Monday, Aug. 23, 2004 - 3:51 P.M.

There�s a man I know who is tall, handsome and can sing like an angel. He�s stylish and has a great sense of humor. He�s fit and trim. He�s creative and sensitive, with a bad boy streak to boot. Were I single, I would pursue him doggedly until we either went out or stayed in (if you know what I mean and I think you do). Except for one tiny, Seinfeldian detail. This man has �girl� hands. Hands that are slim and delicate. With bones that are fragile and small. Like a girl's. These are full-on, look-at-me-I'm-a-princess-whose-never-done-a-hard-days-work hands. A. Girl�s. Hands. On. An. Otherwise. Studly. Male. It kind of gacks me out. No, no, I think I�m wrong on that. It does seriously gack me out. I�ve met some of his girlfriends. All have been truly delightful women that anyone would be proud to have on their arm. Except the arm these women are holding on to has girly hands. This man is charming and wonderful but I can�t get past the hands, people. THE HANDS. I�m just wondering how his girlfriends can stand to be touched by them. I think I have a serious mental problem here.

Somewhat in the same vein, I saw a picture of Orlando Bloom recently and it made me wonder, are some celebrities hot because they�re celebrities or would you think they were hot if you saw them in a Starbucks? I say it�s definitely the former. I mean look, if I saw Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp in Wal-Mart, I�d still say they were very attractive men. If I saw Charlize Theron or Halle Berry hanging at McDonalds, I�d think they were stunning. If I saw Orlando lounging at the park? I�d have to say, no. He�s a little too girly for me. Did you see �Troy?� I like men.

Of course, I have a ton of idiosyncrasies besides the girly man, girly hands issue. I don�t eat leftovers. Cold or reheated. Except Indian food. Explain that one. I cannot stand those romance novels set in historical time periods (like, Harlequin? Or like they used to be anyhow). Dirty bed linens gross me out to no end. The mere sight of a cockroach can make me physically sick. In any bathroom other than my own I tear off the first square of toilet paper before using the roll. I live in fear of getting my eye poked out. Ferrets scare me. Rats do not. Changing dirty diapers does not faze me, while touching mud squicks me out. Fingernails on a chalkboard? Nothing. Fingernails being chewed on? Yikes. A man with girly hands chewing his fingernails? Just bring me a gun.

It�s a wonder I can get out of bed in the morning.

P.S. to bigpimpinmba---thanks for the very kind words you left me. Seriously, what a compliment. And, what a nice way to start a rainy, crappy Monday.

P.S. to andclint---you wrote something nice about me recently and I never said thank you. It really was extremely wonderful and sweet. Missed you at breakfast yesterday.

The fact that I�ve P.S.�d you two on this particular entry means squat. Don�t read anything into it. Think nothing of it. Really.

You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006
Revamped Sex Camp - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006
I'm Not Dead - Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006
Ebert And Roeper? Watch Your Backs. - Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005
Coffee? Tea? Map? - Monday, Nov. 07, 2005

� Purplecigar

�

�

previous - next