I think I may have figured out the root cause of the central issue of the dating portion of my life. What is the central issue, you ask? Well, the central issue is that dating blows. It blows hard core.

You might be wondering how something as potentially fun as dating could blow hard core. Well, I’ll tell ya how: I’ve been dumped twice so far in 2008.

Yes, twice. Um, yeah, I know it’s only April.

Two times in less than four months makes it almost seem like I’m trying or something, doesn’t it? Well, I’m not. It’s my life’s overarching theme: the less I try at something (like getting dumped) the better I am at it, while the more I try at something (like *not* getting dumped) the more I suck.

Anyway, focus, Kiki. Focus. Central issue … root cause. Right.

So, my big dating revelation came by way of a joke I found on none other than the Internet. I’m pretty sure jokes are supposed to make you laugh, but this one made me weep a little … salty, bitter tears of recognition.

A man was crossing a road one day when a frog called out to him and said, “If you kiss me, I’ll turn into a beautiful princess.” He bent over, picked up the frog and put it in his pocket.

The frog spoke up again and said, “If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful princess, I will stay with you for one week.”

The man took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it and returned it to the pocket.

The frog then cried out, “If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I’ll stay with you and do anything you want.” Again, the man took the frog out, smiled at it and put it back into his pocket.

Finally, the frog asked, “What’s the matter? I’ve told you I’m a beautiful princess, that I’ll stay with you for a week and do anything you want. Why won’t you kiss me?”

The man said, “Look, I’m a software engineer. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog is cool.”

You could easily swap out “software engineer” with “sys admin” or “info designer” or dozens of other geeky professions, and the joke would be just as … er, funny. The point is: WTH is wrong with geeks? Why do they not recognize a perfectly good female unit when they see one? Why do they have so little time when they mostly do nothing? Why do they say so little when you know perfectly well there’s a lot going on upstairs? And, last but not least, given ALL this, why do they have to smell so damned good?

BAH.

I’m going to rewrite the joke from the point of view of the frog. I think it might involve a big Mack truck or something … I’m still working out the details.

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I realize my last post on this topic was somewhat deflating, so I’m going to give it a shot from a more affirming vantage point. (Wha? April is National Pun Month. Okay, it’s not, but it *should* be.)

• Obfuscate. Is it just me or does this sound like something very dirty that you secretly hope your SigO will try to talk you into? (Um, yes, please.)
• Bouillabaisse. A guy who cooks? Hot. And, honestly, what’s hotter than *stew* … yummy, yummy French stew?
• Turgid. Is it wrong that this word makes me a little wet? Okay, okay … it’s wrong. Remind me why.
• Obelisk. Sometimes a tall, tapered monument isn’t just a tall, tapered monument … if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
• Tectonic. I don’t know why I love you, but I do.

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I hope my loyal commentators do not take this the wrong way, but I get more than a little jazzed when someone I do not personally know comments on the blog. Of course, each and every comment is precious to me … it’s just that some are *more* precious than others.

The other day I received just such a comment from a random, unknown reader, but what began as excitement turned into … um … this:

you know u sound like a psycho selfcenterd person by this blog and i feel durasticaly sorry for u maybe you should appologize to your dad for being such a bitch cause u know if u were my daughter id spank your bare botom ass with a wooden paddle even tho im not that old not the point u are too dam privlaged and concieded

I believe wholeheartedly that it’s only proper to take the bad with the good, so I’m not about to bury the comment. I post it *here* for two reasons:

• It was added to a page that should have never been set up to allow comments.
• I want to be sure that the comment (and my reply) receive ample viewing.

Now, you might expect me to respond with something sarcastic, caustic or downright cruel even, and I admit, the thought did cross my mind. After all, the cutting retort is one of the few arrows in a writer’s quiver. But, I dunno, parts of the comment rang true to me, and I began to wonder what an honest sincere response might look like. Here’s what I came up with:

Dear Chris,

Thanks for taking the time to post a comment on my blog. At first, I found your words to be, ya know, kind of hurtful. I don’t know if that was your intent. Anyway, after the initial sting faded, I reminded myself that everyone is entitled to their opinion, and—if I’m honest with myself—yours isn’t an entirely invalid one.

Having a personal blog *is* pretty self-centered. There are times when I escape into it (and into my own head) and, as a result, neglect some of my real-world responsibilities … to myself, my friends and family, my two dogs, my community. I’m workin on that.

Also, you’re right … I am ridiculously privileged. Having the time, the means and the freedom to write a blog about any old thing I choose is not something to be taken for granted. (Neither is having the time, the means and the freedom to read blogs, I might add.) I’m privileged in a million other ways too. I prolly don’t acknowledge that as much as I could.

The conceited thing I would have to disagree with you on, but I can see how you might get that impression from a cursory read of my posts. See it’s kind of a long story and goes along with the psycho thing, which (depending on your definition of psycho) I wouldn’t argue with a whole lot. I’m guessing by “psycho” you mean neurotic and a little unstable, not sociopathic. If that’s true, then sure, I’m a little psycho … it is called Crazy Monkey Gurls, after all. So, what you see as conceit is just a defense mechanism … grant you, a thinly veiled and not entirely effective one, but still. There it is.

The last point I want to address is what you said about spanking your daughter … or me, if I was your daughter. I’ll save my diatribe about corporal punishment for another day, but you should know I was spanked as a girl … bare-assed with a hand or a belt or a wooden paddle. Since I gather from your message that you do not want your daughters to grow up like me, I suggest you do not spank them (or your sons either, for that matter).

In fact, I have a few suggestions that may help ensure your kids grow up to be very un-me-like: pay lots and lots of attention to them, smile at them for no reason, listen to them when they have something to say, hug them when they cry, leave the closet light on when they’re scared, when they want to give up tell them to try again because you know they can do it, ask them what they think about stuff and, again, don’t ever touch them in a way that causes pain.

Thanks again for the comment. Hope you keep reading.
Kiki

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Okay, according to YouTube, this ad has been around for quite some time, but what with me living under a rock and all, I’m only hip to it as of about five minutes ago. Anyway, an engineer at work sent it around with some information about its production, which—if true—is what elevates it from merely cool to ZOMG.

According to my esteemed co-worker (and perhaps a bit of canned e-mail forwardese):

There are no computer graphics or digital tricks in these images. Everything that you see happened in real time exactly as you see it. The recording required 606 takes, and in the first 605 takes there was always something, usually of minor importance, that didn’t work. It was necessary for the recording team to install the set-up time after time, and it took several weeks working day and night to achieve this effect. The recording cost 6 million dollars and it took 3 months to finish, including the engineering design of the sequence.

There are only six Honda Accords built by hand in the whole world, and to the horror of Honda engineers, the recording team disassembled two of them for the recording. Everything you see in the sequence (besides the walls, floor, ramp and untouched Honda Accord) is part of those two automobiles. The voice is that of Garrison Keiller.

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