You're Obviously Not a Golfer...

I actually have a good excuse for being so slack lately: my computer is infected with a whooziewhatsit, and I've been afraid to turn it on until I get it fixed. The last time I turned it on the screen went red (aaaaah!), and while everything still seemed to function and I didn't seem to have lost any files or anything, I'm basically terrified to use it until I can take it to someone to get all my anti-whooziewhatsits software in line and clean out whatever the frack is in there.

And while I can always use my work laptop to update from home, the last thing I want to do after working, gymming, cleaning, getting something to eat, blah blah blah, is haul out my laptop case and hook everything up and, laaaaazy Fu. Laaazy. Get it?

My sick laptop was always just there, always on, always already connected. Alls I had to do was pick it up. Maybe that's how the whooziewhatsit snuck on in there, eh?

Anyhow, I hate updating from work, but I figure it can't hurt to take a few minutes from my lunch break to unload the random points and thoughts from the last couple weeks:

1) The Wittle Guy! A few years back, early on in my DC days, when I was *mumble mumble ahem* pounds lighter on my feet than I am now (but still by no means teensy), I dated a guy my roommate and I dubbed "Wee Man." And this was before I even knew about the Wee Man of "Jackass" fame. There was just no other way to describe him. He was itty bitty in every way, a delicate little flower of a guy. We went out for a couple months, but I eventually grew frustrated with both his diminutive stature (I was at my thinnest at this time, yet felt like the Queen Mary whenever we went out) and his blatant homosexuality (two months, never made it past first base. And this is ME we're talking about!).

Anyhow, this is all by way of saying, I met another Wee Man a couple weeks back, and was tickled pink and amused that he seemed to basically LOVE me. This was the whole gamut. He followed me around the bar, offered to get me drinks, plopped down at my table to chat the instant my friends got up to pee...It was truly baffling. I'm not trying to be all "Boohooo, me so fat" here, but I swear I looked twice this guy's size. He was really cute and all but...no. Nooooooo. I felt kinda bad rejecting him, I mean how many guys have been that all about me lately? But really....no. I kept wanting to pat him on the head and put him in my pocket. That's not the basis of a good relationship. Unless you're like, into relationships with giants or something.

2) My Adoring Public. Most of you don't know this, but I've actually been blogging since the days of Flintstones computers made of brick, where your keyboard was hooked up to a talking prehistoric bird that used its beak as a chisel to engrave blog posts into the side of the cave. Okay, since 2001. But still, that's 42 dog years people. I don't link to my old blogs from here, for a number of reasons including but not limited to to: bad writing, embarassing anecdotes from a misspent youth, baaad writing, many posts with inside references to people you are unfamiliar with (~waves to said people~), and really bad writing. If you're dying to read about 21-year old Fu and her misadventures with the opposite sex, weight loss, boozing, and...wait a second. That sounds a lot like 27-year old Fu too (if you replace "weight loss" with "talking about wanting to acheive weight loss while secretly eating Edy's directly from carton"). I've not grown a lick in 6 years? Wtf. Oh well. If you are indeed interested, I will evaluate access to the Fu archives on a case by case basis. Just email me.

But anyway. At Strange Brew Friday night? I was RECOGNIZED! By a lovely young lady who was probably in fracking high school when she used to read me, but whose compliments I'll take just the same. I was RECOGNIZED!!!! Now, I always used to say I would never want to be famous, because people coming up to you all the time must be a huge pain in the general rectal area, but you know what? Nope, not a bit. I SO WANT TO BE FAMOUS NOW! That was great.

3) The Golf Dork. Friday night, before my night was made by My Adoring Fan, Kelly was accosted by a guy rocking Don Johnson's look in "Tin Cup," right down to the overgrown shaggy hair and the ill-advised visor. (Note to men: You can't wear visors if your hair has grown out longer than an inch or two. Just trust me. You look ridiculous.) He also had a pair of ten-dollar mall kiosk sunglasses on one of those foam rubber necklace things.

Golf Dork: Hey there, you have a beautiful smile.
Kelly: Okay, yeah, thanks.
Golf Dork: I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone..
Kelly: ~motions to Fu, CLEARLY SITTING RIGHT THERE ACROSS FROM HER~ Well I'm here with my FRIEND.
Fu: ~loudly~ HELLO THERE! NICE TO MEET YOU!
Golf Dork: Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there.

Come ON. I am many things, but I don't think I've ever been invisible, or been in possession of a special Harry Potter Invisibility Cloak (although hoooo baby, the things I'd do with one....also, only 32 more days until the 7th book arrives on my doorstep! EEEE!). And it's not like I'm one of these 85 pound chicks I've been seeing at the Brew lately, who disappear when they turn sideways. Give me a break, GOLF GUY. Speaking of which...

Golf Dork: So, do you golf?
Fu (he was talking to Kelly again, but I couldn't resist): No, but I'll bet YOU do.

Before you think I'm just a bitch, the guy went on to invite Kelly to help him cheat on his girlfriend, becuase "all she does is cut hair." Hm? Men, I swear. Or rather, Manch Vegas men. There were also a group of guys there with an approximately 4-foot tall bong-like structure filled with beer. How did they even get that in the bar? When did Strange Brew start allowing this? Fascinating.

4) Hampton. There really isn't another New England experience quite like Hampton Beach. I love it, I can't help it. I can't imagine going to Rye or one of the other "classy" beaches. What fun would that be? Hampton is like me: It's loud, obnoxious, trashy, often horrifying, drunken, and riddled with cigarette butts. Well, maybe I'm not riddled with butts, but my lungs probably are. Plus, I never feel fat when I hit the beach there, becuase there is inevitably at least five or six ten-year olds that outweigh me by half. Ah, white trash.

Not to mention: The deck at The Sea Ketch, an establishment I really couldn't live without. I've spent some of the finer afternoons of my life guzzling pina coladas on the deck at the Ketch. Mmm, sun and booze, mmmm.

Anyhow, back to the grind. If my computer stops spinning like a top and spewing pea soup at me every time I turn it on, I might start blogging more...