2001-07-23 | 5:23 p.m.

corduroy licorice had a lot of skeletons in his closet. his dad worked at a factory which made plastic models of the human body for science class labs and he often brought his work home. mrs. corduroy liked to call mr. corduroy "bone daddy," even though she knew it grossed corduroy out when she did.

***

men are funny. they say the darndest things. i went to a party this weekend and was treated to these 'lil gems in casual conversations:

"you know, women dress like they want to f*ck, and then you get them in bed...and nothing."

"i've been single for eight months. i mean, i sport f*ck..."

sport f*ck. that's a new one on me.

blunt much?

***

his demeanor seemed brooding. his body stiff beneath his thinly woven designer sweater. definitely in no way amused. tall, dark, handsome. cutting comments interjected with cynical precision. hmmm...all indicators point to: arrogant jerk. jane eyre would have so dug him. his heights were totally wuthered.

one-on-one conversation presented itself after the circle of party goers experienced natural attrition. cold beer and warm conversation unpeeled chilly exterior to reveal intriguing soul beneath. anticipated lame factor of party suddenly dropped.

life is funny. not unlike men.

***

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