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Dunkin’ Donuts vs. Krispy Kremes March 17, 2009

Posted by flightdeparting in Love, Relationships, Women (Venutians).
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Krispy Kreme vs. Dunkin' Donuts

Choose wisely.

Since the dawn of time, man has chased after two types of women.  Well, maybe the dawn of time is a bit of a hyperbole.  It’s probably closer to when they could wrap their dongs and not leave a horrible mistake.  Let’s start over, shall we?

Since the time when man could wrap his dong and not receive a horrible baby-shaped-mistake nine months down the line, he has chased after two types of women: the Krispy Kreme and the Dunkin’ Donut.  These two are polar opposites, black vs. white, Yin vs. Yang, people who wear Crocs vs. anyone who isn’t a fucking retard.  Now let’s break it down.

Krispy Kremes are the ultimate donuts.  They are light, fluffy, and just plain sugary perfection.  I have, on occasion downed an entire baker’s dozen in one go.  Shortly after, I had a mini-coronary. More significantly though, I wouldn’t think about them again for months on end.

Krispy Kremes (KK) are the women every man dreams of.  They are the ones that knock you off your feet the moment they enter the room.  They are gorgeous, impulsive, adventurous, and like a part of God’s practical joke–mostly high maintenance.  These are the women that cause empires to crumble (A: Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Elizabeth Taylor, Angelina Jolie) and men to go bankrupt.  Every man wants one, but eventually can’t handle them.

Dunkin’ Donuts are the kind of donuts that you wake up to every day. They become part of a ritual. You have one with your morning cup of coffee, and your day starts off with a stride. You do this for months on end, every weekday, and it becomes almost second nature.

Dunkin’ Donuts (DD) are the kind of woman you don’t mind waking up to every morning (A: Jennifer Aniston).  They aren’t amazing but they’re consistently good.  They’re nice, they fulfill your needs to an extent, but they only meet the quota — they don’t tend to exceed it. But after a while it gets boring and thoughts start drifting off to finding yourself a Krispy Kreme to knock boots with.

John F. Kennedy is the perfect embodiment of the conflict between man’s desire for both a DD and a KK. Jackie Kennedy was the perfect housewife. She was cultured, beautiful, and intelligent. She was the ideal housewife, which ironically, made her dull after a while. A prototypical DD. On the other hand Marilyn Monroe was the paradigm of KKs. She was a firecracker – smoking hot, unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly uncontrollable. She threatened to unravel JFK’s life. Despite this, JFK was helpless to resist her charms.

It’s a cycle of self destruction for men. Our tastes rotate between the stable but mediocre DDs and the unpredictable but explosive KKs.  In the end though, all we can hope for is someone who keeps our interest but won’t leave us in shambles by the end of the relationships.  Like the great scribe, Ludacris, once said, “We want a lady on the street, but a freak in the bed.”*  Unfortunately, this DD-KK hybrid doesn’t exist.  So take your pick gentlemen.  Death by either boredom or bankruptcy.

Term of the Day

Krispy Kreme [krsp krm]
-noun, yummy donut store
1. A woman who is incredibly hot, but is impulsive, unstable, high maintainance and likely to lead to ruin.

Dunkin’ Donut [dngk-in dnt]
-noun, yummy donut store
1. A woman who is nice and meets all requirements on paper, but is otherwise dull, lifeless, and brings no excitement later in the relationship.

*”Yeah!” by Usher, ft. Ludacris and Lil’ Jon

[A’s Comments:
Please feel free to take offense at this analogy, females.  I certainly do.  Though, I certainly can’t help but see some underlying truth here, as well..]


The Ham and Eggs Debate March 15, 2009

Posted by anoddphrase in Love, Relationships.
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Greg: From the first moment I saw Noelle, I was ham.
George: Did you just say ham?
Noelle: Here we go.
Greg: You’re either ham or eggs. You gotta ask yourself in every situation are you the chicken or are you the pig?
George: So its pig or chicken?
Greg: Look you gotta play the ham and eggs. Now, now the chicken is involved in the meal, now the pig, now the pig is committed, so the question is are you involved or are you committed.
George: Ham or eggs!
Greg: Ham or eggs.
–Grey’s Anatomy, “Let The Angels Commit”

Almost every person I know has been ham and eggs in the span of their romantic relationships.  I’ve even been ham one minute and eggs the next minute in certain relationships.  But the real question has always been:  Is it better to love or to be loved?

Because in every relationship there’s always the more committed person.  The person who is more willing to compromise.  The person who wants the relationship to work more.  He or she is the ham.

To be honest, in my relationship right now, I’m most definitely the ham.  I pursued the guy I’m with.  I asked him out.  I said the ‘L word’ first.  Hell, I moved across the country for the person that I’m with.  And deep down in my heart of hearts, I know that if we were to ever break up, I’d be the one to have control over it.

But see, that’s what works for me as ham.  For some unknowable reason, I feel like I have more control over the relationship.  Since I pursued, I was given the choice of the person I wanted to be with.  He, of course, had to choose back.  But I was given the chance to see, first, and thus accept first, the flaws of the person that I’m with.  And in so doing, I realize that I am the one who has to compromise on my flaws, first, adapt myself to the other person’s needs, first.  Personally, I’m okay with this, as the person that I’m with identifies flaws that I mostly agree are flaws.  I have a bad temper, I can be impatient, I tend to speak inarticulately if I’m unprepared or nervous.  I like that being with the person that I’m with forces me to slowly change these flaws.  I’m much less likely to snap when really angry now, I’m just a little more patient than I was before I met this person, and I tend to think before I speak so to allow myself less inarticulate speech.

Sure, there are habits that I’ve developed before that I would never have allowed while single–the guy I’m with is a complete slob, and now, for the sake of keeping the peace, I let the dishes sit in the sink for up to a week or more.  Not to mention the number of dirty socks that sit on the floor of his side of the bed…

But frankly, these aren’t things that matter quite so much to me.  The things that matter most to me, he’s got: he’s smart, ambitious, we share the same sense of humor, he’s laidback (he lets me choose the movies, the restaurants) [F: Note, this usually elicits an “I don’t know… you choose” exchange with most girls. Also known as unappreciated indecisiveness.] , he’s willing to compromise on most every day things, and most of all, he cares about me and pushes me to do the things that I want to do.

In all of this, I feel like it’s better for me as a person to be the pig or the ham, because otherwise I’d be too domineering of a person–I’m already as alpha female as most people can stand.  I know myself well enough (and have been egg in enough relationships) to know that this works for me.  And I think that’s the most important part of having The Ham and Egg Debate with yourself.  Knowing Thyself.  Knowing what you want from a relationship and knowing how the other person that you’re interested in or who is interested in you can fulfill your needs and wants.

Because, to me, it’s all about balance.  I’m with a person who’s an egg, but when push comes to shove, he’s pig, too.  He asked me to move across the country with him.  He also compromised on the idea of moving for me if I get accepted into graduate school.

So we have two lessons from this:

1) Know Thyself, first and foremost.  Know what you want and know what you’re willing to accept (that’s less than stellar) in a relationship.
2) Don’t end up with someone who’s not willing to be both pig and chicken for you, too.  Because nothing can be completely one-sided.  That’s what we call a stalker’s relationship.

George: You and me: We’re like ham and eggs. I was the chicken, I just want you to know that, I know that I was the chicken. You put yourself out there, you were committed and I was just puttin’ the eggs on the plate. Not the ham because you were the pig. (This catches Callies attentions and she glares at him) I was just involved, but now I’m committed.
Callie: Did you just call me a pig?
George: No… as a metaphor.
Callie: Calling me a pig?
George: No, the point is that you’re not the pig anymore. Now I am the pig. I’m the pig. I am the pig. (Callie glares at him and walks away) I… am the pig.
–Grey’s Anatomy, “Let The Angels Commit”

Terms of the Day

ham [hām]
– noun
1. A person who is extremely committed to the relationship.
egg [ěg]
– noun
1. A person who is merely involved in the relationship, and is somewhat less committed than the other person.

[F’s Comments: bacon [bay-cun]
1. A person who adds nothing to the relationship but just tastes really good. (See future entry on The Threesome.)]

The Rabid Monkey Phenomenon March 13, 2009

Posted by flightdeparting in Love, Relationships.
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The Rabid Monkey Phenomenon

Damn monkeys.

About a year ago in Thailand, my friends and I signed up for a day tour of Phuket’s islands. With all the tropical fish, isolated islands, and crystal clear waters surrounding us, I was more relaxed than I’d ever been. This would cost me later because at about mid-day our speedboat stopped at the aptly named Monkey island.

So you’re probably thinking, “Oh cute! Monkeys. They must be fun to play with.” In which case, you thought WRONG. Being the genius I am, and perhaps a bit cocky from the handful of sliced bananas in my hand, I quickly made my way toward the shrieking mass of monkeys, hoping to get a picture of myself feeding one of the babies. Next thing I knew, I had a giant screaming fur-ball latched onto my leg by the teeth.

My survival instincts overwhelmed my desire for dignity and I started running around the beach screaming, trying to get the distinctively not-a-baby monkey off of my leg. After a few seconds of flailing unsuccessfully, I made beeline for the water. Right as I jumped in, the monkey hopped off and ran back to his friends (probably to make fun of that idiot human he’d just terrorized).

I, on the other hand, was sitting alone in the water with sand up my butt and a bewildered look on my face.

So what the hell does this have to do with relationships?

Every girl I’ve dated has fallen head over heels for me at the beginning. [A: Because, he’s tall, bald, and handsome. Oh, yes, and ladies, he’s single.] There’s always some initial signal of inordinately deserved affection that’s both off-putting and endearing at the same time. Such examples include gems like, “I’m sad because I’ll probably never see you again” (Said after one week), and “I need to treat you like an asshole because I’m afraid I’m falling for you” (Said after two days). Now most guys would run like a Kenyan at the sound of these phrases, but I blame the endorphins-after-sex for the stupid decisions that lead me to sticking around. So I tend to be pretty complacent when things are just getting started.

The ironic part is that just when I actually start to feel the same way and express the same sentiments, the girl becomes cold. Right when I’m ready to dive into the water, she runs away. (You’re starting to see where this is going now, eh?)

And I’m left sitting alone in the water with sand up my butt and a bewildered look on my face.

A few weeks after the monkey biting incident, my friends told me that the monkey might have had rabies and that I should go see a doctor. If it wasn’t enough that the monkey had destroyed my chances of wooing any of the girls I was traveling with (apparently screaming “Oh my god, it’s biting me! Get it off! Get it off!” isn’t the best aphrodisiac), I now had to go through a series of vaccine shots into my gut.

So we have two lessons from this:

1) Even if someone really likes you at the beginning, that doesn’t mean they always will. Figure your shit out quick because you can’t rely on them having those same feelings forever.
2) Even if they’re attached permanently to your leg, that doesn’t mean they don’t have any diseases. Wrap that sh*t up. Needles are painful.

Term of the Day

rabid monkey [rab-id] [muhng-kee]
– noun
1. A person who is initially extremely dedicated to the relationship but becomes less so when the partner begins to express the same feelings.

[A’s Comments: This monkey wasn’t rabid–it was smart.  Anytime that a person is less than lukewarm to you (*cough*, Frankie), my advice is don’t bother entertaining the thought that they’re a Mr. Darcy.  Just tell them to figure their sh*t out and move on to the next.  But for more thoughts on this, please see future entry on The Ham and Eggs Debate.]

Hello world! March 12, 2009

Posted by theslapandthetickle in Uncategorized.
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Testing, Testing, Testing.

March 12, 2007

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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I come to you as flawed.

scar on my breast,
                                                     right here, just above the rise and fall
of my breathing
above where my heart beats,
and waiting;
                            is from a bicycle accident in Beijing,
                                       All I can remember is black ice on blacktop,
                and when I awoke,
                                           on a leather
couch,   up four flights of stairs
                         I recall looking under the white
wool blankets


see    tiny   blood stains slashing across where my
should be.

I come to you as flawed:


the sun has left kisses upon my cheek
of them,
                                                                                                           as if brushed
                                                                                                    onto my cheekbone
                              sunny brown freckles
have no rhyme

                                                                  Simply because,
                                                                                   I hate the thick, oil lotion feeling
that       SUNSCREEN
when rubbed upon my skin.


I come to you as flawed—

not because of my own fault,
was born that way:

                                                              the coffee-colored pigmentation,
                                                                                                             on my knee

                                                                       is shaped like my mother
                                                                                 splashed that mixture of
                                                                                     milk, cream, sugar and coffee beans

me,  in her womb
forgetful, as she is
                                            in the morning times

                But I like it. I was born that way.

                                                  –and that beauty mark on my hip,
the one off my cheek
                                                                          and the one on my ass-cheek

Xiang   says it means I’m vain,   and 
in bed.

I was born with,
then    grew into.

                                                                        but,    I come to you as flawed




                                                                                 imperfect,   in my own imperfect way.


…. ..

 . … .

……. ..



March 11, 2007

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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to the slow swaying of trees in the wind,

   to the backdrop of
a blue sky,
sun getting ready to set

  tentative smiles

and elongated shadows,  
in soft white light

suffused gently at the edges.

to connect

            and 7 years
to separate,



                                                          but to hope

September 28, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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oedipus ii

Naozi tai renao renao renao….

                    Oedipus. oedipus.   oedupis.

                               with hair as soft as spun gold,   and yet so fallible.
                           i can see the spots where you bald.

                and yet, though i hold your head steady, stroking gently spun gold through divine and human
                                                                                                        {you were cursed by
                                                                                                                                   the gods,
                                                                                                                                 my friend.}

          i feel nothing,
        but a maternal

                                                                                  and when i’m in your arms?
                                                                                                                   i feel a woman,
                                                                                                                well-loved but not beloved.

                   and they said;
                                     long live the king.
                                    long live the  king.
                                  long live the   king.
                      long live the     Queen.

September 25, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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somewhere between
                                    here     and      then

                   i fell out of love with                                                                   )the
                                                being   in love.                                                       of

                                                                     {but i still want it so much,
                                                                                        i can taste it.]

September 5, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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two pieces of molten metal

and formed in the heat of flames
                                                                                and fire

       struck and

after time.


head, separate
                                                                                                              and smooth

                                                                  by design.


flowing as one
                                                                solid piece

                                                                                     as seen from behind

                        shape streamed in an ‘S’

            arms thrown up and out





                                                                 into the empty air

                                                             feeling as if,
should be there.

and the man.

bland. shapeless by design.


if waiting for someone to be there.

                                                  to have
                                      and     to


it is the nature of the ring,
they be put together,


                                                                                           on top of
                                                                                                                   and between
            so that
they complement

a match. 
so perfectly
                                                                                                    so that they fit

                                                                         in an embrace.


(two rings to make one,
harmonious and beautiful,
if not perfect, together.)

August 26, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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mmm, i like this one even though it’s basically a rough.





the world seen in taupe




form upon form
reflected in the mirror behind the shade


            light, like
the wind,
butting its head against
rectangle of white
               dispersing and diffusing
                    in a smooth outlined

framing the background perfectly.


of two naked forms.

juxtaposed, and crossed against the other.



hand stretched
out to balance

on the side,   to



            upside down
triangle    figure


and curved


softer, suant

S figured{ form




                                                               the tiny fingers
a brush


                                                                                    gently    &




strands of her hair




the world seen in taupe



and the blurs
of the outlines around the edges
                                as she stood
the mirror.