Hey Daddy, I thought I’d send this particular blog entry of mine. The
subject seems to contain two themes in your life – love and money. LOL. Of
course the links to Eegee’s didn’t copy over, nor did my proper titular
indications, but who cares. Big love, R

Editor’s note:  Eegee’s is a frozen, fruit flavored drink drive through in Tucson.  Oh, my, but they are wonderful!

Garbage Soup

Proving my point that gloops of poop raining from flying rats is in no way
lucky, the grant to fund my work didn’t come through and I’m sick of this
monastic lifestyle. It was cool when I pretended to prefer the austere, but
the truth is that I like having and spending money. I don’t and can’t, so
I’m obsessed. It’s not just my money either. I’m obsessed with other
people’s money ­ YOUR money.

I don’t want you to go out on Valentine’s Day and drop a chunk of change on
flowers that were coated in pesticides, kept in a green house, and shipped
across the country. What is that supposed to say? “I love you so muchly that
I’m giving you something unnaturally begotten. Also, in its making a part of
the world was poisoned. Lastly, even with the aspirin dissolving in the
water, it’s doomed to die leaving nothing to show for the cash. THIS is the
symbol of my love for you.” Please. Save your money. Buy a plant. I hear
that bamboo palm is good for taking formaldehyde out of the air.

But it isn’t my business, is it? I try to keep out of other people’s money
and for the most part I am successful (sorry Todd). I find that reading
books about how others cope with money satisfies part of this urge. Not real
money books that would contribute to solvency in any way like Here’s Where
You Can Get Money Even If You Are Lazy and What to Do with It Once You Get
It. Nothing so helpful as Here’s a Fortune Waiting for an E-mail from
Rebecca Ballenger or You Idiot! I Told You to be Smarter about Your Money:
Fine I’ll Just Fix it For you.

The books I read are more voyeuristic. Not Buying It: My Year without
Spending sits on my nightstand because I want to know that someone,
somewhere, is doing what I don’t have the guts to do. In 2003, I went on a
spending boycott as part of a silent protest to cripple the economy. It was
a statement about how we should behave during war to counterbalance the plea
that we go to the mall post-9/11. I also had hope that corporate America
would lose its interest in Congress and find power with the people.

Not surprisingly, this campaign is another failure on my long list. Even
with lower approval ratings than his “read my lips” dad, Bush’s request that
American’s buy all sorts of crap they neither want nor need carried more
sway than my refusal to wield my pitiful buying power. I was unable to bring
down the economy because I was unable to keep my billfold closed (and there
wasn’t much in that billfold from the get-go). The unfortunate side effect
was that my husband and children were forced into covert Eegee’s
consumption.

These pseudo-experimental books always disappoint me just a little. The
author of NBI considers her New York Times subscription a necessity, like
she can’t read it on-line or find it at the library. I was also disappointed
with Nickel and Dimed because Ehrenreich kept insurance and a car. How is
that an experiment worthy of my insomnia?

Because I am not getting my fill of other people’s money, I am compelled to
request that you forget the expensive roses! Instead, share this recipe for
Garbage Soup, from a Sonoran Desert cookbook (with editorial from me). It
would be good for your wallet, the environment, and an honest statement
about the longevity of love.

INGREDIENTS:
water (the elixir of life)
vegetable waste (eggplant sounds like elegant fare for a Valentine dinner,
but gack!)
coffee grounds (from the pot you shared over morning breath)
eggshells (you already walked on them so they are nicely crushed)
other similar kitchen waste (so not the shit you sling at each other like
monkeys after the kids are in bed)
not grease (this is about living plants not the yummy goodness of
slaughtered lambs)

DIRECTIONS: Chop waste in food processor or blender with equal parts water.
Mix it up until it’s as convoluted as your fights. Bury soup around outer
edges of plants along side the hatchet.

Commercial fertilizers can kill beneficial microorganisms in the soil. This
recipe for plants can be used in lieu of those fertilizers. Can you feel the
love?

RJ Osager writes to give me the link to her snotty nose kid’s class project like she didn’t have a blog of her own that she hasn’t written in since July 5th of last year.

If I didn’t like the way that Ronnie looks …

Well, there’s also the photos, they’re pretty good.

I just hate being manipulated.

So HERE, Charles Parker’s pro photo website.

blogblah!!!

I’ve linked to deShan’s webpage because it’s cool and so is her artwork.  for that matter, so is she.  It’s on the right in the permanent links, but here for you lazy bastards.

Flibbertigibbet! has a statistical question and I’m always willing to try to be helpful.

Population of Oklahoma City     640,000

Males                                     300,000

Straight                                 270,000

Age > 35 and < 65                 100,000

Unmarried                                40,000

Above Poverty                           30,000

Some College                            10,000

Males < morbidly obese              7,500

No gross mental, phys. defect     6,000

Live in NW OKC                           2,000

Already involved with the woman who will make them commitment phobic when they meet Flibbertigibbet and/or living with Mom

                                                 200

Men she's dated, dumped or divorced

                                                   50

Men looking for someone younger or with bigger tits or just clueless

                                                      1

Oddly, you will meet and fall in love with the heir of the Fahrquar Humate Co. fortune.  Who woulda guessed?

You're welcome.

Last night’s movie was “We Don’t Live Here Anymore”, a 2004 film starring Naoimi Watts, Laura Dern, Mark Ruffalo and another guy whose name I forgot.

Two couples, the guys both work in an English Dept. at a nondescript college, friends.  They engage in an “urban swap.”  The couples switch partners and things end rather badly, but without mayhem. 

Not a particularly fun filled laff riot like Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice from back in the late 60s.

As luck would have it, I happened to meet some polyamories last weekend.  T, a bi male, and his wife, C, who had recently taken as a lover another woman, Cprime.  They were all headed to the Nichols Hills home of a woman who was hosting a sort of sexual free for all that included 20 people or so and started at midnight.

Maybe you’re interested in this.  Maybe you’ve been to Oklahoma City’s Club Eden or dorked around on Adultfriendfinder. com.  No, I’m not linking to those sites.  If you’re interested, you’ll find them and I don’t want that internet footprint linked to this blog.

This raises all kind of questions for me.  Like, who do you send a valentine?  What does it say?

Are there polyamory valentine cards?

“To my loving wife and her girlfriend”

“To my main man and all the guys at Club Eden”

“I love you deeply, madly, … and also her … Oh, and him … her, too”

For a guy who just concluded that men are goofballs and girls have cooties, this is a little overwhelming.

In the end, I make no judgments about any of this except that it’s not for me. 

I can’t handle one person in my life and bed at this point, so the idea of more than one person treading on my trust issues and control issues and general goofballness makes my scared little boy and internalized mamma and everyone else on my committee (with the notable exception of Id, who was busy whacking off at the time and forgot to vote) go fully out of their mind at the very idea.

It’s funny to me that the thought process I went through was so mundane.  I didn’t want to go to any party at midnight, I was tired. 

I was, however, interested in hearing a little of their story.  I can’t say I understand it, but it came at me in a little bit of a disjointed way at least in part because they were drinking and going into the tank.  That was another reason not to indulge; I dislike being around drunks.

So, it’s funny to me that I didn’t have any moral repugnance and high ground on that score and it wasn’t even the fear of an STD, although sex and death (AIDS) are powerful stimulants.

I really just kind of didn’t want to get sweaty and have to get dressed again.

I wonder if things would have been different if it had been Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

One of my own personal issues with polyamory is that I don’t share well with others.  I mean, I have a reputation as being a guy who won’t even share an ashtray.  Share a lover?  Not happening.

And, I’m completely unsure how this dovetails, if it does, with my conclusion that girls have cooties and guys are goofballs.  Does a bisexual polyamory male get cooties on his goofballs?  Does a bisexual polyamory female roll her cooties into a goofball?

Very confusing.

So, here we are, bloggers.  We find it difficult in the extreme to understand each other when the topic is one guy, one girl and a standard, no frills, romantic relationship.  How may we regard the situation when what one wants is multiple partners and/or sex with persons of both genders?

Is there really such a thing as “no strings” sex?  Have these people actually found a way to have their sexual needs met without any of the messy emotions that go with that for most of the rest of us?

Someone else will have to figure it out.  I don’t have any great moral truth or insight into humanity. 

All I know is that it’s not for me.  I’m issued up and can’t take on further issues like that.  I’d have to give up one of the beloved issues I already have and I’m too attached to my passive agressiveness and trust and control issues to let them go.  Things are difficult enough for me as it is.  I’m basically afraid of sex in the first place and have to kind of screw up my courage, so to speak, just to have one person of the opposite gender in my bed for sexual purposes.  I’ve never met a guy I wanted to kiss.  I don’t want to share my partner with someone else, not even another woman, and not even if it’s a threesome.  (way too conflicting and confusing for me).

But, Angelina Jolie … well … good thing I’ll never have to face that choice.