Sometimes it's interesting to be confuciused.

The last few days' weather in NYC can tersely be described as B.W.: Beyond Wicked. You could find tons of synonyms and euphimisms for "hot and muggy," but making any effort in this climate is too exhausting. I'll settle for B.W. Would that it were less syllables. Easier for dry mouths to say.

But! Tonight! Relief...at last. All the tension has built itself up into a nice loud thunderstorm.

Picture this. One hour ago. Upper East Side. Thor's hammer flew above, and miles and miles below, a cargo pant clad brunette flip-flopped, soaking wet, her umbrella sheeting rain, craving a lovely warm bowl of seafood and vegetable soup from the noodle shop one block away. People stepped aside. Well, actually, they stepped aside of the accumulating puddles threatening to soak them to the socks. But the young lady knew that they somehow understood. And she got that soup. And it was good. (OK, so now I've managed to mangle both Norse and Judeo-Christian theological references. All in one unwieldy paragraph. Oh well!)

Perhaps it's trite to report your fortune cookie fortunes, but I scored such a good one that it needs to be shared. I won't guild the lily by putting my own little twist on it. Here it is:

"If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn't."
(No, I'm not going to include the string of lottery numbers, or the "learn Chinese" line.)

But isn't that a good one?

After the fortune cookie, I jerked and halted through the downpour to get a cold, sweet frozen yogurt cone. Nothing wrong with stopping by Haagen Dasz on a rainy evening, especially if the yogurt contains no fat and no sugar and it is NOT "that Seinfeld yogurt!"

I ordered. One guy squeezed frozen yogurt from the big machine onto my cone, then handed it off to the cashier to give to me. My money was ready. I looked from the face of the scooper to the face of cashier, who was a smooth-faced older gentleman...maybe from Pakistan or India?...maybe?

I see his face still. Because the gentleman who handed me my treat did it with such gracious delight; he lifted the cone high over the counter, then brought it down to me, gazing with such a bright, tender expression that I felt like a little child.

It was very sweet.

Alas, there's no punch line today...no fabricated versions of pop history...no wistful musings. Just a fortune cookie and some ice cream.

Way too Personal.

Hm... it's hard to describe myself in words. I am still kind of a High School jock who likes to party hearty. Looks wise I'd describe myself as a cross between Marcus Shenkenberg and Harrison Ford. I have 875 sports channels on my TV, and I'm looking for that special girl who likes my teams and knows the importance of the word "shh!" when my teams are about to score! I have been in a few relationships, but am looking for someone who really understands that beer is life and can hang. I find that NYC girls are really picky when it comes to dates. I mean, is there anything wrong with bringing a chick to OTB for some PDA? Beggars can't be choosers ladies! I'm hoping to meet a nice girl, on the small side, like a size two or a one I hope. I find that above 30, women go downhill, so maybe if you are above 30 you are not for me. I like to listen to the Steve Miller Band because it reminds me of the good times. New music I like is Hootie and the Blowfish, I really like that guy, I think he has soul! If any of this sounds good to you, and you think we could have a love connection, especially if you are a blonde and bisexual with cute friends, then give a shout. We can meet up at PJ Carney's at midnight and see if there is any spark.

Taking Ad Vantage.

They’ll put advertising anywhere these days. Coffee cups, key chains, matchbooks. Everything hollers at us: SHOP HERE! EAT HERE! BUY THIS! It’s not enough that buses have marquis advertising, nowadays the entire bus must be wrapped in an enormous ad, giving the vehicle a psychedelic, albeit commercial, appearance. A gigantic missile traveling downtown hawking the latest reality show in bright letters… WHO WILL THE BACHELORETTE CHOOSE? WHO IS THE NEXT IDOL? WHO WANTS TO BE REALLY, REALLY TALL?

Even with this type of ingenuity at work, I feel companies really miss some opportunities for advertising. Perhaps the following short list of suggestions is not entirely mine; these ideas may already exist or be in development. But I think they are good ideas and it wouldn’t surprise me if these media placements appear in the future.

Dog Parks. Arena-style advertising in dog parks. “When Fido gets home, he wants some KIBBLES N BITS!” or a promo for the latest dog psychology book “When Come Means Stay.” This signage could hang on the fences that encircle the dog park, attach to the benches where owners sit to avoid strange slobber, or even be painted directly onto the flat rocks and picnic tables that dot the park. It’s a captive audience…literally! These people sit behind a chain link fence for hours. Perfect hit.

Pigeons. Humankind has used pigeons to carry messages for hundreds of years. Considering the profuseness of the pigeon population in New York, agencies really should round some up and put special hats or shirts on pigeons. It wouldn’t cost too much; pigeon wrangling cannot be too difficult. They certainly don’t move that fast when distracted by a nice juicy crumb. I would sell this advertising to Continental. They could say “GRAY DOVES UNDERCOVER TO WHITE CLIFFS OF DOVER, ONE STOP.”

Topiary. Why not genetically mutate evergreens to grow in hedges with the coloration of corporate logos? This would be ideal for investment banks advertising hedge funds. Don’t laugh! This is good stuff.

While we’re at it, how about plowing various fields into ad slogans, for airborne travelers? “NEXT TIME, REMEMBER THE DRAMAMINE.”

Goodness, the places ads could go. Cell phone screens could flash them. Manhole covers could promote new CDs. A Weight Watchers ad could surprise at the bottom of a Haagen Dasz pint. I love ads! They are an inevitability, so we might as well get crazy. I think I’ll sell ad space on the bottoms of my shoes. My contract will specify that I must put my feet up for at least three hours a day. Hopefully...(oh don't let this upset you)...it won’t be my sole source of income.

Romantic? Or Realistic??

There are always people you love who you know you could never be in love with.

I think about this as my offer of friendship to another person I’ve had a few dates with is accepted. I think I’m becoming wiser in my old age… but I look back on my history and realize that I have kind of always known where to draw the line.

The easy, fun, silly rapport you can have with someone in a new, low-stakes situation is easy to maintain if you’ve got no intimacy invested. No ties, no strings, no worries or anxieties. No getting let down and no putting yourself too far out there. No cold flash of panic when you realize they are not going to live up to your hopes. Just a pleasant sense of mutual ego gratification with a shadow of attraction.

Often I’ve had the sense in my friendships with men that the ‘next level’ might be worth exploring. But some intuition or instinct stops me. It was never about ‘ruining the friendship’ or fear of intimacy. It was simply this: some people are MEANT to be friends and nothing more.

I have a very close male friend with whom I was on the edge of romance for years, years ago. Now it’s an entirely moot point; he found the Right One, which I knew I was not. It was a little confusing from time to time, but I always had the overall sense that we weren’t right for the Big Commitment. Why break through the barrier only to have to turn around? And risk not meeting the Right One because we were stuck in limbo together? It wasn’t a chance I was going to take. And things were nice already. We were simpatico, had shared many experiences and always spoke truthfully to each other. But we both, on some level, knew that It Wasn’t There. Now who can feel bad about that sort of honesty? Nobody, really.

Once you enter a dating situation you feel may not be right, you can see the person a few more times and let it dwindle out, you can attempt to push things forward with alcohol and sex, or you can just call it quits. Your choice.

There’s a small amount of satisfaction in the date and dwindle… you’re at least ‘going out’ with someone, even if neither of you is really ‘available.’ You feel kind of attractive, but those feelings can turn antagonistic or resentful once you start to feel as though the situation SHOULD be more passionate or interesting.

There’s a song that goes “I might like you better if we (beat) slept together (beat) I might like you better if we (beat) slept together.” It can be exciting to experiment with passion. But, as someone once said to me, ‘pick up a live grenade, don’t be surprised if it explodes in your face.’ You really don’t know what you’re getting into until it’s too late in these situations. If you don’t think all is right, it’s wise not to get physically involved. The trick of this is being willing to see the red flags…and not interpret them as a nice, colorful show! And caveat emptor, guys! Women get attached.

This month, I had been considering carrying on with someone who I know isn't right for me, nor me for him. Not entirely comfortable with the idea, I spoke with some friends, who gave me great insight. One friend told me what I might expect from a lover. “You won't see them all the time,” she said. “Just once a month maybe. I think it’s good to have lovers, people you’re attracted to but don’t want to have a relationship with. But I don’t know if you’re the kind of person who can deal with that.” Another close friend agreed. “Ya,” he said, “if you like the ride of carrying on with an unavailable person, and you can have your fun, and then deal with the baggage, then it’s a good idea. But I think you are more likely to get on the ride… and then in the middle, start crying that you want to get off.” A third friend concurred. “I don’t think you’re that kind of girl. You could try it, but I really think you’d get hurt.”

Yes, I wear my heart on my sleeve, but it turns out to be good self-protection. “This is me!” I announce. “There are no surprises here!” I don’t need to be mysterious and seductive… I just want to be real, to do what’s healthy and keep things in their proper places. For now, I will just continue to love and appreciate my friends and dream of meeting a person who can someday bring me more.

Prehistory Repeating!

Reading blogs is like a box of rocks. Some glitter and others, sadly, are dull. But you always know what you are going to get: windows opening into the lives and minds of strangers, who suddenly aren’t.

Each day, new articles are published about blogs. Some shriek hysterically: “Can You Lose Your Job Blogging?” and some simply promote: “Top Ten Blog Sites.” Blogging has become a culture unto itself. Everyone’s a writer, and anyone can be published in seconds.

Really, blogging is nothing new. We’ve only given it a fancy new name. BLOG. It’s kind of like a hybrid of BLAH and FLOG. Like “swerve” (sway plus curve) or “brunch” (breakfast plus lunch), “blog” works. We’re swerving, brunching and blogging.

Did you know that the Cave Man loved a good blog? You’d actually be quite surprised what archaeologists have recently recovered from the walls of the labrynthine Lascaux caverns in France:

(picture of crescent moon) (two figures side by side) (large low flat rock).
(smiling face with line representing heavy brow ridge) (burning stack of sticks).
(two figures entertwined) (cloud surrounding tiny figures).

Translation:

Last night, Ugna and I went to the new restaurant.
She looked beautiful by the firelight.
Afterwards, I dreamed of starting a small tribe with her.

From reading this tiny jewel of a prehistoric blog, we learn that our distant relatives were quite more like us than we might have known. What seems to be a menu was found at a nearby site, but all that could be made out was a glyph representing grapes being squeezed. Historians are working right now to decode it.

I’ll report when they find what else was offered. Maybe it was brunch! And who knows, there may also be more juicy details about Ugna. Oh, Ugna. Fair Ugna.

Well, stay tuned. I'll post it all to the blog.