ONE HOT PAPA!

A friend posted "it's hard to flirt with a mask on". Pursuant the horrendous air-quality in the Bay Area at present. Which rather suggests that he is the flirtatious type. I should reassure him that I do not wear a mask. It's hard to smoke a pipe when you are wearing a mask. And, judging by the slightly snockered woman the other evening, smoking a pipe is the sexiest thing a man can do and still keep it decent.

I have seen her before. She didn't recognize me from the bus. Which is a good thing, because while she is probably nice, she is not my type.

In any case, I am relieved to hear that pipe-smoking is sexy.

I always feared that the sexiest thing a man could do would be covering himself with virgin olive oil or wild bee honey and dancing naked and glowing in the moonlight, which I would never do because I am rather crowd-phobic, sensitive to the weather, and don't dance.

A good sandwich is sexy. Lovely pastries are sexy.
Cute little lamb chops are VERY sexy.
Dancing, not so much.


I may be seriously old-fashioned or out of touch regarding sexiness.


A woman holding a bottle of hot sauce looks totally divine.


I've been smoking a pipe for most of my life, and never thought much about it, sexiness-wise. I do know that many (almost all) women regard tobacco as evil and a depravity, which is probably why they dump grandpa by the side of the freeway to die of pneumonia, or exile their menfolk to the far end of the garden (near the compost heap) with that stinky thing.

Like most men, I am on good terms with wildlife.
I rely on the wolves to feed me.




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