Author alarmed by gang of nude men fawning over her puppies
October 12, 2009
Close Encounters of the Naked Kind
Alright, so Mark and I were walking Olive and our as-yet-unnamed-puppy on the beach last night when a naked man approached us. As you may recall, I inadvertently moved my family next to a nude beach about a year ago. It’s the nude beach for aging gay guys to be exact. The nude beach for hot young gay guys is located in South Beach. I don’t know where the nude beach for heterosexuals or lesbians can be found but perhaps you can google that. Anyhow, this man wearing only (and I mean ONLY) black knee socks, brown sandals and a couple of mosquito bites went absolutely gaga over our dogs. ”Oh my God! They’re adorable. What kind are they?” ”Pomeranians,” I said as I stared at his penis trying to decide if he was indeed naked (he was). Then, several other naked men approached (8 to be exact), all making adoring remarks about our dogs. ”Is the black one one a puppy?” Nude-guy-with-saggy man-breasts asked. ”What are their names?” Naked-man-offering-Mark-a-beer wanted to know. ”Where is Pomerania exactly? Is it near England?” Nude-guy-whose-entire-body-was-waxed (ouch! ouch! ouch!) wondered.
Now, I consider myself an open-minded person. I adore gay men – young ones, elderly ones, hairy ones, hairless ones. I am perfectly fine with nudity. I love when people compliment my dogs. But for some reason, the combination of the above alarmed me. Maybe I’ve watched too many episodes of Law and Order, but my gut said that we were about to be attacked by a gang of naked gay old men. Could one of them be carrying a gun? But where? Did they have rope to tie us up? Oh my God, I thought, the leashes! Even with Mark by my side, I was unnerved to be surrounded by so many random penises on that dark, lonely beach. ”Where is Pomerania, Mark?” I asked in an effort to bond with my possible future captors. ”It’s in the far east,” one of the guys suggested. ”Ah, of course it is,” I said. ”Well, not to be nude, er, a prude, I mean rude, we must be going,” I said, grabbing Mark and very possibly saving his life. Did I overreact? You decide.
An act of husband disobedience
In case you’re wondering about our as-yet-unnamed-puppy or Bronco-Bandit-Brownie-Teddy Quinn as we sometimes call him, I found him on my trip to New York a few weeks ago. Ever since, Schuyler moved to Manhattan to attend acting school, she had been clamoring for us to replace her with a puppy. Mark was adamently against that idea and as I boarded my plane, he said to me (via cellphone), “Whatever you do, DON’T get a puppy.” I don’t know about you but when someone tells me not to do something, that’s all I can think about doing. On day-2 of my trip, I visited the pet store where we’d gotten our beloved Pomeranian, Olive (Schuyler’s bribe for moving to Miami, for which she immediately abdicated responsibility) and there he was – this perfect black little bear-like puppy with big brown eyes that said, “Buy me. Buy me.” So, I bought him thinking I would give him to Mark as a surprise because, let’s face it, what better surprise than the puppy you ordered your wife NOT to get. That was the plan but the day after we took the dog, the store owner called my house and left a message asking how the new puppy was doing. Damn that store owner and her big, fat mouth! Mark reacted exactly as I expected – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Luckily, he didn’t insist that I return the dog and he has since fallen in love with him (whew! Dodged that bullet.) We now have two cats and two dogs, but at least I’ll never suffer from empty nest syndrome.
This will gross you out and make you think less of me
I’m back in Miami after a six-week hiatus (visiting Berlin, New York, Tucson, and generally goofing off). After a week at Canyon Ranch with my mother, I was anxious to put my new workout schedule into practice. So Saturday, I’m in the gym doing my interval work on the cross-trainer when a giant bug attacked me from behind. Seriously, it looked like a roach with TV antennas and angel-sized wings. The thing was as big as a flying mouse (the kind they have in Pomerania). I was afraid to kill it (the crunch, the crunch – eawww!) so I asked one of my neighbors who was on the Elliptical machine to do it. ”Tom” refused my request even though I told him to suck it up and be a man. His name isn’t really “Tom.” It’s Joe, but I don’t want to use his real name because he subscribes to my newsletter. Whoops. Anyway, Joe thought we should call maintenance and have them come in with bug spray. This is what happens when you live in an ultra-luxury building where the staff does everything but wipe your ass. You forget how to do simple tasks like taking your own groceries upstairs, carrying your own luggage, or killing a bug. I’m not blaming Joe. I’m as guilty as he. Recently, Bronco-Bandit-Brownie-Teddy tinkled in front of the health club and a staff member immediately appeared to clean it up and I…this is the truly awful part…let him. Eventually, a maintenance man showed up at the gym with a broom and he pummeled the flying roach to his untimely death. I kissed him (the maintenance man, not the roach) and called him “my hero.” See how little it takes to make you a hero, Joe. Think about that.
A new book I recommend
Finally, my friend, Joseph Kanon, has a new book out that I want to recommend. It’s called Stardust. Joe is a wonderful historical novelist, having written Los Alamos and The Good German (this was made into a movie starring my favorite actor, George Clooney – sigh!). As the story opens, Army translator and filmmaker Ben Collier has returned from war-torn Europe and is on a Hollywood-bound train surrounded by industry players. He’s on his way to the hospital where his only sibling, his brother Daniel, is in a coma and not expected to live. The details, delivered by Danny’s wife Liesl over a bad phone connection, were numbing. Danny was alone at a hotel…a fall from a balcony…a tragic accident, or so the papers said. Later Liesl would suggest that Danny’s employer, or more specifically, his studio’s publicity department, had intervened, turning what was most likely a suicide attempt into a less sensational accident. But Ben can’t quite wrap his brain around the idea that Danny would actually try take his own life. True, the brothers hadn’t been particularly close since their parents’ divorce, but still, the details of what happened are just off. Why would a man with the world by the tail – a beautiful wife, a successful producing career, and a heroic past – try to kill himself? The book has everything you want in a good page-turner – Hollywood in the 40’s, murder, anti-communist loyalty hearings, Auschwitz horrors, war stories, romance and family secrets. If you’re looking to lose yourself in a book, this is a good one. Click this sentence to buy Stardust
Of course, if you haven’t read The Sister Diaries yet, that’s a good one too. Click this sentence to buy The Sister Diaries. Forgive me, but I’m a hopeless book plugger, especially of my own books.
I hope you have a great fall!
Karen
P.S. My friend, BL Ochman’s dog, BennyBix Ochman is in the running to win the cutest dog competition contest (there’s a $1,000,000 prize!). BennyBix is an adorable Labradoodle who is as sweet as he is cute. Check him out by clicking this sentence and give BennyBix your vote.