I’ve Never…

Okay, there are a few things I’ve never done. AND THIS LIST WILL SHOCK YOU.

1) Despite my legion of lezzie friends, I’ve never kissed a girl in that way. (I mean, I’ve kissed a girl for a jock with a camera and then he gave me mardi gras beads and told me my video would be up on myspace and maybe I’d get a cut of the earnings, but I’ve never really kissed a girl that way.)

2) I’ve never won anything at all at a party. In fact, one time I’ll tell you the story about the bachelorette party I went to (the only one I’ve ever been to) and I waltzed in wearing heels and a tiara and my thighs were taut after an at-home practice session of dip the dildo in the beer mug because I heard girls play these games at these types of parties and goddamn it I was going to win one fucking game at a party for the first time in my life. And I was like 25 and I couldn’t look like I’d never been to a stupid bachelorette party before. Stupid going to school in San Francisco and being friends with the feminists. Stupid feminists always ruining all my party prowess!

And I walked into the bachelorette party and found nary a tiara, but rather a group of women in gunny sax dresses listening to the pastor’s wife give a sermon about a wife’s value — she cooks and cleans, FYI. And then there was a game involving safety pins and trading things and trivia about the bride and groom and at the end it was just me and some girl left and I said, “I’ve never won anything at a party” thinking she was a good Christian and maybe not a selfish cunt and she wouldn’t trade my safety pin for something I don’t know and I’d win the game. Well, she was a Christian and a selfish cunt and she did trade my stupid safety pin and I didn’t win. And that is why I hate Christians.

3) I’ve never had a one-night stand. No kidding. Two nights, yes. One night — I’m not a whore.

4) I’ve never slept with a man in a relationship with someone else. This one is not so much about my fierce sense of morality (where’s the html code that indicates irony?) because lord knows I am not innocent, however, guys with girls don’t do it for me. And I can live with casual flings, and I get getting together with someone as a one-shot thing, but when a woman is on the phone with a guy with a family for a thousand minutes a month, then I need to agree with a friend of mine, this woman is amoral and I don’t want to be her. Because that karma is going to be a bitch on the return trip.

5) I’ve never been given a phone number in a bar. I used to say that I’ve never been hit on in a bar, but then Kiala gently reminded me of that time we went karaokeing and a tiny black man called Micro began chatting me up. Thank you, Kiala.

I don’t know why I’ve never been given a phone number in a bar. I like to believe it’s because I’m brilliant and famous and intimidating as hell. Because I like crushing men’s souls. I mean, I’m not an ugly person.

Is this the spatula of an ugly person? No. So why else wouldn’t someone give me their phone number in a bar? WHY?

Clearly I cook. With an apron on. And I smile occasionally.

They’re intimidated by my brains, I know it. I KNOW IT BECAUSE I’M SMART.

6) And this one is my main concern these days: I’ve never been recognized on the street. Now, I never really knew bloggers were recognized on the streets until one day about six months ago, my friend Brewcaster was recognized in a restaurant or a bar or something. I don’t know. All I know is that I was insanely jealous supportive of my friend. And I might have thought, “but…but…I’m a famous author!” And then I started talking to my Portland friends, who happen to be bloggers, (what can I say, bloggers are my people) and ALL OF THEM have been recognized on the streets. Every single one. Except me.

Now, I’m no shlub. First there was Rick Turoczy saying I was the second coming and the most interesting, remarkable, special, brilliant, fantastic, exceptional person he’s ever had the pleasure of giving business advice to, and then, I Want to Come Back as my Cat called me an “off the wall” person. And I appreciate that because I keep picturing this, and like MJ pre-skin bleaching and cosmetic surgery, I am cool and classic and aaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllll natural. Except my hair color. And my breasts. I kid. I’m naturally brunette.

And Fermented Fur gave me an award — Brilliante Weblog. I know. Two people calling me brilliant in one week. Next week – the Nobel. And then THE WORLD!

This is all to say, with all of this adulation, why hasn’t anyone recognized me on the street? It’s making me sad. Very sad. And by sad, I mean I ride my bike in lipstick and heels because I’m pretty sure TODAY IS THE DAY.

But today has not been the day. So I thought I’d take matters into my own hands. I thought that I’d have a contest. The contest would be whoever sees me on the street first wins this. That’s right, a Back Fence PDX mug. I know. Don’t all of you rush out to St. John’s and start driving the streets.

Here’s how it works — you see me and you talk to me. And if I’m with Archer, you need to spend a minute with him while I use the restroom in peace because that’s all I really want in this world.

You can’t have met me before. We can’t be arranging to meet each other. You must speak to me. And then you win a mug.

How does that sound? Desperate? Excellent.

Let the games begin.