Szczliwy *Polaski* Dzien

Or for you English speakers, “Happy Pulaski Day!”

I’m having a rip watching the Pulaski Day Parade on the Parkway in Philadelphia. It could eeeeasily be a Christopher Guest film. A passel of thick-legged youngsters in their Catholic School Uniforms were described by the hosts as “awe-inspiring” as they went by the mostly vacant VIP reviewing stands.

Our Governor, Ed Rendel, who would show up at the opening of a can of peas, is there, of course. But it looks like that many folks with difficult to pronounce names in the Greater Delaware Valley have found other things to do today.

Alas.

And I’ve got other things to do today, too. Like chop up a cord of firewood. It’s eighty degrees out there, but my father is still itchin’ to start a fire. “Dad! I’m only human! I’m not a machine!”

Oh. My. God. One of the hosts, a local newscaster, just “came out” as not being Polish, but Latvian. Getting a chilly response to that.

Ahh, but let’s listen to the Marcella kochansska-semberich Chorus (all eight of them, median age 68) as they sing the Polish Partisans’ Hymn! ¡Con mucho gusto!

Anyway.

Had a great time at Datt and Male’s housewarming party last night. There place looks great. Male is a clown. Professionally, I mean. And before Datt moved here from Seattle to get the partners in domesticity thing going with him, the ground floor of his house was filled with stilts and rubber noses and rubber chickens and enormous shoes and such. (Going for comedic effect here. Male’s clowing is, I believe, way more sophisticated than that.) It was great! I last saw Datt and Male at Inferno, so it was like a booster shot.

Also ran into GI Joe and his muskelbear husband. Muskelbear husband and I excitedly and passionately recalled our activism against U.S. intervention in Central America during the 1980s. Muskelbear got to spend some time there, working in Nicaragua. I was way too much of a wuss for that. And I regret that. I did, however, get to meet President Daniel Ortega when he spoke at Riverside Church, and organized a pretty feisty demonstration outside the Nicaraguan Embassy when his successor, President Violetta Chamoro eliminated the HIV prevention education campaign the Sandinista government had set up.

*sigh*

Good times.

Then I went to the Bike Stop.

And for the first time in a long time, had a truly Off Night. What was up with that? Way kooky. There were four hot guys there last night. Men who held possibilities. Men I wanted to meet. And I got exactly nowhere with three of them. Nada. No hits. Not so much as a smile or glance in my direction.

On the verge of screaming out the lyrics of that great B-52s song, “Why won’t you dance with me? I ain’t no limburger!”, just when all hope was lost, Number Four sideled up next to me, smoking his cigar, and his arm hair brushed my arm hair.

We talked. He lives in Warrington, south of me. Didn’t get his number. But did let him know that the best place in the world to smoke cigars is on the porch of Starbucks in Doylestown between the hours of 4 pm and 5:30 pm when I’m sure to be there. And, Doylestown’s own Classic Cigar Parlor just around the corner has a great selection, and they’re good people to do business with.

So maybe he’ll take the bait.

But of course, so much striking out made for a mopey drive home. Mostly along the lines of, “Dang! Why can’t I meet a man?”

And, of course, there are ample reasons for that. For one thing, I’m ridiculously picky.

Trimmed fingernails? Check.
Not a lawyer? Check.
Kinky? Check.
Ink? Check.
Facial hair? Check.
Chill ride? Check.
Nice muscular back? Check.
Good with conversation? Check.
Over 35? Check.
Cigar smoker? Check.
Outdoorsey? Check.
...ooooh, but what’s this? Likes science fiction. Well thanks very much for playing. And we have a lovely parting gift for you.

And of coourse, as I get older, I think I’m just getting more and more set in my ways.

Ah well.

Not sure where this renewed interest is coming from. Just when I had completely given up and settled into a comfy bachelorhood. There ought to be aspirin for that.

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