...And Then Everything Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

I'm not talking your garden-variety barista here. I'm talking about up in corporate, where you drink their poison all day and let your mind absorb their messaging. My friend X, who has been a fascinating and saucetacular phone sex partner nigh the last year is going to work for Starbucks. So - yeah, yeah, I did this while I was married (I never claimed to be "innocent," just "over it") but he's married too. He's just as randy and inappropriate as me. It happens. So there.

Anyhoo, I was all about our unconsummated fantasies. But now...Starbucks??? I can't handle it. He may as well work for Wal-Mart, says S. I suggested that he'd sleep better at night if he started clubbing baby seals... Starbucks... oof.

I grew up in Seattle and witnessed the Starbucking of that great city, and now it's - well, you know - everywhere. Their demon beans stinking up the place. Even where I work now they have giant coffeemakers that serve Starbucks all day long. Go go go! And on my drive to work I pass FOUR of them. Plus there's another one down the street in another direction. And OMG, the last time I went to NYC they were literally on every corner. You could actually stand on a corner in the middle of Manhattan and see a Starbucks down every street.

I cannot be a party to that. My libido will not respond! I am wondering how I'm going to salvage our friendship once his email address becomes X@starbucks.com.

Speaking of friendships gone strange, I received this email message today from my libidinous friend L. It is in regard to my question, "do you still see the Hessian?" which I asked b/c she wants to see his band play Friday night. And it reads:

"...I think I am in total lust with (the Hesh). I hardly even know him. I just want to fuck the shit out of him. ... He is not even my type. ... I want a relationship with him but just nothing heavy - just purely physical. Sex day and night! ... I think he is sooo adorable."

I LOVE THAT LETTER. I love that this girl is out there and horny as fuck for a blondish heavy metal drummer!!! I did try to give her the voice of reason. I said it - I did - I said, "Maybe you are moving into stalking territory by going to his show," and I also said, "Let this progress naturally. And slowly. You have nothing but time." And some other things...you know, all that advice that you never want to take yourself but sounds oh so good coming out of your oh so wise piehole.

And you know what? I hope she does get the chance to fuck the shit out of the Hessian. I hope she gets to fuck the shit out of whomever she damn well pleases - whenever she wants. I want this for her because I am too chicken to have it for myself! Ha ha.

Today NYC D was trying to convince me to get off my sofa, away from the Puppy, and out and about to mix and mingle. He suggested - I shite you not - taking some classes, or joining a club or some sort. I was like, "You are so retarded."

The only class I would consider taking for any reason - or to meet men, for that matter - would be mixology, and frankly I've got that down pretty well. Maybe a Thai cooking class. Maybe. Ah, perhaps it's true, perhaps I do need to branch out since I'm not going to even get a New Year's peck if I'm parked on my couch, but I'm barely past the "let's get divorced" part of the program - we haven't even begun to fill out the paperwork - and somehow it would seem dishonest and creepshow to meet someone "viable" and bring them into this chaotic mess I call my life.

Now, I like my life, don't get me wrong. But how do you explain things like the phone sex, the Puppy, the fridge that contains nothing but cottage cheese and Miller Lite? (Sometimes it has wine and booze, and recently, a six-pack of Pete's Cream Ale, though I prefer Genessee.)

Anyhoo, S says that my experience has "ruined marriage" for her, and I didn't try to change her mind. After all, that’s my plan – to ruin it for everyone. It’s so much better to live in sin. It’s not like people behave any differently once they’re married…it just makes it a whole lot harder to break up.

But not getting married doesn’t mean your man shouldn’t give you a honkin piece of jewelry. In fact, he should give you something huge and icy just for letting him off the hook.

Remember that.

Oh, shaka! The Puppy just called to tell me that the "Good-Time Island" episode of Strangers with Candy is on. Adios!