WHEN ROMANCE SMELLS LIKE BOILED CABBAGE

The phrase overheard this evening painted a picture. Two females who resembled leopards or panthers, discussing affairs of the heart. Normally one tries not to listen in, because it's not really a gentlemanly thing to do, but people do fascinate me.

Quote:
"It's great to have a big dumb boyfriend!"

I suppose if you need to move a couch, yes.

Or a refrigerator.


On the way home I kept imagining a carnivorous woman needing to change apartments. Probably because she brutalized one of the other tenants. People tend to look askance at that. Landlords, coroners, or police.
Under what circumstances had she confronted them?
Perhaps loud music or queer smells?

Her previous big dumb boyfriend started to decompose?

That would probably require another big dumb boyfriend, to wield the woodchipper. Yes, San Francisco at times resembles Fargo, North Dakota. Except without all the goofy Scandinavian names or snowdrifts.
We have aggressive Russian women and smog instead.
So talking funny is part of the programme.

Both ladies were, I think, Russian.

The easiest way to find a big dumb boyfriend is probably to go down to the neighborhood gym and wave some piroshok at a body builder. Lisp sexily in a Siberian Prison Guard accent when you introduce yourself.
Hi, my name is Olga - privet, menya zovut Olga.
Waggle something at the man.

"It's great to have a big dumb boyfriend!"

No, I am not wanted by the SPCA.



I have not moved a couch in years, and have no actual familiarity with woodchipping equipment. Nor have I ever been to North Dakota.
Big beefy piroshky do not tempt me.
Except intellectually.


Don't call me Boris.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================