I’d know you better if you were naked

Ever have a moment where you look at someone and they look familiar, and you think, if you were naked, I would know. Or is that just me? It’s been a few times lately. My friend Andrea waits tables at a local, upscale restaurant, a wine and cocktails type bistro. She often comes over to […]

Ever have a moment where you look at someone and they look familiar, and you think, if you were naked, I would know.

Or is that just me?

It’s been a few times lately.

My friend Andrea waits tables at a local, upscale restaurant, a wine and cocktails type bistro. She often comes over to my house after work with friends and co-workers, so I have several times wound up in the hot tub with naked, inebriated restaurant staff.

I was sitting at the bar one night, my bachelor week a couple weeks ago. I was sipping dirty martinis and people-watching; writing a story in my head that was being narrated by someone very like Marv in Sin City.

I was also watching waitresses. I love waitresses. And I kept thinking, I know that one girl but I could not dig up how.

It hit me. I think I’ve seen her naked. I could remember her full, luscious breasts.

If I could get her undressed, I thought, I could be sure.

Then there was another friend. I’ve seen her web cam photos, but when I met her in person, she was dressed. I didn’t recognize her at all. Thne later, in the hot tub, I realized, I’ve seen those tits before. And it hit me. I’d know you if you were naked.

The last time was, of course, another waitress. A mexican joint not far from me. I used to eat there weekly, but not so much in the last year, for no reason other than shifts in dining habits. They have a new waitress, and as usual, I took a liking to her on first site. She looks youngish, brunette. Short, with great thighs in a too-short skirt. Pierced nose, pony tail. She smiled at me in a way that made me want to growl.

And I kept thinking, I know this girl.

In fact I don’t, I finally realized what it was. She looks like a combination of a couple women. A stripper from some club I was at not long ago, and a girl I’ve seen on a porn web site. My brain fused them together and this cute little waitress was just similar enough that she pinged my sense of familiarity. And again, I had that thought. If you were naked, I’d know how I know you.

Maybe it’s just that I know bodies better than I know clothes. People I’ve seen naked a lot, I know in my mind’s eye every mole and scar and curve, every hair. Close friends, I could not tell you what they had on the last time I saw them, but I could tell you exactly what bruises they had the last time I saw them naked.

Wearing nothing is devine, naked is a state of mind
I take things off to clear my head to say the things I haven’t said
I live inside the elements the the earth and sky are my best friends
Water is the evidence that washes me from end to end

Categories: sex

working on sundays

My tar process got the files moved over, finally, but now I have to nuke about 100 million files…. I have to copy the fucking think and delete (obliterate, in perforce terms) everything I don’t want.
,

Dammit, I hate working on sundays.

Still struggling with a perforce problem. My tar process got the files moved over, finally, but now I have to nuke about 100 million files.

Can’t these fuckers come up with a way to *extract* meta-data? I have to copy the fucking thing and delete (obliterate, in perforce terms) everything I don’t want.

They need to think about offering a real database back-end, I tellya. The proprietary db model is getting old.

Grumble, grumble. I’d rather be at a strip club.

[made with ecto]

I’d know you better if you were naked…

Ever have a moment where you look at someone and they look familiar, and you think, if you were naked, I would know. Or is that just me? It’s been a few times lately. My friend Andrea waits tables at a local, upscale restaurant, a wine and cocktails type bistro. She often comes over to […]

Ever have a moment where you look at someone and they look familiar, and you think, if you were naked, I would know.

Or is that just me?

It’s been a few times lately.

My friend Andrea waits tables at a local, upscale restaurant, a wine and cocktails type bistro. She often comes over to my house after work with friends and co-workers, so I have several times wound up in the hot tub with naked, inebriated restaurant staff.

I was sitting at the bar one night, my bachelor week a couple weeks ago. I was sipping dirty martinis and people-watching; writing a story in my head that was being narrated by someone very like Marv in Sin City.

I was also watching waitresses. I love waitresses. And I kept thinking, I know that one girl but I could not dig up how.

It hit me. I think I’ve seen her naked. I could remember her full, luscious breasts.

If I could get her undressed, I thought, I could be sure.

Then there was another friend. I’ve seen her web cam photos, but when I met her in person, she was dressed. I didn’t recognize her at all. Thne later, in the hot tub, I realized, I’ve seen those tits before. And it hit me. I’d know you if you were naked.

The last time was, of course, another waitress. A mexican joint not far from me. I used to eat there weekly, but not so much in the last year, for no reason other than shifts in dining habits. They have a new waitress, and as usual, I took a liking to her on first site. She looks youngish, brunette. Short, with great thighs in a too-short skirt. Pierced nose, pony tail. She smiled at me in a way that made me want to growl.

And I kept thinking, I know this girl.

In fact I don’t, I finally realized what it was. She looks like a combination of a couple women. A stripper from some club I was at not long ago, and a girl I’ve seen on a porn web site. My brain fused them together and this cute little waitress was just similar enough that she pinged my sense of familiarity. And again, I had that thought. If you were naked, I’d know how I know you.

Maybe it’s just that I know bodies better than I know clothes. People I’ve seen naked a lot, I know in my mind’s eye every mole and scar and curve, every hair. Close friends, I could not tell you what they had on the last time I saw them, but I could tell you exactly what bruises they had the last time I saw them naked.

Wearing nothing is devine, naked is a state of mind
I take things off to clear my head to say the things I haven’t said
I live inside the elements the the earth and sky are my best friends
Water is the evidence that washes me from end to end

Categories: sex

someplace else

I’m having one of those weekends where I just can’t seem to focus on anything.

,

I’m having one of those weekends where I just can’t seem to focus on anything. I had a bunch of stuff I wanted to blog about – some stuff about stories I’ve been working on, maybe some harry potter, a bit about rebuilding a bbq and about mediating wars over polly pocket dolls.

But I’m sunburned and tired, and I’ve been struggling all weekend with trying to get a perforce tree copied over with rsync (don’t worry if you don’t understand that, it’s not important) so I could do a maintenance task I thought I could do over the weekend. I’m frustrated and would rather be someplace else doing something else.

The stuff I wanted to do this weekend seems to have fallen by the way-side.

Maybe sunday will get better. I have a fine cup ‘o peets sumtra, and I gave up on rsync and am using tar instead. If I can get that to fucking finish before sunset, and if I drink a couple more mugs of this fine coffee this morning, maybe I’ll feel a little less pissed off.

But I still wish I was someplace else.

[made with ecto]