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Zenformation and the Art of Random Sexual Talking Points

September 18, 2006 By pia

Love this. Courting Destiny: The Zine. Forgot to link Bone who went on Friday.

I went to a rally for Darfur today so of course I thought of Jason. Not the rally in Central Park, but due to reasons I won’t get into now, a rally at a Zionist Fair in Riverside Park. At first I couldn’t understand why so many Zionist teens and 20somethings were wearing Darfur tee’s and it was an ancillary rally. Then I realized that they think as I do. People who have faced genocide throughout history and survived have a special responsibility to stop it

if you read Jason’s left sidebar, you know that he understands how nobody understands how intellectual property law, employment law, and other laws apply to blogging, so you cover all bases.

I covet the three bedroom apartment that he gave up. Sorry Jason, but to a New Yorker that’s sacrilegious.

Love the way Jason portrays life in his town, and the things that happened to him, after people discovered that the librarian who doesn’t fit the stereotype is the Zen Information Professional.

In the proud tradition of one week and four bloggers, Jason provides still another side of himself here. Oh, it’s a wonderful David Sedaris type story, though on the straight team, and once again, just read it.
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“Bunnies.”

“Little…”

“Fuzzy…”

“Bunnies.”

Every guy, over the course of numerous failed relationships and insane flings, develops a set of stock answers for certain questions. Bare minimum, he develops a formula for answering certain questions with enough cryptic mystery to keep lovers guessing.

It was sometime in early Spring 1997, somewhere out in the Wyoming badlands.

“Maria” and I were in the bed of my old, broke-down Dodge pick-up, staring at the stars and listening to the cassette deck in the cab play the same mix tape over and over again. A dirty sleeping bag, a few miles of grassland and a few lonely snow fences were all that separated our nakedness from the cars cruising down I-25.

For some reason, Maria decided to ask me why I’d suddenly become quiet.

In my version of reality, I’d grown quiet because I was about to fall asleep – my hands tucked behind my head, a gorgeous Chicana girlfriend snuggled up next to me, lying beneath the stars and full of Dos Equis.

Life was good. It was well past midnight. I needed a nap before driving the hour and a half back to Colorado.

But in Maria’s version of reality, I was deep in thought, contemplating the meaning of our relationship, contemplating the sheer romanticism that went along with abducting one’s girlfriend from work for a surprise road trip. In her mind, I was debating whether or not I was actually in love, debating the necessity of my converting to Catholicism to make her mother happy…

I was just about asleep when I felt Maria’s weight shift. I opened my eyes and there she was, sitting on top of me, lighting a Newport, wrapped up in the sleeping bag like a homeless babushka.

“Papi.”

Maria always called me Papi, for some reason.

“What are you thinking about?”

I’ve never particularly liked that question. No one ever asks that question in the middle of meaningful conversation, when ideas are as naked as jaybirds, when what you’re thinking is probably just as relevant as what you’re saying. Nobody asks that question when your thoughts are clear and your mind crisp.

No, the only time anyone seems to ask the “what are you thinking about?” question is wen you’re thinking about nothing in particular, when there’s no thought process to explain.

It was then that I developed my stock answer to that question. Maria kept staring, waiting for an answer. I started to panic, afraid I’d say something really stupid. It was then, as my then-girlfriend stared at me, waiting for some Shakespearean soliloquy or something, that I blurted out perhaps the dumbest answer ever to that question.

“Bunnies.”

Maria stared at me like a dog stares at its owner on the toilet, that “What the Fuck?” look etched in her face for what felt like an eternity.

“Little…fuzzy…bunnies.”

It was the first thing that popped into my head. I couldn’t explain it then; I can’t explain it now. It is perhaps the most cryptic answer I’ve ever given to any question – I don’t even know what it means.

Maria asked me to explain. At first, she thought I was joking. Then, for some reason, she thought I was talking about some old Jimmy Stewart flick, the one about the imaginary rabbit. Then, as I stuttered and stammered from attempted machismo recovery to attempted machismo recovery, we both started laughing uncontrollably.

“Maria” never asked me that question again. And to this day, I answer that post-sex question with the same answer.

“Bunnies.”

“Little…”

“Fuzzy…”

“Bunnies.”

I’ve never had the same woman ask that question more than once. It’s too painful to laugh that hard more than once.

What am I thinking? Hell if I know…

A guy’s gotta have stock answers to certain questions.

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Filed Under: Uncategorized

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Comments

  1. Doug says

    September 18, 2006 at 12:34 pm

    Zenfo, that was a pretty good answer.

    Among all the mysteries of women, first is the fact that they don’t seem to understand empty-mindedness. How can a human think all the time? I try to save all my thinking for the waitress.

  2. dan says

    September 18, 2006 at 12:48 pm

    Now, you know what happens when you let the secrets of the fraternity slip out?

    Yep. The big hairy men in the SUV come to break your legs.

    Happy?

  3. Smurf says

    September 18, 2006 at 1:29 pm

    Bunnies… wow… Well, I guess a cheesy thing you could have said with that is “You know bunnies are really cute and cuddly and they have a GREAT love life!” 😉

    I remember some of the stories from around this time Mr Zenfo Pro… but I guess, I won’t go into some of the memories, but this is the first time I heard about your trip to Wyoming.

  4. g says

    September 18, 2006 at 2:12 pm

    Well that’s the first I’ve ever heard that. I’ll file it because women need stock answers as well, especially for kids – bunnies. Yeessss.

  5. Tor says

    September 18, 2006 at 8:38 pm

    The answer that works, no matter how many times I use it, is “I was just thinking about how much I love you/ how beautiful you are.”

  6. EsotericWombat says

    September 19, 2006 at 12:08 am

    brilliant

  7. Pia savage says

    September 19, 2006 at 7:59 am

    Second the Wombat

    I almost challenged people not to stop laughing–I couldn’t

  8. Bone says

    September 19, 2006 at 11:02 am

    Agree with Doug and Dan. Your legs will be fine in 3 to 6 months.

    One of my favorite questions was, “We’ve never had a fight. What do you think we’ll argue about when we argue?”

    Can’t leave well enough alone.

  9. kyahgirl says

    September 19, 2006 at 11:28 am

    that’s a pretty good answer! Have you ever seen bunnies have sex? I watched a documentary on the development of the birth control pill and they had quite a bit of footage of bunny sex in there. Your answer could be a good lead in to more sex and eventually the sleep you wanted.

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About Me

I live in the South, not South Florida, a few blocks from the ocean, and two blocks from the main street. It's called Main Street. Amazes me too.

I'm from New York. I mostly lived in the Mid-Upper East Side, and the heart of the Upper West Side. It amazes me when people talk about how scared they were of Times Square in the 1970's and 1980's.

As my mother said: "know the streets, look out and you'll be fine."

What was scary was the invasion of the crack dens into "good buildings in good 'hoods." And the greedy landlords who did everything they could to get good tenants out of buildings.

I'm a Long Island girl, and proud of it now.
Then I hated everything about the suburbs. Yet somehow I lived in a few great Long Island Sound towns after high school.

Go to archives "August 2004" if you want to begin with the first posts.

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