Another "Beer Free" Sunday

"Here I am, feeling like a fucking fool
Do I react the way exactly she intends me to?
Every time I think I'm off the hook,
She makes me lose my cool
I'm her machine
And she can punch all the keys,
She can push any button I was programmed through."

-Billy Joel

I wish I could say I've been too busy to write lately, but that would be bullshit. No bullshit here on this blog. Just bitching. (NOTE TO THE READERS: On AOL, the word "blog" is still being flagged on the spell check. Get with the times, you corporate fucks.) On the plus side, I'm about to unveil a brand new column! It's going to be a semi-regular column, just like Classic Broad of the Month used to be--and just Classic Broads, this column will be yet another way for me to obsess over 80's pop culture. I'm not sure why I'm so obsessed with the 80's. I didn't exactly have an idyllic childhood, trust me. Maybe I just miss my old parachute pants. Who knows?

On a different note, here's an interesting story for you all; I actually talked to Julia the other day (aka "My Russian Fan"). This marks the first time I ever gave my phone number to a reader of mine. I don't plan on making a habit out of it, but I figured that it would be okay in this instance. For whatever reason, she really seemed to want to talk to me--and who am I to turn that down? Besides, I kept having visions of Kournikova dancing through my head...

Unfortunately, Julia forgot to take into account the time difference between Michigan and Russia, so my phone rang at 7:00am. I was a little annoyed, seeing as how I had just managed to doze off less than two hours before, but it was all good. It turns out that Julia is an English teacher, so she spoke the language like a pro. Plus, I thought the Russian accent was kind of hot. I kept complimenting her on her English, saying she spoke the language better than a lot of the people who live here. She laughed at that, thinking I was joking. I wasn't.

I really did enjoy talking to her, though, and it was a bit surreal. Having grown up under the shadow of the bomb during the peak of the Cold War, I never anticipated that I would one day be chatting with a Russian girl at the crack of dawn. She was so sweet, telling me what an "honor" it was to speak to me. Seriously, how many women are going to tell you something like that during the course of your stupid, pointless life? I wish more single American women had her attitude. I wouldn't even know what to do with myself, you know?

JEREMY THE LONER: "Can I buy you a drink?"

HOT SINGLE WOMAN: "It would be an honor for me."

JEREMY THE LONER: "Um... you'll have to excuse me. I think I'm about to have a panic attack."

I can't say THAT'S ever happened, but then again, I'm way too insecure to approach an anonymous woman at a bar and blurt something out like that--not even after five Long Island Ice Teas and two pitchers of Molson. Maybe I should go to Europe and try it there--they might dig losers like me on the other side of the world. Maybe I could even find a country that's so backward, the women there think I'm a hottie. You know, a country where you could take 50 American dollars and live like a king for a year.

Aw, never mind.

Anyway, I'm almost done with that column I mentioned before. If you happen to actually give a shit about such things, keep an eye on the main page.