I'm not living up to the potential of the loft I am living in. I mean, really... I thought this place had sex-appeal - but some newly discovered info about my loft is downright ridiculous!
The phrase-that-pays for this particular post is "Muff! It's what's for dinner!" But before I get to that part of the story, I have to fess-up. I am a bad man.
I wonder about people. I wonder who they are. I wonder where they go. And I wonder why the hell they act the way they do.
I watch people on the street - especially the goofy looking ones, like the crazy lady I spotted with the bright purple jacket, orange scarf and red pumps. The whole prostitute-chic look wasn't doing it for me, and it didn't seem to be doing it for the guy she was with, as he managed to stay at least three feet away from her at all times. For the thirty seconds I was watching anyway.
Oh, be honest. You look too. Looking is fun.
The problem is that sometimes I do more than look. I do a little digging when my curiosity gets the better of me.
It's not appropriate to approach a stranger and ask questions like:
"...Hooker or hippie?"
"...How'd this happen to you?"
Or my personal favorite: "...What were you thinking?!?"
I wonder these things but I do not ask. Instead, I go on a verbal fishing expedition.
Take, for example, the day I attended Jury Duty. I couldn't help sitting next to the biggest nutter in the room. I figured, as long as I was stuck there for a day I could at least get a story out of it, right?
"Hey, that's a mighty fine look-of-death you're sporting this morning! Satanic, or just miserable?"
Couldn't. Ask. That.
Instead, I opted for a bit of harmless chit chat which led what I needed to know. She was still drunk from the night before. That's our justice system at work right there.
When I'm not busy wondering about the people I come across in everyday life, I wonder about people I've never even seen.
Have you ever wondered who lived in your home before it became 'your' home? Me too! And what's this? It's previous-addressee junk mail to the rescue! Opening someone else's mail is a crime, but typing the person's name into Google is A-OK. It's not like my curiosity is unwarranted. When you open your mailbox and find a copy of 4-Wheel And Off-Road Magazine addressed to a woman with a girlie first name... wouldn't you wonder?
Turns out, she's a lesbian. Ooh, I didn't see that commin'. How'd I find that out, you ask? Let's just say that Google led me so far down the rainbow I expected to find a pot of gold.
I thought it was interesting... the previous tenant at my previous address was a lesbian with bad feet and clean teeth who enjoyed discount shopping and monster truck shows. Kickass! (except for the feet... poor thing)
I realize this information is none of my fucking business... hence the comment about me being a bad man. But I can't help my curiosity.
In a perfect world, everyone's life stories would be printed in a giant book (that only I would have), indexed by the date I'd become aware of each particular person. Like the 6 foot 2 woman I spotted the other day walking with a guy who was only around 5 foot 5. "Eh?" I'd open the book and thumb my way to November 15th at 5:30. "Oh! She is actually a 'he' transvestite. I get it!" There is no giant book though. And if there is, some other overly inquisitive bastard has it. As we speak, he's probably thumbing to the day he passed me on the street staring at the transvestite. (the book probably says "He's a dumbass." "OH! That's why he didn't realize it was a tranny! I get it!" Damn book.)
I've now been at my current address for a month and finally received junk mail for the previous tenant. I couldn't resist the urge to Google the name to see who'd lived here before me...
This woman has all previous interesting addressees beat by a long shot.
A. Long. Shot.
I've deleted anything revealing, but here's a clip of the bio I found online. This explains why she left the loft, and why I'll never be as interesting a tenant:
XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXbought a house and moved to the suburbs (yikes!) and has been busy writing, reviewing, and performing. Besides arts reporting, this past year saw XXXXXXXXXpublished in "Best Lebian Erotica," "Philogyny: Girls Who Kiss and Tell," and "Zaftig! Sex for the Well Rounded." She read her work locally at such illustrious venues as "Cheap Date: An Evening of Queer Gal Smut," "Muff! It's What's for Dinner." Rounding out the year, XXXXXXXXXbecame one third of the high femme erotic drag trio XXXXXXX-XXXof Porn. She asks that from now on you respectfully refer to her as XXXXXXX-XXX.
...awesome, except for the fact that I'll never be able to live up to my loft's lofty expectations after someone that 'unique' lived here.
I realize this could be a case of same-name-as, but I prefer to think this place has had enough of a history to compensate for how boring I must be.
I am such a nosy bastard... I just had to go Google to find out who your previous tenant was... I am such an evil bad person!
I am fairly certain that Googling my name would be somewhat misleading and very boring... alas!::::: | November 22, 2005 1:23 PM
I used to live in a house that was rumored to be haunted. I never saw anything weird, but for the longest time my house was part of a historic tour, and people would stop outside and occasionally take pictures. Weirdest thing in the world to wake up to, let me tell you.::::: | August 31, 2007 8:15 PM