better than a multi-level car park

Recently my motorcyclist friend from south of here called. He was coming into town to do some shopping, and asked me if I could recommend somewhere for him to stay. He preferred downtown, under $100 a night if possible.

Considering it was Black Friday, and also that I enjoy cyber-comparison shopping, I decided to see what I could find for him.

I eventually came up with a newish place called Aloft. It was part of the Starwood hotel chain. He seemed pretty happy with the place when he arrived. Later he invited me over for a drink.

Aloft turned out to be a converted warehouse with cement floors, exposed ceilings, bare brick, and minimalist decor. We played some pool in the deserted bar (alas, it was not even remotely "always hopping" as the Web site had claimed). Later we had a drink in his room and talked motorcycles - this is known in bikers' circles as motobabble. I departed 30 minutes later as chaste as when I had arrived, although feeling guilty, as he'd picked up an armored motorcycle jacket for me earlier that day "just to say thanks". My only real temptation to sin had been to consider burgling the room's faux deco clock (see photo below).

Later in the evening, when I was back at Chez Melina, I realized that I'd stumbled upon (or stumbled into) the ideal venue for extramarital assignations within the greater DFW metroplex. The Aloft was hidden in a quiet area of downtown so none of your friends or work colleagues would spot you. It was inexpensive, so you could pay cash. The multi-level car park effectively hid your vehicle (and if you were feeling cheap, you could make out there...yes, this is an occasional fantasy of mine). And the room's decor was unlike the typical hotel chain hotel room, so one wouldn't feel like an adulterous cliche when sneaking in or out.

The only slight drawback was no bathtub, but it was an extra that would probably not be utilized. And the shower looked nice enough. Room for two.

the course of true lust never did run smooth

I think I may have figured out why O.O.D. has never finagled a personal interface with me - well, not since the first one. He's concerned about his weight.

I was thinking about our recent conversations, and twice he's mentioned his desire to lose weight. And he seems to want to lose quite a bit, or at least that's what he's saying (I think he quoted amounts of 40 pounds or thereabouts).

I can't decide whether to figure out a way to convince him that his extra weight doesn't matter (it really doesn't), or to call it a day. But it's hard to call it a day when you've spent the last two hours squirming. After months and months of celibacy, I am realizing that I am in dire need of a gratifying, intense, politically incorrect fuck.

black friday cometh

Quite a few of my otherwise sane colleagues plan to go to a Black Friday sale later this week. It's something I've never done, as there's zero appeal. Besides the initial pain and degradation of getting up early - who wants to shop at 4 am, for fork's sake? - you might be crushed by crowds who are hoping to pick up a crappy laptop for cheap. I could never make any sort of buying decision in a scrum.

Overall, it's kind of embarrassing - it makes we Americans look shallow and greedy - although I'm aware that other countries hold similar sales. Besides, I'm working that day.

Since tomorrow is the day before Thanksgiving, the departmental boss has already given us the go-ahead to leave at 2:00 pm. I'm tempted to let O.O.D. know - could he be tempted into a semi-dark underground car park before his own quitting time? Probably not. So I'm planning to attend the 5.00 kung fu class instead, as I'll be missing next Monday's.

Since the 4.00 and 5.00 classes are designated for children, aka Shaolin Tigers, I'm going to resemble a sweaty, aging tigress mixed in with all those eight year olds. Sigh.

slacker tarts, unite

I'm taking tomorrow off. Look for me around noon with a bad case of bed head.

anxious days

During the last two days, I've gone through two odd episodes of classic anxiety attacks. The reason I say "odd" is that, although I had them regularly when living in Hong Kong, they seemed to have largely dissipated after moving to the Great Southern Land.

Two nights ago, I wasn't able to sleep; my mind kept racing, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't calm down. I finally gave up around 3:00 am and took a tranquilizer, but it didn't do much.

The next day at work, I had another attack before lunchtime. This one had a vile episode of hyperventilation thrown in. I ended up rushing out to my car - although I always feel foolish after an anxiety attack ends, I'm often convinced I need an ER, so best to be ready to drive to one. I ended up finding a brown paper bag in the car that had formerly held a take-out muffin from Whole Foods. It seemed a reasonable cure for my hyperventilation, but after I put it into service, I immediately inhaled a nose-ful of muffin crumbs. I spend the next hour blowing my nose and hoping nobody would notice what my embarrassed nostrils were producing.

Now I feel fine. Go figger.

Perhaps I had the anxiety attacks because Obscure Object of Desire did not bring me any Mickey Mouse ears from his recent trip to Florida, or I'm feeling guilty because of doing work for DD's ex-business partner (he wants me to do more edits to the Web site). And I never wrote DD the letter I'd planned to send him. Or maybe it was PMS. Who the hell knows?