June 30, 2004

A very shitty start to this morning. My mother called, furious. Last night Marjorie’s mom told her about my blogs, so then my mom stayed up all night with a bottle of chablis reading them. (she’s a slow reader and a fast drinker) And guess what pissed her off the most? That southern Sam stuck his finger up my ass during sex. (see june 8th, it’s a classic) Anyway, I told her to relax, cause it’s not like she was a nun in the early eighties after the divorce. I may have been a kid, but I clearly remember some shady characters who looked like mick jagger hanging out in her room. And more than one at a time, ps. Hey, Mom: Please don’t take offense that I’m writing this! I didn’t like it back then, but now I find it all pretty damn impressive. Although I don’t think I could find guys in glitter tops attractive.

Enough of Mom-stuff, back to me. In spite of my new pals Sophia and Roger suggesting that I get freaky with father and son, apparently my dilemma was much ado about squat. Cause yesterday when Frank jr came into the salon he did ask me out – but on a double date with his dad, him and his fiancé. Jr says he’s much less of a commitment-phobe than the old man. (I hate that expression “old man”, like I hate the word “helpful”… anybody who says “that would be helpful” should be shot.) Anyway, we’re all having dinner this weekend. Will report back. At least now I don’t have to pick between ‘em. Although I’d already rationalized sleeping with both. And thought about all the other father/son duos I would’ve gotten jiggy with: Freddie prinze jr and sr, martin and Charlie sheen, jack Nicholson sr and jr (he doesn’t have a son, but if he did, I’d be there), the Baldwin brothers, howard stern and stuttering john, okay, now I’m just really horny.