Scruffy...

You gotta admit...

You gotta admit that, the days you barely roll out of bed after hammering the snooze button 34 times, staggering to your feet on 3.5 hours of uneven sleep, with your unshaven face, your dirty clothes, your un-ironed shirts, your hair that you cut yourself in the morning because your bangs were too long, your eyebrows busting out of your skull like September weeds, your breath smelling like a deadly blend of last night's turkey burger and pickles and this morning's last squirt of three-month-old citrus-flavored toothpaste…

Those are the days you run into the hottest girls.

Struggling into work or stumbling into school, you come face-to-face with the prettiest chicks...you run into your dream woman walking down the halls…you run into the cute intern who’s here for a day visit and an overdue house-hunting trip…you run into the forty-something, flirtatious secretary in the skimpy dress that encouraged you with unsavory eye-contact in days-passed but today bristles by at the sight of your ketchup-stained trousers...

You run into your marketing director that you haven’t seen in two months… you run into that well-kept Biology professor that you've had the hots for since Freshman year but that has failed to notice you in the second row all semester but now engages you in maddening conversation about double-stranded DNA while grimacing in disgust at your unorderly appearance...

You run into your boss’s kids who are visiting for the first time and wanna meet people she works with and instead realize that you’re a grizzly bearded, Osama-Bin-Laden-lookin brown boy…you run head-first into an elevator packed with a devastating combination of hot blondes, upper-management, and campus security...

You run into everybody.

And tomorrow, when you put on that brand new Italian suit or mintly-pressed blouse from the Spring Collection... you aint running into anybody but Chucky the slightly scatterbrained and considerably heavy-set custodian... and even he aint gonna have time for you...

Cuz that's just the way it works...

Lessons from '24'...

Proper pronunciation of people’s first names could deter budding teenaged extremists from playing crucial roles in sinister nuclear plots.

Biting someone in the jugular to free oneself from a torture-chair isn’t usually taught in the Boy Scouts, but should be.

When two brothers - who are Brothas - each become President, suddenly the impending apocalypse makes much more sense.

The short, curly-haired dude with the squeaky voice, rambling vocabulary, and stuffy banker-blazer that lectures your boss should never be trusted…he should be beaten. Zero-tolerance for little-man-syndrome.

Racial profiling occurs almost as often in the hunt for suspected fanatics as it does at the Sig Ep house at major public Universities… except id rather give up my freedom in a detainment camp then miss out on nightly encounters with desperately inebriated co-eds. When’s the Tri-Delt mixer again?

Jack Bauer is badder than Rocky, William Wallace, Bond, Maximus, the Terminator, and even that pretty boy, arrow-flinging elf from Lord of the Rings.

Kal Penn aka ‘Kumar’ aka ‘Taj’ aka 'Akhhmedd' is officially the worst underdog to make it to the Big Dance in Hollywood history… the sheer fact that this dude shares a scene with Jack Bauer is inspiration enough for me to quit my day job, live out of my car on Ventura Blvd, and enroll in some hole-in-the-wall acting class… My cat can act better than this guy... Ok fine! I'm jealous and I'm hating. So what!

Hot, sexy, petite brunettes have no business working in the Counter Terrorism Unit. They should work in the office across from me… in tastefully revealing outfits.

It is ALWAYS an inside-job…

Say..

I liked the way she said ‘papers.’

Dancing off her tongue like an intoxicating blend of tango and ballet...

Curving, in and out... her lips paving the way for the sharp turn ahead.

A hard right followed by a steep uphill climb through her Inhibitions,

Tumbling softly into the creases of her Conversation.

A highway of racing Emotions and bumper-to-bumper Expressions,

Exiting along the passion-soaked boulevard of Expectation and Mystery...

All hidden between a ‘ps.’

I liked the way she said ‘green’…

Hiatus

I’ve been away… I know… weeks? Months? Both…

Sometimes we need to go… just so we can return… except this time with stripes on our coats and purple hearts around our necks… to win some battles and lose even more… to fight...

To redirect... to change the course of the spinning fireballs and shape-shift into another monologue...

To get a new audience... or lose the old one... starting from Square One so we’re sure the right people are listening... and the wrong people are wandering...

Winter-time hibernation to rest up for the coming search for honey…

Better honey.

Time away is good… but only when you come back.

I’m back.