2002-12-06 - 12:50 p.m.

You know what? I think that grown men shouldn't try to be cute around other men. It's weird.

Anyway. It's not that I have a "manly men" thing. I just want people to act fucking mature.

Do people act like grown-ups in Europe? Is there anywhere on this god-forsaken rock where females stop acting like girl-geisha-nymph-"naughty"-Lolita-cockteasers and become women, aware of their sexuality, power, and responsibility? And of course, is there any place where, at some point, guys can stop playing and goofing around for five fucking minutes to think about something seriously? And I don't mean going from playful to pouty--"Hey buddy, whatchadoin'?" to "Man, I got no money, boo-fuckin'-hoo..."--I mean, playful with kids or women to grave and solemn and fucking adult!

Jesus Christ! The kids are more mature than the twenty-somethings! I'm so fucking lucky I found a woman who's a woman. I don't know what would happen to me.

Anyway. Menchildren aside, yesterday was fun. Saw the Grandmother, drove into eastern Kentucky to her house, real peaceful, real scary. Kentucky has made me want New York City more than Orlando.

Then, that afternoon, I got home, realized Meg was at class, and so went to finally meet an old friend of mine, whom I had not been able to see the day previous because of not having a car. Saw her, met her boyfriend, saw their home. Apparently they have a succubus upstairs. Odd. Anyway, got home, talked to Megan for about an hour, read two chapters of Indian history and then passed out.

But the day before that was even better. In the early evening, Pixie (Dad's wife) comes up on the back porch and apologizes before asking for my help with something. I say sure and ask what. She tells me that the llama is out.

The llama is out. Apparently llamas are very stubborn creatures and ones loving of cold weather. The coats, you see. So he's walking around, making sounds approximately tranlatable as "I'm a llama. I'm so cool. You can never understand, as you are not a llama, but I am, and I'm so fucking cool... Lead me to the alpaca poontang." The llama's words, not mine.

So Pixie says stand by the gate, I'll lead him around the house. I stand by the gate, and she leads him around the house, but from the side she had not originally intended, because llamas are crafty beings. So I go to the other side of the fence.

Now there's a big yard. Good forty feet, I'd say. So I'm playing defense against a llama, Pixie advancing behind the Andean menace to avoid his doubling back and escaping again. So I maneuver and scare the llama back to the other side of an all-terrain vehicle that is parked by the open gate. Suddenly, the monster tries to go around me, higher on the sloping field. I slip in the ice, just as--I swear it--the llama predicted. Because He is a goatly god, and He shall not slip when combat-booted humans Do.

Pixie throws this pole she'd used to steer the llama earlier. It hits on the llama's left side, just as she planned it, making him move back to the fence. This is all the hesitation I need. I gain my footing, move swiftly enough to get the llama back in the gate, and then he's in and the gate is closed and the llama is foiled. South-central Kentucky is safe. For now.

Llamas are fun and I suggest any supposedly great minds to test their mettle against such worthy adversaries.

But be warned. One can never prepare for llamas.

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