Who's on First?

It was during a recent conversation with Scarlet that I realized we really need to cover our bases. Scarlet and I both had different ideas as to what, exactly, constituted getting to third base. A quick look at the urban dictionary didn't really help, since it produced 14 definitions. First and second seem to be pretty clear: kissing (with tongue) and grabbing a feel. But if you ask me, that still seems to leave a lot of uncharted territory between second base and scoring. A few of the urban definitions suggested getting to third as oral sex, but doesn't that seem like a pretty big jump from having your boob grabbed? Maybe I'm just out of the loop, but it seems more likely that teenagers today are simply much more desensitized about oral sex. Actually, if what I've seen on Oprah is true, oral sex could almost be first base. I guess the kissing (with tongue) is a mere sacrifice fly. It won't raise your batting average, but it will get you some pats on the back in the dugout.

If first base is kissing (with tongue), and second is above-the-belt feeling, it seems that an advancement of 90 feet would be anything below the belt. Just like in baseball, I don't really think any more bases need to be covered. If you can acquire a venereal disease, you've scored. That may be old-fashioned, but I also believe they should do away with the DH. I'm a purist.

...And he's back in the game

No, The Highlander didn't kill a spider last night, but two things happened to send his stock soaring.

1. He got a kitten. A beyond adorable itty bitty kitty. A kitten with extra toes so that his front paws look like little mittens. He loves me already. (The cat, not The Highlander.)

2. He got out his guitar. I knew The Highlander could play, and he has two guitars on display in his grown-ups apartment, but last night was the first time he actually played something for me. And it was stuff he had written. And better yet, it didn't suck. Men with guitars are hot. It was all I could do not to jump him right then and there, but I did manage to restrain myself.

When we finally did commence with the post-guitar playing make-out session, I was trying to figure out how to very discreetly unbutton the top buttons to my shirt, since obviously undoing them would damage my cool, aloof, ice queen status. (And believe me, I have the ice queen thing working in my favor right now. I will not relinquish power!) Apparently thinking hard enough about it was all I needed, because it wasn't long before I realized that they had magically opened. If he had any kind of hand in this, then he must be like Joey on Friends, when he opened up Phoebe's shirt without ripping off any of the buttons.

And just like that The Highlander is a serious contender yet again.