Me? I’m putting my horns on this weekend. Everyone might as well see my true nature. For my neighbor, she’s letting her inner cat out. Of course her idea of a cat is something that wears a bustier and spankies. As long as she passes my apartment on her way to the next party, I’m not going to judge.

I hope everyone else is lifting the veil worn the other 364 days, too.

She had mentioned ‘sparks’ in an email from the previous week. Almost immediately, I started to ruminate on what she might mean. I didn’t come to any conclusions. Instead, the chorus from “The Battle of Camp Cucamonga” kept rattling around my head.

We’re the boys from Camp Cucamonga.
Our mothers sent us here to study Nature’s ways.
We learned to make sparks by rubbing sticks together.
If we catch a girl, we’ll set the woods ablaze.

A great tune to be sure and it held an important clue for me. Sparks are not about get a big roaring fire started immediately. Sparks are something that are worked towards.

My Scouting history proves that out. Any method of fire starting that requires friction and no rapid combustibles like gas or magnesium will take a long time. Even the most effective methods can break a sweat on the brow of the fittest person. Also, it takes time and care to get a fire started. Anyways, Sparks don’t just happen when trying to make fires. Then again, we are talking about camp fires and not human passion.

We humans are quite a bit more complicated. You could have two attractive, physically fit, sexually ready and capable people set up in a bedroom that has the Best of Barry White and mood lights filling every corner, and still get no action. Something between them just wont catalyze. It’s sad, really.

The ego bruising will pass. To be honest, the feeling was mutual. I could rattle off my reasons, but it would just sound spiteful. This is one of those cases where the first person to speak is the honest one and the second person is just being petty. The odd part is that I feel like I was saved for someone else.

Last night, I woke up face down in my pillow. Just before waking up, I was dreaming of mashing lips with a pretty blonde dressed in white shirt and slacks. The blonde seemed both familiar and new to me. I do recall dreaming of her before, but it was at least a couple of years ago. I had no better idea then as I do now who this blonde is. Maybe, she represents the possibility of the right one for me. All I know is that we made sparks.

Janelle Moráe (like Andre 3000) makes me feel that Pop radio can still pop. What’s even more appealing about Janelle (beyond just her great looks and those eyes – woof!) is that she combines great hooks with killer pipes and insightful lyrics. The kid in me taps his feet and bounces in the chair. All the while, the adult admires the poetry and imagery.

I really do look forward to more from this artist. Just loaded into my iPhone Metropolis : The Chase Suites [iTunes].

If you think I’m a nut, then just give these videos a look-see.

Janelle Monae: Tightrope ft. Big Boi

Janelle Monae: “Many Moons” Official Short Film

1. I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighbourhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories..
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren’t going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don’t want to have to restart my collection…again.
13. I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes – to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this thing I have– ever.
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn It!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to Voicemail. What’d you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day.. What a waste.
17. I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
18. My 4-year old grandson asked me in the car the other day “What would happen if you ran over a ninja?” How the hell do I respond to that?
19. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
20. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet, on any given Friday or Saturday night, more kisses begin with Bud Light than with a Kay jewelery Product.

The world over has had a pretty sucky 2009. I’m glad that it is behind us. As all of the new years past, this one promises good things for us all. I certainly wish for those good things. What helps to ward away the worry that the coming year may fail is to remember how the past year didn’t fail.

I continued to work on my art even after closing the studio. My job remained my job, and I remained able to feed and house myself and my two cats. I had many good nights with friends and was reacquainted with friends I thought I lost. Indeed, the year could have been better monetarily, but it was tops spiritually.

I spent my NYE at home with my cats and the Star Wars Trilogy. (The first three films never happened!) I ate well and drank even better. My hands remained busy with IM, Twitter, texts. There may have just been me and the cats in the apartment, but I felt surrounded by my friends. It was an oddly warm and melancholy night. I drank too much, laughed a lot, and woke with a hangover. In other words, I had a successful NYE.

In essence, it is supposed to be a religious holiday to celebrate the bounty and mercy of God, but like all other Western traditions Thanksgiving is muddled with secular pleasures. We drink, watch sports and parades, and prepare for the shopping onslaught of the next month. Thanksgiving is the gateway to Christmas and New Year’s Eve. It is also the day that many begin their annual charity.

The core traditions of Thanksgiving still hold. Like the Pilgrims, we gather together with family and friends. A table is set with our finest plates and stemware. Down the center of the table are epicurean delights like roast turkey, cornbread stuffing, cranberry relish, sweet and mashed potatoes, wine and beer, beans, and on and on. It is a feast for an army to feed a few.

It sounds cynical, I know. To be honest, I enjoy the holiday because of what it is: A day with friends and family. Strip away the religious trappings and historical controversies (think the effects of colonialism on native populations) and you have a day off from work that revolves around spending time with people you genuinely care for. Okay, maybe that is stretching it for some, but nonetheless this day is for feasting and friendship.

Today, I go to a friend’s home. She is laying out a traditional Thanksgiving feast. There will most likely be sports on the TV and wine in the glasses. We’ll eat until we burst, drink a little more than we should, and shoot the shit for several hours. Does it get any simpler or better?

In the spirit of the holiday, I’d like to list the things I am thankful for:

• Family that I want to spend time with.
• Friends that I will be spending time with.
• A job.
• A roof over my head.
• My relatively good health.
• A stable and sharp mind.

Happy Thanksgiving!

This little toy from OhMiBod would be wrapped in pretty paper and given on a Wednesday! This is just the coolest idea for a sex toy. The hum of the vibe is quieted by her favorite music. In the meantime, the world gets to hear her pleasure.

The premise of the toy is simple. Audio output from your MP3 player controls the rhythm and sustain of the vibrations coming from OhMiBod. Turn on the gadgets, select a favorite playlist, and then let the rhythms do the work.

Here’s the pitch from the site:

OhMiBod is a sleek, sophisticated new generation of vibrator that combines elegance of design with the excitement of your favorite music. The audio enabled integrated microchip allows the OhMiBod ipod massager to vibrate to the beat and rhythm of your music while you listen. Measures 5 1/2″ long (insertable) and 1 1/8″ in diameter. OhMiBod comes with an additional multi-speed endcap for use without an iPod or music player. It really is 2 products in one! Our motor provides strong yet quiet, intense rhythmic vibrations. With polished chrome detail and pearl white body this product is the ultimate iPod acsexsory!

Why is the music component so important? Listening to your favorite sexy music and actually feeling the corresponding vibes quickly transports you to a place where music, mind and body truly “come” together. The range and intensity of the vibrations are endless, creating a dynamically sensational experience never felt before!

Of course, this begs the question: “What’s on your iPod?” music choice is going to be very important. Will you choose heavy base rhythms found in Techno or House music? (Bed rave!) Or do want a slow build up like you might find Ravel’s Bolero? The sweet part, I suppose will be the experimentation.

Women will be creating new associations with music. When pleasure is the reward for sensations that didn’t previously have pleasure associated, then that sensation is more enjoyable later. Not to mention that sensation now has a new context. In other words, a woman may not like House or Techno before the OhMiBod, but after it a song on the radio is going to bring a euphoric grin to her mouth.

I just have to ask though…Will he get his wish. One of his bits on death he said, “I don’t want to buried. Embalmed. Stuffed in a box. Cremated. I want to be blown up. Ba-boom! There he goes. Thump-thump-thump.”