Current obsessions

1. Cat health.
2. Composting/vegetable gardening.
3. "True Blood."
4. Fitness?!

1. Poor little Scrybaby got really sick about a month or so ago, and had a UTI that turned into a kidney infection because she has a terribly neglectful mom. So sad. Her darling veterinarian, Dr. Aubrey, thought that she had chronic renal failure, and needed to go on that disgusting kidney diet food that's made of garbage instead of meat. Which I was not excited about, since it seems like the baby is allergic to chicken, and all of those foods have chicken in them. So yours truly was combing through cat health books and wingnut websites, trying to figure out what I could feed Scribe. I was seriously considering buying a meat grinder and feeding her ground up rice and cornish game hens for the rest of her life, when she got another blood test and we found out that she doesn't have chronic renal failure after all. So she can go back to her regular limited ingredient diet, which, in case you were wondering, includes such animals as quail, duck, rabbit, venison, and lamb. Ew.
2. So I got to finish obsessing about my little tiny one, just in time to start obsessing about even tinier ones- composting microbes. Kyle and Jessi got the compost pile going over at their house (soon to be Kyle's and my house) and I am crazy for it. It's so cool! I'm trying really hard to get it to get nice and hot. Back to the books and internet wingnuts! I've been reading http://wastefreeliving.blogspot.com/, now at http://wastefreeliving.com/blog/. I didn't want to like the Compost Maven, because she's stolen Alison Bechdel from me, but I do. Sigh.
Oh, man! So we're growing ten million different vegetables. But, as I told Carolyn, "I'll believe it when I eat it." A lot of things could happen, but right now it's so exciting! Kyle and I (and Jessi too, I'm sure) have spent lots of time crouching over the dirt, trying to figure out what cute little shoots are weeds and what we've actually planted. I need to take some pictures.
3. I'm almost done with the first season of "True Blood." Overall I really like it, though it does have its slow moments. I'm partway through the last episode, but I'm putting off watching it because I'm sure it's going to end with some awful cliffhanger and I'm not ready.
4. I started going swimming a few times a week, but I seem to be falling off the trolley. I really like it and like how my body feels when I swim, but it's kind of boring. I've also been doing a yoga DVD, and just got a cardio workout DVD from the library. I just noticed this morning that it has a bible quotation on the case, so maybe I'm about to work out with J.C.

From puritanical to puri-tantric-al.

Greetings Erotic Neurotic!

I have been seeing a really dashing young lady for nigh on four months now, and our relationship is proceeding just splendidly. We have a truly remarkable compatibility - enjoyment of food and libation, bicycling the environs of Denver, and imbibing the best of that black gold known as coffee. We even, as the common parlance would have it, have fucking awesome sex. There is, however, in spite of this otherwise overwhelming good fortune, one small hitch: my woeful inability to talk dirty. It's true that I have a vast and expansive vocabulary, and that one of my greatest thrills is the discovery and subsequent usage of more complex syntax and sentence structure. Yet despite my garrulous nature, I can't seem to pull out a few mundane four letter words whilst in the throes of passion. What's worse, with just a few short phrases of inappropriate sexiness from her, I am thrilled through and through. I'd really like to be more of a participant when it comes to verbal ecstasy, but I can't quite seem to break free of my puritanical chains. What's a cunning linguist like me to do?

Laughably Loquacious Lover

Greetings, ugh, L word.

Somewhere along the line you people seem to have gotten the idea that the Erotic Neurotic actually provides advice. However did you come to that conclusion? The Erotic Neurotic passes along nothing but sass.
Well, okay. We'll make an exception, lest LLL should turn into LBD by summertime. For you, sass and secondary sources. Lucky for you, here at Erotic Neurotic HQ, we have valuable research materials at hand for just these situations. I should warn you that this may cause offense to prudes, conservatives, and/or the federal government, so continue at your own risk. Ahem.

"Ariel talked quietly into Mari's ear, a filthy stream of gutter talk that Yvette and I heard only snatches of. You could always count on Ariel for that. 'Fucking open pussyhole of an ass, take it up your slutty...' we heard. 'Fuck you like the whore bitch that you are, fucking...' It was a good thing Margy could handle trash talk. I'd met some lesbians who'd run crying from the likes of what came out of Ariel's mouth when she got turned on."
Carol Queen
Miranda's Wildest Time: Club Clitosaurus

I believe that we can learn two valuable lessons from this expert source.
1. Don't End Sentences With Prepositions.
2. Be Careful What You Wish For (uh, see rule 1); You Might Run Crying.
Or perhaps, a third,
3. You Should Read More Porn. Seriously. Aloud, with a tape recorder. Then, in those "throes of passion" so to speak, you can just 'hit play,' so to speak. You know you think obsolete technology is kinky. You probably wrote a draft of your letter on a vintage typewriter before you e-mailed it.

Phew. Done and done. The Erotic Neurotic washes his hands of this whole affair, you nasty nasty girl.

This one is for Lisa, I think.

Tonight was the first ever Erotic Neurotic celebrity sighting. No, I didn't see a celebrity, I was the celebrity. [I mean, I was at a show, so I guess I was seeing a celebrity, but goddammit people, this isn't a semantics column.]
Anyway, post-Mountain Goats, waiting for the ol' ball and chain, a young lady approached the Erotic Neurotic, and asked, "Are you the Erotic Neurotic?" Shocked, I answered, "Maybe." I believe she said her name was Lisa. I mentioned that the biggest hurdle to keeping this column up-to-date is keeping those questions rolling in.
Then it hit me- prizes! But what can I pass on to you, dear readers, in this age of technology? Thankfully, Lisa had this one figured out as well.
The Erotic Neurotic's "connections" are pretty limited to this, the queen city of the plains, so I won't be able to hook you up with Carl Kassel himself, but in the great tradition of NPR's Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, the authors of the next three questions answered by the Erotic Neurotic will get my voice on your home answering machine. You don't get to choose what I say. You get this:

à la the lovely and talented Nicole Georges' rendition on Chez Toxique's answering machine, once upon a time.
Send yr queries to theeroticneurotic@yahoo.com.
P.S. Yes, Lisa gets first dibs.

Spring fever strikes.

Or, maybe make that, "Spring fever is on strike."

Well, the Erotic Neurotic may be the only survivor of Denver Spring (Heart)break 2007. Don't be too jealous; he got his in Aught Six. Nonetheless, there's plenty to kvetch about. Don't you worry.

1. One would think that a wretched, icy winter would provide the perfect backdrop for some nice cuddling. But unless you count a dandruffy cat, none was to be had. All right, "none" is an exaggeration, but those other bad decisions have faded so far in the Erotic Neurotic's (admittedly terribly short-term) memory that they may as well have been a weird, Lynchian dream. Her dog was really nice, though.
2. Spring, when the nights lengthen and the shorts shorten. As any queer worth hir weight knows, having seen "Grease" multiple times, summer is the perfect time for "lovin'." The spring fever has yet to focus on some willing target. So far, no go. Instead, in this case, spring fever is manifesting itself as a sort of generalized, low-level longing. Too mild to seek a remedy, too strong to ignore. Bummer, dude. Where's a good crush when you need one?

What would Tom do?

Dear Erotic Neurotic,
I behaved badly, and now I can't stop checking myspace to see the effects.
I'm really sorry.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Ah, love in the time of cholera. If by cholera you mean excessive internet excess. Cholera is an acute, infectious disease, characterized by profuse diarrhea, vomiting, cramps, etc. I've been online for about two hours, and that's how I feel. Kind of like when I'm sleeping in someone's bed who maybe is going to become more than just a friend that night and I get wicked intestinal cramps. What I'm saying is that the Erotic Neurotic worries. Well, worries and does it. Then worries about doing it and does it about worrying. Just kidding; that makes no sense.
I'm talking, my friends, about myspace. To paraphrase Bart Simpson, myspace is like a milk-dud: sweet on the outside, poison on the inside. How many friends do we have who have to put themselves on "myspace restriction"? Or who have had to talk to their therapist about myspace? Or who end/destroy relationships via myspace? Or who, in a moment of rage, delete a "friend," only to have to grovel for refriendship later? Or, even worse, angst over whose top 8 they've made? Did Tom foresee this? And is he in the CIA?

Thus far, myspace obsession is relatively uncharted territory. With this in mind, the Erotic Neurotic has drafted a helpful Relationship-Long Myspace Obsession Guidelet.

1. Crush:

Checking the crushee's profile for cute pics, relationship status, flirty comments received, etc.

2. Crush confession:

May be done via myspace. This can range from the whimsical and flirty to the crude and overtly sexual.

3. Stage one:

Mostly involves near-constant commenting/messaging back and forth, often of a sexual nature. May also include checking bfgf's other friends' profiles to police hir commenting.

4. Stage two:

Change of relationship status/possible top 8 rearrangement. Addition of a romantic pic is standard. Such pic should then be proudly displayed to friends, siblings, and coworkers.

5. Stage three:

Trolling others' profiles for validation of feelings of insecurity. What did that "xo" on that comment to hir "best friend" mean, anyway?

6. Breakup:

Via myspace? Please, god, no, but I'm sure it's happened.

7. Post-breakup:

Varies greatly, depending on circumstance. Variables include: frequency of continued commenting, length of mourning time before changing relationship status and/or one's top 8. Probably the number one characteristic of post-breakup obsessive myspace behavior is stalking. Who does ze have pictures of now? How would you characterize hir friends' comments: consoling? congratulatory? Worst of all is the stalking of unwitting third parties. Because once you get to that stage you're on your way to some serious eye fatigue, not to mention carpal tunnel as you click your way deeper into myspace's hellish circles. It really is an addiction. One would hope that this obsession would fade with time, but unfortunately the Erotic Neurotic has yet to find any hard evidence.

So far, I've found one useful characteristic of that beast with 154,961,126 backs: people seem shockingly human on their myspace profiles. So much so that it can be hard to hate them. Not impossible, but hard. Like with a milk-dud, the poisonous center of myspace could eventually, through lovingly rigorous chewing and salivating, dissolve in our collective mouth. So, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, maybe there's hope for you yet.

This is what you get until you send me some questions.

An OKCupid Quiz on your, well, my personality defect. So, there.




Class Clown
You are 42% Rational, 57% Extroverted, 57% Brutal, and 71% Arrogant.

You are the Class Clown. This means you wear grease paint and have a big, red nose...

I really need to stop thinking so literally...

Anyway, I MEANT to say that you are the Class Clown, and this means that you are extroverted, mean, and arrogant. You are not very rational, so you gravitate towards things that produce feelings or emotions over thoughts (like fart jokes or spitballs, for instance). You are also an extrovert and rather full of yourself, so of course you want constant attention for yourself and think you are somehow better than others. (Upon hearing the expression "you are full of yourself", you probably also slyly feel the need to ask women if they would like to be "full of yourself" too. I am assuming you have a penis. I often make that assumption, being fond of the penis.) You can also be a bit mean-spirited, and like a class clown you wouldn't hesitate to make a joke at someone else's expense, no matter how terrible it would make them feel. A lot of people probably find your antics annoying, sophomoric, and desperately histrionic. Like some sort of crack-taking hyperactive monkey, you'd do anything, mock anyone, just to get someone to pay attention to you for five seconds. So your personality defects are that you have to be the center of attention, that you don't care about others, and that you are rather irrational and motivated by intuitions. Now stop walking around with those books on your head and sit down this instant! Or else I'll be forced to stand here, hands on my hips, doing nothing once again!

To put it less negatively:

1. You are more INTUITIVE than rational.

2. You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted.

3. You are more BRUTAL than gentle.

4. You are more ARROGANT than humble.

Compatibility:

Your exact opposite is the Robot.

Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Schoolyard Bully, the Smartass, and the Brute.

*

*

If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits.

The other personality types:

The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

This seemed appropriate.

"Nation's Gays Demand Right to Library Cards"