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55 M Brooklyn, NY

I’m looking for

  • Straight girls only
  • Ages 34–50
  • Near me
  • Who are single
  • For long-term dating, casual sex

My Details

Last Online
Today – 1:43pm
Body Type
Banking / Finance
Relationship Status
Relationship Type
Likes dogs and likes cats
English (Poorly)

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My self-summary
Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
I like cats, and, for the most part, they seem to genuinely like me ('s some elaborate hoax?!?). Currently, I don't have any, nor do any have me (<- this 2nd part seemed like something chicks would dig...or say). I never appreciated chihuahuas until about three years ago, when I became best friends with one, Rocky. Unfortunately - because I miss him terribly - I no longer have any dealings with his family (of humans). I like to imagine if I saw him again, he'd come running up to me, jump in my arms, and lick my face as if it were slathered with Alpo. But who knows.
There are other aspects of my life besides domestic animals, to be sure, but ... yeah.

I am equally at ease in sweats or capris as I am in an evening gown, but I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that.
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
Buying it beer and treating it to hookers for its 21st birthday. Wait, what? Oh, my life. Right. Well, this hasn't been such a great millenium for me so far. The prior one wasn't too bad, though. A good chick would go a long way towards turning things around. In the meantime, like most sane humans, I'm just trying to increase my carbon footprint. You know, Al Gore style.
(If 'chick' offends your sensibilities, try mentally substituting the word 'chica').

Also, right now I'm wishing I had come up with a catchier, less pedestrian name here. Like.......MephistoSchmaltz. Or something. JeffS827...ugh.
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
Oh neat, another brutal, self-assessment question. Fucking site. I will say...there are lots of things I find interesting, but I tend to seldom get past the ability to sound as if I know what I'm talking about, while in reality possessing only a smattering of sciolistic knowledge (albeit sometimes getting paid for it).
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
Is that an aubergine in your pants, or did Hélène Grimaud just walk by?
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
From Roark to Raskolnikov, Holden to Heathcliff, Castaneda to Carton, Yossarian to Yeller, and Portnoy to Pip, I find a wide array of often disparate literary characters interesting. (If reading that nauseated you, I can assure you that writing it was no less a revolting task.) Wodehouse always makes me smile, and often chortle. Rand makes me nod in agreement (and mutter, "fucking commies"). Dawkins makes me wish I could explain things as well as he does (I get it now. Half an eye is 100% better than no eye at all. Take that, crazy creationist museum curator lady!). Currently on my night table is this classic crime thriller written by Jim Thompson. (Someone left it there. I live in a Motel 6.)

Noir (or anything with Ward Bond in it), non-crud, and veal. (To be elaborated upon soon.)

I've decided this question is almost completely irrelevant to a relationship. My ex-wife read Vox, watched BH90210, listened to Alanis and Hanson, wouldn't know Vermeer from vermouth (or uh, Hector Berlioz from a hectare of barley oats?), and kept kosher. And I adored her. So let's skip the rest of this, shall we? (For now, anyway.)

Inspector Gregory: "Is there any other point to which you would wish to draw my attention?"
Holmes: "To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time." Gregory: "The dog did nothing in the night-time."
Holmes: "That was the curious incident."
- Doyle

I would rather watch Kay Francis's worst film than Katherine Hepburn's best. And I have.

Every woman should wear glasses. Every last one of you, irrespective of need. Should any of you ever meet me (please stifle your guffaws), chuck a pair on. If not for me, then for The Children. Or the snail darters. Those obstructive little bastards.

I would pay to listen to Ronald Colman read the label on a can of green beans. And you have no idea who he was. And that suits me just fine.

Bonus Points if you don't award Bonus Points...unless they are Bonus Points awarded to me for awarding you Bonus Points for not awarding Bonus Points.

So Sharlto Copley, the guy in District 9, had no scripted lines. Improvised the whole thing. Also, he'd never really acted before.

And he could not have rocked harder. I mean the dude fucking ruled. Seriously.

Why don't they make songs like this anymore?
(Updated 7/24... because I'm on a Shangs kick.)
Or this?
Or this?
Or this?
Or this?
Or this?
Or even this??
(Thus concludes the portion of our profile in which a cranky old man reminisces about a mythical "simpler time" he lived through but was too young to appreciate, in which everything was better, although in reality, the people who were his current age then likewise bemoaned the inferiority of that era while looking back fondly on the pop culture of their own youth. Hey, what can I say? Call me a laudator temporis acti. Seriously. Call me that.)

"The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there.”
― Hoffer

"If this is Upper Silesia, one wonders what Lower Silesia must be like."
- Wodehouse

"The one constant thread between today and a thousand years from now will be that someone, somewhere, will be planning to kill the Jews."
- Dan Simmons

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.”
- Dick

"The average human has one breast and one testicle."
- Des MacHale

"He was a bold man that first ate an oyster."
- Swift

"Being, I have discovered, has certain disadvantages."
- Greg Egan

"Some day, yeah, we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun."
- The Five Stairsteps

"Bad art was as good as good art. Grammar and spelling were no longer important. To be clean was no better than to be filthy. Good manners were no better than bad. Family life was derided as an outdated bourgeois concept. Criminals deserved as much sympathy as their victims. Many homes and classrooms became disorderly - if there was neither right nor wrong there could be no basis for punishment or reward. Violence and soft pornography became accepted in the media. Thus was sown the wind; and we are now reaping the whirlwind."
- Norman Tebbit

"This business of dropping a farrago of random quotes into one's dating site profile has become the scourge of the internet."
- JeffS827

Thinking about the Dutch Invasion of the early 70s. How it was at once so god-awfully bad and yet...some pretty damned catchy tunes came out of it. Granted, it consisted of:
Cheesy songs.
Bafflingly bad hair.
Unspeakably poor videos.
And a song that may have been responsible for upwards of 60% of all speeding tickets issued in 1971.

Anyway... yeah. Dutch Invasion. I liked it. Is that a problem? Is that a deal breaker?? Ooooo .... he said the D-B words. Tell you what. You change the station when one of the Dutch Invasion songs comes on the radio while we're in the car, and I'll break the deal, ok? Right then and there, baby. Get out. Get out of the car....GTF OUTTT!!!

No wait! Baby wait, come back! I didn't mean it! Seriously honey, I'm sorry.
Come back in the c....SCREEEETCHVRRRROOOOOOOMMM Ha ha! Suckerrrrrrrrrrr! Ahahahaha!! I NEVER LIKED YOUR PARENTS ANYWAY!!!

Unless Venus comes on. You can change Venus without demolishing the relationship. But that's a given. And I have no idea why this is on my profile...although one could make the case for that being true of pretty much every other jejune reflection conveyed herein.
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
See, if I made a list of six, # 7 would be all, "WTF, what about ME? I can't BELIEVE you left me out! Do you even know that bitch, # 5, has fake tits? Gawd, are you stupid. You know what, SCREW YOU! Don't ever call me again!"

So I'll pass on this question.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
Things other than those about which I am not thinking. Right now I'm thinking about how people always say that they're more afraid of mice than elephants, but really, if you saw an elephant in your kitchen, I'm sure you'd be pretty darn scared.
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
Ok, pardon my veering off topic here, but I've noticed that this site is rife with typical NYC leftist women. Most of you are terrifically bright, articulate, funny, accomplished, talented, and wildly good-looking; desirable in almost every way. And as loath as I am to have politics play any role in my social life, I believe that we are at such a dangerous time in American history as to render avoiding the subject nearly impossible.

So please, if phrases such as "Social justice", "Income disparity", "Health care", "Bush", "The Environment", "Sustainability", "Climate (anything)", etc., regularly occupy your thoughts or escape your lips, and of course, if you campaigned for, voted for, or support now in any way the current administration in Washington, it would be best if you ignored my existence.
We'd be hopelessly incompatible.

I know. I know. I know.

You're crying in your matzoh ball soup.

You thought I was THE one.

Here. Have a sigh emoticon. On me. :- \
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
If I were willing to admit it here...(I've noticed a lot of people use that line. But honestly, I came up with it myself.)

Hold on. I just thought of something fairly innocuous. I could live on soy sauce. And burnt cheese. And cold, leftover chicken. But not all at once. Also, occasionally, I like a tablespoon of mayonnaise....straight. Ovaltine (dry), too. Again, not in combination. And not too occasionally.

I know every Arby's between Brooklyn and Rochester.
(NY & NY respectively)

I wear colored underpants.

I can't eat less than three Mallomars at a time.

I'm a very religious, but not at all spiritual person. Yeah, it's all about those crazy little rites for me. Baby.

There have been times when I have lusted after teriyaki in my heart. Forgive me, soy sauce.

I have no Mallomar ceiling.

I just hate the smell and feel of paper books. That nauseating stench, that disgusting tactile sensation. But reading online? Omg, I just put my face up against the screen...grab that monitor...and...snifffffffmmmmm. So good. So fucking good.

I can't quite determine what exactly it is that makes a dog a terrier. What exactly does this little hydrant sniffer have in common with this proud feller, other than their shared caninity? Yet, there they are. Terriers.

Sometimes - maybe 15% of the time - I feel that the only reason I ate a meal was so I could shove a hunk of chocolate in my mouth immediately afterward.

When I'm not actually playing this over and over, I'm playing it over and over in my mind.

Hmm. That might have been the wrong link. It's possible I meant this. As if you're clicking either one, anyway. I know links suck. DON'T PATRONIZE ME!

I stopped watching Game of Thrones after they killed off Ned Stark in the ninth episode. Because really, wtf?

Yes, right, it's from a book. Or ten. I'm aware. I didn't read them. Change it for HBO. Do you think the audience would have stayed with the Sopranos if Tony had gotten knocked off in episode nine?

I don't know if I've ever parboiled anything. I may have; I just don't know.

One more thing (yeah, right): If you are entering or exiting some edifice, and I am more than thirty-five feet behind you, do me a favor and DON'T hold the door for me. The pressure to hurry up and honor your courtesy is just one more thing that I don't need today.

Plus, you're just gonna casually let go of that door when I'm about four feet back, anyway. You think I don't know what you're up to with that move? Eat me, premature doorholder.

How does one determine when sour cream has gone bad?

When something is said to have been debunked, it's been proven to be......bunk. Right? So why the de prefix? Applying that linguistic logic would have guys saying things such as, "I'd really like to debone that young lady right there." Yet, I'm not hearing that. Unless I've missed it.

I thought of something today while driving that I wanted to add here, but I didn't write it down, and now it's gone from my brain. Crap.

OH! I REMEMBER! So, it goes like this:
Hey Twentysomethings, or basically everyone half my age or less. Here's a bit of news. You didn't discover cupcakes. Especially Red Velvet. Or zombies. Or fucking bacon. So would you mind giving it a rest for a few minutes? Hmm?

Ok, maybe you DID discover Red Velvet. But the rest? Zip it.

This. Will. Never. Get. Old.

Hey, why hasn't the actress who played Lily in that found-footage horror flick, V/H/S, gotten a lot of parts since then? She was great! And so hot.

Please don't pre-thank me for anything. It will more than likely disincentivize me from doing whatever it is you're trying to get me to do with your passive-aggressive approach. Thank you.

When the hell did this section become my blog? Two hundred lines up? Yeah. I guess. Well, it's too late now.

Is it wrong that I would like for the next news story I hear that starts with the words, "The Reverend Al Sharpton..." to end with the words, "has been struck by lightning, and is a vegetable." ?

I regret never having seen Neil Young perform live. I hope I get to do that some day. What? I can't pass a straight comment?

The girl I'm "seeing" pocket dials me more often than she intentionally dials me.

I recently switched back to chunky peanut butter after having been on smooth for many years, and now I'm wondering what it was that made me leave the fold in the first place. Was it because I'd gotten married, or could there have been some other external factor, like a dental issue? Or was I just out of my fucking mind?

I think this would have made me cry even if I weren't (wasn't? Help me, Grammar Girl.) sleep deprived when I watched it.

Am I supposed to have read A Prayer for Owen Meany by now? Because I think you should know that I haven't.

I've noticed that So is the new Well, a development I can live without.

Freddie Scott, I'm not sure if I'm familiar with the entirety of your oeuvre (or if you even have one), but you fucking nailed it this time.

Okay, I have one rule. Just one. Do not put chocolate in the fridge. I don't care if we just took a co-op in Death Valley, and it's 131° in the shade; leave that Lindt on the counter. Those Hershey's Kisses are now a fast-flowing molten river? Totally fine with that. What's that, Babe? You say I'll need a straw to eat my Ghirardelli? Good. Ask me how I feel about this Cadbury's change of phase to a plasma state.......I LIKE IT LIKE THAT, HONEY.

I don't want a cold, hard chocolate bar. Everything else is open to negotiation.

Excuse me, God, but did You make a rather heavy-handed attempt to prove Your existence to me, or did I just not use this as directed?

As a comedy sexist, it would really bother me that this chick has finally, I must concede, surpassed me as a humorist (yeah, I know, stop the parade), were it not for the fact that we're longtime site friends. Which means we've never actually met.

Which sucks, because I'd totally hit that. Yes. Even with that nose.

I cannot believe the amount of footwear I have purchased online. Who am I, and what have I become?

I've got $10 for anyone who accidentally knocks Bob Costas's teeth down his throat.

Another great song SoundHounded in a McD's. Last week it was this mellow number with the catchy refrain. Way to go, fast food ceiling speaker.

Whoa. Bartholdi was a good-looking man!

Coney Islander. Jew. Rock n Roll Animal. R.I.P.

I once wore socks with penny loafers.

It's possible I just posted the LEAST private things about myself I'm willing to admit here. Least private. Fuck does that even mean? Coffee. I need.
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
You like my Alpo-slathered face more than you want to dig your heel into my big toe.

(Hey, it's possible!)