Sunday, November 10, 2013

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EE4LAP2

“You’re going to have to open up your mind before I tell you a few things about Jackie,” he says, squeezing himself on the bench opposite me, his stomach and Hawaiian shirt rubbing against the table. I open my bottle with my back teeth. He smiles at the trick, so I snatch his and open it in the same fashion.
“I’m pretty opened minded,” I say, giving him his ginger ale.
“Sure,” he nods, like he gets me, and says, “Your step mum is Jack the Ripper.”
I’m quite silent for a while. Even the flies got so surprised, they stopped buzzing.
“Maybe I’m not that opened minded,” I admit.
“There’s more.”
“Like what? She’s also the Loch Ness monster and the Hound of the Baskerville?”
“She comes from Outer space.”
Someone is supposed to laugh here somewhere. But he doesn’t. He just stares at me blankly like it was all obvious in his head, like the prize of milk.

A teen realizes that his evil stepmom is a creature from another world eating, digesting and replicating his entire family.

Free tonight on amazon. Conversations with a madman. Perfect short for those who think Ed Wood got it right

I want a love like Gomez and Morticia




My initial dream was so 80s. I wanted to be the class clown for a while, dress weird - mainly in black -, paint my eyes and nails, and then, go out there into the world and meet a monster that would have loved me and that I would have loved back. 

We would have exchanged blood, snakes, scratches and bites. She would have called me her favorite abomination. I would have called her my worst nightmare and I would have totally French kissed her under a full moon.

We would have got married in a crypt somewhere in Paris on Halloween surrounded by horrendous goons - and then, we would have walked the streets to find an abandoned Manor where to live together until flesh rotted off our bones.

Oh. And also, we would have procreated.

We would have bred a flock of abnormalities that we would have named and loved no matter how many legs they had. I wanted at least two girls and a Cyclops. We would have been this super sexy dark couple totally into each other after three kids and many decades, thinking of nothing better than meeting each other again the second we would have raised from our coffins.

I would have spent my days in my silk pajamas writing books nobody really wanted to read, and at night, we would have gone out together looking for new victims to murder and then hook up to dry in the attic - and life would have been a permanent pumpkin. 

I didn’t realize the new millennium would be a loveless place where horror morphed into torture porn overnight.

Love went out of fashion the second they hooked up the first Wi-Fi hotspots. 

Frankenstein is still looking for a bride, most of the time – but his bride is not looking for a serious relationship anymore. She’s just been electrified into existence, and immediately got herself a smartphone, went on Facebook and told her creator she wants to play the field and focus on her career before “getting all tied up with stuff”. She is currently heading to a club where she’s been told she could get wasted and hook-up with other random creatures who promised to slice her good. 

Sexiness has become a single night concept. No more Manors. No more kids. No more witty dialogues. And Uncle Fester has been accused of raping Thing and posting the video on YouTube.

Morticia wants a divorce and she wants to sleep with her divorce lawyer while his sexy assistant watches. Gomez spends too much time on alternative-hookups.com to see if there’s someone out there with a full sleeve of tattoos that would tango better.

Pff!
 
But my dream is not entirely lost. I’m still spending my days in my silk pajamas writing books nobody really wants to read – and at night after too much red wine for dinner, I hang out my window howling at the moon, wishing there was someone with me to go out there looking for more victims.





Monday, November 4, 2013

5 reasons why being single rocks (a nearly unisex list)




Here are 5 good reasons to stay (or become) single (again).

1. You are safer

Being in a serious relationship is dangerous. Emotionally and Physically. People in serious relationships throw things at each other (true story!), coffee cups, bottles, sharp objects. And that’s just because you didn’t put down the toilet seat. They yell at each other too, all the time. They say things that are so passive aggressive they cut through skin, flesh and bones. Being single, every potential partner is ultra nice to you. Especially on the first dates. They laugh at every word you say, even if you didn’t mean to be funny. They say only good things about you, like they love the color of your sofa or adored your paella. And if they go all Jason Voorhees on you - or just yell at you -, it’s perfectly alright to throw them out or have the police remove them without having to split up your book collection or negotiate the cat custody. 


2. You are fitter.


If you’re single, you can’t let yourself go. That's counterproductive. You have to keep fit. You have to train hard and date easy. You always keep in mind that at some point in the evening, you will have to take off that "Frankenstein" t-shirt and show to a perfect stranger that in fact you look like the Blob. People in serious relationships just don't give a shit anymore and get a second serving of everything. The longer the relationship, the harder they work at that open buffet. Why wouldn’t they? They don’t need to seduce anybody anymore. And they already know that under those t-shirts they hide pinkish rippling goo.


3. You have more friends.


Don’t fool yourself. She hates your friends. When you’re still single, and you just started dating, she will agree that your best mate Bob is really funny. That’s code for “Bob is a chauvinistic jerk!” And as soon as you will chain yourself into a serious relationship, Bob’s gone. And if you have any friends from the other team, oh man, forget about those. Even sweet old Peggy you know since kindergarten. You’ll have to secretly phone her from the basement, hiding behind the boiler just to tell her you can’t go to her mother’s funeral because your new girlfriend thinks she is just another whore using her dead mother as an excuse to snatch her man!


4. You have more energy. 

Real vampirism is not about blood. Long term relationships suck the life out of people. There is so much energy lost in compromising, avoiding the next fight, trying to understand why she will be yelling at you the second you set a foot inside your own house. Imagine you were single again! All that time dreading going back home could be used so much more efficiently! And why go home at all!? You could spend the night out at the pub with Peggy. Remembering her late mother while working on those Jägermeister shots. And you wouldn’t find your clothes packed up in a trash bag waiting for you on the lawn. No more doghouse. No more guilt trip. And the world would be your oyster!


5. You fart better.


Do I really need to explain that one? Farting is best enjoyed when there’s no one ruining the experience by reminding you that you are a disgusting pig. There's a downside, though. What’s the point pushing out a Fart-o-zilla when there’s no one around to time it and call it an achievement.  Though, my daughters are excellent experts at this sport, and they always cheer and applaud a nice one.  


Monday, October 28, 2013

Love, finally the definite definition



I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve met tons of good people who don’t believe in love at all.

Well, okay, I’ve only met on person like that - but she was terribly meaningful to me and she was also a really good monkey, deep down. But she seems to know a lot of other monkeys who are just like her and think that love is just extra sticky trouble added to an otherwise quite nice evening of heavy humping.

The general consensus among those apes is that most people are walking around like perfect idiots looking for love like a bunch of emotional zombies - crawling and limping around, holding their bleeding heart out, trying to find warm bodies and bite off their lips Romero style - but with Adele playing in the background.
  
They may be right. I don’t know. But surely, to have that discussion, we need a good definition of what LOVE really is, don’t we?

You have to buckle up for that one.  

I don’t think love is the unbearable attraction between two persons. I think that’s the most common (and probably most boring) concept of love that’s been sold to us by pop-corns manufacturers. I totally understand that people would question that definition.  Everybody gets that, the attraction. You don’t need to be in love to be madly attracted to someone. You just need to drink too much Jägermeister at the bar and, BOOM!, game’s on. 

I think love addicts and love skeptics are doing basically the same thing any given evening. Their Fridays look exactly the same. I even believe the love skeptics are doing a better job at the mechanic of love. They’re more in control, less emotional and reach faster better stronger that point when everybody involved in the room wants to scream GODDAM EUREKA!

But here is the difference.

You’re ready?

Love is not a feeling and it’s not an extra layer of reality. It’s not a veneer that makes an experience stands out. It’s not just giving extra meaning to the actions we take.

It’s going to be hard to digest, you realize that?

Love is actually changing the structure of the reality we live in. I mean actually as in... actually! Like, there was an apple, and now it's a banana, and all the scientists are scratching their balding head going like... "where did the bloody apple go?" (I imagine them being British scientists, for some reason).

Okay, let sit back. Breathe two good ones. And then, let’s resume the definition of love. One... two!
  
Love is not a nicer way to kiss at the end of the movie.  It's our only way to rewrite, remodel, change the world around us and our own destiny. And the destiny of everybody involved.  This is why it's such a serious business and shouldn't be taken lightly. People will die. People will suffer. Babies will be born. Parents will pull their hair out. Russia will be invaded. Kings will fall. And the world won't be the same ever again. 

Okay, I’ll try one more time with a Bob metaphor (I love Bob metaphors).

If you’re not in love, and just get wasted at the bar until it’s hard to make the difference between desire and the real thing, all you’re going to do is put on 3D glasses and enjoy a great HD super IMAX true 3D show. But when the show is over, nothing around you has changed. You remain the same old Bob with the same old hangover and the same old set of half embarrassing half funny stories to tell.

If you’re in love, you’ve just reset all the clocks all at once and transformed Bob and his reality by re-colorizing and reshaping everything and everybody he ever knew.

It's like pressing the reset/reboot button. But in the meantime, I’ll have another Jägermeister, thank you!

Oh, but wait, this post isn't finished yet. Forgot to tell you my definition of love.

Love (noun or verb depending on how long's the night) : the ability to press the reset button, and change everything you are and everything she is through a perfect moment like looking at her while she sleeps. Handle with care.


NB: Write your own definition of LOVE in the comments bellow and I'll copy them in the body of this post as they come. *Intrigued*

Saturday, October 26, 2013

To Have it and then... to Have it not




I met somebody really nice last night at a birthday party. And as per usual with me, before you knew it, all discussions tended to flow toward the definition of romance and relationships.

The funny thing when you’re 40 + and you meet with other dogs your own age, all you talk about is kids, divorce, custody, relocation, who get to keep the microwave - and later in the evening, the wine helping maybe, you inevitably go to that more dangerous territory of the downside of romance and the loss of love.

When you’re 40, you have at least one HUGE romance behind you. (NB: If you don’t, comment on this post, give me a way to contact you, and we talk).  40 + people, we share that experience of being madly in love with someone, being ready to reschedule our entire existence for that person, abandoning all sense of self to become a “us”, and then, fast forward to many years later and a bunch of kids, when you would gladly strangle that motherf**ker.

What happened? Is there a common curse? How can we go from universal lovers to perfect enemies and divorcees?

Is there a truth to the saying that all women think they will change their partner and hate us for failing and that every men wish their partner would never change and hate you for all your transformations.

What is it?

I really believe we’re a monogamous creature with a tendency for extracurricular activities.  I just wonder why we have to fall out of love - and most importantly, why ?

My ex – God bless her, she’s the perfect ex, seriously, she deserves a medal! – is very pragmatic about it. Her theory is that you only need to love someone long enough to make babies and stick around until you kids can manage to open the fridge all by themselves.  After that, all you need is alimonies, a gym card, and a low carb diet.

My theory? I don’t have one. I’m just like David Attenborough observing chimps long after their honeymoon, when they wouldn’t eat each other fleas anymore, even if you paid them in bananas for it.

And then, when the bar was closing, the person I was talking to, she had like this brilliant idea that might fix it all.

It’s a difficult one, but it makes a lot of sense. The real trick, she said, is to manage the delicate transformation from “high burn passionate love” to “slow burn regular love” without collapsing the soufflé.

It’s like the emotional equivalent of coming out of hyperspace speed without hitting an asteroid. And she said some people are just able to do that.  To understand that passionate love was the fire starter but that the rest of their life will be run on everyday love, a more reasonable, less vibrant, state of being together. Yeah that’s right. She was talking about those other motherf**kers you see coming out of the movies still holding hands after twenty years of common life and still talking to each other in full sentences that contain no traces of passive aggressivity. And they walk to their car on the parking lot and drive away to a galaxy far far away in the suburbs, silently hoping Billy Junior will score high on his SAT. 

Those chimps, they might look boring, but they really deserve their bananas! 



Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Dating Boot Camp




You don’t have time to blog. Oh come on, man. You have a mission. You have to get ready. This is not a beginner’s game. It’s at least the 12,000th time you line up for that ride. 

You need to exude confidence and ooze charm like goo coming out of a rotting body.

Can you at least use better metaphors!

It all started with a victory dance after you hanged up your phone. The person you like and got to known in a biblical sense wants to try the same roller-coaster again. You have like a million things to get right before you join her for another go at the amusement park.

Let me think.

You have to get fitter, younger, nicer, cleverer, and you have about 4 days to complete all that.

Three, four: Confidence!

Last time was easy. You didn’t know each other. You didn’t expect anything. You had nothing to prove. It wasn’t a date. It was accidentally colliding into each other at the bar and then finding your way to the beach just by bouncing around into walls and people.

Things are different now. Dating is a more complex sport. It involves expectations, tact, and finesse while holding the door or ordering freaking shrimps cocktails with the appropriate Chardonnay.

Good thing you don’t believe in the “be yourself” philosophy. Being yourself is the last thing you want on that menu. When is the last time “being yourself” got you anything else than catastrophe? Think hard about it. Bring up all your previous fails. Even the really recent ones. Yeah, that’s right, my boy. You better start working on your Sean Connery impressions. Shaken not Stirred! You freaking idiot!

You’re in the wrong movie altogether. You’re Napoleon Dynamite and you need to cocoon up and butterfly out as Ryan Gosling. And practicing the right dance move won’t cut it either.

But you have to stop typing this and go do ten hard push-ups... and maybe grow some extra hair on that balding patch.

Good luck to you.