A whole day where I didn't post. Amazing, isn't it? It's almost like I had a life.

So yesterday one of the other teachers was talking to me about a new "business" venture she would like to start up. She wants to set up a seminar to "teach" women how to make love to their men. Let me tell you, that should be the fastest seminar of all time. Basically it should be, "Show up." You want to please a man, nothing can be easier. Show up, and well, be willing. Don't agree with me, go watch the film Clerks even most men admit that all a woman has to do is show up. And the truth is that men, when it comes to sex, are fairly simple creatures. There is a stand-up comedian (I believe it is Dave Chappelle) who said "ladies, if you don't understand your man, it is because you are thinking too hard." For the most part, this is true. When a woman is misinterpreting a man's behavior, it is usually because she is ascribing motives of almost byzantine complexity to his behavior. This same teacher, the one with the seminar idea, said that men would consider me sexy because I am "detail oriented." Her idea of detail oriented is that my lipstick matches my outfit, or my jewelry is carefully selected to match in style and color scheme my sweater. Now, that I am sexy I won't dispute, but generally I think men find me sexy A because of the way my body is built and B because of the outfits I wear. I doubt many men are like "Hey that chick is hot, look at those earrings." Most guys can't even tell the difference between varied shades of a single color. So there you go.
Its a very stressful week and my apartment is showing it. It used to be my apartment was like my little safe space, but now I really hate going there. For some reason it invokes anxiety instead of being the calming realm it used to be. I have to spend at least part of tonight cleaning it up. If anyone knows a guy in the new York area who likes to clean apartments for fun please let me know. Which brings me to another off the wall point. When I lived in CT, there was a little "newspaper", kind of like the New York Press, that made most of their money by selling personals. And the personals were amazing. Much more frightening and creative than the ones in the Village Voice. I remember there was this one with the headline Ladies Sick of House work? and the rest of the add read let a nude man clean your house. I hate to say it, but these days I'm like "Alright buddy, here is the vacuum, here is the Soft Scrub, here are the sponges, have a good time."