well, I'll be dipped in fat free, salty man juice. ain't this a vulva lip twitching comment.
by george, anonymous can write. I damn near flooded the building. my neighbors had the red cross on speed dial. I think they were just hoping for free debit cards. keep the dream alive, my friends.
this might be the same george. the george I knew was chuvvy. funny. big guy. balding at whatever age I knew him. 19, 20-1? he doesn't sound hot. he wasn't, but my god did he have charisma. he made me laugh. a lot. he was smart. he moved to lake tahoe and got thin. came back and tried to fuck me with a baggie. I'm smarter than that even when my olivia isn't. I think he was hungarian. and a heeblette, no? not that it mattered. his father was some fancy shmancy something. I don't remember. I wasn't a trust fund kid. I was a fat kid.
did I ever blow you?
how old are you?
are we the same age?
love the shiksa goddess yarn. stairway to heaven! was she your first? did you marry her? is the torch alive, anon?
From: Anonymous [mailto:email@example.com]
Sent: Thursday, August 31, 2006 7:11 PM
Subject: [katie schwartz]
8/31/2006 07:10:53 PM
Well now that’s funny. George Balog just popped into my mind too. So I googled him, and now here I am on Katie’s blog.
Unlike Katie, I didn’t know George very well. We briefly went to junior high school together in San Francisco. He used to go out with this girl Ilena, who was really hot. There was this one party at which I somehow found myself dancing with her. Long after she had broken up with George, of course. George was a nice guy, but he might have clobbered me. He was such a big kid, you know, that George Balog. Really huge and powerful. Anyway, I guess I asked Ilena to dance, and to my shock and surprise, she said yes. To my even greater shock and surprise, the next song that came on was “Stairway to Heaven!” Can you believe it? The ultimate slow dance song. According to the custom of the day, this meant that Ilena was obligated to slow dance with me, at least until the fast part of the song started, when she would be free to back off and fast dance if she wanted.
But she didn’t! What a night. What a memory. Slowly, we swayed back and forth together, for the full seven minutes plus, even during the "and as we wind on down the road" part. My gangly Jewish-boy-on-a-growth-spurt arms tenderly embracing her perfectly proportioned, stunningly mesomorphic torso. My nose nuzzling into her exotically straight, naturally blonde shiksa hair. She rested her cheek softly against my chest, as though she literally didn’t mind the whole thing at all. It was like a lifetime elapsed in those seven minutes. We never even got to first base. Oh, the pubescent bliss.
So anyway, more than 20 years have elapsed since then, and some other things happened. I don’t have any idea what happened to George, but I’ll tell you one thing, I hope he didn’t become the deputy commissioner of public health awareness or something, because if he did, that whole baggie incident might not be such good publicity for him.
However, and this is my main point here, George wasn't Jewish, was he? I thought he was pretty much Hungarian. At least, my George Balog was. Maybe Katie’s was a different guy. Still, though…
--Posted by Anonymous to katie schwartz at 8/31/2006 07:10:53 PM
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Posted by Katie Schwartz at 7:38 PM