A Trip to the Bookstore

My foray out into the world this evening was a trip to the bookstore.  Audrey and I were tossing around venues to scope for men and while I'm sure there's plenty of happy hour action going on nearby - I just don't feel like walking into a bar alone.

I have done that puh-lenty of times.  I am absolutely not one little bit scared to walk into restaurants, bars or entire events flying solo.  I can make friends anywhere.  Not a problem.  But it's nice to have a human buffer from time to time just in case the creepshows come out.  And they always seem to come out around me.

I don't know why I just remembered this but one time Jan Brady and I were visiting Charleston, South Carolina...I think it was her college open house or orientation or something so it had to be '95/'96-ish?  I must have been about 23 at the time.  Jan would have been 19.  We went to a bar one night and somehow managed to get her in without being carded.  Obviously a rarity for me.  Anyway, at some point some Canadian golfers on a guys trip, who were probably about as old as I am now, started hitting on us.  One of them was quite persistent with my little sister Jan and I don't recall exactly how he transgressed but whatever he did caused me to punch him square in the center of his chest.  After that?  He left us alone.  So, *I* don't really need a wing man but if you need a body guard, I am totally available.  weird digression.  okay.

So, back to the bookstore.  Slim pickin's in the attractive, age appropriate, single male department.  Although the guy who made my smoothie was awful chatty.  I glanced around the cafe as he was explaining that RTD drinks meant "ready to drink" and how if I used my rewards card I could get one for free sometime.  whatever.  Scanning the room - too old, too homeless, too young, nice Superman t-shirt - still too young, and one attractive guy too engrossed in his book to make eye contact.  crap.  Oh well.

Walking around the store I saw a lot of stroller moms and 20-something goth guys.  Neither are the demographic for which I was aiming.  But I picked out a Dean Koontz novel and wandered around the Writing Instruction section.  Realized that if you need a book to teach you about humor writing then you have a looong way to go.  "Look at this bar stool cover.  What else could that be?  Frisbee for the physically challenged?  (ha?)  Oversized skull cap?  (um?)  Elephant slipper?  (huh?)"  Yeah, that was as far as I got before they lost me.

Then I went over to those cutesy pocket-sized books.  One said something about how some people are like Slinkies - mostly useless except for a laugh when they tumble down the stairs.  Which made me chuckle.  But I'm pretty sure I saw that on facebook a couple months ago.  eh.

Then another pocket-sized book had 38 things women should do before they die.  Okay...whaddya got?  Go a month without shaving your legs!  what?!
Go gray for a while! Um - I am clearly not your target market here.
Practice telepathy with your cat! Are you fucking kidding me right now?  What the hell is wrong with you - practice telepathy with your cat for god sakes.  How the fuck did you get published again? 

Another suggestion in the same book was to ride a motorcycle across the Nevada desert.  alone.  Which actually sounded kind of cool to me but I think the gray-haired, cat-whispering, woolly mammoth she's writing to probably isnt' going to sign up for that adventure.  Hell, maybe she would; what the hell else has she got going on if she's buying that book already?  I would not have been surprised to see some kind of Sapphic love recommendation in there as well.  Or Georgia O'Keefe self portrait of your vagina.  Oh!  Wait!  There WAS an entry about having a "sensitive female photographer" take a nude photo of you.  totally not kidding!  I believe I accidentally stumbled upon the pocket-sized, mid-life crisis guide to beginning lesbianism.  No fucking way.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Lesbians don't typically go for me though so I doubt I'd have any better luck in that camp.  Although I did have a good run of old ladies grabbing my ass during my first waitressing job in high school.   I still don't know what that was about.  They were more handsy than their husbands at times.  really.  Maybe when you get to be 80 years old you just say "fuck it" and grab the first teenage ass in arm's reach out of a sense of sport.  Like when rich people shoplift for the adrenaline rush.  If I'm still writing when I'm 80, I'll let you know.

Anyway, no luck at the bookstore but Cindy Brady and I are going to an event at one of her favorite artsy places tomorrow evening.  fingers crossed

"Shoplifters will be prosecuted, fondled and embalmed" 

My friend Kembrew made that sign a million years ago. 

The shoplifting thing reminded me of it...always loved that sign.