You are driving in a car at a constant speed. On your left side is a ‘drop off’, (The ground is 18-20 inches below the level you are traveling on), and on your right side is a fire engine traveling at the same speed as you. In front of you is a galloping horse, which is the same size as your car and you cannot overtake it. Behind you is a galloping zebra. Both the horse and zebra are also traveling at the same speed as you. What must you do to safely get out of this highly dangerous situation?
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Get your drunk ass off the merry-go-round! HA!
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On that note, here are two pictures of my Dad and me on the merry-go-round at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco.

My parents came to visit for Christmas of 2005. My whole life was falling apart and they came to support me. They came for five weeks over the holidays and did a lot of construction work on my house. I love them for that. My Dad always said that he’d never come visit the States until the Canadian dollar was at par or above the US dollar. But, he came that year because I needed him. So–again, I love him for that.

Maybe my parents will come again. The Canadian dollar is the highest it’s ever been in my lifetime. Or, maybe–the US dollar is the lowest it’s ever been. Regardless, to anybody visiting San Francisco, the merry-go-round at Fisherman’s Wharf is a pretty good deal–a whole lot of innocent fun for 15 or so minutes for only two dollars. I think that’s what it cost us–two whole dollars. You really can’t beat that–in any currency.

WAY TO GO RACH! I’ve never been more proud of anybody in my life.

So, if you’ve been reading my blog at all, you know a little bit about my friend Rachel Ferguson. She is a 17 year old singer songwriter from Alymer, Quebec (the greater Ottawa-Gatineau region). And, she’s kicking ass! I love it.

Visit her myspace page (myspace.com/rachelfergusonmusic). Become part of her community. Leave a comment. OR Better yet, call your local radio station and request her.

A questionaire from Cyndi Targosz (of Starglow Productions) arrived in my email this morning. She’s asking me (and all of my eligible friends) to fill out a questionnaire about being in a relationship where the woman is older than the man.

I’m going to do it. Not that I have any interesting stories about dating younger men–but I do have an opinion about the entire concept. I think that’s question 10: Additional comments.

I guess I would say to the women in the relationship is: Beware. (I guess you could say that to anybody in any relationship). But here is my warning: Beware that you aren’t his mother figure. That you are taking care of him–and he gets sex to boot–which reminds me of a completely off topic and random ribald joke my Dad told me the other day: Jane and Tarazan meet in the jungle. They are attracted to each other immediately but–Jane has to discuss it all first. “Well, what do you think about it? Where do you think this is coming from? How did you do it before me? How many of them were there?

Most of Tarazan’s answers were simple grunts. Except the one: How did you do it before me? To which he replied: I used a tree. Jane sort of snickered and repeated: A tree? She decides she can definitely teach Tarazan a thing or two about this attraction thing and proceeds to explain how things work in the real (albeit-heterosexual-world). She gets to a point and then lies down on the jungle floor. She motions between her legs and asks: Well? What do you think?

At which point, Tarazan hauls off and kicks her directly in her privates with all the force he can muster. After rolling around on the ground and gaining her breath back, she screeches at him: What the F*** was that for?

Tarazan as calm as ever replies: Checkin for squirrels.

Did you laugh? I’ve now made my Dad promise to tell me a joke a week. I’m going to post them here.

Segue back into the real blogging topic which is about relationships where the woman is older than the man. Women, if you are the older person in this relationship, make sure you are not his mother–well–that warning still applies to women in any relationship. Regardless, if you become his mother–any semblance of flame just flickers and dies and disappears without even a Voldemort potential because–just think about it–who wants to have sex with their mother?

That’s it. That’s all I have to say about that. For all of you folks who might be able to add some insight for Cyndi’s research, click here for her full questionnaire. Help her out. Send her your input. I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you.