The End of Dating

I recently penning a post entitled "The End of Dating". I was gonna throw in the towel.

A friend and successful author, after reading about my recent escapades, commented, "Charmaine, you must have nerves of steel."

She's right. I do.

If I can tussle with armed guards in Israel holding bayonets to my throat, I can handle another date.

On a subsequent date with "The King of Produce" I arrived at the restaurant where he was waiting atop a nearby tree to serenade me with a rendition of "Stand By Me".

After cajoling him out of the tree the doorman refused to allow us entry. He did not approve of people who disturb the peace. (My date has a baritone voice which...um...carries.)

Somehow "The King " and I convinced him to let us in.

There were young kids everywhere. I suggested to "The King" that we find an establishment where we might enjoy the company of adults.

In a perverse act of rebellion against this suggestion he lifted me under my bum, into the air, and demanded that I kiss him.

Several young men of the approximate age of twenty five (25) rushed in to make his acquaintance, shake his hand and congratulate him on his "spectacular moves".

His performance had nothing to do with me. In fact, I've never met a man less interested in me. He needs to be the star and he was. I was merely a vehicle.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Charmaine is nobodies vehicle.

Men in Trees

I had another date with “The King of Produce”.

We met for drinks and sushi. There were several martinis.

As we went to leave he started climbing trees in the parking lot. Two (2) trees to be exact. Men have advised I make them feel young again but this was ridiculous.

My cousin says there is Testosterone in my saliva.

After kissing me I think men simply try to get away.

A strange man emerged from the darkness like an errant fan. He gazed adoringly at my date perched 12 feet above him in the tree. (Why isn't there a film crew following me?) The man returned to his car to produce a small dog that he wanted to introduce to my date. You know, the man IN THE TREE!

What the HELL? As my cousin says, “you can’t make this shit up”.

The following day my date sent me the picture of the nuns which made me laugh out loud.

A couple of days later he advised he was conducting a command performance in a Magnolia tree outside a local restaurant and would I like to join him? Sigh. I said, "no" I've already seen this act.

The F Word

These are my nephews. Click on the pictures to enlarge. The kids are adorable. This was the birthday party I threw for myself...I mean for THE CHILDREN.
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See that small man with a dog?

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That's my mother. Her favorite thing to say is, "fuck you". I'm not kidding. Her, only slightly, less favorite thing to say is "go fuck yourself".

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Her excuse is that she claims, "not to fear language". Huh? Wha?

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I admit it's kinda funny coming out of the mouth of a 5-foot leprechaun with a brogue, but still. There are places you can't take her.

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Places you can't take my mother:

1. Outside.

2. Inside.
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I once had a friend home from college. Someone brought up a relative.

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My mother immediately felt compelled to inform her, "Ach sure he was so cheap he wouldn't give you the steam aff his piss".

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My mother's brothers are Psychiatrists. One of them headed the most prestigious Psychiatric Hospital in the Nation. Still, they exhibit the same f-word fascination articulated in better formed sentences.

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The f-word is always there.

The Winner Is...

The answer to the question:

"Jew are eeen a peeet of snakes with no possibility of escape. Vat do jew do to ensure you're survival?"

"I'd find out what the snakes wanted. Then give it to them in exchange for not killing me."

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The Ambassadors head jerked. His black eyes glazed maniacally. "Uh mya Gad, dat is correct. Jew are de fest peson to answer correctly, he exclaimed.
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Ambassadors negotiate peace treaties. Event Planners, like myself, negotiate contracts.

The snakes were a metaphor for a hostile (or not) country. How do we live together without killing each other?

Figure out what each side wants, then trade. 

The Two (2) Week Date

My date lasted for two (2) weeks.

On Fat Tuesday a man walked up and put his necklace on me (in case you thought that was my bling).
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Date one (1) occurred at Chris's radio station. (The pics are two (2) posts below. Check them out.)
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"Did Auntie Charmaine come to visit us or Chris?" Brody, my nephew asked petulantly. How many women have had a ten (10) year old and a forty eight (48) year old fight over her?

We went to the Denver Museum of Art, The Samba Room, Abo's, The Cupcake factory, Charlie Browns, drives and lunch in the park.

He gave me a tour of Denver. He encouraged me to move. He made a love song CD that I am listening to now. He did the same thing when we were in college.

This is the first song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxktZxCFH10&feature=PlayList&p=BFD546074E21CB8D&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=37

It's as if our friendship never ended despite a twenty five (25) year silence.

We are different people. When we talk, it is as if nothing has changed.

Is it enough? I have no idea. But it's fun.

Restaurant Review:

Samba Room, Larimer Street, Denver
http://www.sambaroom.net/
This is hip little joint located in the renovated area of LoDo (Lower Downtown). It features Colombian food and music. We had Arepas, Colombian style corn cakes with shredded beef and Machenga Cheese. It was terrific. We had an amazing beer the waiter described as "black but light", from Brazil. I could have sworn that the waiter looked at Chris when he said, "black" and at me when he said "light'. I'm so self absorbed I could swear you were really talking about ME when describing beer.

Oh Crap.

My buddy, Shakespeares Housekeeper, just nominated me to share the five reasons that life is "grand".

I'm only doing it because she talks funny. (She's in England.)

She uses words like, "knickers".

I can't resist a person who says, "knickers".

Okay. Damn-it. Life IS grand because...

1. I have the most beautiful nephews and niece in the history of the world. I never married, hence, never had children. I get to know these little people who love me despite the fact I never had an episiotomy.

2. I'm old. I'm pushing 50 and that means I can say whatever I want. That's grand.

3. I love my baby sister. She never says it, but I know.

4. I'm not dead. That's always a plus.

5. I hate my neighbour. I'm not "nice" like Shakespeares Housekeeper. If the bastard, who lives in the 5 million dollar mansion behind me, blocks my car again...I'm gonna hit it. He had the audacity to place a sign on MY garage that said, "No parking". Oddly, he is the ONLY one who parks there.

It's life. It's grand.

On the Radio

"Auntie Charmaine, please stay, I'm BEGGING you," said Brody, featured above. Sound of heart melting.

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I was ready to leave Denver after one (1) week of freezing to death. I had at least one (1) appendage that required amputation due to frost bite.

"Look Briana", I said. "One of my toes is turning black."

"Jesus Christ" she scowled. "I was about to put the top down on my convertible."

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Chris invited me to his hip hop radio program. http://eclipse.podomatic.com/player/web/2009-02-28T14_11_31-08_00 Listen around the 120 minute mark.

There was a marriage proposal. "You make me want to be a better man" he said. "You have nice shoulders", I replied.

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Chris and his crew secured my title as the coolest Aunt EVER.

Brody accompanied MY rap by "Beat Boxing".

Auntie Charmaine didn't know what that meant.
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Auntie Charmaine did not admit this.

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Jamal did a news segment posing the question, "Does the Boulder Police racially target black men?"

It's one thing to teach kids about racism yet another to have them hear a balanced conversation conducted by kind men who have experienced it. These men were wonderful and generous to my nephews who, blindly, IDOLIZED them.

Later, Gunnar was in a fight at school. He returned home, crying.

"I'm calling DJ Rico," I said. He will have lunch with you in the cafeteria. No one will EVER mess with you again".

Gunnars tears dried up and a mischievous grin crept across his face.

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Come to mention it, if you ever piss ME off I'M calling DJ Rico. You don't know that he is a big softie.

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You don't know.

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Word.

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(Sound of giggles)

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