If You Have To Ask

"Does my ass look fat?"

And I am ever dumb enough to answer truthfully, you might be surprised by my likely reply:

"I dunno. I was too busy staring at your breasts to notice."

No kidding. Guys' appraisals of women's bodies are not nearly has harsh as their own. While girls scan themselves looking for imperfections, I'm scoping out the appealing parts. Most girls have something sexy about them. And if you have more than one, please accept my apologies in advance for the inevitible instance when you catch me staring.

A few years ago I was in a friend's living room. It was her, three other women and me.

And we started talking about sex. At one point I found myself explaining to four women why I liked being on the bottom during intercourse. I like being on top and on the side and from behind too but my favorite is what in dry scientific terms would be called the "female superior position."

There are a number of reasons. When I'm on the bottom I don't have to hold myself up. My hands are free to explore, to stroke and generally to wander around enjoying themselves when not needed to assist otherwise. When we're finished she can just collapse onto me and we can lie in each other's arms (as opposed to laying in each other's arms, which is what we just finished). She gets her cuddling and I can bask in her afterglow.

After I said this, a couple of the women said they didn't like being on top because they felt too exposed. The guy could see too much of them, they worried, and it might not be a flattering look.

I explained that, at that point, I was not doing a critique; my mind was otherwise occupied. Remember how the little head thinks for the big one? That's especially true when it's inside you. Here's something else I've come to realize women don't know about men: While you're obsessing over your flaws, I'm too thrilled to see you naked to notice anything wrong with you.

So stop pointing out all the things that you don't like about your body. Chances are that I will be sufficiently distracted by one of your abundant physical charms that I will never see it if you don't point it out.

If you think your ass is too fat, turn around. I'll enjoy the show.

Real

Seen on I-10 in New Orleans: A police car with the words "Motorcycle Squad" on the side.

Try explaining this to the rental company:


The first time we got out of the car to shoot video I saw buzzards circling overhead. Then one of them bit me and I realized they were mosquitos.


Never has a street sign been so unnecessary. The good news here is that they've suspended the fine for littering. It sounds insensitive to joke about destruction like this but that's really all you can do. It's so incomprehensible that it doesn't look real. And sad to the point of comedy.

The good news is that we come home tomorrow. I did what I could here. I hope the people who hired me (Company A) will make good use of what we gathered.

Slave Day

If you are female, in a relationship and read this (which I realize narrows it down significantly), I have a question for you about your boyfriend/husband/f-buddy: If your wish were his command, what would you wish?

I ask because I have an idea to try the next time I'm dating someone: Slave Day.

Here's the the way it works: A couple days beforehand, I tell her that a particular day is "Slave Day." I am at her service however she wants to use me. If that means I scrub floors, wash dishes and run errands all day, OK. If she wants me bathe her, massage her and perform any other, um, personal services she needs (kiss you there?), better. I am available to cater to her every whim.

The only restrictions would be that the tasks can't involve spending more than nominal amounts of money; they can't hurt me (not too much anyway!) or harm my health; they can't publicly embarass me and I can use the bathroom whenever I want.

Other than that, I am hers to use as she wishes all day.

Why?

A few reasons. It would be a nice treat for her. It would show her that I'll do things for her whether I benefit or not. It might help our communication skills if she can feel comfortable asking for what she wants. And I think I'll learn a lot about her.

This isn't not about wanting to be submissive or any B.S. like that other than the occasional wish we all have to put our mind on idle and let someone else drive it for a while, to borrow a phrase.

She will have no obligation to reciprocate. This isn't like Miranda on Sex And The City saying, "I only give head to get head." This would be a chance for me to know I gave without taking.

What do you think? If your sig other offered himself to you like this, would you like it? How would you spend the day?

Wake Me When I'm Over It

Sometimes I wonder what kind of evil I perpetrated in another life to make me deserve this one. Yeah, I know. I should count my blessings. Today I met two people who fled their homes with only the clothes they were wearing and lost everything they left behind.

Yeah, I know. I have all this stuff and this money in the bank and family who cares about me and the cutest kitty cat I ever did see and all I feel is so sick and tired that I want to go to sleep and never wake up.

The Gulf project is blowing apart. The company that sent me here (Company A) was contracted by another company hired by the government (Company B) to create TV programming designed to keep evacuees updated on the recovery process. But company B never accounted for the incredible headache involved in getting anything through the government bureaucracy.

Company B never sent us the proper equipment to complete stories, even if we had somehow managed to work the scripts through the labyrinthine approval process.

What does Company B do? Blames us for not getting anything done (though we had shot and written five stories) and fires Company A.

So here we are. Dead tired and maybe dead in the water. Company A says it fears that Company B won't pay for the work we did. Now I fear Company A won't pay me.

Yeah, I know. If I don't get paid I didn't lose my life, only a week of it.

So far. Company A says it might have another client that can use the work we're doing so we're going to stay and keep working. It's unsettling not to know what you're doing or for whom you're doing it. When you have a TV camera with you people ask who you're shooting for. What do we say?

"Well, we don't exactly know right now but we hope someone will figure it out and let us know. Then we'll get back to you."

What do I keep doing to get myself into situations like this? What am I doing wrong? Why can't anything go right?

Even tonight. We had left a piece of equipment in the main federal headquarters for the relief effort in our state. Our boss at Company A wasn't sure if the government would want the credentials back that allows us to get to some of the more heavily damaged areas. Maybe he was just being paranoid but it spread to us and we felt like we were going on some kind of spy mission to retrieve this tape player tonight.

There's a city cop working security at the door. We flash our credentials to get in, I tell him why we're here and we go pack up the tape player. We get almost out the door when the cop stops us and wants to double check that we're allowed to take the player out of the building.

That was something we had to get used to when we went through the main entrance. Guards check bags on your way OUT of the building. Bring whatever you want inside but you better have documentation that it's yours if you want to keep it when you leave. We hadn't faced that kind of checking coming or going from the media center, where we'd been working, so we didn't bother to get paperwork from supply certifying that this was our company's equipment and not something that belonged to Uncle Sam.

I guess the feds realize that the background check they do before issuing you a credential doesn't reveal whether you've ever stolen anything. It only tells if you've ever been caught.

Now what? The case we're carrying has the Company A's name, address and telephone number on it but we're only freelance employees so it's not like we can produce a company ID badge. We explain ourselves and he says, "OK, I believe you. I was just checking." and we turn to go.

"Hold up," he says. Whether it's us he doesn't trust or himself, he decides to call someone on his radio for a second opinion. I'm thinking they're going to send some more inquisitors down. But they're probably thinking it's late on a Friday and they don't want to bother. They sign off on it and the cop reiterates that he was just checking and this time we actually exit the building.

We don't hurry but we also don't waste any time putting the case in the car and leaving before the cop can have another change of heart.

What kind of nightmare have I gotten myself into and how do I wake up?

Or never wake up. Whichever works.

Villa Pizza

Villa Pizza. Remember the name so you never go there.

I know I'm asking for it by going to a mall food court for dinner anyway but this is diabolical.

We have come back from our mostly wasted trip to Lafourche Parish. (which I later learn is pronounced "La-FOOSH" here) The photographer with me was trying to find a cable for his computer so after stops at CompUSA and Best Buy we decide we'll eat dinner at the food court while we're there.

I pick the Villa Pizza and order a spaghetti combo meal. I get to the register and the guy asks me if I want a drink. Well, yes, I'm getting a drink; I ordered the combo meal. "It doesn't come with a drink," he tells me.

Sure enough the Pepsi cup shown on the panel displaying the combo meal choices had small print announcing that the drink came for $1.39 extra. So that lousy two pieces of garlic bread turns my bowl of spaghetti into a combo meal?

How slimy is that? What weasels! You're going to sell something called a combo meal and not include the drink? I'm so hacked off I don't buy a drink. I should hand the tray back to him and go to the Giant Panda for lo mein instead. Chinese food might be crappy for you but you always get enough of it.

Turns out I don't need the drink. The pasta sauce is so watery I can drink that instead.

And that's my one and only dining experience at Villa Pizza. Jesus died for your sins. I got ripped off at Villa Pizza for mine.