fall allergies have yoinked my ability to come up with titles
A while ago I wrote a boring as shit post about what I’m looking for in a woman. It’s something I’m asked about regularly, and almost never answer sensibly. I’m good like that.
Actually I rarely give straight answers to any question. I’m a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, wearing a moo moo of pain in the ass.
After reading the post, sid e-mailed me with a “you are looking for a Brooke.”
And I had a bit of an “Ohhhhh yeeeaaaah” moment.
Now some of you may not get the reference, but Brooke is Dan from [redacted]‘s better half. I should mention that I didn’t read Dan’s blog BB (Before Brooke) so I am not sure how their love originally came to be*. I imagine it to be some sort of strip beer pong situation.
From what I can gather, the sequence of events played out kind of like this:
1) Earth created.
2) Berlin Wall comes down like a motherfucker.
3) Dan starts blog.
4) Smart and gorgeous woman finds blog.
5) Woman contacts Dan.
6) High fives all around.
7) Twilight series ruins romance — and books — for everybody.
8) Fox puts “More to Love” on TV
9) Peter writes this post.
I should mention that I don’t know Dan and Brooke, but from reading the blog it seems as if she is the tempestuous yang to his sobering yin. Or they alternate roles. Or something.
It seems like a good fit, is what I’m saying.
Which, of course, is what we are all looking for.
But beyond finding someone hot, funny and cool, he found something just as awesome…
And something even AWESOMER…
A blog co-pilot.
I mean, come on.
“Sweetie, tell them the story about how you accidentally jumped in the shower with my sister. And took fifteen minutes to realize it,” she says.
“You know, I think you tell it better.”
And then she just logs on to your blog and writes up the story and posts it.
(I think that making a woman an official contributor on your personal blog is like becoming engaged to be engaged. Shit just got real.)
So my blog gets updated while I eat cereal in bed and watch that episode of The West Wing I love where Josh goes out to the field with the pretty NASA lady and looks at stars through a telescope, and ruins his shoes, and later tells the story of Blind Willie Johnson while his music plays and it is perfection and I wish that I wrote it.
That’s living the dream, little dumplings.
My point with all of this?
It’s Friday. Whatever. I figured you needed a break from word doodles.
Read Dan’s blog.
(*That’s a fib. I’ve read this post. And, frankly, if a woman ever replies to my emails like that, I am going shopping for a ring… or for some rope and chloroform. I kid. About the rope. Probably.)