Unnatural urges, or, "That's just not right"

Glenn was home for the holidays, and his awkward meeting with Diana had been crowded out of his mind by all of the festivities. The family had gone ice skating together under the big tree in the town square, read the children Christmas stories as they lulled them to sleep, and watched late night tv together next to the crackling fireplace. Finally, it was Christmas Eve.

Amber was Glenn's cousin. She was always considered the pretty one in the family. Glenn's sister Pam felt robbed, as she was sure she would have been prettier had it not been for a disastrous accident at the Mars candy bar factory that brought 200 gallons of pure, scolding hot chocolate onto her pre-pubescent face during a third-grade field trip. On Christmas Eve the family gathered at Amber's house.

At around midnight Amber went into the kitchen. Glenn followed her and left the family to hang their stockings.

"Amber... can I talk to you?" Glenn asked. She turned around, her golden-brown hair falling gently on her shoulder like the morning dew.

"Yeah, what's up, Glenn?" she asked.

"I've been having some... urges. Um, nothing horrible. Well, maybe they are. It's just not right, but it's been driving me crazy."

Amber looked at him with a gaze of confusion and discomfort.

"Glenn, I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"It's just, geez. You know what, nevermind," Glenn turned to leave.

"Glenn, your my cousin. Thoughts like that are just wrong."

"Like... oh wait! Ha! You think I want to have sex with you? Oh man, is my face ever red! No, I just wanted to put your cat in the dishwasher. I hate that little fucker. Thought he could use a lesson in who the boss is," Glenn said.

"Jesus, Glenn. How much eggnog have you had tonight?" Amber asked.

"I lost count."

"Stay away from my cat," she added.

"Yeah, that's probably for the best."

As Glenn turned to go, Amber stole a glance at his ass.

"It really is too bad," she thought to herself.

Is That a Banana... Part 2

"Glenn looked up at the clock on the restaurant wall and realized they'd been talking for almost four hours. 'I should really let you go,' he said. 'Aw, if you have to,' she answered. It had a been a great night. Diana managed to touch him in a way no other woman could, mostly on account of her very sharp fingernails. Just by holding hands she had cut him up like an intern surgeon at a less than reputable hospital. As they both got up, Diana flashed him a smile.

'You know, you're not nearly as big an asshole as that horrible suit led me to believe,' she said. Glenn paused.

'My mother bought me this suit. Right before she and my puppy were killed in a freak explosion on our houseboat.'

'God, this is awkward,' Diana said."
--Excerpt from Is that a Banana in Your Vagina, or are We Making Love? by Greg Sidor

Welcome back. So now you know the names of the two main characters in the story. Glenn and Diana. Glenn is pretty much an everyman, working a decent job but not "livin' la vida loca" by any means. Well, maybe in the eyes of a child in a Somali slum. But most of us would be underwhelmed by his lifestyle. Glenn has been searching for love in all the wrong places, like under sofas and in between seat cushions. But he's a fighter, and tonight he's found someone.

Then there's Diana. Diana is a slut. She doesn't mean to be. She just falls in love too easily and gives it away like banks hand out toasters with new accounts. She gets her heart broken a lot. But so far she's clear of any diseases, so she can still sleep at night. Besides spreading her legs more often than Michael Moore says, "Biggie size that," she's a pleasant girl. She has a heart of gold and donates to charities every year, especially around Christmas, when she feels guilty about living a life with satellite tv when some people can't afford a pot to piss in. And those who can afford the pot but can't summon the motivation to dump it out into the alleyway every once in a while.

You'll get some more insight into both of these people in the coming days. Now for something completely different...

I haven't seen some of you in a long time. For my L.A. friends, that means you have to call me so that we can hang out before Xmas. I leave on the 20th until the 26th. For my Chicago posse, mark your calendars. Think of people you'd like me to dedicate songs to on the radio. People you don't like. That's all for now. Sidor Out.

De-virginizing my New Blog

"She shyly looked at me from across the room, batting the kind of eyes that African voodoo doctors used to covet for their secret potions. I knew right away that this could only end one of two ways: we'd fall in love over a drink and some small talk, or by midnight I'd be locked in the trunk of a beat up Nova headed towards Mexico." -- selection from Is that a Banana in Your Vagina, or are We Making Love?, by Greg Sidor.

The New York Times Review of Books gave my first foray into the romantic novel "two quill pens" out of a possible four. While entranced by my multifaceted characters, the reviewer was somewhat put off by my repeated references to the mating habits of the lowland gorilla and their similarities to those of drunken frat boys. The Wall Street Journal said the book was alright, except that there wasn't a single mention of mutual funds, stocks, or currency fluctuations. Finally, the Watchtower, a publication of the Jehovah's Witnesses, said that my characters' inability to enjoy any holiday fit quite well with their belief system, and recommended their members give it a go.

Obviously, I have been misunderstood.

This blog will highlight my efforts to write the perfect piece of American literature. Only by reading my innermost thoughts on this blog will you be able to understand what I'm trying to do. I'll stay with one novel/play/song/poem until it gets on my nerves and drives me to insanity, and then I'll move onto another piece. So please, come along for the ride. Must be this tall -. No pregnant women. Or women who want to be pregnant in the near future... cause that ain't even on my radar!

I'll be sure to update this on a regular basis. Thank you for joining me. Hold my hand, and we might just make literary history together.