Zimagal Monthly Magazine - Volume One, Issue Ten

Random Rant:
Why does it seem so difficult to find a man who enjoys foreign films? Does the testosterone set deem them too "girly" or is it that a film without Bruce Willis or Sylvester Stallone is just not fit for their consumption? :::adding "real men enjoy foreign films" to her list:::

Bonjour, friends and enemies! Welcome to another festive round of complaints and observations. I try my best to be the most irritable when I compose this page, but I think I have yet to reach the upper echelons of "curmudgeonliness" (if I may be allowed to coin such a word.) Sit on the edge of your seat and enjoy!

Ring Ding
I used to work in a jewelry store here in Baltimore, and I occasionally go back to visit or work part-time. Recently, the store had a huge half-off sale and I was called in to help. Our goal was to sell the sale items only, but we still got young couples coming in, stubbornly insisting on looking at loose diamonds. Not wanting to lose potential sales, we acquiesced and granted special privileges to them, thereby reducing the number of staff on the sales floor. Besides this annoyance, we also had to contend with regular customers telephoning to inquire about their custom jewelry in progress. Not being one to defend this store, which drove me so crazy when I worked there that I had to quit and pursue my more staid and calm job as WebGoddess, I must say this: the custom jewelry produced by this shop is most exquisite. The goldsmiths are all consummate artists, and as anyone can tell you, artists are temperamental. That said, I'll go on.

There was one customer who called while I was taking a break; my former co-worker Bonnie fielded the call, as it was her customer. He apparently wanted his fiancee's ring to be done that day so they could show it to her parents who lived in another state. Unfortunately, Bonnie had said the ring might be done when he wanted it (stores always make promises that cannot be kept - just to prevent the customer from going elsewhere. Unfortunately, when that promise is not kept, the customer shops elsewhere the next time.) and he took her word for it. After he finished reaming her a brand new asshole (years in retail often leave people with multiple anuses), he proceeded to call the shop after closing, leaving 3 or 4 long messages on the answering machine. Amusingly, nobody checked the machine for a few days, so the messages were found very late, which rather lessened their impact. I must admit, we had a good chuckle over this man's rant. He sounded like a spoiled brat, making demands and threats.

Jewelry is a privilege, not a right. Those people who kick and scream for their items to be repaired in an inadequate time frame or hand manufactured in a few days need a big reality check. How many cataclysmic events in world history have occurred because someone got his or her jewelry late?

My advice - if you want to wear those fabulous diamond earclips on Saturday, but find that one of the diamonds is missing, DON'T take it to the jeweler on Friday, expecting them to be done in time. If you purchase a loose diamond, then spend six weeks hemming and hawing over the perfect design, don't expect the completed ring to be on your hand in ten days.

Another thing to remember: although the store might treat you as such, YOU are not the only customer they have. Not everyone can be first. Remember, good things come to those who wait.

Random Rant
A female friend and I recently purchased some cigars from a tobacco shop in White Marsh. The sales associate (for lack of a better term) asked us if we wanted our cigars cut. Is this customary? Does he ask everyone or just "helpless females"...as if we weren't capable of performing the ceremonial cigar bris on our own! I looked at him savagely and told him that I preferred biting the end off myself, thank you very much.

Random Rant
Apparently I have stoked the wrath of one particular loser egomaniac. Perhaps if he did not have such a large ego, he would not always assume I am talking about him. Indeed, he is such an insignificant pockmark that he is not worth speaking about. Note: any man who is reading this right now and thinks I am referring to him should run, not walk, to the nearest psychologist.

~~King~~ ~~Prince~~ Joker for a Day?
I recently purchased a book, entitled Dick for a Day. What Would You Do If You Had One? (New York: Villard, 1997) It's premise is simple: if you were given a penis to use for 24 hours, what would you do with it? This outrageous question was posed to such famous women as Sydney Biddle Barrows (the Mayflower Madame), Terry McMillan (author of Waiting to Exhale and How Stella Got Her Groove Back), and Isadora Alman (columnist - Ask Isadora), et al. Their answers were various and amazing, expressed in the forms of poetry, prose, and even art. Some women expressed feelings of revenge: peeing on the floor and the walls and leaving it for someone else to clean up, as her brothers did when she was younger; harassing a slumbering boyfriend with her early morning "wood", as he usually did to her. Others expected to feel more "manly" in possession of a penis. Occasionally, this was positive - the woman had more confidence and felt, well, empowered (I do hate that word, but it seemed appropriate.) But in other instances, it was negative - with a penis, the woman became a swaggering, obnoxious, leering, testosterone-soaked jackass with one thing on her mind (guess).

So what would I do if I had a penis? Well, the only penis envy I have ever experienced concerned the male of the species' ability to urinate anywhere, anytime. I think I would just have a foray into the woods, where there are no public toilets, and water all the trees - because I could.

Now I will pose this question of you. What would you do if you had a dick for 24 hours? (Men, feel free to contribute your answers - I know there are several of you who wish you had a penis, or at least some balls.)

Re-Opening Old Wounds
Like many women (and men), I save my old love letters. On occasion, I go through them and relive old memories, letting them wash over me like bathwater - warm and comforting. But occasionally, the feeling is more to an extreme, perhaps like a cold shower or a too-hot tub. Reminiscences can often be cruel, bringing back a once-forgotten pain, as sharp as a papercut; indeed bringing tears to the eyes as well.

I was going through sundry small files on various diskettes and on my hard drive, trying to decide if any were worth keeping. I happened upon a clutch of similarly titled files, snippets of conversations and saved e-mails from an old flame. This man had a romantic soul - his words were not flowery, but they were heart-felt. As I re-read them, I remembered how I felt about him years ago. And I felt the sting of disappointment, not only that of a particular failed relationship, but also of relationships since that time. Looking through more files, I see that I have saved nothing from beaux since this man. Was it because I did not feel as deeply for any of them? Well, that is partially true. The real reason: there was not a romantic bone in their collective bodies.

There is a small pleasure in finding an e-mail that reads simply, "I was thinking about you; I hope you had a fantastic day! :)" In this age of electronic media, I find that it is more likely that I will receive this sort of message, rather than a hand-written one, or even a phone call (if I receive any messages at all). E-mail is convenient, and I rely on it quite a bit. I often send cheery messages to friends and lovers, mostly because I hate the phone. And once in a while, I get a similar message in return - but seldom from a man; never from a boyfriend.

I decided to keep the files from this old beau. Although I no longer carry a torch for him, I can appreciate those long-past sentiments. He is the only man I have known for whom I have fond memories - both in my head, and on my hard drive :)

Stay Tuned For the Next Exciting Bitchfest!

Random Rant
I only too often bash men. That is so unfair of me. There are many women who deserve to be bashed as well, most especially those women who you think are friends who suddenly turn traitor. But I firmly believe that "every dog has his (or her) day."

Random Rant
In the words of the immortal Ira Gershwin: "the happiest men all got rhythm." That's likely to make women happy too.

Random Rant
At an Orioles game recently, I saw a most unappetizing sight - a woman with legs so hairy they rivaled a man's, clad in short shorts. The hair was from thigh to ankle a dark blonde cloud, making her legs seem blurred. All I want to know is - why?? Ick.

Randon Rant
If you don't like what I have to say, then why do you continue to read on? :)))