The Comfort of Strangers

Sitting here on a Saturday night, just being all sweaty and reading a book and listening to music.

I don't really mind being sweaty that much -- as long as I have lots of frozen half-bottles of water to top off and fans pointed at me, I'm okay. Lots of cool showers, too. I only turn on the air conditioner to sleep, and even then I run it at 78 degrees a couple of hours before bed, then turn it off and sleep with the fan blowing on me. Okay, I do turn it on for rumpusing, and even then things still get sweaty. They're supposed to be sweaty, for the love of god. Sweaty is good. Sweaty is sexy. Sweaty is hot. If you're rumpusing and there isn't any sweaty you're doing it all wrong. Or maybe you're a shitty lay.

Oh, sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes. Sitting here being quiet and blamelessly reading Laura Kipnis and listening to Julia Fordham, when my Kberry makes its text message "kadunk" sound. At this hour I figure it's probably the Scot in yet another drunken, fruitless attempt to get me to travel into Manhattan (for some reason he hasn't yet grasped that if he wants me, he will have to come to me. Tough noogies, dude, as the 8-ball says, try again later!)

I check it and it's not the Scot, but a number I don't recognize. Weird. Then I read the message. Lo and behold, it's the redheaded pressman. He sees that there's a job on the schedule for my company on Monday and wants to know if I'm coming out to LA. (Alas, it's not my job, but one of my coworker's.)

Thing to know about the RHP, he and I always kind of sniffed around each other when he was with Company A, but never did anything about it. Then he went over to Company B, which was also one of our vendors, and we started messing around whenever I was in LA. Then Company B transferred him to Baltimore, which was great for him, since his kid got called up to the Show. We lost touch.

I heard a while back that Company B closed their plant in Baltimore, and that the RHP was back in LA with Company A. But I'm pretty surprised -- he only ever had my number on his Company B-issued phone, so I'm pretty psyched he kept my number now that he's back at Company A. I just figured we'd see each other when we saw each other, no big.

We'll see each other when I'm out there week after next, then in August, and probably in October, too. Beach House rumpusing on those acres of bed with my little surfer-dude Viking is always loads of good fun.

I'd better get current on my baseball, though, so we can have at least one conversation.