I've made plenty of jokes on here about looking way better after a few beers -- which I'm sure is true -- but once you get past all the jokes about getting someone drunk and open to suggestion, there's the fact that intoxication voids a person's ability to grant legal consent, which means there's not a place in the country where that wouldn't be considered rape. Not a real bright idea, in other words. Not to mention that most drunk people are so annoying I wouldn't want to spend any more time with them than I absolutely had to in the first place.
Availing myself of the services of a prostitute
Oh, sure, Eliot Spitzer made it look all cool and glamorous, but most of the cities I've lived in, I've been in what you might call a somewhat lower-income part of town -- which means that most of the hookers in my neck of the woods haven't been the high-class Eliot Spizer kind of hooker but rather the corner-of-Ponce-and-Monroe, track-marked, trade-you-a-trick-for-a-crack-rock kind of hooker. And I don't need an STD that bad.
Placing an online ad requesting kissing lessons
I mean, seriously, dude. Jesus.
And now the Ten:
1. The Pretenders, "Where Has Everybody Gone"
2. Thievery Corporation, "Lebanese Blonde"
3. Underworld, "Luetin"
4. The Chemical Brothers, "Fuck Up Beats"
5. Underworld, "Juanita/Kiteless" (live)
6. U2, "Trip Through Your Wires"
7. Thievery Corporation, "Indra"
8. New Order, "True Faith"
9. Richard Cheese, "Come Out and Play"
10. Johnny Cash, "Daddy Sang Bass"
Your turn -- Random Tens and lists of things you're proud you've never had to do in the comments.
12 comments:
You made my M'r-F'n day. Thanks for the add.
I was in Cancun in October 2001 - and my buddy tried to convince a group of girls we were FDNY on our first break from "cleaning up the shit." Shockingly, they believed him - but I couldn't go along with it.
(I'd like to say I didn't go along with it because of my morals, but I think I was just in utter shock at, first, him trying to get away with that and, second, him actually getting away with that).
I met a cute Canadien girl in Vegas, and none of my friends believed she was real.
As your attorney, I need to advise you that if she voluntarily drinks the alcohol, you are off the hook on the rape charge. Probably.
That settles it. This weekend, I'm going to make up a story about myself to a drunk Canadian whore.
No, I won't ask for kissing lessons. I'm not that much of a fucking loser.
As a non-attorney who nonetheless has some knowledge of the subject, a woman who is incapacitated by alcohol or other drugs lacks the capacity to give consent to sex. Consequently, any sex with such a woman could be held to be sex without consent, hence rape.
I think the first anonymous once worked for Raul Duke/Dr. Gonzo.
I've faked both an Irish accent and an English accent in downtown Athens (with fake backstory) a few times.
I think the English accent works better than Irish, because a good Colin Farrellian brogue is not something a Southern gal follows that well.
And with that confession gone, a ten:
1. Imogen Heap - "Headlock"
2. The Getaway Plan - "Where the City Meets the Sea"
3. 3 - "Live Entertainment"
4. Between the Buried and Me - "White Walls"
5. Goldie - "Dragonfly"
6. OutKast - "Chonkyfire"
7. Radiohead - "Everything In Its Right Place"
8. Tresor Hugo - "Fresh as I wanna be"
9. Pineforest Crunch - "College Radio Listeners"
10. Butch Walker - "Atlanta"
I have never been single on Valentine's Day, not since like junior high. (Which is actually sort of a waste, since I loathe Valentine's Day, but I can't argue with always having someone on hand to buy me a five-foot stuffed gorilla.)
1-10. Girl Talk - Feed The Animals (the whole album, on repeat, over and over and over again)
One time I jokingly told a woman that I modeled underwear for Calvin Klein. I thought it would be funny because I don't think I'm that good-looking... except apparently she thought I was, and I was just a cocky bastard.
What's the so-called deal with "Catholic Guilt". Former altar boy here, somewhat creepy ride on Wild Mouse with slovenly parish priest that might have been a perv, but I just don't get it.
My Catholic role models are Bobby Kennedy and Teillhard and Fr. John Donnelly, SJ, a retired alcoholic that smoked Salems, Marlboros and Pall Mells in some arcane sequence known only to him during seminars in the ROTC building I later set afire. Maybe St. Augustine, whose name I took at confirmation. Guilt-free. All about hope and aspiration for better human beings all around.
I've saved three lives, two from drowning, one despicable jackass from a car crash. And, my brother, also in a car crash. What else was I supposed to do?
Take it easy Doug. Guilt isn't overrated, it doesn't enter the equation. You simply live the life you lead and do your best. In a world of assholes asking WWJD, well, He'd just do his best.
If you're a bundle of neuroses, you deal with it. If you are calm as the serenity prayer, then Jimma loves you, and by the way, Reinhold Niebhur was a plagiarist. Well, not really. His response was perfect. I thought I wrote that. Maybe I heard it somewhere else.
Nice, nice, very nice. I'm pretty sure you've read Cat's Cradle (and if you haven't, what's taking you). Kurt Vonnegut was widely held to be cynical. I don't think you can write the sstory of Harrison Bergeron (he meant Herschel Walker, whether he knew it or not) and be cynical.
This is real Catholic, but in the recent hagiography about J2P2, has everybody forgotten John XXIV? I believe he would have actually gone to Baghdad instead of letting lackeys talk him out of it.
Archbishop Romero, murdered at the communion rail. By Ronald Reagan and Henry Kissinger, for all intents and purposes. Liberation theology is liberating when it comes to Catholic guilt.
Augustine said creative lying in pursuit of sex is OK. Well, he didn't, but he meant to. I always thought you just fell into these things. You do. And guilt has nothing to do with it. O Lucky Man.
Jesuits as a group rock, no doubt about it. That said, I must confess that I have not heard of Fr. John Donnelly, so Mr. Caliban if you can make a reference to a publication I might find somewhere, I would appreciate it.
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