DID I MENTION SPAM?

Last night I realized that I am the quintessential safe old geezer. I don't pick up ladies in bars. Many of my age contemporaries have, and probably they still do so. It was the sexual dynamic of my generation.
But I don't, and I may be dysfunctional.
I've always been hesitant about drunken choices.
Daylight destroys all dreams.


Please imagine what would happen. My apartment mate would come bursting out of her room at around six fifteen, bustle about fixing herself coffee and a bagel with bacon, butter, cream cheese, and an egg -- she's so much a morning person that in the evening she becomes a vegetable by eight or nine, cabbage in all probability -- and, at some point between the holiday blend coffee and the delicious fried greasy stuff, plus The Real Housewives or the jewelry channel, she'd see dark fluffy hair on my pillow next to me.

I'm still asleep at that point. My new-found girlfriend is somewhat awake. Oh, they'd get along fine. "He smoked his pipe, I was cold, he offered me a warm blanket." And while drinking coffee with my apartment mate she'd confess that all we did was sleep. Dammitall!


"He didn't DO anything!"


"I'll try to force myself on him when he finally wakes up! See, 'cause he's rather a nice old geezer, and reasonably decent-looking. It might be fun to have extremely Protestant nookie with him." And then between the two of them they'd agree that some white dudes of a certain age are nice people.
But boring unless you prod them.
With a sharp stick.

Um. Yeah. Right.


Of course, that is a best case scenario. We shan't dwell on the worst case, because that will never happen.

Last night I was keenly aware of a younger persons 'charms'.

Which I did not do anything about.

Too busy talking.


I had a fine time. Smoked my pipe. Had conversation.
Went home and got on the internet.
Even more conversation.

Politics, mostly.
And kittens.


It is with great interest that I now imagine how someone's bottom would look, when she is wearing panties and a baggy shirt, nothing else. No, not the same person whom I talked to, far too briefly, last night.
This one has darker more velvety hair.

I am a rancid old pervert.

So delicious.

Uh huh.



There is Spam in almost every dish.
Tattooed on the back of their neck.

Menu

Egg and bacon.
Egg, sausage, and bacon.
Egg and Spam.
Egg, bacon, and Spam.
Egg, bacon, sausage, and Spam.
Spam, Spam. bacon, sausage, and Spam.
Spam, eggs, Spam, Spam, bacon, and Spam.
Spam, Spam, Spam, eggs, and Spam.
Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, baked beans, Spam, Spam, Spam, and Spam.
Lobster Thermidor aux crevettes, with a Mornay sauce and garnished with truffle pâté, brandy, and a fried egg on top. And Spam.





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