Sunday, June 15, 2008

A Boy Like That

My friend T and I went to an afternoon party last Sunday. He's Turkish, so people are often asking him about his ethnicity. Because it comes up so often, he often turns it around and asks people to guess mine. They don't guess it correctly, so I say, "half-Cuban, half-North European mix."

Sometimes when I give the reveal it's met with the chorus of, "you don't look Cuban." If I'm ornery I'll say, "Actually, I do. I just don't look like what you imagine Cubans to look like." But I'm not ornery too terribly often and today the conversation sails along.

So a little later we move to a nearby table and someone asks about T's ethnicity and we talk about Turkey and then T asks them to guess mine. This guy at the table, who had been all smiley and flirty with T and I says, "Mmmm, I'd say half-Cuban, half-North European mix." Using the very words that I had said 10 feet away 30 minutes prior.

T doesn't make the connection and asked him how he guessed it.

"Well, he's from Miami," he said. "So I thought, like, Cameron Diaz is half-Cuban."

I'm annoyed that he doesn't own up to overhearing the conversation, so I lie saying, "Cameron Diaz is half-Mexican, not Cuban."

"Oh, well, it's like in West Side Story," he says, retreating a bit, "all the Cubans are--"

"Those," I say, "were Puerto Ricans."

"Well," he says, "same di--" He cuts himself off, I guess realizing what he was about to say.

"He was about," I say, turning to T, "to say 'same difference.' At which point I would have climbed across the table and throttled him."

Friday, June 13, 2008

Do I have something in my teeth?

On Tuesday evening, I was at eating outside at Thai Village and a couple was seated next to me. They were in their late twenties and dressed like a first date. The guy pulled out his chair so his back was to the sun, saying, "You're wearing sunglasses so why don't you face the sun?"

I was thinking what a tool he was, but looking at the woman. When I looked at him he was staring at me, with this big, beefy tongue hanging half out of the side of his mouth, chewing on it. I looked at him for a second, but he didn't look away. He just kept staring at me and chewing on his tongue. I looked at my plate.

The rest of the meal, he didn't really look over at me again. Odd.

I went out to The Continental with Steven Soderberg last night. We were drinking refreshing Gin & Tonics. There's no smoking inside bars here in Chicago, so many people were making frequent trips outside to smoke. This guy got up to leave and he was looking at me as he walked. I made eye contact with him and he held it just long enough to run smack into the door. Odd.

I guess he was expecting it to be open.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Doctor McPlayer?

What's going on this week?

Yesterday Dan sent me a link to this trailer, saying it made him think of me. Today my dad sends me this article:

Paging Doctor McPlayer


Dr. Jim Henry follows a strict personal policy -- never mixing business with pleasure. So Dr. Henry makes his $350,000 salary work for him and dates outside the workplace instead.

With five years of slave-to-the-job residency before moving on to 80-hour work weeks, physicians typically have limited time to party. While this can lead to break room hook-ups, the gossip is usually better than the actual sex. As for the opportunity to have McSteamy sex at work: "It does happen, but it's definitely not happening in my life," Dr. Henry said. The 32-year-old orthopedic surgeon says he's never been tempted to break his policy, even when a patient tracked him down at his San Francisco home.

If you knew Dr. Henry by day, you'd assume he had no social life. Everyone does need to sleep after all. But then, not many people really know Dr. Henry.

"There's a business face and a social face," he said. It should be noted that the surgeon doesn't sleep much.

"It's truly amazing what the human body can adapt to," he said, admitting that he does catch up on zzz's once in a while, grabbing a non-stop 14-hours on those rare moments off.

So let's get to know the real Dr. Henry. Here is how he spent last week:

Went on a first date with a 21-year-old on Tuesday, one of those braniac college chicks who worked every summer to start her career as fast as possible. Says he had no idea she was quite that young. Took her to Red Devil Lounge, a club that is both intimate and posh. Brought her home to show her the crazy sex he knew she'd never had.

Went on a fifth date with a 42-year-old single mom on Thursday. She's old enough and certainly hot enough to be a cougar. But Dr. Henry's too old to be her boy toy. Sprung for hot dogs and beer at the Giants game. She showed him a thing or two in the bedroom.

Saved Saturday night for the 32-year-old career gal, a two-month relationship he's sure is close to its end. Enjoyed the night anyway and coughed up the big bucks at the very exclusive restaurant Limon.

It's the life of a serious playboy.

"You walk this fine line. When you're getting physical, a lot of assumptions are made. Even though nothing has been verbalized," he said. "But I'm not awful. I never commit. I'm not cheating."

That didn't stop one of his longer flings from throwing a water bottle at him. He's right, assumptions are made.

Just as a preemptive, if you're thinking about telling me how emotionally damaged I am or how I have difficulty forming deep emotional attachments: I've already gotten the memo, thanks.