The tables are small and space is cramped, so it’s fortunate that my companions do not include the large women from the bar. One end is dominated by a younger version of Woody Allen sitting next to a Renée Zellweger look-alike, who is genuinely surprised to hear it. “But I usually get Helen Hunt,” she … More Dinner For Misfits: Part 2 by C.J. Michaels
Last time I attended a Spanish-themed singles dinner at La Tasca, I went dancing, collected three phone numbers and woke up with a beautiful South American who graced my apartment for the weekend. It’s with the memory of that success that I walk the short distance from my Federal Hill apartment to Baltimore’s Inner Harbor … More Dinner For Misfits: Part 1 by C.J. Michaels
The thing about blind dates is that you’re expected to be nervous and shy and maybe socially inept. If you weren’t at least some of that, you’d be out trawling the bars, hunting for whatever you could find who’s either drunk or uncaring enough to take home. Doing the personals is easier – there are … More Dates From Hell: #2 (Rebecca, 1995) a.k.a. The Gnome by C.J. Michaels
It seems that Deirdra’s musical taste is similar to mine and she’s chosen some of the same songs. “Dance with me,” she says, when Summer Wind plays again and I suffer a sudden fit of nerves as she takes my hand and leads me away from the bar. I’m not a good dancer. Wiggling around … More Fly Me To The Moon: Part Two by C.J. Michaels
She comes in when I’m at the jukebox. Must’ve been only moments behind and glided in without touching the floor, because I didn’t hear a thing. Not the tap of a stiletto, the patter of a road shoe or the rubbery squeak of a sneaker and it is only Yan’s warning cough from behind the … More Fly Me to the Moon: Part One by C.J. Michaels
The man who rocked the fifties into high gear has become an octogenarian. Unlike his peers, however, he seems to care little for audience appreciation and the fingerpicking genius who gave us the likes of ‘Mabelline’, ‘Roll Over Beethoven’ and ‘Johnny B Goode’, has all but disappeared. What’s taken his place is an image of … More Duck Walker turns Eighty by C.J. Michaels
There are better places to spend a Friday lunchtime, on a late summer’s day in Paris, than squeezed into a baking hot corner table in Café Didot by the door to the old-fashioned squat toilet. Outside would be preferable. My lungs wouldn’t be in meltdown from the chlorine bleach that pervades the restaurant and the … More A La Carte by C.J. Michaels
Mondays are cool. I like Mondays. Not because of some deficiency in my mental process or because I am damaged in some way or simply weird, but because I understand them. Now, I comprehend the week and know the characteristics of its days intimately and can say that Mondays are special. The problem with Mondays, … More Monday, Monday by C.J. Michaels Issue 16
The Ovi 