We no longer have an “Email of the Week” because I am just too lazy to keep up with my email.  But this week we’re going to pretend that we do as I help out Sonja from Winnipeg (that’s in Canada).

 

Dear Jason Mulgrew,

I know you’re not Ann Landers, but I was hoping you could give me some advice as to how to “snag” a certain dude into actually taking me out on a date. I can’t figure out why he keeps on playing me. I’m asking you because he seems a lot like you in that he’s a big fat party animal, he works in an office and tries to hide the fact that he’s a big fat party animal, he loves to eat really gross foods in quantity because he’s a big fat party animal, and everyone thinks he’s gay, (but he’s not because he sometimes gets lucky and goes home with a girl and consistently turns dudes down). On many occasions over the past year, “Mr. Playa” has asked me to call him or give him my number so he can buy me some lunch or something. I finally dumped my girlfriend two months ago and called him, because I do have a crush on him, and now that I’m single, why not?

Wait – “girlfriend?”  What?

He promised to take me out about four weeks ago. Since then, we have stuck our hands down each other’s pants once (I blew him a little, too) and he has cancelled and rescheduled like three times and has not taken me out for shit, yet says he’s super-interested. I am losing patience, but have suddenly become INTENSELY attracted to the bastard because he’s acting so exclusive. What’s the deal? Trust me, I’m pretty hot, and what I don’t have in the hotness department, I make up for in nastiness (the sexy kind).

 

OK, I’m listening…

Also, I wanted to mention that Winnipeg is an actual city (small) and there is more than one dude and/or chick here I can hook up with. I just kind of am stuck on Mr. Playa because I rarely get played and this is new. (Admittedly, I’ve played a few girls, myself, and I’m recognizing the situation for what it is. What gives?!! I’m cute!!).

Anyway, I hope you will buy a bucket of chicken to eat for supper tonight.

Sonja

This is easy. 

 

This is what I know about Sonja from only this email:

 

1)     She is cute – and not because she tells me she is cute.  I get I would say about 30 emails a week from women saying that they’re cute and/or they have nice boobs (I’m not bragging; bear with me).  They usually go something like:

 

Jason,

I love your blog.  You should know that I’m hot – and I have great breasts!  You would love me.  Anyway, just thought you should know.

Love,

Candy

Toledo, OH

 

PS – You are not that fat.  And I would know, because I am hot (and have nice boobies)

 

These women, of course, do this to torment me, expecting me to curse the computer and say “Damn it!  I wish I was in Toledo!”  But of these 30 emailers, only one will actually include a picture (if that), and many times, she ain’t as cute or boobilicious as she claims to be.  So I don’t really care for or get excited about these emails anymore.  However, Sonja sent a picture.  She is cute.  Her boobiliciousness can not be determined, but she is cute.    

 

2)     Sonja is bisexual.  Comment vous dites “awesome”?  (Wait, I don’t think they speak French in Winnipeg, which is good because I’m not 100% sure that’s how you say “How do you say…” in French.  Whatever.  It’s still awesome).

 

3)     Sonja writes: “[W]hat I don’t have in the hotness department, I make up for in nastiness (the sexy kind).”  Again, awesome. 

 

My conclusion: something is seriously wrong with this guy.  Unless Sonja is withholding information, like forgetting to mention the part about how after they made out she set his garage on fire or when she saw him with another girl she beat her with a camera, something isn’t right with this man, because no guy in his right mind would turn down an attractive bisexual girl who likes him.

 

Unless…

 

Sonja is coming on too strong.  Remember, there is very much truth to that horrible movie quote, “We pursue that which retreats from us.”  Sonja herself admits that she likes this guy because he’s playing so hard to get.  Making yourself too available and too easy lowers your value in the eyes of the opposite sex.  Therefore, at all times it’s important to look in demand.  Because in love, as with all of life, perception is reality. 

 

My recommendation: Give him a taste of his own medicine and cool off a bit.  Appear less interested and see how that works out.  Remember that courtship is a game involving both manipulation and risk AND luck and fate.  “True love” is dead and has been replaced by “cold, calculated planning.”  Call his bluff by lessening your own interest and see how he responds.  If he gets more interested, which I think he will, then you win.  If he gets less interested, to hell with it – it wasn’t meant to be (and, like I said, it sounds like this guy has major judgment problems anyway). 

 

That’s my call.  But again, asking me for relationship/sex advice is like asking a Sudanese villager for to give you a quick recap of the basic theories of Econometrics or asking Nicole Ritchie who makes the best cheesecake in LA (zing! That that, Nicole Ritchie!  And who says I can’t do celebrity gossip?).        

 

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Tammy from Wisconsin was the first to figure out the Catullus poem that I wrote about last Friday.  It is Number 45 (apparently, Catullus wasn’t good at the whole “titles” thing and just went with numbers). 

 

On the left is how the text appears in its original Latin, and on the right is my English translation.  I took four years of Latin in high school (in addition to two years of Greek AND three years of Spanish), winning silver medals each year in the National Latin Exam, and I scored a 4 on the AP Latin exam.  So I assure you this translation is completely accurate, though for sake of artful poetry of the Latin text, it is an idiomatic translation, not a literal one.  Enjoy, and be moved!

 

Acmen Septimius suos amores tenens in gremio ‘mea’ inquit ‘Acme, ni te perdite amo atque amare porro omnes sum assidue paratus annos, quantum qui pote plurimum perire, solus in Libya Indiaque tosta caesio veniam obvius leoni.’ Hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistra ut ante dextra sternuit approbationem. At Acme leviter caput reflectens et dulcis pueri ebrios ocellos illo purpureo ore suaviata, ‘sic’ inquit ‘mea vita Septimille, huic uni domino usque serviamus, ut multo mihi maior acriorque ignis mollibus ardet in medullis.’ Hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistra ut ante dextra sternuit approbationem. Nunc ab auspicio bono profecti mutuis animis amant amantur. Unam Septimius misellus Acmen mavult quam Syrias Britanniasque: uno in Septimio fidelis Acme facit delicias libidinisque. quis ullos homines beatiores vidit, quis Venerem auspicatiorem?

Septimius, holding his love Acme In his arms, said “My Acme, Unless I lose and love you through love And all sums through the years, Time that many lose potency, Alone in Lybia and India I toast A lion came into the obvious house.” As he said this, Love approved On the left before the right. And Acme raised her head reflecting, Gave the boy sweet kisses on drunken eyes, Purported suavely to him, “If, my life Septimius, Let us serve one master, And many major acquire, The hot flame burns in my brain.” As she said this, Love approved On the left before the right. Now from this auspicious perfect boner We love mutual minds that love. Miserable lonely Septimius mauls Acme More than Syrians and Britains; Acme has faith in one Septimius And a delicious libido. How many other men see beatings, Who Venus is auspicious?

 

Gorgeous.  Just gorgeous.  Kudos to Catullus and to myself.  TEAMWORK!

 

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If you’d like to see some pics of Halloween, you can view them on my MySpace profile.  I think you have to join to view them, but it only takes a second or two.  You can also see some general pictures of me, as well as some Frosting techniques.    

 

And for those already on MySpace, be my friend.  Only a handful of you all have discovered me on there, and my lack of popularity has made me sad.  God, I have terrible self-esteem.   

 

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Lindsey from Iowa City passed on this video of two Chinese kids doing their best Backstreet impression.  I can’t even make a joke about it.   

 

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If you like my Six Songs segment, you should really buy this book.  It contains pages and pages of playlists collected by ubiquitous blogger, Ultragrrrl, broken neatly into four categories: Essential Artists, Essential Genres, Celebrity Playlists, and Other Playlists.  My favorite is the Other Playlists section, which has such playlist gems as “Car Sex Songs”, “Entrance Music”, “Pooping Songs”, and “Sorry Your Dad Is Gay.”  It’s been next to my computer since I bought it and I refer to it often whenever I’m looking for some new music to steal.  So go buy it (and it’s only $10, too).

 

[And if you think I'm sucking up/pimping out another blogger, you are mistaken, as I'm pretty sure Sarah doesn't even like me in real life.  But we all suffer for our art, right?]

 

[Man, I should write a book.  I wonder, if I did get a book deal, how long it would take for the paperwork to finish.  Probably a long, long, long time.  Just a guess though.]

 

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Six Songs

(Listen to these songs at id1g1t) 

 

“Voices That Care”  Various

Does anyone remember this song besides me?  Every one of my friends draws a blank when I mention this song, which was recorded for the troops in the first Gulf War (or is it “The First Gulf War?”).  The talent here is immense: singing lead on the track was an eclectic mix of country music stars (Garth Brooks, Randy Travis), hip-hop artists (Bobby Brown, Will Smith, Ralph Tresvant), easy listening snoozers (Kenny G, Michael Bolton, Peter Cetera, Celine Dion) and “What the fuck?” people (The Nelsons, The Pointer Sisters, Warrant). 

 

Some celebrities/choir members were also a strange mix of personalities, including crazy people (Gary Busey, Mike Tyson), athletes who I’m guessing can’t really sing (Orel Hershiser, Wayne Gretzky, Brian Bosworth), weird actors who are no longer successful and/or alive (Alan Thicke, Dudley Moore, Fred Savage), and people with severe sexually transmitted diseases (Magic Johnson, Downtown Julie Brown, Ted Danson).  Incredible!

 

Also, even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell for this, but when I entered “Voices That Care” into Google Images, this is what I got.  I mean, these people are retarded, right?  Or is it that they’re just Welsh?  (Zing again!  I am on fire today!)  

 

“Queen Jane Approximately”  Bob Dylan

“Hey, when you’re sick of everything else, then come and talk to me, baby.”  Not a bad philosophy to have toward women.  Also, could you be “When you’ve fucked everything else up, then come and talk to me, baby.”  Either way is still better than my philosophy when it comes to courting women, which is “IF YOU SCREAM I SWEAR I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!  NOW TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT AND LET ME WATCH YOU MAKE SOME FUCKING LASAGNE!  AND DON’T BE SHY ON THE MEAT SAUCE!  NOW ADD THE RICOTTA!  JUST DO IT!”  Anyway, probably my fourth favorite Dylan song.  And no, I’m not going to tell you the top three.

 

“It Must Be Love”  Madness

I admit: I’d never heard this song until it was on that jeans commercial.  But I downloaded it and I like it.  Please don’t judge.

 

“Brown Skin”  India.Arie

A reader emailed this to me, suggesting it could go on my make-out mix.  One problem: it’s about two people with brown skin making out.  My skin is somewhere “printer paper white” and “clear”.  So of course I put it immediately on the list, hoping that if I do bring a girl home, she’ll be so moved by how non-racist I am she’ll volunteer to help me do the rainbow.  [sigh] A guy can dream. 

 

“Come To My Window (Acoustic)”  Melissa Etheridge

You have not experienced music until you’ve heard Melissa Etheridge do this song live with only an acoustic guitar.  Sadly, I don’t think I’m kidding. 

 

[Shhhh – hear that sound?  That's the sound of 1000 frat boys clicking off this site, never to return again.  As long as I have my CTMW, I'll be ok.]

 

[Seriously though, I'm not a Melissa Etheridge fan, but I think this song acoustic is pretty cool.  Let's just move on…]

 

“Off The Record”  My Morning Jacket

Here’s you for the past month: “Dude, you have got to listen to the new My Morning Jacket album.”

Here’s me: “Yeah, yeah, yeah – I’ll get around to it.”

You: “No, seriously bro, it’s really good.  You HAVE to listen to it.”

Me: “Alright, I said.  I’ll check it out when I get a chance.”

 

Well, I’ve had the chance.  And it’s really good.  This song goes from near-pop-ish rock to space/sex jam in the span of five and a half minutes.  And it’s not even one of the best songs on the album.  So check it out.

 

[And that's all.  Have a good weekend]