and not necessarily in the good way.
wink wink.
today was "take a skinny friend to the gym" day.
she put one of my boys' belts on.
and it fit.
they are 3, remember.
she sucks, but it was lots of fun.
i now wish i had someone cool to work out with on a regular basis.
but she usually works.
damn jobs.
i had the kookiest dream EVER last night, wherein my husband had a live-in mistress and i was cool with it.
she was hot.
but then she told me that he loved her, and showed me the (tiny) diamond ring he had given her.
and i freaked out.
screaming threats, etc.
one of those dreams where you wake up feeling out of breath and angry.
in other words: he's MINE, back off, bitch.
what's that i hear?
holy shit on a stick, i think it's---could it be?
nooooo.
yes!!
it is.
sweet, blissful silence.
those little tornados of mine are in remission...
are having a moment of repose...
are temporarily retired...
they're taking a fucking nap, okay??
jeez.
i try to sound all cool, and where does it get me?
nowhere.
and damn fast, too.
i take the express train to nowhere, that's what.
next stop, loserville.
of course, getting off is always fun.
okay, okay, enough of that.
i've been working on the railroad.
not really, but there is a defunct track running parallel to my street.
and i always hope a train will come roaring down it one day, whistling it's arrival and shaking my windows.
i'd want to jump on and go see the country side.
i'dtake a stick and tie a pillowcase to the end of it.
i'd fill that pillowcase with non perishable food, a journal, my toothbrush, my mp3 player and--okay this is grossing me out.
i'd need a shower every day.
a hot shower.
with soap and shampoo--and conditioner, do not mess with my conditioner--and a razor and my loofah...
i would also need changes of clothing, especially socks and underwear.
deoderant, toothpaste, hand lotion, a pillow...
so much for the hobo fantasy.
i could never do it.
i'm no 5 star traveller, but without a shower and a half decent place to sleep, i'm done for.
well, speaking of being done for (or getting done, like as in bel biv devoe's "you can do me in the morning you can do me in the night") my husband's home.
as nice surprise, early.
so, i'm done for.
or going to get laid, or fired or tickled.
either way, i'm signing off.
getting off?
whatev.
later dudes.
(and dudettes, for those of you girls who may take offense to being called dudes. although, scratch that, cuz if you take offense to being called dude, you are a dumbass. that's the highest term of endearment i offer.)
Friday, January 30, 2004
fantasy friday???
oops.
totally forgot.
sorry....
um this will have to do for now.
maybe i'll write a different one later.
happy weekend everyone!!
*********************(and yes, i'm in a long haired musician rut--so bite me.)
slowly i make my way through the crowd, keeping you in sight as i go.
i noticed you as soon as i arrived, but i haven't been able to get away, to talk to you.
standing by the fireplace, sipping your coffee, you look uncomfortable, out of place.
this party is for your parents, for their friends.
a black tie affair.
you would rather be anywhere else, and it shows.
a fundraiser for your dad's campaign.
i've been his assistant for almost a year, but have never had the chance to speak to you.
you had just turned 19 when i first saw you.
a brooding, sexy musician type.
my type.
a bit too rebellious for your parents' taste, but a good kid.
a kid.
i passed the last obstacle and stood behind you, hesitating for just a moment, heart beating fast.
wondering what i might have to say to you.
feeling every one of my 25 years--and wondering if i was about to make a big mistake.
taking a deep breath, i plunge in, opening a conversation that keeps us going for almost an hour.
you're studying archeology, play in a band.
guitar, vocals.
with the party still going full steam, you offer me a copy of your CD.
we head to your room to get it.
up the stairs.
heart beating loudly...
down the hall.
am i really doing this?
one...two...three...four doors on the left, then yours.
the sound of the knob turning is all i can hear.
as the door closes, that other world--my world--is left behind and i begin to forget why i was downstairs in the first place.
i step out of my spike heels and curl up in a bean bag chair while you search through a pile on your desk.
you find one, and bring it over, kneeling on the floor to show me the artwork on the jewel case.
you tell me your girlfriend did it.
a wave of panic and self-loathing washes over me in that brief moment before you casually tell me how she's pissed that you're still using it even though you guys broke up.
you shrug and hand me the case.
i thank you and begin to rise, but you put your hand on my arm.
...ask me to wait.
you look nervous suddenly.
i see sweet youth in your soft skin, clear eyes...
and notice, flushing, that you can't keep them off my perfectly displayed cleavage.
the room suddenly feels very warm as i realize that i am alone in a bedroom...with my boss's 19 year old son.
i say, 'we should get back before--'
but in that moment you see in my eyes the guilt for the thoughts i am having about you.
you know.
and you lean close, pausing with your lips just brushing mine...
forcing me to respond.
i fight the urge to devour you whole, as reason and logic fall away from me.
the only thing that saves you is the amount of effort it takes to remove your tux...
my red satin gown flows around us, cool against our skin.
there comes a knock at the door and i dive for cover.
you shout, 'just a minute' and your dad asks if you've seen me.
i stop breathing completely, shaking my head frantically.
you tell him that you saw me leave a while ago, and his footsteps recede.
you lock the door and turn to me.
we smile softly and scramble to your bed, losing my dress in the process...
the sheets and satin make a tangled nest for our frenzied efforts.
i drag my nails down your back, you bite my neck.
we are a perfect match, in this room at least.
totally forgot.
sorry....
um this will have to do for now.
maybe i'll write a different one later.
happy weekend everyone!!
*********************(and yes, i'm in a long haired musician rut--so bite me.)
slowly i make my way through the crowd, keeping you in sight as i go.
i noticed you as soon as i arrived, but i haven't been able to get away, to talk to you.
standing by the fireplace, sipping your coffee, you look uncomfortable, out of place.
this party is for your parents, for their friends.
a black tie affair.
you would rather be anywhere else, and it shows.
a fundraiser for your dad's campaign.
i've been his assistant for almost a year, but have never had the chance to speak to you.
you had just turned 19 when i first saw you.
a brooding, sexy musician type.
my type.
a bit too rebellious for your parents' taste, but a good kid.
a kid.
i passed the last obstacle and stood behind you, hesitating for just a moment, heart beating fast.
wondering what i might have to say to you.
feeling every one of my 25 years--and wondering if i was about to make a big mistake.
taking a deep breath, i plunge in, opening a conversation that keeps us going for almost an hour.
you're studying archeology, play in a band.
guitar, vocals.
with the party still going full steam, you offer me a copy of your CD.
we head to your room to get it.
up the stairs.
heart beating loudly...
down the hall.
am i really doing this?
one...two...three...four doors on the left, then yours.
the sound of the knob turning is all i can hear.
as the door closes, that other world--my world--is left behind and i begin to forget why i was downstairs in the first place.
i step out of my spike heels and curl up in a bean bag chair while you search through a pile on your desk.
you find one, and bring it over, kneeling on the floor to show me the artwork on the jewel case.
you tell me your girlfriend did it.
a wave of panic and self-loathing washes over me in that brief moment before you casually tell me how she's pissed that you're still using it even though you guys broke up.
you shrug and hand me the case.
i thank you and begin to rise, but you put your hand on my arm.
...ask me to wait.
you look nervous suddenly.
i see sweet youth in your soft skin, clear eyes...
and notice, flushing, that you can't keep them off my perfectly displayed cleavage.
the room suddenly feels very warm as i realize that i am alone in a bedroom...with my boss's 19 year old son.
i say, 'we should get back before--'
but in that moment you see in my eyes the guilt for the thoughts i am having about you.
you know.
and you lean close, pausing with your lips just brushing mine...
forcing me to respond.
i fight the urge to devour you whole, as reason and logic fall away from me.
the only thing that saves you is the amount of effort it takes to remove your tux...
my red satin gown flows around us, cool against our skin.
there comes a knock at the door and i dive for cover.
you shout, 'just a minute' and your dad asks if you've seen me.
i stop breathing completely, shaking my head frantically.
you tell him that you saw me leave a while ago, and his footsteps recede.
you lock the door and turn to me.
we smile softly and scramble to your bed, losing my dress in the process...
the sheets and satin make a tangled nest for our frenzied efforts.
i drag my nails down your back, you bite my neck.
we are a perfect match, in this room at least.
Thursday, January 29, 2004
creative writing thursdays...
drifting
slowly floating
then i realize i must soar
up
higher
faster
slicing through the sky
the wind rushing by
arms outstretched
i am superman
i giggle
climbing higher
then plunging fast
low
hovering just outside
the window
**********************
once upon a time...
there was a little girl.
she did have that cursed curl--you know the one, right in the middle of her forehead.
and it was almost true, that nursery rhyme.
when life was good it was very very good, but when it was bad it was awful....
but they called it manic depression, then later decided on bi-polar disorder...
the name they gave it didn't matter to her.
she had the highest highs and the lowest lows, but they were the ones who were scared of it.
not her.
she revelled in the beauty of the grays and blacks of the lows.
the shadows, the pain.
she exalted in the joy of the highs, the brilliance, the thousands of dimensions.
she loved it all.
the pain was sharp and clear or, sometimes cloudy and aching, dull.
she always dumped out the little green pills they gave her.
she had tried that route, once.
it was not right for her.
what is a world without laughter, without tears?
they thought she was sick.
she knew.
she knew that she was only sick if these changes kept her from operating in their world.
by their rules.
in their neat orderly little rows, boxes, patterns.
it was their dance, not hers.
she had her own drummer and the beat was glorious.
if they could hear it, they would join in, she just knew it.
she didn't understand why they were so afraid of feeling sad.
feeling sad was almost as wonderful as feeling happy.
it was the blankness, the nothing--the balance, as they called it--that was frightening.
the void.
that made her feel like her self was slipping away and she might not find it again.
those green pills--
they stole her ideas, her dreams, her vision.
she would not win the race, however.
even if they were wrong, she was not right either.
the lows were getting deeper, so dark and haunted that she might not make it back sometime...
her highs were growing to the grandest heights, towering her above all others, as she burned through canvas, painting furiously, feverishly.
trying to grasp each and every picture that darted around her head, like a thousand lightening bugs.
she was a genius, they would all lament, sighing and shaking their heads.
on the outside, greiving--the proper thing to do.
but on the inside, they would be chanting "i told ya so" like a spoiled 8 year old.
they would reasure themselves and each other that they had tried to save her, had tried to harness this mad woman.
they would talk themselves out of feeling responsible for any of it, and sell her work for enormous profit.
and they would never know how the world looked through her eyes.
slowly floating
then i realize i must soar
up
higher
faster
slicing through the sky
the wind rushing by
arms outstretched
i am superman
i giggle
climbing higher
then plunging fast
low
hovering just outside
the window
**********************
once upon a time...
there was a little girl.
she did have that cursed curl--you know the one, right in the middle of her forehead.
and it was almost true, that nursery rhyme.
when life was good it was very very good, but when it was bad it was awful....
but they called it manic depression, then later decided on bi-polar disorder...
the name they gave it didn't matter to her.
she had the highest highs and the lowest lows, but they were the ones who were scared of it.
not her.
she revelled in the beauty of the grays and blacks of the lows.
the shadows, the pain.
she exalted in the joy of the highs, the brilliance, the thousands of dimensions.
she loved it all.
the pain was sharp and clear or, sometimes cloudy and aching, dull.
she always dumped out the little green pills they gave her.
she had tried that route, once.
it was not right for her.
what is a world without laughter, without tears?
they thought she was sick.
she knew.
she knew that she was only sick if these changes kept her from operating in their world.
by their rules.
in their neat orderly little rows, boxes, patterns.
it was their dance, not hers.
she had her own drummer and the beat was glorious.
if they could hear it, they would join in, she just knew it.
she didn't understand why they were so afraid of feeling sad.
feeling sad was almost as wonderful as feeling happy.
it was the blankness, the nothing--the balance, as they called it--that was frightening.
the void.
that made her feel like her self was slipping away and she might not find it again.
those green pills--
they stole her ideas, her dreams, her vision.
she would not win the race, however.
even if they were wrong, she was not right either.
the lows were getting deeper, so dark and haunted that she might not make it back sometime...
her highs were growing to the grandest heights, towering her above all others, as she burned through canvas, painting furiously, feverishly.
trying to grasp each and every picture that darted around her head, like a thousand lightening bugs.
she was a genius, they would all lament, sighing and shaking their heads.
on the outside, greiving--the proper thing to do.
but on the inside, they would be chanting "i told ya so" like a spoiled 8 year old.
they would reasure themselves and each other that they had tried to save her, had tried to harness this mad woman.
they would talk themselves out of feeling responsible for any of it, and sell her work for enormous profit.
and they would never know how the world looked through her eyes.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
okay, i have to try this...
i have been DYING to know how to do that little cross out thingy.
and thehottest smartest man on the internet showed me how.
awwwww!
and while i'm here...
i know i'm dangerously close to some sort of coup, where you're all going to vote that i change the name of this site to "Whines incessantly about her Hellion children that she should know how to control" but fuck off. i'm not doing it.
besides, i'm sure i'll have something better to talk about someday....
so, i put them down for their nap.
they sometimes don't go right to sleep, they talk to each other and jump around in their beds for a while and stuff...
fine.
well, i heard something suspiciously like breaking glass.
yup.
they threw something at the window and by the time i got in there, they were playing with this lovely shard...
i thought of doing a whole series of dirty pictures with it, like pretending it was a penis or a bikini bottom or a hat...
but i didn't.
thank you and good night.
and the
awwwww!
and while i'm here...
i know i'm dangerously close to some sort of coup, where you're all going to vote that i change the name of this site to "Whines incessantly about her Hellion children that she should know how to control" but fuck off. i'm not doing it.
besides, i'm sure i'll have something better to talk about someday....
so, i put them down for their nap.
they sometimes don't go right to sleep, they talk to each other and jump around in their beds for a while and stuff...
fine.
well, i heard something suspiciously like breaking glass.
yup.
they threw something at the window and by the time i got in there, they were playing with this lovely shard...
i thought of doing a whole series of dirty pictures with it, like pretending it was a penis or a bikini bottom or a hat...
but i didn't.
thank you and good night.
ooops
remember when i said i needed to answer some emails to my real life friends instead of spending all my time here?
yeah.
well...
dammit.
one of my bestestest friends is going through a really shitty time and i didn't know how bad it had gotten cuz i never answered her last email.
damn ME to hell.
i used to be the queen bee of great friends.
that was my one great talent.
and now, what am i left with??
a bad memory and a whole bunch of sel-absorption, i guess.
so she's on my list for today, but we'll see.
i guess today is big fat jerk day.
so have a happy one....
i know you're all sick of hearing about the many wild and wonderful ways my kids keep my life from being boring...
but this one's quick, and it's too good.
actually there are two.
first, as i was dressing the boys, i sent Max to find his belt.
he came back and said, 'i couldn't find the fuckin belt mom.'
aw crap.
and then a few hours later i was driving along and they were eating mini m&m's.
Max says, "mom, my nose hurts."
i ask why.
he says, "cuz i put a em-a-em in it."
by the time i stopped the car, blue was running out of his nose.
i had him blow into a tissue....
then there was chocolate running out of his nose....
fu-uck.
at least it wasn't big enough or solid enough to get stuck.
so...yesterday was 'thank god for melting candy in son's nose' day.
hope you had a good one.
wait a second.
i'm starting to feel like a cheap immitation of Girls Are Pretty.
i haven't been there in a while.
that site is so fantastic.
speaking of fantastic sites....
Go vote for The Hard Artist on Blog Madness.
Mostly cuz he's better than the guy he's up against, but also cuz he's just so damn cute.
and that should be worth something in this crazy world.
so it turns out that i am still as bad at saying 'no' to sales type folks as i ever was.
miss mary kay rep is coming to my house tomorrow to sell me stuff. i mean take my picture.*
she has now added "you have perfect skin" to my list of qualifications.
i wanted to tell her to eat shit, i really did.
but i couldn't.
she's way too bubbly.
and i fucking hate makeup.
one of my friends called me last night, all mellow and chilled out.
waaaay too happy, talking too slowly.
turns out she had had a panic attack and was on some drug for that.
she used to have them a lot, but this is the first one in about a year, i think.
anyway, it was really funny talking to her.
like talking to a stoned person...(from what i hear, at least.)
suddenly i was the funniest person alive.
although to be fair, we're those two who make each other laugh so hard, so often, so easily that people always think we're drunk.
but still.
it was weird being sober.
i wanted what SHE had.
well, minus the panic attacks.
*that reminds me. i've been dying to know what the tag is that puts a line through words i've typed, you know? so if you know how to do that, would you pleeeeeeeeeease leave it in the comments? i would say email me, but chances are i wouldn't read it.
yeah.
well...
dammit.
one of my bestestest friends is going through a really shitty time and i didn't know how bad it had gotten cuz i never answered her last email.
damn ME to hell.
i used to be the queen bee of great friends.
that was my one great talent.
and now, what am i left with??
a bad memory and a whole bunch of sel-absorption, i guess.
so she's on my list for today, but we'll see.
i guess today is big fat jerk day.
so have a happy one....
i know you're all sick of hearing about the many wild and wonderful ways my kids keep my life from being boring...
but this one's quick, and it's too good.
actually there are two.
first, as i was dressing the boys, i sent Max to find his belt.
he came back and said, 'i couldn't find the fuckin belt mom.'
aw crap.
and then a few hours later i was driving along and they were eating mini m&m's.
Max says, "mom, my nose hurts."
i ask why.
he says, "cuz i put a em-a-em in it."
by the time i stopped the car, blue was running out of his nose.
i had him blow into a tissue....
then there was chocolate running out of his nose....
fu-uck.
at least it wasn't big enough or solid enough to get stuck.
so...yesterday was 'thank god for melting candy in son's nose' day.
hope you had a good one.
wait a second.
i'm starting to feel like a cheap immitation of Girls Are Pretty.
i haven't been there in a while.
that site is so fantastic.
speaking of fantastic sites....
Go vote for The Hard Artist on Blog Madness.
Mostly cuz he's better than the guy he's up against, but also cuz he's just so damn cute.
and that should be worth something in this crazy world.
so it turns out that i am still as bad at saying 'no' to sales type folks as i ever was.
miss mary kay rep is coming to my house tomorrow to sell me stuff. i mean take my picture.*
she has now added "you have perfect skin" to my list of qualifications.
i wanted to tell her to eat shit, i really did.
but i couldn't.
she's way too bubbly.
and i fucking hate makeup.
one of my friends called me last night, all mellow and chilled out.
waaaay too happy, talking too slowly.
turns out she had had a panic attack and was on some drug for that.
she used to have them a lot, but this is the first one in about a year, i think.
anyway, it was really funny talking to her.
like talking to a stoned person...(from what i hear, at least.)
suddenly i was the funniest person alive.
although to be fair, we're those two who make each other laugh so hard, so often, so easily that people always think we're drunk.
but still.
it was weird being sober.
i wanted what SHE had.
well, minus the panic attacks.
*that reminds me. i've been dying to know what the tag is that puts a line through words i've typed, you know? so if you know how to do that, would you pleeeeeeeeeease leave it in the comments? i would say email me, but chances are i wouldn't read it.
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
today is a new day
at least for those of us who aren't experiencing it for the second time, through time travel, etc.
i am literally drowning in movies right now.
we have 3 or 4 new ones on dvd, and there are 6 or 8 on the dish that i recorded and we haven't watched.
at least i remembered to refer to it as recording...
usually i say "i taped a show..."
dumbass.
what's up 80's child.
remind me to look for a record player will ya?
one of my best friends has a bunch of records and no player.
she wants one, and she does so many nice things for me, like say--MOVING BACK FROM OHIO!!
okay, so it wasn't for me, but it's given my life meaning again...
ha.
drama.
more like, it's given my babysitter a steady income again.
so anyway, i'll check ebay and--if i ever get to go shopping during the day without the kids--some antique stores.
hey, they carry non-antiques, too.
like this kick ass fisher price cash register that is IDENTICAL to the one i had as a child...
got it for my kids at an antique store....
i'm not THAT old, bite me.
so...if i can get my ass into the shower, well, hopefully the rest of body will follow, cuz that would be a little difficult...
anyway, if i can do the aforementioned, then i'll take my kids to wally world.
this is actually a huge thrill for them, so don't make fun of me.
they're very excited.
in fact, they're almost as into it as Boz.
and usually they end up driving me to the point of pulling out my hair from the effort of not beating them senseless.
but today i only have 5 things on my list.
so they should make it....
and we always make the rounds: fire exits, fish tanks, shovels and ceiling fans.
i still have no freaking clule how they learned WHAT a fire exit is, and why the hell they're obsessed with them.
but it's damn cute.
my kids are wackos.
but in the good way.
the ladies at the gym day care are convinced that they're going to be scientific geniuses who invent something to revolutionize life as we know it.
i tend to agree.
either that or professional criminals...
have a great day.
or a shitty one, really, it's up to you...
and the moody gods of the realm...
i am literally drowning in movies right now.
we have 3 or 4 new ones on dvd, and there are 6 or 8 on the dish that i recorded and we haven't watched.
at least i remembered to refer to it as recording...
usually i say "i taped a show..."
dumbass.
what's up 80's child.
remind me to look for a record player will ya?
one of my best friends has a bunch of records and no player.
she wants one, and she does so many nice things for me, like say--MOVING BACK FROM OHIO!!
okay, so it wasn't for me, but it's given my life meaning again...
ha.
drama.
more like, it's given my babysitter a steady income again.
so anyway, i'll check ebay and--if i ever get to go shopping during the day without the kids--some antique stores.
hey, they carry non-antiques, too.
like this kick ass fisher price cash register that is IDENTICAL to the one i had as a child...
got it for my kids at an antique store....
i'm not THAT old, bite me.
so...if i can get my ass into the shower, well, hopefully the rest of body will follow, cuz that would be a little difficult...
anyway, if i can do the aforementioned, then i'll take my kids to wally world.
this is actually a huge thrill for them, so don't make fun of me.
they're very excited.
in fact, they're almost as into it as Boz.
and usually they end up driving me to the point of pulling out my hair from the effort of not beating them senseless.
but today i only have 5 things on my list.
so they should make it....
and we always make the rounds: fire exits, fish tanks, shovels and ceiling fans.
i still have no freaking clule how they learned WHAT a fire exit is, and why the hell they're obsessed with them.
but it's damn cute.
my kids are wackos.
but in the good way.
the ladies at the gym day care are convinced that they're going to be scientific geniuses who invent something to revolutionize life as we know it.
i tend to agree.
either that or professional criminals...
have a great day.
or a shitty one, really, it's up to you...
and the moody gods of the realm...
Monday, January 26, 2004
it's a sickness...
my obsession with this damned blog.
i think it may require drastic measures...
like turning OFF the puter.
i'm not sure if i remember how, though.
something about the "start" button...?
but that couldn't be right...
well, so much for that idea.
why are there ALWAYS dishes to be washed?
i think the sun is shining...
but to be honest, i haven't lifted a single blind to check.
before the kids were big enough to fuck with the blinds, i used to open them a bit to let in the light.
but now i live in fear of drawing attention to the blinds, bringing on a lengthy frustrating battle of "touch it again and you're in--okay, you're in time out."
i'm sure all you folks with one or zero children are sitting back smugly, thinking of all the things i should do differently.
and you're right, i should.
but what you don't realize, and won't until you're knee deep in toddlers, is that it's exponentially harder than you thought.
or maybe i'm just a huge mother fucking whiner who wasn't really cut out for this gig.
either way.
but don't forget, they're so cute and lovable, it balances out okay.
i just don't talk about that part cuz it's too sappy and boring--and bitching is way more fun.
i've spent all morning reading about a breakup of two little bloggers whose sites i love reading.
it's sad.
love is such a necessary evil, innit?
when you have it sometimes you forget to appreciate it, or you feel restless or not quite sure.
but when it's gone...
oh what you wouldn't give to have the touch of one who knows everything.
you ache to sit home on a friday night watching a movie in comfortable clothes instead of strutting your stuff at the meat market wishing to meet someone of substance...
life's not fair, and love is even worse than that.
it's a tricky, coniving little bastard that fucks with you in more ways than a german hooker.
best of luck to them both.
i think it may require drastic measures...
like turning OFF the puter.
i'm not sure if i remember how, though.
something about the "start" button...?
but that couldn't be right...
well, so much for that idea.
why are there ALWAYS dishes to be washed?
i think the sun is shining...
but to be honest, i haven't lifted a single blind to check.
before the kids were big enough to fuck with the blinds, i used to open them a bit to let in the light.
but now i live in fear of drawing attention to the blinds, bringing on a lengthy frustrating battle of "touch it again and you're in--okay, you're in time out."
i'm sure all you folks with one or zero children are sitting back smugly, thinking of all the things i should do differently.
and you're right, i should.
but what you don't realize, and won't until you're knee deep in toddlers, is that it's exponentially harder than you thought.
or maybe i'm just a huge mother fucking whiner who wasn't really cut out for this gig.
either way.
but don't forget, they're so cute and lovable, it balances out okay.
i just don't talk about that part cuz it's too sappy and boring--and bitching is way more fun.
i've spent all morning reading about a breakup of two little bloggers whose sites i love reading.
it's sad.
love is such a necessary evil, innit?
when you have it sometimes you forget to appreciate it, or you feel restless or not quite sure.
but when it's gone...
oh what you wouldn't give to have the touch of one who knows everything.
you ache to sit home on a friday night watching a movie in comfortable clothes instead of strutting your stuff at the meat market wishing to meet someone of substance...
life's not fair, and love is even worse than that.
it's a tricky, coniving little bastard that fucks with you in more ways than a german hooker.
best of luck to them both.
it is time to address a serious issue
i have a problem.
i guess admitting it is a start...
see, i have an inbox full of unanswered emails.
whenever i sit down at the desk, determined to answer them...
well, i check the blog.
and once that ball's rolling there's no telling when it'll stop.
but my determination fades as fast as a spray on tan, so there they sit.
so anyway...
mondays are cool.
except today.
i actually got out of bed before my kids came to get me.
they were up though.
up?
up to no good, is what!!
they had flushed a ball down the toilet, and flooded the bathroom.
two inches of water.
soaked through the carpet in the hall.
tracked all over the house.
i put their asses in severe timeout while cleaning it up.
crying.
me, not them.
i was having a panic attack about the germs getting spread through the house, on top of the enormous task facing me on an empty stomach.
then i discovered about 30 rusty nails and screws that they had dropped into the liquid fabric softener dispenser in my washer.
how?
cuz there was rusty water dripping all over the freshly washed towels.
towels i had used to mop up the fucking bathroom.
any of you out there with no kids: take my advice and do not attempt it.
use three forms of birth control, or better yet, just stop having sex.
not worth it.
anyway, the holes were barely big enough to get the screws into the dispenser, so i had to shake them out, one by one.
fuck.
so.
i guess it's setting my alarm for 6 and sleeping in the living room until they get up.
with a shotgun at my side.
little varmints.
so yeah, not only did they go to timeout for 6 years, but their new wonderful playroom is locked for the day.
no movies, no toys.
yeah, i know.
it's as much of a punishment for me, but that's okay.
i deserve a spanking for that.
which reminds me...
hubby was saying he'd spank them if something they had gone to time out 27 times in a row for happened again.
so they asked, "mommy, did you spank daddy last night?"
coincidentally...
i guess admitting it is a start...
see, i have an inbox full of unanswered emails.
whenever i sit down at the desk, determined to answer them...
well, i check the blog.
and once that ball's rolling there's no telling when it'll stop.
but my determination fades as fast as a spray on tan, so there they sit.
so anyway...
mondays are cool.
except today.
i actually got out of bed before my kids came to get me.
they were up though.
up?
up to no good, is what!!
they had flushed a ball down the toilet, and flooded the bathroom.
two inches of water.
soaked through the carpet in the hall.
tracked all over the house.
i put their asses in severe timeout while cleaning it up.
crying.
me, not them.
i was having a panic attack about the germs getting spread through the house, on top of the enormous task facing me on an empty stomach.
then i discovered about 30 rusty nails and screws that they had dropped into the liquid fabric softener dispenser in my washer.
how?
cuz there was rusty water dripping all over the freshly washed towels.
towels i had used to mop up the fucking bathroom.
any of you out there with no kids: take my advice and do not attempt it.
use three forms of birth control, or better yet, just stop having sex.
not worth it.
anyway, the holes were barely big enough to get the screws into the dispenser, so i had to shake them out, one by one.
fuck.
so.
i guess it's setting my alarm for 6 and sleeping in the living room until they get up.
with a shotgun at my side.
little varmints.
so yeah, not only did they go to timeout for 6 years, but their new wonderful playroom is locked for the day.
no movies, no toys.
yeah, i know.
it's as much of a punishment for me, but that's okay.
i deserve a spanking for that.
which reminds me...
hubby was saying he'd spank them if something they had gone to time out 27 times in a row for happened again.
so they asked, "mommy, did you spank daddy last night?"
coincidentally...
Sunday, January 25, 2004
i'm a million bucks short of being a millionaire...
no, i didn't watch Planes, Trains & Automobiles today.
well, okay, i did.
i had never noticed that line before and it made me giggle.
that character is so frickin great.
also, did you know that John Hughes directed that film?
i had no idea.
i thought he had only done the Rat Pack lovey dovey films, such as The breakfast club and pretty in pink...
i'm reminding myself of jay and silent bob in the beginning of Dogma.
so it must be time to change the subject....
we played a lengthy, sweaty round of Rearrange the House this weekend.
moved the guest room to the upstairs, and now the former guest room is a playroom.
with its very own couch tv/dvd player and all the little hoodlums' toys.
heavenly.
so now i don't have to listen to disney/and or pixar movies and bob the builder and other such crap all day.
and their toys don't get dragged all the fuck over my house.
all in all, very satisfying.
so the other day i was at the gym, i know, where else would i have actually gone??
and i saw a guy who looked exactly like this guy from my high school.
i couldn't remember his name at first, but then it came to me.
i won't share his last name, to protect the, uh not necessarily innocent, but at least uninvolved.
his first name is a good one, so i have to tell you--Bubba.
boy don't i miss that redneck town...
so anyway, since he was a definite thug type, and since no one would just move from maine to utah for the hell of it, especially not a thug type...i started theorizing, based on the fact that this man was someone from my hometown...and here's my genius idea: witness protection.
i was convinced of it.
i even started thinking about what exactly he may have been involved in to end up there.
but then, i got a closer look, and of course, he didn't look the same at all.
pisser.
saw Along Came Polly, on friday night.
funny, cute little flick.
i'm turning into a movie crack whore.
not so much the crack, but it sounds better.
i made some fucking fantastic chicken and veggie kabob thingies.
and i'm not just talking good.
i'm talking so good you want to...um, eat it?
well.
so much for using witty metaphors.
but I do think that it was so good that if it wasn't food, you'd still want to eat it.
so there.
snowing.
woo.
almonds don't taste very much like peanuts.
just thought i'd let you know.
and whoever told the penis enlargement people about my little problem (no pun intended...) you could tell them to back off. i'm not trying any of their crap. i like my penis just the way it is. AND i don't really need a mail order bride. a mail order third for an occassional friday night wouldn't be bad, but they're not offering those.
okay, so i realize that my outrage at spam is a little late, or something...
but the thing is, before this summer i never really got spam.
i don't know how it happened, but life changed for the worse and there's no going back.
oh well.
at least it gives me something to bitch about.
and lord knows i need that.
i remember once when i was about 10 or 12, my brothers were home for christmas and one of them was driving me home from ice skating and we were rounding that bend, the one by the calderwoods' old place, the first of two right angle curves in the road in the village, as its called. village? a post office the size of my kitchen, a kick ass little general store with kickass pizza and seafood, a bed and breakfast and a library that's open one day a week for 3 hours. THAT's the village. anyway. oh yeah. i don't remember what we were talking about, but i said "oh well." and went on to explain that that's what i say when there's nothing i can do about a situation. he laughed. i didn't understand why at the time, because i didn't think it was funny. i thought i had been very profound, very deep. now i get it. THAT's why he laughed. that was the same christmas that he said "psyche" a lot...hey, it was the 80's. coolest brother this side of, uh, somewhere. god DAMN, i have to stop using expressions that don't fit my dialogue.
speaking of dialogue...
next time i go to the library, i'm going to find a play.
ooh, or i could use shakespeare, since i have his collected works somewhere...
anyway.
that's what my audio post will be.
cuz i have this theory...
i'm an amazing actress.
i've never tried it though.
yeah, i know.
i'm high.
or a complete dork.
either way...
so watch for that coming soon.
soon=sometime before i die, or maybe not.
well, okay, i did.
i had never noticed that line before and it made me giggle.
that character is so frickin great.
also, did you know that John Hughes directed that film?
i had no idea.
i thought he had only done the Rat Pack lovey dovey films, such as The breakfast club and pretty in pink...
i'm reminding myself of jay and silent bob in the beginning of Dogma.
so it must be time to change the subject....
we played a lengthy, sweaty round of Rearrange the House this weekend.
moved the guest room to the upstairs, and now the former guest room is a playroom.
with its very own couch tv/dvd player and all the little hoodlums' toys.
heavenly.
so now i don't have to listen to disney/and or pixar movies and bob the builder and other such crap all day.
and their toys don't get dragged all the fuck over my house.
all in all, very satisfying.
so the other day i was at the gym, i know, where else would i have actually gone??
and i saw a guy who looked exactly like this guy from my high school.
i couldn't remember his name at first, but then it came to me.
i won't share his last name, to protect the, uh not necessarily innocent, but at least uninvolved.
his first name is a good one, so i have to tell you--Bubba.
boy don't i miss that redneck town...
so anyway, since he was a definite thug type, and since no one would just move from maine to utah for the hell of it, especially not a thug type...i started theorizing, based on the fact that this man was someone from my hometown...and here's my genius idea: witness protection.
i was convinced of it.
i even started thinking about what exactly he may have been involved in to end up there.
but then, i got a closer look, and of course, he didn't look the same at all.
pisser.
saw Along Came Polly, on friday night.
funny, cute little flick.
i'm turning into a movie crack whore.
not so much the crack, but it sounds better.
i made some fucking fantastic chicken and veggie kabob thingies.
and i'm not just talking good.
i'm talking so good you want to...um, eat it?
well.
so much for using witty metaphors.
but I do think that it was so good that if it wasn't food, you'd still want to eat it.
so there.
snowing.
woo.
almonds don't taste very much like peanuts.
just thought i'd let you know.
and whoever told the penis enlargement people about my little problem (no pun intended...) you could tell them to back off. i'm not trying any of their crap. i like my penis just the way it is. AND i don't really need a mail order bride. a mail order third for an occassional friday night wouldn't be bad, but they're not offering those.
okay, so i realize that my outrage at spam is a little late, or something...
but the thing is, before this summer i never really got spam.
i don't know how it happened, but life changed for the worse and there's no going back.
oh well.
at least it gives me something to bitch about.
and lord knows i need that.
i remember once when i was about 10 or 12, my brothers were home for christmas and one of them was driving me home from ice skating and we were rounding that bend, the one by the calderwoods' old place, the first of two right angle curves in the road in the village, as its called. village? a post office the size of my kitchen, a kick ass little general store with kickass pizza and seafood, a bed and breakfast and a library that's open one day a week for 3 hours. THAT's the village. anyway. oh yeah. i don't remember what we were talking about, but i said "oh well." and went on to explain that that's what i say when there's nothing i can do about a situation. he laughed. i didn't understand why at the time, because i didn't think it was funny. i thought i had been very profound, very deep. now i get it. THAT's why he laughed. that was the same christmas that he said "psyche" a lot...hey, it was the 80's. coolest brother this side of, uh, somewhere. god DAMN, i have to stop using expressions that don't fit my dialogue.
speaking of dialogue...
next time i go to the library, i'm going to find a play.
ooh, or i could use shakespeare, since i have his collected works somewhere...
anyway.
that's what my audio post will be.
cuz i have this theory...
i'm an amazing actress.
i've never tried it though.
yeah, i know.
i'm high.
or a complete dork.
either way...
so watch for that coming soon.
soon=sometime before i die, or maybe not.
Friday, January 23, 2004
Fantasy Friday IX
Inspired by last friday's post by Ryan, about the Go-Go's...
the adrenaline--no drug has ever given me a high like this.
the hot lights.
the screaming fans.
and it's all for me.
i play my heart out for them--
serenading them with my husky, sexy voice.
i was born to be a rock star, and here i am.
sometimes i still can't believe it's real.
leather pants are less comfortable than i'd imagined, but i don't care.
i chug down a beer and switch keys...
they're going crazy, my fans.
this is my biggest hit.
my first hit, three years ago.
everyone knows every word.
they stomp and chant and crowd surf.
throwing flowers, teddy bears...love letters, naked pictures...
the men and the women.
belting out this last song, i notice somene...
a tall blonde man who has just pushed through to the front row.
he's the one.
the one i'll drag back to my bus tonight.
he has the look.
i can never tell who it's going to be, what will draw me to him.
i sing this song for him, to him.
he knows.
i pass a guitar pick to him, touching his hand...
his jaw drops.
we finish the set, do an encore.
the lights go out and i run back stage.
i let out a mighty howl, a joyful cry of victory.
that was a great show, my drummer says, patting my ass.
we do kick ass, don't we? i smile back at him.
i am stripping already, as i head for the shower.
peeling that leather off like a layer of skin.
the other girls, my guitarist and basist, make cat calls as i disappear into the shower.
the party is in full swing when i finish my bathing and dressing routine.
there are more beautiful people milling around than i can take in at a glance.
so many...
which one first?
the talking stops for a moment as i step into the room.
i am handed a drink, a smoke...
and i begin to browse the evening's selection...
the girls have picked out a few especially pretty ones for me...
as i head to the back with them, i whisper to my drummer to find that blond for me.
for later.
for talking all night and slow sweet sex.
then i turn back to appraise my immediate playmates.
ouch.
the one with his arm snaked around my waist looks like a calvin klein underwear model.
chiseled, head to toe, dark perfect hair...a bit too perfect, but something sexy about his lack of cockiness.
and to my left...
a leggy blonde with gorgeous breasts.
and the other.
wow.
just the kind of boy i used to go crazy for, in the old days.
and still my favorite.
a musician.
long hair.
he would be first.
i step out of the other one's grasp and grab this beautiful boy by the shoulders.
he is startled, smiling.
i run my fingers through his gorgeous hair, and slide them under his shirt, up.
we tumble to the nearest couch and i unleash all my pent up energy from the stage on this sweet one.
as i grind myself into him i ask if he has a demo.
it's in the pocket of his discarded suede jacket.
i toss it to a lurking stage hand who is eagerly watching.
when he's done, i kiss him one last time and promise to listen to his cd.
he's stammering his thanks as i grab the girl.
we kiss, i grope her tits like a trucker in a seedy bar, then i toss her aside for the calvin klein Ken doll.
he's as ready as i am and i clear the room with a word.
i can tell he'll keep me busy for a while.
when the raging party is over and my adrenaline has receded to a normal level, i head to the bus, a thrill running through me at the thought of meeting this one.
he had a look of depth, intelligence, seriousness...and, of course, beauty.
i call this last lover of the day my night cap...the one to hold me through til morning.
sometimes i choose wrong, and am disappointed.
not this time.
this time he is exactly right.
he is my boyfriend, best friend, husband--of the day.
the one to hold my hand and listen to my dreams and tell me stories, make me laugh.
i once imagined that one of these night caps would be the last...
that he would turn into more than just a night cap.
maybe this time...
the adrenaline--no drug has ever given me a high like this.
the hot lights.
the screaming fans.
and it's all for me.
i play my heart out for them--
serenading them with my husky, sexy voice.
i was born to be a rock star, and here i am.
sometimes i still can't believe it's real.
leather pants are less comfortable than i'd imagined, but i don't care.
i chug down a beer and switch keys...
they're going crazy, my fans.
this is my biggest hit.
my first hit, three years ago.
everyone knows every word.
they stomp and chant and crowd surf.
throwing flowers, teddy bears...love letters, naked pictures...
the men and the women.
belting out this last song, i notice somene...
a tall blonde man who has just pushed through to the front row.
he's the one.
the one i'll drag back to my bus tonight.
he has the look.
i can never tell who it's going to be, what will draw me to him.
i sing this song for him, to him.
he knows.
i pass a guitar pick to him, touching his hand...
his jaw drops.
we finish the set, do an encore.
the lights go out and i run back stage.
i let out a mighty howl, a joyful cry of victory.
that was a great show, my drummer says, patting my ass.
we do kick ass, don't we? i smile back at him.
i am stripping already, as i head for the shower.
peeling that leather off like a layer of skin.
the other girls, my guitarist and basist, make cat calls as i disappear into the shower.
the party is in full swing when i finish my bathing and dressing routine.
there are more beautiful people milling around than i can take in at a glance.
so many...
which one first?
the talking stops for a moment as i step into the room.
i am handed a drink, a smoke...
and i begin to browse the evening's selection...
the girls have picked out a few especially pretty ones for me...
as i head to the back with them, i whisper to my drummer to find that blond for me.
for later.
for talking all night and slow sweet sex.
then i turn back to appraise my immediate playmates.
ouch.
the one with his arm snaked around my waist looks like a calvin klein underwear model.
chiseled, head to toe, dark perfect hair...a bit too perfect, but something sexy about his lack of cockiness.
and to my left...
a leggy blonde with gorgeous breasts.
and the other.
wow.
just the kind of boy i used to go crazy for, in the old days.
and still my favorite.
a musician.
long hair.
he would be first.
i step out of the other one's grasp and grab this beautiful boy by the shoulders.
he is startled, smiling.
i run my fingers through his gorgeous hair, and slide them under his shirt, up.
we tumble to the nearest couch and i unleash all my pent up energy from the stage on this sweet one.
as i grind myself into him i ask if he has a demo.
it's in the pocket of his discarded suede jacket.
i toss it to a lurking stage hand who is eagerly watching.
when he's done, i kiss him one last time and promise to listen to his cd.
he's stammering his thanks as i grab the girl.
we kiss, i grope her tits like a trucker in a seedy bar, then i toss her aside for the calvin klein Ken doll.
he's as ready as i am and i clear the room with a word.
i can tell he'll keep me busy for a while.
when the raging party is over and my adrenaline has receded to a normal level, i head to the bus, a thrill running through me at the thought of meeting this one.
he had a look of depth, intelligence, seriousness...and, of course, beauty.
i call this last lover of the day my night cap...the one to hold me through til morning.
sometimes i choose wrong, and am disappointed.
not this time.
this time he is exactly right.
he is my boyfriend, best friend, husband--of the day.
the one to hold my hand and listen to my dreams and tell me stories, make me laugh.
i once imagined that one of these night caps would be the last...
that he would turn into more than just a night cap.
maybe this time...
Thursday, January 22, 2004
welcome to the twilight zone...
so last night i headed to Wally world for a little shopping excursion.
the high point of my week, sadly.
as i was rounding a corner, i saw a woman.
she was drawn and thin, looked like she looked older than she was.
in her cart were a couple dozen hot pockets and almost as many 2 liter bottles of coke.
i thought, typical trailer trash...then i noticed a bottle of bleach.
and the look in her eye was furtive, paranoid--guilty.
and i thought...doesn't bleach go into meth?
maybe not.
either way, she's an addict.
we have more meth labs per capita in utah than mormon churches.
okay, that was a funny joke, but you get the idea.
it's a big problem here.
the outdoor recreation stores can't even sell certain water purifier stuff because the ingredients are used for meth.
lame-o.
and then, i'm just tooling along, minding my own business...(read: conciously avoiding eye contact with everyone)
and a girl says, "excuse me."
and when she has my attention she asks if my curls are natural.
i affirm.
she goes on and on about how jealous she is and how great they look (it was a good hair day...)
she hoped i at least have to put some effort into it...
sorry, no.
so i'm beginning to feel sort of awkward, with all this gushing praise...
the thoughts in my head are, of course--"is she hitting on me? just really lonely? psycho? wearing any underwear?"
she says "your hair is so cute, you're so cute." and i want to run.
then she pulls out her trump card, and i wish i had run.
she's a cocksucking Mary Kay seller person.
she needs models for a before and after photo presentation she's preparing.
mm hmm.
and how much makeup are you going to try to sell me???
she was nice, but puh leeeez.
this ain't no model's face.
and i don't wear makeup.
but it's tempting to have someone put on a full face of it and see what a difference it makes...
maybe i'd want to buy some.
gaw-dammit.
and then of course i kept running into her for the rest of my shopping excursion.
awkward.
i totally hid at the end of an aisle and kept peeking down to see if she was gone before entering...
so then today, i finally get my lazy "i'vehadsickkidsallweek" ass to the gym.
yeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaaw, first of all.
and then, as soon as i walk in i see DAVEY JONES!! my bud.
i have never yet seen anyone at the gym that i know outside the gym.
and while we're talking, over walks my youngest sister in law--she's a trainer there!
just started this week, and works during the time that i'm there.
do you know how fucking perfect this is???????
do you??
yeah, it kicks ass.
in fact, she was kind enough to kick my ass for me today.
if she's with a client, obviously, no free help for lisa, but i go during the slowest time of day and she said she's usually fairly bored!
we did some fantastic ab work that i couldn't do alone, and i got some new biceps workouts.
i'm getting some pipes--(here it comes....) fuckin' A!
and we got to catch up, chat, etc.
and my kids were huge brats today.
i know, it's so out of the ordinary.
erm.
well, let's just say, waaaaaay more bratty than usual.
they can be so dang cute sometimes...
good thing, or they'd have been sold long ago.
Bye Bye Benifer...
sad, isn't it?
oh wait.
actually, i don't give a damn.
but i couldn't resist commenting.
i just broke my own pathetic personal record for instant messaging.
3 chicks at the same time.
oh wait,that sounds suspiciously like what lawrence from office space would do if he had a million dollars...
and it was actually 2 chicks and a dude...sorry, dude.
but he was quick, so i spent most of the time with the chicks.
i'm laughing at the sexual implications.
i hope you're laughing too.
does anyone care that it's only 7 weeks until the first Metallica show??
probably not.
but i'm counting the minutes.
well, more like hours.
okay, fine, i'm counting the weeks.
you just saw me.
it's 7.
dammit.
i hate when i try to exaggerate and get caught.
like when i said i was talking to three people?
yeah, i didn't really talk to anyone.
i just logged in and sat there.
hee hee.
nah, that one was true.
i got to talk to Nedra for the first real time, and that was fun.
i need to go out drinking and dancing with her sometime...
we'd probably come home with unfamiliar tatoos, piercings, men or women...
so now you see why i want to!
we'd have some fun, i guarantee it.
aw, who am i kidding?
we're a couple old farts with kids.
we'd probably diet cokes and compare stretch marks.
wanna come?
the high point of my week, sadly.
as i was rounding a corner, i saw a woman.
she was drawn and thin, looked like she looked older than she was.
in her cart were a couple dozen hot pockets and almost as many 2 liter bottles of coke.
i thought, typical trailer trash...then i noticed a bottle of bleach.
and the look in her eye was furtive, paranoid--guilty.
and i thought...doesn't bleach go into meth?
maybe not.
either way, she's an addict.
we have more meth labs per capita in utah than mormon churches.
okay, that was a funny joke, but you get the idea.
it's a big problem here.
the outdoor recreation stores can't even sell certain water purifier stuff because the ingredients are used for meth.
lame-o.
and then, i'm just tooling along, minding my own business...(read: conciously avoiding eye contact with everyone)
and a girl says, "excuse me."
and when she has my attention she asks if my curls are natural.
i affirm.
she goes on and on about how jealous she is and how great they look (it was a good hair day...)
she hoped i at least have to put some effort into it...
sorry, no.
so i'm beginning to feel sort of awkward, with all this gushing praise...
the thoughts in my head are, of course--"is she hitting on me? just really lonely? psycho? wearing any underwear?"
she says "your hair is so cute, you're so cute." and i want to run.
then she pulls out her trump card, and i wish i had run.
she's a cocksucking Mary Kay seller person.
she needs models for a before and after photo presentation she's preparing.
mm hmm.
and how much makeup are you going to try to sell me???
she was nice, but puh leeeez.
this ain't no model's face.
and i don't wear makeup.
but it's tempting to have someone put on a full face of it and see what a difference it makes...
maybe i'd want to buy some.
gaw-dammit.
and then of course i kept running into her for the rest of my shopping excursion.
awkward.
i totally hid at the end of an aisle and kept peeking down to see if she was gone before entering...
so then today, i finally get my lazy "i'vehadsickkidsallweek" ass to the gym.
yeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaaw, first of all.
and then, as soon as i walk in i see DAVEY JONES!! my bud.
i have never yet seen anyone at the gym that i know outside the gym.
and while we're talking, over walks my youngest sister in law--she's a trainer there!
just started this week, and works during the time that i'm there.
do you know how fucking perfect this is???????
do you??
yeah, it kicks ass.
in fact, she was kind enough to kick my ass for me today.
if she's with a client, obviously, no free help for lisa, but i go during the slowest time of day and she said she's usually fairly bored!
we did some fantastic ab work that i couldn't do alone, and i got some new biceps workouts.
i'm getting some pipes--(here it comes....) fuckin' A!
and we got to catch up, chat, etc.
and my kids were huge brats today.
i know, it's so out of the ordinary.
erm.
well, let's just say, waaaaaay more bratty than usual.
they can be so dang cute sometimes...
good thing, or they'd have been sold long ago.
Bye Bye Benifer...
sad, isn't it?
oh wait.
actually, i don't give a damn.
but i couldn't resist commenting.
i just broke my own pathetic personal record for instant messaging.
3 chicks at the same time.
oh wait,that sounds suspiciously like what lawrence from office space would do if he had a million dollars...
and it was actually 2 chicks and a dude...sorry, dude.
but he was quick, so i spent most of the time with the chicks.
i'm laughing at the sexual implications.
i hope you're laughing too.
does anyone care that it's only 7 weeks until the first Metallica show??
probably not.
but i'm counting the minutes.
well, more like hours.
okay, fine, i'm counting the weeks.
you just saw me.
it's 7.
dammit.
i hate when i try to exaggerate and get caught.
like when i said i was talking to three people?
yeah, i didn't really talk to anyone.
i just logged in and sat there.
hee hee.
nah, that one was true.
i got to talk to Nedra for the first real time, and that was fun.
i need to go out drinking and dancing with her sometime...
we'd probably come home with unfamiliar tatoos, piercings, men or women...
so now you see why i want to!
we'd have some fun, i guarantee it.
aw, who am i kidding?
we're a couple old farts with kids.
we'd probably diet cokes and compare stretch marks.
wanna come?
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
so much talking
without saying anything.
that's me.
Vanilla Sky in my mailbox today.
if you like movies, and you're a huge lazy ass, like me and you haven't joined Netflix--do so.
immediately.
so fun.
if you're a woman, and you haven't seen the movie Moll Flanders, see it.
Morgan freeman, Robin Wright (pre-Penn) and Stockard Channing.
kick ass movie, guys might like it too.
i know i'm full of demands today, but it's wednesday, god damn it.
and that means i'm the boss.
or maybe it means rachel loves ross.
whatever.
we just dropped our porn channel and switched to all the movie channels.
i know!!
what were we thinking??
nah, we just didn't watch it that much.
well, I didn't...
and i'd rather have 40 movie channels than one porn.
and i'd rather make porn than watch it.
did i just say that?
sweet innocent little girl next door, moi??
wow.
i bet you're all totally shocked.
and did you exchange
a walk on part in your war
for a lead role in a cage?
sometimes i listen to great music and i have to stop what i'm doing and just let the pictures roll in front my closed eyes.
so many images floating past, hard to grab them all.
and the feelings...
some songs infuse me with this outlook that is fresh from my high school years.
it's wild.
i see things the way i saw them then, and their difference from the present shocks me.
it feels like i'm in someone else's head.
but it's familiar, it's mine.
i remember for a moment the way i thought the world worked, the way i thought my life would go, and the way i felt i fit into the larger picture.
boy oh boy was i wrong--on all counts.
i'm sure you can all relate, it's a youth/wisdom contrast.
it's just wild to have to flip past me like the page of a magazine, unsummoned.
um.
i know i shouldn't care what other people think of me, but i can't help wondering who left that anonymous comment on yesterday's post. something about it makes me think it's someone i know in real life. but i don't know. it would only bother me if i knew the person and they wrote that. if it's some joe schmoe, i don't really care. but he had a point. i have been writing like i'm hyperventilating.
which reminds me...
i used to hyperventilate a little bit when i cried.
in high school when being dramatic was integral to every day life.
back when i really truly was the sweet innocent little girl next door.
damn, times have changed.
that's me.
Vanilla Sky in my mailbox today.
if you like movies, and you're a huge lazy ass, like me and you haven't joined Netflix--do so.
immediately.
so fun.
if you're a woman, and you haven't seen the movie Moll Flanders, see it.
Morgan freeman, Robin Wright (pre-Penn) and Stockard Channing.
kick ass movie, guys might like it too.
i know i'm full of demands today, but it's wednesday, god damn it.
and that means i'm the boss.
or maybe it means rachel loves ross.
whatever.
we just dropped our porn channel and switched to all the movie channels.
i know!!
what were we thinking??
nah, we just didn't watch it that much.
well, I didn't...
and i'd rather have 40 movie channels than one porn.
and i'd rather make porn than watch it.
did i just say that?
sweet innocent little girl next door, moi??
wow.
i bet you're all totally shocked.
and did you exchange
a walk on part in your war
for a lead role in a cage?
sometimes i listen to great music and i have to stop what i'm doing and just let the pictures roll in front my closed eyes.
so many images floating past, hard to grab them all.
and the feelings...
some songs infuse me with this outlook that is fresh from my high school years.
it's wild.
i see things the way i saw them then, and their difference from the present shocks me.
it feels like i'm in someone else's head.
but it's familiar, it's mine.
i remember for a moment the way i thought the world worked, the way i thought my life would go, and the way i felt i fit into the larger picture.
boy oh boy was i wrong--on all counts.
i'm sure you can all relate, it's a youth/wisdom contrast.
it's just wild to have to flip past me like the page of a magazine, unsummoned.
um.
i know i shouldn't care what other people think of me, but i can't help wondering who left that anonymous comment on yesterday's post. something about it makes me think it's someone i know in real life. but i don't know. it would only bother me if i knew the person and they wrote that. if it's some joe schmoe, i don't really care. but he had a point. i have been writing like i'm hyperventilating.
which reminds me...
i used to hyperventilate a little bit when i cried.
in high school when being dramatic was integral to every day life.
back when i really truly was the sweet innocent little girl next door.
damn, times have changed.
Best friends...
i see you, through the window of the cafe, before you see me.
i look away, hoping you don't notice me and keep walking.
it might be awkward.
what would i say?
the bells on the door jingle, and the most familiar voice in the world to me, speaks my name.
my face flushes before i even turn around, i stand and return your greeting.
you act like there's nothing out of the ordinary, like nothing has changed.
but it has.
for me, forever.
you join me, your long legs out in the aisle, your hat tossed carelessly onto the table.
as you talk i can't focus on your words, but am instead transfixed by the stubble appearing on your face.
it wasn't there the last time i saw you.
the first time i touched you.
wanting you had always been a part of me, but that night...
and we're still just friends.
i can see it in your face, feel it in my gut.
the death of the best friendship i've ever had was born that drunken night.
that night...
as a glass of wine turned into a bottle, which turned into two, then three...
we had often been drunk together, but this time was different.
for the first time in the ten years of our friendship we were both single.
i'd been in europe all summer, my first night back.
drinking french wine and catching up...
you were flirting with me.
and i dared to hope that you had the same feelings for me as i had always had for you.
through falling in love with other boys, then men, you had been the one i always compared them to, the one i really wanted.
the pedastal i had created for you was so tall it shadowed all reason, all logic, and heightened my lust for you, as only love can.
i am beginning to panic, to wallow in the broken heart i've acquired, just as you speak, pulling me back.
you reach for my hand, your touch startling me.
we're cool, right?
you are shy, suddenly--unsure.
this change alone softens my anger.
i shrug.
my first reaction is to unload on you all of the things i've been saying to you in my head since yesterday.
but i fight it, emptying sugar packets into my coffee to stall...
i smile, but it must be unconvincing, because you bite your cheek and look down, nodding slowly.
i'm such an asshole. did i ruin everything?
in that moment i realize that i can get past this, but it won't be the same with us.
i loved you for too long to think my dream came true then learn it didn't and just forget about it.
i loved you for too long to discard this friendship.
nah. but i'm late, so i'll see you later.
i manage a smile, but as i walk to class a few tears creep out.
*************
just a little story for your hump day.
i always take comments too seriously and they affect my writing.
but just for a few minutes.
so i found this little story i wrote the other day, when i was trying to think of a fantasy friday.
this one? not such a good fantasy...=)
but it's better than nothing, which is what i would have written.
more later.
when i get my head out of my ass.
or maybe before....
i look away, hoping you don't notice me and keep walking.
it might be awkward.
what would i say?
the bells on the door jingle, and the most familiar voice in the world to me, speaks my name.
my face flushes before i even turn around, i stand and return your greeting.
you act like there's nothing out of the ordinary, like nothing has changed.
but it has.
for me, forever.
you join me, your long legs out in the aisle, your hat tossed carelessly onto the table.
as you talk i can't focus on your words, but am instead transfixed by the stubble appearing on your face.
it wasn't there the last time i saw you.
the first time i touched you.
wanting you had always been a part of me, but that night...
and we're still just friends.
i can see it in your face, feel it in my gut.
the death of the best friendship i've ever had was born that drunken night.
that night...
as a glass of wine turned into a bottle, which turned into two, then three...
we had often been drunk together, but this time was different.
for the first time in the ten years of our friendship we were both single.
i'd been in europe all summer, my first night back.
drinking french wine and catching up...
you were flirting with me.
and i dared to hope that you had the same feelings for me as i had always had for you.
through falling in love with other boys, then men, you had been the one i always compared them to, the one i really wanted.
the pedastal i had created for you was so tall it shadowed all reason, all logic, and heightened my lust for you, as only love can.
i am beginning to panic, to wallow in the broken heart i've acquired, just as you speak, pulling me back.
you reach for my hand, your touch startling me.
we're cool, right?
you are shy, suddenly--unsure.
this change alone softens my anger.
i shrug.
my first reaction is to unload on you all of the things i've been saying to you in my head since yesterday.
but i fight it, emptying sugar packets into my coffee to stall...
i smile, but it must be unconvincing, because you bite your cheek and look down, nodding slowly.
i'm such an asshole. did i ruin everything?
in that moment i realize that i can get past this, but it won't be the same with us.
i loved you for too long to think my dream came true then learn it didn't and just forget about it.
i loved you for too long to discard this friendship.
nah. but i'm late, so i'll see you later.
i manage a smile, but as i walk to class a few tears creep out.
*************
just a little story for your hump day.
i always take comments too seriously and they affect my writing.
but just for a few minutes.
so i found this little story i wrote the other day, when i was trying to think of a fantasy friday.
this one? not such a good fantasy...=)
but it's better than nothing, which is what i would have written.
more later.
when i get my head out of my ass.
or maybe before....
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
good grief
nice friggin nap.
they usually sleep for 2 hours.
today it was under an hour.
fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk.
and there's a cat in my garage.
meowing.
and it's not mine.
what the fuck??
is there an invisible force field around my house that only keeps out people i'd like to see and horses?
or maybe there's a huge welcome sign written in animal language.
and i still haven't showered.
god DAMN it.
all i want is some peace and quiet.
no chance of that happening.
oh well, i'm used to it.
I think that if max would stop asking for a different food every 3 minutes i might get something done...
a sandwich...
he eats 2 bites.
popcorn?
3 bites.
grapes, apple?
same.
now, grapefruit.
no, says I.
not until you finish one of the other 4 plates of food i've given you.
and of course he's whiney as hell because he got half the nap he needed.
so that makes me whiney as hell.
dammmmmmmmmmmmit.
i was so hoping to have some peace and quiet so i could write something halfway interesting or entertaining or stimulating or ovulating.
but this is my life.
kay, i'm holding little "would you like some cheese to go with that?" and that's a pretty good mute button for the moment.
i'll keep you posted.
aren't you thrilled??
and you thought this was going to be a dull post.
psh.
i'm full of witty, insightful commentary.
either that or shit.
they feel about the same, it's hard to tell until i get started...
so i am getting readier and readier (is that a word? and what the hell happened to my superior spelling/grammar skills? i mean, lordy. i'm almost not better than everyone else anymore. and that's scary. how will i face myself?? and if i could remember what i was talking about before the parentheses, maybe i'd close them and finish the sentence, but i can't, so i'll have to stall. nope, i lost it. now i feel terribly akward about the whole open parentheses thing...maybe i'll just close it and run...)
so it appears that i missed out on the next big thing in blogging.
that's right.
The Real World Blogger Style
i thought about applying, but i figured with kids and a strange diet plan, i'd never fit in.
i wouldn't be comfortable leaving my husband to manage the kids for that long, and eating carefully is hard to do when you're spending so much time in a social setting.
so, maybe next season.
the house looks nice, though.
and i was looking forward to late nights, light beers and naked hot tub rendez vous with some of dear fellow bloggers, but i'm used to disappointment.
just kidding.
i'm actually used to getting my way.
every time.
or else.
hubby calls it spoiled.
i call it persuasive...
i feel like hitchhiking to Vegas (yes it's just a coincidence) getting drunk at a strip club, getting a new tatoo--of something totally outrageous that i'll hate in the morning--piercing my eyebrow, bowling naked, shouting from the top of my lungs, from the top of the luxor, and rapelling down it...
i feel like dying my hair blue and wearing all black.
i feel like wearing a trench coat to byu campus and throwing it off, to streak through their shocked masses.
i feel like hiking in warm sunshine.
i feel like running all the way to the atlantic, forest gump style.
i feel like i feel like cooking 17 lobsters and eating them one by one, tearing through their shells like an animal.
i feel like cooking a double batch of brownies, dumping a half gallon of vanilla ice cream on them, pouring hot fudge sauce over that, topping it with whipped cream and eating the whole thing without stopping. off your naked body.
wow.
yeah, i really do.
i guess that got to the bottom of the restless feeling...
needing some real sugar.
fuck that.
me and my splenda will ride off into the sunset, so skinny you couldn't see me if i turned sideways.
EYE am the master of this body.
once upon a time.
there was a boy named Sue.
scrawny little kid with dishwater hair.
always looking over his shoulder for the bullies.
they were never far behind.
when he was 14 he took a shotgun and aimed it at his father's chest.
why'd you gimme a girl's name?
the old drunk looked back at him with a toothless grin, spitting his tobaco onto the floor.
cuz i knew you'd be a worthless little shit.
and those were the last words he ever spoke.
and Sue walked taller after that.
disappearing on the midnight train.
with only a backpack and the empty shells from that shotgun.
they usually sleep for 2 hours.
today it was under an hour.
fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk.
and there's a cat in my garage.
meowing.
and it's not mine.
what the fuck??
is there an invisible force field around my house that only keeps out people i'd like to see and horses?
or maybe there's a huge welcome sign written in animal language.
and i still haven't showered.
god DAMN it.
all i want is some peace and quiet.
no chance of that happening.
oh well, i'm used to it.
I think that if max would stop asking for a different food every 3 minutes i might get something done...
a sandwich...
he eats 2 bites.
popcorn?
3 bites.
grapes, apple?
same.
now, grapefruit.
no, says I.
not until you finish one of the other 4 plates of food i've given you.
and of course he's whiney as hell because he got half the nap he needed.
so that makes me whiney as hell.
dammmmmmmmmmmmit.
i was so hoping to have some peace and quiet so i could write something halfway interesting or entertaining or stimulating or ovulating.
but this is my life.
kay, i'm holding little "would you like some cheese to go with that?" and that's a pretty good mute button for the moment.
i'll keep you posted.
aren't you thrilled??
and you thought this was going to be a dull post.
psh.
i'm full of witty, insightful commentary.
either that or shit.
they feel about the same, it's hard to tell until i get started...
so i am getting readier and readier (is that a word? and what the hell happened to my superior spelling/grammar skills? i mean, lordy. i'm almost not better than everyone else anymore. and that's scary. how will i face myself?? and if i could remember what i was talking about before the parentheses, maybe i'd close them and finish the sentence, but i can't, so i'll have to stall. nope, i lost it. now i feel terribly akward about the whole open parentheses thing...maybe i'll just close it and run...)
so it appears that i missed out on the next big thing in blogging.
that's right.
The Real World Blogger Style
i thought about applying, but i figured with kids and a strange diet plan, i'd never fit in.
i wouldn't be comfortable leaving my husband to manage the kids for that long, and eating carefully is hard to do when you're spending so much time in a social setting.
so, maybe next season.
the house looks nice, though.
and i was looking forward to late nights, light beers and naked hot tub rendez vous with some of dear fellow bloggers, but i'm used to disappointment.
just kidding.
i'm actually used to getting my way.
every time.
or else.
hubby calls it spoiled.
i call it persuasive...
i feel like hitchhiking to Vegas (yes it's just a coincidence) getting drunk at a strip club, getting a new tatoo--of something totally outrageous that i'll hate in the morning--piercing my eyebrow, bowling naked, shouting from the top of my lungs, from the top of the luxor, and rapelling down it...
i feel like dying my hair blue and wearing all black.
i feel like wearing a trench coat to byu campus and throwing it off, to streak through their shocked masses.
i feel like hiking in warm sunshine.
i feel like running all the way to the atlantic, forest gump style.
i feel like i feel like cooking 17 lobsters and eating them one by one, tearing through their shells like an animal.
i feel like cooking a double batch of brownies, dumping a half gallon of vanilla ice cream on them, pouring hot fudge sauce over that, topping it with whipped cream and eating the whole thing without stopping. off your naked body.
wow.
yeah, i really do.
i guess that got to the bottom of the restless feeling...
needing some real sugar.
fuck that.
me and my splenda will ride off into the sunset, so skinny you couldn't see me if i turned sideways.
EYE am the master of this body.
once upon a time.
there was a boy named Sue.
scrawny little kid with dishwater hair.
always looking over his shoulder for the bullies.
they were never far behind.
when he was 14 he took a shotgun and aimed it at his father's chest.
why'd you gimme a girl's name?
the old drunk looked back at him with a toothless grin, spitting his tobaco onto the floor.
cuz i knew you'd be a worthless little shit.
and those were the last words he ever spoke.
and Sue walked taller after that.
disappearing on the midnight train.
with only a backpack and the empty shells from that shotgun.
Two for Tuesday
Ruby Tuesday.
Tuesday's Gone.
Church on Tuesday.
Tuesday Afternoon.
Tuesday Heartbreak.
So, yeah.
I guess it's Tuesday and shit.
Did you get that memo?
something happened yesterday that made me giggle.
and i didn't even leave my house.
the doorbell rang.
i could see the form of a tall man, and i thought, "don't know him, not opening the door."
and no, it's not because i'm afraid of strangers.
it's because i hate saying no to door to door salesmen--but not as much as i hate saying yes.
especially on cold days.
so, he stood there and stood there and finally i said, aw fuck it, i'll open the door.
so i open the door and he launches into his spiel.
just as he's about to say what he's selling, i glance at the canvas bag he's carrying.
upon reading the words, i am filled with a spurt of mischevious joy.
i smile and say, "Hell no! Thanks!" and cheerfully close the door.
was he selling mary kay?
or a hair curling set?
or power tools? (no, not the wink wink kind)
or perhaps a magazine subscription?
nah.
i don't need any of those things, but it wouldn't fill me with quite that much satisfaction to say no to those salesmen.
The bag read, "Living Scriptures".
Now...i don't actually know what they are, but i've seen the kiosks in the mall, and i'm pretty sure it's a set of cartoon videos, depicting stories from the Bible and of course, let's not forget, The Book of Mormon.
so you can see why i might be thrilled to say no.
i didn't even plan to swear, for effect or whatever....
that was just how i felt.
i'll find a link.
just for shits and giggles...Living Scriptures
so anyway, that made my day.
but then i got some lame ass news.
(lots of boring personal crap, feel free to tune out. i just need to vent...)
my husband's ex has their 7 year old son.
so she got married a few years ago, but she's getting divorced now.
because her marriage didn't work out, we're going to pay the price.
we HAD a verbal agreement that was working fine for all of us.
that kid had everything he needed and thensome, even though they have no money.
but, the actual cash amount we were giving her was much lower than my husband's income would generate from one of those state calculator thingies...
so of course the bitch is going to recovery services.
instead of being civil and coming to us and asking.
we'd give her more.
we'd do all sorts of nice things for her.
if she'd ask.
whatever.
it'll only be another $300-400 a month, and that's not a huge deal...
although it could be more, cuz that's just what she said, based on a guess of his salary.
i don't think she knows how much he really earns...
HOWEVER.
now my husband wants to get custody.
cuz....knowing her track record, she's bound to have guys in and out of there like a jiffy lube.
and i'm all for having custody, but getting custody is a different story...
the court thing will not be any fun.
so.
remember when i said my life is so perfect right now, it's gotta be time for something bad to happen?
well, this could end up being pretty bad, but if this is all life's going to throw at us, we'll make it.
this girl is evil, by the way.
she's the type who would not bat an eye at telling her son that his father hates him and i don't want him and whatever else she can think of to make him not want to come live with us.
she's coniving, but not very smart.
and don't get me started on the, "what the fuck was my husband doing with a chick like that in the first place??" rant.
the bottom line there is they were young and she was a nympho.
i still just wanna smack him for being so sex-driven, though.
i just deleted a huge rant i went off on, detailing all of her past transgressions and permanent faults.
you don't need to smell my dirty laundry...seeing it is enough.
so i hope you're all having a fantastic tuesday.
and i think i'll make this a two for tuesday.
with a less depressing post a little later.
Tuesday's Gone.
Church on Tuesday.
Tuesday Afternoon.
Tuesday Heartbreak.
So, yeah.
I guess it's Tuesday and shit.
Did you get that memo?
something happened yesterday that made me giggle.
and i didn't even leave my house.
the doorbell rang.
i could see the form of a tall man, and i thought, "don't know him, not opening the door."
and no, it's not because i'm afraid of strangers.
it's because i hate saying no to door to door salesmen--but not as much as i hate saying yes.
especially on cold days.
so, he stood there and stood there and finally i said, aw fuck it, i'll open the door.
so i open the door and he launches into his spiel.
just as he's about to say what he's selling, i glance at the canvas bag he's carrying.
upon reading the words, i am filled with a spurt of mischevious joy.
i smile and say, "Hell no! Thanks!" and cheerfully close the door.
was he selling mary kay?
or a hair curling set?
or power tools? (no, not the wink wink kind)
or perhaps a magazine subscription?
nah.
i don't need any of those things, but it wouldn't fill me with quite that much satisfaction to say no to those salesmen.
The bag read, "Living Scriptures".
Now...i don't actually know what they are, but i've seen the kiosks in the mall, and i'm pretty sure it's a set of cartoon videos, depicting stories from the Bible and of course, let's not forget, The Book of Mormon.
so you can see why i might be thrilled to say no.
i didn't even plan to swear, for effect or whatever....
that was just how i felt.
i'll find a link.
just for shits and giggles...Living Scriptures
so anyway, that made my day.
but then i got some lame ass news.
(lots of boring personal crap, feel free to tune out. i just need to vent...)
my husband's ex has their 7 year old son.
so she got married a few years ago, but she's getting divorced now.
because her marriage didn't work out, we're going to pay the price.
we HAD a verbal agreement that was working fine for all of us.
that kid had everything he needed and thensome, even though they have no money.
but, the actual cash amount we were giving her was much lower than my husband's income would generate from one of those state calculator thingies...
so of course the bitch is going to recovery services.
instead of being civil and coming to us and asking.
we'd give her more.
we'd do all sorts of nice things for her.
if she'd ask.
whatever.
it'll only be another $300-400 a month, and that's not a huge deal...
although it could be more, cuz that's just what she said, based on a guess of his salary.
i don't think she knows how much he really earns...
HOWEVER.
now my husband wants to get custody.
cuz....knowing her track record, she's bound to have guys in and out of there like a jiffy lube.
and i'm all for having custody, but getting custody is a different story...
the court thing will not be any fun.
so.
remember when i said my life is so perfect right now, it's gotta be time for something bad to happen?
well, this could end up being pretty bad, but if this is all life's going to throw at us, we'll make it.
this girl is evil, by the way.
she's the type who would not bat an eye at telling her son that his father hates him and i don't want him and whatever else she can think of to make him not want to come live with us.
she's coniving, but not very smart.
and don't get me started on the, "what the fuck was my husband doing with a chick like that in the first place??" rant.
the bottom line there is they were young and she was a nympho.
i still just wanna smack him for being so sex-driven, though.
i just deleted a huge rant i went off on, detailing all of her past transgressions and permanent faults.
you don't need to smell my dirty laundry...seeing it is enough.
so i hope you're all having a fantastic tuesday.
and i think i'll make this a two for tuesday.
with a less depressing post a little later.
Monday, January 19, 2004
ready set go
i'm going to delve into the deepest folds of my soggy old brain and puke out words until something interesting lands on the paper.
gonna wiggle into my scuba gear, cuz it's deep.
here goes nothing....
i am so unimaginative lately.
welcome to Rutville Utah.
it's just south of Borington.
and a little east of Vanilla City.
We have everything a person needs to survive, but none of the frills.
we offer no pretty little shopping districts, or gourmet restaurants.
there are no young people, no old.
everything is flat, brown, gray.
no one dreams at night.
everything tastes like sand, smells like chalk.
the wind never blows, the sun never really shines.
it's always just lurking behind the clouds--which never release rain.
we have no library, no museums.
we have no roads in or out.
if you want out, you gotta tunnel your way under the barbed wire fence.
with a spoon, or your fingers.
and when you get to the other side, it's a 400 mile walk through wilderness to the nearest gas station, pay phone...sunny sky.
there's no road, no signs, no landmarks.
you have only your gut feeling to lead you to the world of full color, vibrance.
the world of shapes and sounds and smells and textures.
but it's only a myth.
no one has ever come back from an escape attempt, so no one knows if there is a real world out there.
most are not even interested in leaving their gray womb.
but i am.
i belong in sunny meadows and warm lakes.
i need to run and dance and sing and leap.
i am haunted by dreams of a world with green hills and forests and soft winds and pelting rain.
i could fly if i found such a world.
i know it.
gonna wiggle into my scuba gear, cuz it's deep.
here goes nothing....
i am so unimaginative lately.
welcome to Rutville Utah.
it's just south of Borington.
and a little east of Vanilla City.
We have everything a person needs to survive, but none of the frills.
we offer no pretty little shopping districts, or gourmet restaurants.
there are no young people, no old.
everything is flat, brown, gray.
no one dreams at night.
everything tastes like sand, smells like chalk.
the wind never blows, the sun never really shines.
it's always just lurking behind the clouds--which never release rain.
we have no library, no museums.
we have no roads in or out.
if you want out, you gotta tunnel your way under the barbed wire fence.
with a spoon, or your fingers.
and when you get to the other side, it's a 400 mile walk through wilderness to the nearest gas station, pay phone...sunny sky.
there's no road, no signs, no landmarks.
you have only your gut feeling to lead you to the world of full color, vibrance.
the world of shapes and sounds and smells and textures.
but it's only a myth.
no one has ever come back from an escape attempt, so no one knows if there is a real world out there.
most are not even interested in leaving their gray womb.
but i am.
i belong in sunny meadows and warm lakes.
i need to run and dance and sing and leap.
i am haunted by dreams of a world with green hills and forests and soft winds and pelting rain.
i could fly if i found such a world.
i know it.
sick children
and no, not in that "good way" that the kids are all using that word these days.
whatever the hell it means.
i can't think of a damn thing to say.
why does that make me panic??
i wish i had a soundproof room i could lock myself into.
and a nanny.
just so i could write something--work on that stupid book, write a longer short story than one paragraph.
sweet.
i just got an email with a hyperlink that said "click here to enlarge your penis now".
i wonder how many people will fall for THAT.
you know, like those emails claiming that something funny will happen to your screen if you forward this to 10 people.
blows my mind that people are that gullible.
or compulsive.
i have made it my personal mission to stop all such transmissions that come my way.
bad luck awaiting me?
bring it on.
a missed opportunity to get a gift certificate from some unsuspecting retailer?
good, i hate their shit anyway.
little johnny's going to fail his science project?
i hope he does.
little timmy needs a transplant?
doubt it.
anyway.
winter always makes me restless.
well, more restless than usual.
i need an adventure.
i'm even thinking that by this summer the boys will be ready to go adventuring with me.
we can go hiking any time i want.
we can check out the new reservoir at the edge of the canyon.
where, i might add, i might just be comfortable in my swimsuit for the first time since the little parasites starting abusing my body.
and summer's not so far away, if you live in utah.
probably another month and we'll start having warm days.
then another few weeks and we'll get snow, then heat......
then more snow, then more heat....
eh, whatever.
at least i'm not in Maine...
(yes, i'm grinning sheepishly....)
but they'll be frozen over for at least two more months.
spring doesn't even begin to show its rainy little head until march.
the rain lasts until june.
and it's not warm, sunny rain.
it's cloudy, tempestuous, angry rain.
it's cold, muddy, stinging rain.
utah's weather is great.
i just wish we could export all the annoying people and import a bunch of normal ones.
saw a billboard last night for an all-mormon cruise.
let's get our heads out of the sand people.
they live in fear of coming into even the most brief or indirect contact with anything outside their realm of beliefs.
heaven forbid they sit across the table from a nice protestant couple from Arkansas enjoying a glasss of wine with dinner.
or hear a dirty joke at the comedy club.
or a--gasp--SWEAR WORD.
you don't want to get me started.
i have way too much to say on this subject--and most of it would be rambling angry and incoherant.
i forgot to have that husband of mine bring down one of the good chairs for me.
so he has two plush, adjustable in 400 ways, comfortable chairs at his desk.
and i'm still sitting in a metal folding chair.
i do love metal.
but not so much to sit on...
just to listen to.
har har har.
whatever the hell it means.
i can't think of a damn thing to say.
why does that make me panic??
i wish i had a soundproof room i could lock myself into.
and a nanny.
just so i could write something--work on that stupid book, write a longer short story than one paragraph.
sweet.
i just got an email with a hyperlink that said "click here to enlarge your penis now".
i wonder how many people will fall for THAT.
you know, like those emails claiming that something funny will happen to your screen if you forward this to 10 people.
blows my mind that people are that gullible.
or compulsive.
i have made it my personal mission to stop all such transmissions that come my way.
bad luck awaiting me?
bring it on.
a missed opportunity to get a gift certificate from some unsuspecting retailer?
good, i hate their shit anyway.
little johnny's going to fail his science project?
i hope he does.
little timmy needs a transplant?
doubt it.
anyway.
winter always makes me restless.
well, more restless than usual.
i need an adventure.
i'm even thinking that by this summer the boys will be ready to go adventuring with me.
we can go hiking any time i want.
we can check out the new reservoir at the edge of the canyon.
where, i might add, i might just be comfortable in my swimsuit for the first time since the little parasites starting abusing my body.
and summer's not so far away, if you live in utah.
probably another month and we'll start having warm days.
then another few weeks and we'll get snow, then heat......
then more snow, then more heat....
eh, whatever.
at least i'm not in Maine...
(yes, i'm grinning sheepishly....)
but they'll be frozen over for at least two more months.
spring doesn't even begin to show its rainy little head until march.
the rain lasts until june.
and it's not warm, sunny rain.
it's cloudy, tempestuous, angry rain.
it's cold, muddy, stinging rain.
utah's weather is great.
i just wish we could export all the annoying people and import a bunch of normal ones.
saw a billboard last night for an all-mormon cruise.
let's get our heads out of the sand people.
they live in fear of coming into even the most brief or indirect contact with anything outside their realm of beliefs.
heaven forbid they sit across the table from a nice protestant couple from Arkansas enjoying a glasss of wine with dinner.
or hear a dirty joke at the comedy club.
or a--gasp--SWEAR WORD.
you don't want to get me started.
i have way too much to say on this subject--and most of it would be rambling angry and incoherant.
i forgot to have that husband of mine bring down one of the good chairs for me.
so he has two plush, adjustable in 400 ways, comfortable chairs at his desk.
and i'm still sitting in a metal folding chair.
i do love metal.
but not so much to sit on...
just to listen to.
har har har.
Sunday, January 18, 2004
go patriots!
woo.
i don't actually disklike football...
but i don't really have the attention span for it.
with all the stopping and starting...
and the fact that it last 74 hours per game...
but when i'm forced, i manage to enjoy it, and even get a into it.
and i feel the need to be a little loyal to the pats, cuz i'm from new england.
so that's nice.
good work, boys.
i'm glad my job doesn't require me to run around in the snow getting chased by 300 pound-men.
although i wouldn't mind the pay raise...
so i was watching a little Daria, on Noggin.
and i need to mention the raging crush i have on Trent.
he's the cartoon man of my dreams.
party last night.
lots of fun.
my friend's little brothers came, and their friend.
i saw him a few days ago at the gym.
thought he was a girl, from the back.
wasit length dark hair.
small frame.
plain looking girl...
then he turned around.
hot.
so i told my friend.
she was delighted to inform me that he is the cousin of a long haired blond i had checked out at the gym once.
I'm such a lesbo.
I cheated on my diet at the party.
just a little.
but i feel stupid anyway.
and i mooched a can of bud light, then discovered WE had bottles of it.
canned beer?
blehck.
oh well.
s'all good.
i'm going to buy a tanning pass tomorrow.
i know...
i'm really ashamed to admit it.
but i look so much better tanned...
so fuck you.
and yes, i'll take pictures.
no, not of me, tanning nekid.
no, not of my tan lines.
of the finished result.
that is, if i ever GET tan.
it's not a quick process for ole irish semi-red heads.
i'm feeling rather uncreative today.
maybe i should take down the two remaining x-mas decorations i overlooked.
or start cooking dinner.
or answer some emails.
what i'd really like is to get laid.
too many kids around.
maybe later.
when i'm too tired to do anything wild.
oh well.
i don't actually disklike football...
but i don't really have the attention span for it.
with all the stopping and starting...
and the fact that it last 74 hours per game...
but when i'm forced, i manage to enjoy it, and even get a into it.
and i feel the need to be a little loyal to the pats, cuz i'm from new england.
so that's nice.
good work, boys.
i'm glad my job doesn't require me to run around in the snow getting chased by 300 pound-men.
although i wouldn't mind the pay raise...
so i was watching a little Daria, on Noggin.
and i need to mention the raging crush i have on Trent.
he's the cartoon man of my dreams.
party last night.
lots of fun.
my friend's little brothers came, and their friend.
i saw him a few days ago at the gym.
thought he was a girl, from the back.
wasit length dark hair.
small frame.
plain looking girl...
then he turned around.
hot.
so i told my friend.
she was delighted to inform me that he is the cousin of a long haired blond i had checked out at the gym once.
I'm such a lesbo.
I cheated on my diet at the party.
just a little.
but i feel stupid anyway.
and i mooched a can of bud light, then discovered WE had bottles of it.
canned beer?
blehck.
oh well.
s'all good.
i'm going to buy a tanning pass tomorrow.
i know...
i'm really ashamed to admit it.
but i look so much better tanned...
so fuck you.
and yes, i'll take pictures.
no, not of me, tanning nekid.
no, not of my tan lines.
of the finished result.
that is, if i ever GET tan.
it's not a quick process for ole irish semi-red heads.
i'm feeling rather uncreative today.
maybe i should take down the two remaining x-mas decorations i overlooked.
or start cooking dinner.
or answer some emails.
what i'd really like is to get laid.
too many kids around.
maybe later.
when i'm too tired to do anything wild.
oh well.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
okay, fine
so i have insomnia.
but at least my kids can wake me with yet another horror so i have to scramble from my bed in a panic.
today it was an entire bowl of popcorn spread over the living room, and kitchen floors.
sometimes i make strange decisions late at night.
sometimes i write things i'm happy with.
today is not either of those.
today is the i can't sleep but i am too distracted by the Wings episode on nick at nite to write anything worth reading day.
s'okay.
i'll just tune it out.
turn it off?
nah.
you may remember my tales of laziness...
yip.
the remote is on the table next to me.
i'm wearing my retainer...
we have this intricate dance, my teeth and i.
i love me retainer.
whenever i think my teeth are shifting i wear it for a night and all is well...
so the years passed and i lost my retainer, which was dusty and neglected...
now that i think of it, the poor little thing probably ran away.
so i went and got a new little pink friend.
we were quite happy together...
that lucious, aching pain in the morning, a testament to all the hard work it had done in the night,.
a few weeks ago my kids found it and played with it for a while and bent it all out of shape.
so i'm wearing it anyway.
i sure hope it doesn't make my teeth worse.
well, that's a minute you can never get back.
i apologize.
my fucking hair isn't growing either.
it usually grows at an alarming rate.
but it hasn't grown since, oh i don't know--THE DAY I DECIDED TO GROW IT OUT???
and it's the worst because i have these little fucking pieces that won't go up so i have to use all these stupid little clips to keep the shit out of my way while i work out.
just craved pie.
and donuts.
fuck.
think quick girlie!
change the subject.
well, i have to pee so that's a good change of pace.
L.L. Bean.
why did i just picture that building?
i remember when that was the only store i knew of that was open 24 hours a day.
i do love my lil Maine.
i want to be that tough.
i want to be that full of texture and character and be a part of that place.
but it'll never happen.
i don't feel like i belong there anymore, anyway.
don't get me wrong, utah is just twisted and fucked up and i can't believe i only have a year and a half to solve the issue of socializing my children here in freakville.
but i don't need to live in maine either.
just somewhere normal for fuck's sake.
somewhere different.
okay, i'm reachy a state of incoherancy, so it's time to go.
maybe i can put myself to sleep with a little homespun bedtime story.
later--
but at least my kids can wake me with yet another horror so i have to scramble from my bed in a panic.
today it was an entire bowl of popcorn spread over the living room, and kitchen floors.
sometimes i make strange decisions late at night.
sometimes i write things i'm happy with.
today is not either of those.
today is the i can't sleep but i am too distracted by the Wings episode on nick at nite to write anything worth reading day.
s'okay.
i'll just tune it out.
turn it off?
nah.
you may remember my tales of laziness...
yip.
the remote is on the table next to me.
i'm wearing my retainer...
we have this intricate dance, my teeth and i.
i love me retainer.
whenever i think my teeth are shifting i wear it for a night and all is well...
so the years passed and i lost my retainer, which was dusty and neglected...
now that i think of it, the poor little thing probably ran away.
so i went and got a new little pink friend.
we were quite happy together...
that lucious, aching pain in the morning, a testament to all the hard work it had done in the night,.
a few weeks ago my kids found it and played with it for a while and bent it all out of shape.
so i'm wearing it anyway.
i sure hope it doesn't make my teeth worse.
well, that's a minute you can never get back.
i apologize.
my fucking hair isn't growing either.
it usually grows at an alarming rate.
but it hasn't grown since, oh i don't know--THE DAY I DECIDED TO GROW IT OUT???
and it's the worst because i have these little fucking pieces that won't go up so i have to use all these stupid little clips to keep the shit out of my way while i work out.
just craved pie.
and donuts.
fuck.
think quick girlie!
change the subject.
well, i have to pee so that's a good change of pace.
L.L. Bean.
why did i just picture that building?
i remember when that was the only store i knew of that was open 24 hours a day.
i do love my lil Maine.
i want to be that tough.
i want to be that full of texture and character and be a part of that place.
but it'll never happen.
i don't feel like i belong there anymore, anyway.
don't get me wrong, utah is just twisted and fucked up and i can't believe i only have a year and a half to solve the issue of socializing my children here in freakville.
but i don't need to live in maine either.
just somewhere normal for fuck's sake.
somewhere different.
okay, i'm reachy a state of incoherancy, so it's time to go.
maybe i can put myself to sleep with a little homespun bedtime story.
later--
Friday, January 16, 2004
Fantasy Friday VIII--Sweet Hitchhiker
where to? i ask, as you slide into the seat next to me.
as far south as you're going. you say softly, without looking at me.
you slide your guitar case over the seat and settle your back pack under your feet.
cowboy hat perched on your lap, i assume you're a country boy.
we drive in silence for a few minutes, as i begin to doubt myself for picking up a hitchhiker.
i am driving 5 hours south, but i don't want to be tied to you just yet...so i don't tell you.
i offer you a smoke and we roll down our windows.
you like my music, i ask you about the guitar.
you're headed to hollywood.
going to be a rockstar.
i turn and get a look at your face.
yeah, it could happen.
if you have the talent...
you sure have the look.
I put the top down, the dust and hot wind blow around us, but we are calm, unaffected in the safe harbor of my saab.
the music gets louder, the sun gets hotter.
i stop for gas and you ask how much further i'll be going.
Vegas.
you look startled, then smile, nod slowly and head inside while i pump.
i've decided you can ride the whole way.
you're quiet but beautiful.
and this long dull ride has taken a turn for the better...
i meet you, as you're heading back out.
you tell me you've already paid, and hand me a popsicle.
i get that feeling--that flicker of heat, that trickle of lightening--when you touch my hand.
i scold myself for a moment.
he's a kid.
then the devil on my other shoulder chimes in, a hot kid...
with a glance, i see that you need what i need.
instead of getting back on the freeway, i head off into the desert.
this nowhere town will not remember us, or the others like us who have stopped for gas...
and been overwhelmed by lust.
a desserted ranch road gives us some shelter...
i leave the top down, the music up and take my shirt off.
you pounce like a cat on his prey...
coming together like two pieces of a complex puzzle we have given in to that primal desire to populate a new earth which is within us all.
you intoxicate me with your touch, the sheer thrill of this dangerous act heightening all my senses.
the frantic, crazed kisses turn tender and soft, as my orgasm fades and yours is yet to come.
looking into your eyes i feel a sadness wash over me and i lean down to kiss your neck to keep from crying.
just 19, with the whole world ahead...
you're full of hope, full of fears and i yearn to pour my wisdom into you so you will be grounded but i see your future, and you're on a stage in front of thousands of people and i smile again...
with your hat on my head and my dark curls falling over my shoulders, you look up at me and smile back.
you call out in rapture and we collapse together, laughing at the beauty of life and the road ahead.
as far south as you're going. you say softly, without looking at me.
you slide your guitar case over the seat and settle your back pack under your feet.
cowboy hat perched on your lap, i assume you're a country boy.
we drive in silence for a few minutes, as i begin to doubt myself for picking up a hitchhiker.
i am driving 5 hours south, but i don't want to be tied to you just yet...so i don't tell you.
i offer you a smoke and we roll down our windows.
you like my music, i ask you about the guitar.
you're headed to hollywood.
going to be a rockstar.
i turn and get a look at your face.
yeah, it could happen.
if you have the talent...
you sure have the look.
I put the top down, the dust and hot wind blow around us, but we are calm, unaffected in the safe harbor of my saab.
the music gets louder, the sun gets hotter.
i stop for gas and you ask how much further i'll be going.
Vegas.
you look startled, then smile, nod slowly and head inside while i pump.
i've decided you can ride the whole way.
you're quiet but beautiful.
and this long dull ride has taken a turn for the better...
i meet you, as you're heading back out.
you tell me you've already paid, and hand me a popsicle.
i get that feeling--that flicker of heat, that trickle of lightening--when you touch my hand.
i scold myself for a moment.
he's a kid.
then the devil on my other shoulder chimes in, a hot kid...
with a glance, i see that you need what i need.
instead of getting back on the freeway, i head off into the desert.
this nowhere town will not remember us, or the others like us who have stopped for gas...
and been overwhelmed by lust.
a desserted ranch road gives us some shelter...
i leave the top down, the music up and take my shirt off.
you pounce like a cat on his prey...
coming together like two pieces of a complex puzzle we have given in to that primal desire to populate a new earth which is within us all.
you intoxicate me with your touch, the sheer thrill of this dangerous act heightening all my senses.
the frantic, crazed kisses turn tender and soft, as my orgasm fades and yours is yet to come.
looking into your eyes i feel a sadness wash over me and i lean down to kiss your neck to keep from crying.
just 19, with the whole world ahead...
you're full of hope, full of fears and i yearn to pour my wisdom into you so you will be grounded but i see your future, and you're on a stage in front of thousands of people and i smile again...
with your hat on my head and my dark curls falling over my shoulders, you look up at me and smile back.
you call out in rapture and we collapse together, laughing at the beauty of life and the road ahead.
sometimes i can't sleep
and it's not insomnia.
it's just that i'm tired and wide awake.
aw, shut up.
so here i am.
freezing cold.
in my kitchen.
with nothing to say anymore.
when i lay in bed, i compose the most glorious monologues, scripts, poems, stories...
and as soon as i reach for a pen or a keyboard--POOF! They're gone.
i need to invent that thingy.
you know.
the one that'll record your thoughts for you.
yes, i'm that lazy.
so anyway.
this morning while i was in the shower twin B decided to open the window and climb out it, onto the front porch, retrieve the newly delivered milk and put it away for me.
aw.
what a helpful lil varmint.
oh, and of course the window was left open, cuz they're strong enough to open it, but it always gets stuck.
it was no more than 4 degrees outside.
greaaaaat.
now he has a cold.
of course, as fun as it would be to blame that on a few minutes in the cold...
it's more likely from the snot nosed little shits at the gym.
i swear to all the gods of this earth or any other!
i take them there=they get sick.
i keep them home until they're well, take them back for a few days, and they're sick again.
i know, it's winter, they're kids, it's life.
fuck off.
YOU'RE not the one whose life it interupts.
i live in a delicately balanced world of schedules, habits and...well, slothfulness, actually.
it's an odd combination, but it works for me.
well, usually.
what the fuck is wrong with my furnace?
did it catch Kat's household virus???
It keeps turning on but stopping before it blows air.
it gets all poised and ready to spring into heat producing action--pilot light is lit, fan is humming...then it stops.
is my furnace a premature ejaculator??
or is it agoraphobic, perhaps?
or maybe it just needs its ass kicked.
let me go attempt that... hold on.
oh, don't give me attitude, what the hell else do you have to do?
it's one in the frigging morning.
you're sitting there in your pj's, the ones with the hole in the crotch, munching on stale chips and drinking cold coffee, wishing you could find a good free porn site.
you can wait a god damned minute while i fuck with my furnace.
or.
you can take a flying leap.
or piss up a rope.
or play hide and go fuck yourself.
or play in traffic.
or go watch Traffic.
or go direct traffic. (i'd put a robe on, if i were you)
so anyway, hold the fucking phone.
i'll be right back.
two seconds...
promise.
well shit.
i was gone longer than two seconds.
but i don't know why i'm worried about it, you would never know.
but at least i got the piece of shit moving again.
it just needed a little "my foot in its ass" enema.
aw crap.
i just realized Fantasy Friday is upon me, and i have not remembered to write a fantasy.
i guess i'll go work on that.
oh yeah, and will someone remind me to find a new hit counter thingy??
i keep forgetting.
it's just that i'm tired and wide awake.
aw, shut up.
so here i am.
freezing cold.
in my kitchen.
with nothing to say anymore.
when i lay in bed, i compose the most glorious monologues, scripts, poems, stories...
and as soon as i reach for a pen or a keyboard--POOF! They're gone.
i need to invent that thingy.
you know.
the one that'll record your thoughts for you.
yes, i'm that lazy.
so anyway.
this morning while i was in the shower twin B decided to open the window and climb out it, onto the front porch, retrieve the newly delivered milk and put it away for me.
aw.
what a helpful lil varmint.
oh, and of course the window was left open, cuz they're strong enough to open it, but it always gets stuck.
it was no more than 4 degrees outside.
greaaaaat.
now he has a cold.
of course, as fun as it would be to blame that on a few minutes in the cold...
it's more likely from the snot nosed little shits at the gym.
i swear to all the gods of this earth or any other!
i take them there=they get sick.
i keep them home until they're well, take them back for a few days, and they're sick again.
i know, it's winter, they're kids, it's life.
fuck off.
YOU'RE not the one whose life it interupts.
i live in a delicately balanced world of schedules, habits and...well, slothfulness, actually.
it's an odd combination, but it works for me.
well, usually.
what the fuck is wrong with my furnace?
did it catch Kat's household virus???
It keeps turning on but stopping before it blows air.
it gets all poised and ready to spring into heat producing action--pilot light is lit, fan is humming...then it stops.
is my furnace a premature ejaculator??
or is it agoraphobic, perhaps?
or maybe it just needs its ass kicked.
let me go attempt that... hold on.
oh, don't give me attitude, what the hell else do you have to do?
it's one in the frigging morning.
you're sitting there in your pj's, the ones with the hole in the crotch, munching on stale chips and drinking cold coffee, wishing you could find a good free porn site.
you can wait a god damned minute while i fuck with my furnace.
or.
you can take a flying leap.
or piss up a rope.
or play hide and go fuck yourself.
or play in traffic.
or go watch Traffic.
or go direct traffic. (i'd put a robe on, if i were you)
so anyway, hold the fucking phone.
i'll be right back.
two seconds...
promise.
well shit.
i was gone longer than two seconds.
but i don't know why i'm worried about it, you would never know.
but at least i got the piece of shit moving again.
it just needed a little "my foot in its ass" enema.
aw crap.
i just realized Fantasy Friday is upon me, and i have not remembered to write a fantasy.
i guess i'll go work on that.
oh yeah, and will someone remind me to find a new hit counter thingy??
i keep forgetting.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
it's a blog day afternoon
i almost giggled out loud when i thought of that.
so what does that spell?
that's right: dork.
so i sat wide eyed and glee-filled through Adaptation last night.
i haven't seen a great movie in a while.
well, lord of the rings was definitely great, but in a different way...
anyway, i loved every moment of it.
as the whole ending chaos began, my husband said, "this is his exciting ending."
sometimes i think my husband is a dumbass, cuz he does dumbass guy stuff...
but at moments like that i know the truth.
he's smarter than i am sometimes...in some ways.
he always calls stuff...like in 6th Sense?
totally.
like, halfway through the movie.
my neck hurts.
i keep tensing the muscles and now they're sore.
i need a massage.
bad.
like, in that frenzied "robbing a convenience store to pay for medicine for your dying child" sort of a way....
well.
okay, not quite.
but cripes.
did someone say crepes?
yummm....
wow.
i have nothing to say.
not a damn thing.
my brain is like a blank concrete wall...
just waiting for some graffiti...
i have some emails to catch up on, so i guess i could do that.
but it's time to make dinner.
and i have nothing to say.
at least it wasn't fat guy day at the gym again.
yesterday?
fat guys everywhere.
ugly and fat.
i mean, i'm proud of them for being there, but please.
how am i supposed to enjoy working out when there's no eye candy?
just front desk hookers with ten pounds of makeup and their complimentary boob jobs?
seriously.
i am convinced that they give free boob jobs to all the front desk workers.
if they didn't also have mandatory street walker makeup, i'd be begging for the job.
i just don't get that.
i never have.
make up can be a nice accent to your features, but ten pounds??
women around here are so high maintenance it just makes me shudder.
maybe that's why i never got dates at fucking byu.
the hot hippie guys were into me, though, so i was able to wipe away all those traumatic memories of dateless weekends once i left that insane place.
steamy sex is very therapeutic to a repressed and angry girl.
anyway, i'm what you might call low maintenance.
or lazy as shit, whichever.
i have better things to do (like SLEEP for one) than spend 2 hours in front of a mirror.
puh-leez.
if it takes you that long, can you really claim it's real?
i mean, think about it.
if you have to paint your face into a different time zone, and torture your hair until it wants to kill you, cursing it's inanimation...and wear padded bras and girdles and hair extensions and fake nails--jeeez!!
i'm all for sprucing up what god gave ya, but my rule of thumb is this: if you go home with a guy and he can't recognize you in the morning, you have a little problem with beauty products.
i'd actually like to learn how to wear a little tasteful makeup, cuz it's been so long i've forgotten...
in high school i wore some, and freshman year of college.
then i found my true hippie girl self and haven't gone beyond mascara and lipstick since then.
garlic shrimp with avocado dip.
yummmmmmmmmm
anyone need some skim milk?
i keep forgetting to change our order, and the milkman came this morning...
leaving my bi-weekly half gallon of skim along with the 2% for the little dudes.
i miss my milk.
my farm fresh fat free (of the non-Malone variety).
but i don't miss those 5 fucking pounds of lard that slid off my ass this week.
so fuck you, jelly belly.
you might wanna just high tail it on outta here if you know what's good for ya.
this town isn't big enough for the two of us...
well, those size 6 pants aren't, at least.
come to mama, size 6's!!!
sorry.
i guess i'm kind of obsessed with this.
i took my "before" picture, but i was pleased to see that it's not that bad.
i keep forgetting that i lost 25 pounds last year.
i got super duper fat after i had the twinners.
sitting on my ass feeding them for 6 months, then spending the next year or so being utterly depressed and aimless and finding comfort in food....
damn kids.
so i keep thinking i'm still THAT lard ass, when really, i'm only a teensy bit of a lard ass.
unlike that bitch in the dressing room the other day...
complaining to her boyfriend non-stop about how fat she is and asking him why he lets her eat so much, etc, etc....
then she asks him to get her the size 3 because the 5 is too big.
if i wasn't naked i sooooo would've jumped over that wall and beat the shit out of her.
size 3's don't get to complain about being fat.
go fuck yourselves, size 3's--or eat something, or play in traffic.
but whatever you do: shut the fuck up about how fat you are.
got it?
well, now that i'm all riled up, i guess i'll go make dinner.
fuckers.
so what does that spell?
that's right: dork.
so i sat wide eyed and glee-filled through Adaptation last night.
i haven't seen a great movie in a while.
well, lord of the rings was definitely great, but in a different way...
anyway, i loved every moment of it.
as the whole ending chaos began, my husband said, "this is his exciting ending."
sometimes i think my husband is a dumbass, cuz he does dumbass guy stuff...
but at moments like that i know the truth.
he's smarter than i am sometimes...in some ways.
he always calls stuff...like in 6th Sense?
totally.
like, halfway through the movie.
my neck hurts.
i keep tensing the muscles and now they're sore.
i need a massage.
bad.
like, in that frenzied "robbing a convenience store to pay for medicine for your dying child" sort of a way....
well.
okay, not quite.
but cripes.
did someone say crepes?
yummm....
wow.
i have nothing to say.
not a damn thing.
my brain is like a blank concrete wall...
just waiting for some graffiti...
i have some emails to catch up on, so i guess i could do that.
but it's time to make dinner.
and i have nothing to say.
at least it wasn't fat guy day at the gym again.
yesterday?
fat guys everywhere.
ugly and fat.
i mean, i'm proud of them for being there, but please.
how am i supposed to enjoy working out when there's no eye candy?
just front desk hookers with ten pounds of makeup and their complimentary boob jobs?
seriously.
i am convinced that they give free boob jobs to all the front desk workers.
if they didn't also have mandatory street walker makeup, i'd be begging for the job.
i just don't get that.
i never have.
make up can be a nice accent to your features, but ten pounds??
women around here are so high maintenance it just makes me shudder.
maybe that's why i never got dates at fucking byu.
the hot hippie guys were into me, though, so i was able to wipe away all those traumatic memories of dateless weekends once i left that insane place.
steamy sex is very therapeutic to a repressed and angry girl.
anyway, i'm what you might call low maintenance.
or lazy as shit, whichever.
i have better things to do (like SLEEP for one) than spend 2 hours in front of a mirror.
puh-leez.
if it takes you that long, can you really claim it's real?
i mean, think about it.
if you have to paint your face into a different time zone, and torture your hair until it wants to kill you, cursing it's inanimation...and wear padded bras and girdles and hair extensions and fake nails--jeeez!!
i'm all for sprucing up what god gave ya, but my rule of thumb is this: if you go home with a guy and he can't recognize you in the morning, you have a little problem with beauty products.
i'd actually like to learn how to wear a little tasteful makeup, cuz it's been so long i've forgotten...
in high school i wore some, and freshman year of college.
then i found my true hippie girl self and haven't gone beyond mascara and lipstick since then.
garlic shrimp with avocado dip.
yummmmmmmmmm
anyone need some skim milk?
i keep forgetting to change our order, and the milkman came this morning...
leaving my bi-weekly half gallon of skim along with the 2% for the little dudes.
i miss my milk.
my farm fresh fat free (of the non-Malone variety).
but i don't miss those 5 fucking pounds of lard that slid off my ass this week.
so fuck you, jelly belly.
you might wanna just high tail it on outta here if you know what's good for ya.
this town isn't big enough for the two of us...
well, those size 6 pants aren't, at least.
come to mama, size 6's!!!
sorry.
i guess i'm kind of obsessed with this.
i took my "before" picture, but i was pleased to see that it's not that bad.
i keep forgetting that i lost 25 pounds last year.
i got super duper fat after i had the twinners.
sitting on my ass feeding them for 6 months, then spending the next year or so being utterly depressed and aimless and finding comfort in food....
damn kids.
so i keep thinking i'm still THAT lard ass, when really, i'm only a teensy bit of a lard ass.
unlike that bitch in the dressing room the other day...
complaining to her boyfriend non-stop about how fat she is and asking him why he lets her eat so much, etc, etc....
then she asks him to get her the size 3 because the 5 is too big.
if i wasn't naked i sooooo would've jumped over that wall and beat the shit out of her.
size 3's don't get to complain about being fat.
go fuck yourselves, size 3's--or eat something, or play in traffic.
but whatever you do: shut the fuck up about how fat you are.
got it?
well, now that i'm all riled up, i guess i'll go make dinner.
fuckers.
and one last crappy post to make it an even five...
i know five isn't an even number, you dumb ass.
so i did it.
i made cheesecake.
fuckin' A.
filled the void.
splenda is my new best friend.
i hope they don't discover it causes brain tumors until after i die.
cuz i hate brain tumors.
i'm watching Adaptation for the first time.
so i better go.
loving it so far.
doh.
just got interupted mid monkey spank.
sad.
nothing worse.
this movie is so great.
so i did it.
i made cheesecake.
fuckin' A.
filled the void.
splenda is my new best friend.
i hope they don't discover it causes brain tumors until after i die.
cuz i hate brain tumors.
i'm watching Adaptation for the first time.
so i better go.
loving it so far.
doh.
just got interupted mid monkey spank.
sad.
nothing worse.
this movie is so great.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
okay today really is a million crappy posts day
but i just remembered something funny that happened the other day.
or depressing, depending on you feel about getting old....
i was driving our cute little 14 year old babysitter home and she was telling me about a fire in her step dad's workshop.
her cat had just had kittens and they were killed, it was really sad. i love cats.
anyway, she said, "he had some of those disc things that are big and black...they melted all over the box where the kittens were..."
those disc things that are big and black.
let me repeat that, in large bold letters:
THOSE DISC THINGS THAT ARE BIG AND BLACK.
so, yeah.
generation gaps are cooler than The Gap gaps.
and also, just a note, today is my boys' 6 month birthday.
aw.
i've been trying to explain to them lately that they're different because they share a birthday but they don't give a shit.
which reminds me...
when i picked them up from the playroom at the gym yesterday one of the ladies who works there asked me how the potty training is going.
i told her that twin b is doing great with it but twin a says--and i flipped her the bird.
she burst into shocked laughter and i apologized.
she brushed it off, saying she hadn't pegged me as the type to do something like that, still smiling.
she's cool.
remember i'm in Fucking Osmondville, here.
but i liked that she didn't have me pegged as the type to throw around the fuck work like a waterballoon in july.
i guess i still look all wholesome and sweet.
fuck that.
i need to get my next tatoo in a more visible place.
and it will be of a tall and proud middle finger.
heh.
kay that's all.
no more crappy posts today, i promise.
well, not really.
i do whatever the hell suits my fancy.
i'm going to go make a fucking cheesecake though!! thanks to my favorite rock star, Johnny Squire!!
or depressing, depending on you feel about getting old....
i was driving our cute little 14 year old babysitter home and she was telling me about a fire in her step dad's workshop.
her cat had just had kittens and they were killed, it was really sad. i love cats.
anyway, she said, "he had some of those disc things that are big and black...they melted all over the box where the kittens were..."
those disc things that are big and black.
let me repeat that, in large bold letters:
THOSE DISC THINGS THAT ARE BIG AND BLACK.
so, yeah.
generation gaps are cooler than The Gap gaps.
and also, just a note, today is my boys' 6 month birthday.
aw.
i've been trying to explain to them lately that they're different because they share a birthday but they don't give a shit.
which reminds me...
when i picked them up from the playroom at the gym yesterday one of the ladies who works there asked me how the potty training is going.
i told her that twin b is doing great with it but twin a says--and i flipped her the bird.
she burst into shocked laughter and i apologized.
she brushed it off, saying she hadn't pegged me as the type to do something like that, still smiling.
she's cool.
remember i'm in Fucking Osmondville, here.
but i liked that she didn't have me pegged as the type to throw around the fuck work like a waterballoon in july.
i guess i still look all wholesome and sweet.
fuck that.
i need to get my next tatoo in a more visible place.
and it will be of a tall and proud middle finger.
heh.
kay that's all.
no more crappy posts today, i promise.
well, not really.
i do whatever the hell suits my fancy.
i'm going to go make a fucking cheesecake though!! thanks to my favorite rock star, Johnny Squire!!
where in the fuck is my expensive office chair?
why am i sitting in a god damned METAL fucking folding chair???
i can't even reach the keyboard.
i am NOT wrestling that monster down the stairs again, though.
fuck that.
when hubby gets home i guess i'll put on the "i'm gonna blow your mind later so you better do what i ask" face.
should work.
although after last night, i may have lost some credibility points.
so i've decided to declare today "Post a million crappy posts" day.
but i'll probably just stop writing when i feel like it.
in fact, what the fuck am i doing?
the house is so quiet.
i want to have a bowl of popcorn and a handful of cookies and watch a movie.
but at least i can watch a movie.
my kids are sleeping.
it's 800 degrees below zero (well, if by "zero" you understand that i mean 810 degrees) outside.
and i have at least 3 movies tivo'ed that i haven't watched yet.
i wish there was a better universal name for that by the way.
i hate awkward phrasing.
also, i don't know what day it is.
i keep thinking it's monday.
it's not, though.
anyone have a guess?
yeah, it's wednesday.
it's driving me crazy, to not know what day it is.
and i don't have anyone to blame, so that sucks.
i found Downward Spiral the other day.
i hadn't even thought about how great Nine Inch Nails would be for working out.
weights, not cardio.
intenese but not fast.
i wanna fuck you like an animal, i wanna feel you from the inside
yeah, it's like that.
there's one song, Reptile, that a boyfriend once said reminded him of me.
i listened to the lyrics and was totally offended...
beautiful liar, beautiful whore that's all i can remember right now, but you get the idea...
like a typical "girl" i flew off the handle the next time i saw him...
didn't bother asking him why, or if he interpreted them differently than i did.
and HE was 5 years younger than ME.
what's up immature girl??
and of course he had some good explanation that i don't remember.
what a dumbass i was, anyway.
just cuz a guy is hot and looks older than 16 doesn't mean you should date him when you're 21.
i know, i know.
it sounds kind of strange now.
but if you've never had sex with a person who was completely forbidden, after wanting each other from a distance for months....whoa. do it. that was one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life. silly long haired pot smoker joined the navy, last i heard. good for him. i was always afraid he'd be found dead in a ditch somewhere and here he is making something of himself and his green eyes. man that was a steamy affair.
ahem.
anyway.
nice tangent.
i am full of words, but have nothing to say.
i guess i should just quite wasting everyone's time and go watch a movie...
i can't even reach the keyboard.
i am NOT wrestling that monster down the stairs again, though.
fuck that.
when hubby gets home i guess i'll put on the "i'm gonna blow your mind later so you better do what i ask" face.
should work.
although after last night, i may have lost some credibility points.
so i've decided to declare today "Post a million crappy posts" day.
but i'll probably just stop writing when i feel like it.
in fact, what the fuck am i doing?
the house is so quiet.
i want to have a bowl of popcorn and a handful of cookies and watch a movie.
but at least i can watch a movie.
my kids are sleeping.
it's 800 degrees below zero (well, if by "zero" you understand that i mean 810 degrees) outside.
and i have at least 3 movies tivo'ed that i haven't watched yet.
i wish there was a better universal name for that by the way.
i hate awkward phrasing.
also, i don't know what day it is.
i keep thinking it's monday.
it's not, though.
anyone have a guess?
yeah, it's wednesday.
it's driving me crazy, to not know what day it is.
and i don't have anyone to blame, so that sucks.
i found Downward Spiral the other day.
i hadn't even thought about how great Nine Inch Nails would be for working out.
weights, not cardio.
intenese but not fast.
i wanna fuck you like an animal, i wanna feel you from the inside
yeah, it's like that.
there's one song, Reptile, that a boyfriend once said reminded him of me.
i listened to the lyrics and was totally offended...
beautiful liar, beautiful whore that's all i can remember right now, but you get the idea...
like a typical "girl" i flew off the handle the next time i saw him...
didn't bother asking him why, or if he interpreted them differently than i did.
and HE was 5 years younger than ME.
what's up immature girl??
and of course he had some good explanation that i don't remember.
what a dumbass i was, anyway.
just cuz a guy is hot and looks older than 16 doesn't mean you should date him when you're 21.
i know, i know.
it sounds kind of strange now.
but if you've never had sex with a person who was completely forbidden, after wanting each other from a distance for months....whoa. do it. that was one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life. silly long haired pot smoker joined the navy, last i heard. good for him. i was always afraid he'd be found dead in a ditch somewhere and here he is making something of himself and his green eyes. man that was a steamy affair.
ahem.
anyway.
nice tangent.
i am full of words, but have nothing to say.
i guess i should just quite wasting everyone's time and go watch a movie...
good lord
i just made some "cookies" with SOY FLOUR.
i decided to taste the dough because i wanted to know if they were any good before cooking them...
oh.
my.
god.
i wanted to vomit just to get a better taste in my mouth!
it was that bad.
i swear to god i've never tasted anything worse.
it actually tasted a lot like vomit.
it was a simple recipe for russian tea cakes.
butter, vanilla, flour, powdered sugar.
i substituted soy flour for regular and splenda for the powdered...
that's the last time i try to outsmart money grubbing atkins-friendly manufacturers.
next time i want cookies, i'll pay the 6 bucks for a bag of atkins mix.
hell, i'll pay 50 just so i don't have to taste that shit ever again.
i can still taste it.
thank god for 3 carb ice cream.
i decided to taste the dough because i wanted to know if they were any good before cooking them...
oh.
my.
god.
i wanted to vomit just to get a better taste in my mouth!
it was that bad.
i swear to god i've never tasted anything worse.
it actually tasted a lot like vomit.
it was a simple recipe for russian tea cakes.
butter, vanilla, flour, powdered sugar.
i substituted soy flour for regular and splenda for the powdered...
that's the last time i try to outsmart money grubbing atkins-friendly manufacturers.
next time i want cookies, i'll pay the 6 bucks for a bag of atkins mix.
hell, i'll pay 50 just so i don't have to taste that shit ever again.
i can still taste it.
thank god for 3 carb ice cream.
mornings suck shit
no, they really do.
if you enjoy morning you have serious problems.
if i could just wake up at my own pace, i'd be so much more cheerful.
i almost can't even write that word.
it makes me cringe.
it's fucking cold here.
like, out of the ordinary.
but at least it's not negative 30, like in Maine.
i never batted an eye at that stuff when i was living there.
we'd still go out ice skating, or sledding or whatever.
and my mom always had the crappiest cars, so there was never heat when we drove the 6,000 miles to or from anything.
holy shit.
twin a is about to forcibly remove my last nerve and do a mexican hat dance on it.
b etter go before he hurts himself/me/something...
****
kay, i'm back.
damn.
sometimes my kids are as ornery as i am.
wonder where they get it.
so last night i had the most hilarious "15-year-old-boy virgin with a hot chick" orgasm.
i was laughing so hard it sort of broke the mood.
is that too personal?
should i have kept that to myself?
oh well.
too late now--remember, there is no delete key!!
okay, for some reason this whole writing thing just isn't working today.
the boys hate me and want me to die.
or at least they're making me wish i was dead.
so i better go play mr. potato head yahtzee with them to calm their angst.
is it nap time yet???
if you enjoy morning you have serious problems.
if i could just wake up at my own pace, i'd be so much more cheerful.
i almost can't even write that word.
it makes me cringe.
it's fucking cold here.
like, out of the ordinary.
but at least it's not negative 30, like in Maine.
i never batted an eye at that stuff when i was living there.
we'd still go out ice skating, or sledding or whatever.
and my mom always had the crappiest cars, so there was never heat when we drove the 6,000 miles to or from anything.
holy shit.
twin a is about to forcibly remove my last nerve and do a mexican hat dance on it.
b etter go before he hurts himself/me/something...
****
kay, i'm back.
damn.
sometimes my kids are as ornery as i am.
wonder where they get it.
so last night i had the most hilarious "15-year-old-boy virgin with a hot chick" orgasm.
i was laughing so hard it sort of broke the mood.
is that too personal?
should i have kept that to myself?
oh well.
too late now--remember, there is no delete key!!
okay, for some reason this whole writing thing just isn't working today.
the boys hate me and want me to die.
or at least they're making me wish i was dead.
so i better go play mr. potato head yahtzee with them to calm their angst.
is it nap time yet???
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
fog banks as far as the eye can see...
just came up with that.
and i'm chuckling.
or something similar, at least.
giggling?
snickering?
eh, whatever.
tomorrow is day 7 and i'm down by 5 pounds.
go atkins!
i have shredded two wooden spoons with my blender in the past month.
am i that moronic??
how is it possible that i didn't learn my lesson??
so i spent twenty minutes picking shards of wood out of the strawberry ice cream i was mixing...
froze my fingers to the point of frostbite.
and still got a sliver in my greedy little tongue.
i know.
i should have just chucked it.
but it tasted soooooooo good.
and at only 3g of carbs for 3/4 cup...
hell yeah.
i still ended yesterday way under the limit.
my sister in law who has a nutrition degree asked hubby how it was going.
he told her i've been averaging 12-13g of carbs a day.
she said, "is she crabby?"
so it's good to know it actually is a common symptom of a super low carb diet.
...and not just the bitch in me gaining ground.
so.
guess what the fabulous Mr. Bored bought yesterday?
just guess.
nope, that's not it.
no, not that either.
are you kidding?? we already have two of those.
okay, i'll tell you.
a DVD burner.
i'm still shuddering from the multiple it gave me when he told me.
we've burned a couple already.
and they're perfect.
we're ONLY going to use it to back up our kids' movies so that when they scratch them into skip-dom we'll be covered.
i would never use this to copy borrowed or--gasp--rented movies.
ever.
that would just be wrong.
like two girls kissing or something.
and i'm chuckling.
or something similar, at least.
giggling?
snickering?
eh, whatever.
tomorrow is day 7 and i'm down by 5 pounds.
go atkins!
i have shredded two wooden spoons with my blender in the past month.
am i that moronic??
how is it possible that i didn't learn my lesson??
so i spent twenty minutes picking shards of wood out of the strawberry ice cream i was mixing...
froze my fingers to the point of frostbite.
and still got a sliver in my greedy little tongue.
i know.
i should have just chucked it.
but it tasted soooooooo good.
and at only 3g of carbs for 3/4 cup...
hell yeah.
i still ended yesterday way under the limit.
my sister in law who has a nutrition degree asked hubby how it was going.
he told her i've been averaging 12-13g of carbs a day.
she said, "is she crabby?"
so it's good to know it actually is a common symptom of a super low carb diet.
...and not just the bitch in me gaining ground.
so.
guess what the fabulous Mr. Bored bought yesterday?
just guess.
nope, that's not it.
no, not that either.
are you kidding?? we already have two of those.
okay, i'll tell you.
a DVD burner.
i'm still shuddering from the multiple it gave me when he told me.
we've burned a couple already.
and they're perfect.
we're ONLY going to use it to back up our kids' movies so that when they scratch them into skip-dom we'll be covered.
i would never use this to copy borrowed or--gasp--rented movies.
ever.
that would just be wrong.
like two girls kissing or something.
Monday, January 12, 2004
monday bloody monday
blood: it's not just for sundays anymore.
heh.
okay. so first things first.
the handy little thing on the bottom of my blog that tells me who has linked me led me to a new blog.
and i love it.
So you should all go check out A is for Axel.
Not because I said so.
Just because it's the right thing to do.
well fuck.
it looks like all that good luck i've been having is coming back to bite me in the ass, just like i knew it would.
the 'b' key is sticking on my keyboard.
could it get any worse?
i might have to take up drinking.
ooh! or scuba diving!
last night i had a dream that i was doing a stand up act and jerry seinfeld was there, encouraging me.
double-you tee eff?? (only because i'm not comfortable with acronyms all the time...they make me squirm...)
anyway, it was kind of funny.
but not in a stand up comedy way...
then i was shooing stay cats out of my house? and putting my turtle back in its shell so it could eat a big spider i found.
and getting dressed for my first day of work at a trashy little diner, which i didn't have the address for...
you freakin wacko, lisa.
we watched Resident Evil, cuz it was on Hbo and hubby thought it might be based on the game, which it appeared to be.
it was pretty entertaining, though lame.
the funny thing was how similar parts of it were to 28 Days Later.
and if you tell me that was a sequel to Res. evil, i'll believe you.
if you're lying, i won't care.
Until I end up losing on who wants to fuck a millionaire because of that misinformation.
but don't worry.
i'll forgive you.
after i stab you in the eye and piss in your ear.
wow.
so anyway...
this is a little awkward.
i don't usually talk to you like that.
my little lovers.
i seriously think that all this carbohydrate deprivation is doing strange things to me...
i seem to be much more edgy than usual.
and yes, that's code for "bitchy."
i bought some soy flour yesterday so i can try making some really low carb cookies or bread or something, but i can't decide what i want to make.
tonight i'm making chicken and beef satays with peanut sauce.
yum.
and tomorrow lamb chops.
last night i made tomato and feta burgers that had fresh spinach and green onions and dill weed (of course, i can't say dill weed without giggling) and those were daaaamn good.
and i did a rosemary and garlic dry rub on steaks the other night.
am i making anyone else hungry??
i think i'm edging in on Heather's turf, over at Food is My Life.
although to be fair, she doesn't cover meat in her reviews, so i'm just giving equal time...or something.
anyway i'll change the subject before i start drooling.
um.
now i can't think of anything else.
but i do need to take a shower.
and if i could remember to do an audio post, that would be fun.
but i probably won't.
remember, that is.
heh.
okay. so first things first.
the handy little thing on the bottom of my blog that tells me who has linked me led me to a new blog.
and i love it.
So you should all go check out A is for Axel.
Not because I said so.
Just because it's the right thing to do.
well fuck.
it looks like all that good luck i've been having is coming back to bite me in the ass, just like i knew it would.
the 'b' key is sticking on my keyboard.
could it get any worse?
i might have to take up drinking.
ooh! or scuba diving!
last night i had a dream that i was doing a stand up act and jerry seinfeld was there, encouraging me.
double-you tee eff?? (only because i'm not comfortable with acronyms all the time...they make me squirm...)
anyway, it was kind of funny.
but not in a stand up comedy way...
then i was shooing stay cats out of my house? and putting my turtle back in its shell so it could eat a big spider i found.
and getting dressed for my first day of work at a trashy little diner, which i didn't have the address for...
you freakin wacko, lisa.
we watched Resident Evil, cuz it was on Hbo and hubby thought it might be based on the game, which it appeared to be.
it was pretty entertaining, though lame.
the funny thing was how similar parts of it were to 28 Days Later.
and if you tell me that was a sequel to Res. evil, i'll believe you.
if you're lying, i won't care.
Until I end up losing on who wants to fuck a millionaire because of that misinformation.
but don't worry.
i'll forgive you.
after i stab you in the eye and piss in your ear.
wow.
so anyway...
this is a little awkward.
i don't usually talk to you like that.
my little lovers.
i seriously think that all this carbohydrate deprivation is doing strange things to me...
i seem to be much more edgy than usual.
and yes, that's code for "bitchy."
i bought some soy flour yesterday so i can try making some really low carb cookies or bread or something, but i can't decide what i want to make.
tonight i'm making chicken and beef satays with peanut sauce.
yum.
and tomorrow lamb chops.
last night i made tomato and feta burgers that had fresh spinach and green onions and dill weed (of course, i can't say dill weed without giggling) and those were daaaamn good.
and i did a rosemary and garlic dry rub on steaks the other night.
am i making anyone else hungry??
i think i'm edging in on Heather's turf, over at Food is My Life.
although to be fair, she doesn't cover meat in her reviews, so i'm just giving equal time...or something.
anyway i'll change the subject before i start drooling.
um.
now i can't think of anything else.
but i do need to take a shower.
and if i could remember to do an audio post, that would be fun.
but i probably won't.
remember, that is.
Saturday, January 10, 2004
saturday night fever
more like saturday afternoon rugburn, but whatever.
day 4 of the Atkins Revolution and i'm doing great.
you're supposed to keep it under 20 grams of carbs each day for the first 2 weeks.
i've been averaging 12.
yee haw for me!
of course, it only took me 2 days to look up an ice cream recipe and discover that if i use splenda it's only 2.9 carbs for 3/4 cup of chocolate homeade ice cream.
fuck yeah.
turned out pretty good, too.
despite the mishaps...
see, when the recipe says "pour batter into chamber and turn handle immediately" they're not kidding.
they mean immediately, dammit.
or else.
or else what?
oh i'll tell ya.
or else the shit freezes so hard and so fast to the sides that turning the handle becomes impossible.
that's what i get for trying to include my kids in the joy of making ice cream.
lil poops slowed me down.
so i ended up scratching the beautiful no stick finish trying to pry it all out.
wait for it to melt?
i don't think so.
must have ice cream.
anyway, that was a pretty exciting discovery.
i think i can make strawberry for about the same carbs, so i'll do that next.
i never really liked strawberry ice cream, until i had it homeade last summer at my mother in law's on the 4th of Independence Day....
fuck me running that stuff was an orgasm with a spoon (which is also fun...)
had a great workout this morning.
and i am here to tell you, that if you do it right, this atkins gig works.
i can feel the changes in my body.
it's burning the fat, mother fuckers.
it was so much harder to run today with no carbs to burn, but i pushed on, knowing for every step i took i would burn some actual lard off my gut.
and there was a lil hottie to my left so that always keeps me from giving up and speed walking.
or maybe it's all a crock of shit and i'll gain ten pounds before i catch on.
tonight it's babysitter time.
hellelujah.
no, that wasn't a typo.
i think that's more suited to me--that little dash of bad added to a holy word.
anyway.
i'm excited.
i'm watching my niece right now, well she's watching the Lion King and I'm typing, but you know...
my boys are about to wake up from their naps, though, so quiet time is about to burst into flames and float away, ashes on the wind.
which for some bizarre reason reminds me that it was really foggy last night when i was driving home (or soggy, as my boys say it).
this is exciting when you live in the desert.
it was wonderful.
i miss fog.
i miss my ocean.
i miss lighthouses and boats and pubs and fishermen.
have a wonderful weekend, anyone who's out there.
day 4 of the Atkins Revolution and i'm doing great.
you're supposed to keep it under 20 grams of carbs each day for the first 2 weeks.
i've been averaging 12.
yee haw for me!
of course, it only took me 2 days to look up an ice cream recipe and discover that if i use splenda it's only 2.9 carbs for 3/4 cup of chocolate homeade ice cream.
fuck yeah.
turned out pretty good, too.
despite the mishaps...
see, when the recipe says "pour batter into chamber and turn handle immediately" they're not kidding.
they mean immediately, dammit.
or else.
or else what?
oh i'll tell ya.
or else the shit freezes so hard and so fast to the sides that turning the handle becomes impossible.
that's what i get for trying to include my kids in the joy of making ice cream.
lil poops slowed me down.
so i ended up scratching the beautiful no stick finish trying to pry it all out.
wait for it to melt?
i don't think so.
must have ice cream.
anyway, that was a pretty exciting discovery.
i think i can make strawberry for about the same carbs, so i'll do that next.
i never really liked strawberry ice cream, until i had it homeade last summer at my mother in law's on the 4th of Independence Day....
fuck me running that stuff was an orgasm with a spoon (which is also fun...)
had a great workout this morning.
and i am here to tell you, that if you do it right, this atkins gig works.
i can feel the changes in my body.
it's burning the fat, mother fuckers.
it was so much harder to run today with no carbs to burn, but i pushed on, knowing for every step i took i would burn some actual lard off my gut.
and there was a lil hottie to my left so that always keeps me from giving up and speed walking.
or maybe it's all a crock of shit and i'll gain ten pounds before i catch on.
tonight it's babysitter time.
hellelujah.
no, that wasn't a typo.
i think that's more suited to me--that little dash of bad added to a holy word.
anyway.
i'm excited.
i'm watching my niece right now, well she's watching the Lion King and I'm typing, but you know...
my boys are about to wake up from their naps, though, so quiet time is about to burst into flames and float away, ashes on the wind.
which for some bizarre reason reminds me that it was really foggy last night when i was driving home (or soggy, as my boys say it).
this is exciting when you live in the desert.
it was wonderful.
i miss fog.
i miss my ocean.
i miss lighthouses and boats and pubs and fishermen.
have a wonderful weekend, anyone who's out there.
Friday, January 09, 2004
Fantasy Friday VII
closing time.
we're the only two still here.
adding up receipts, i glance up.
you're placing chairs upside down on tables.
your long black hair swaying with your graceful movements.
you feel me watching you, and turn to look.
hastily i look back down, blushing.
i've been noticing you for some time now...
wondering what it would be like to kiss you, to run my fingers through your waist length hair.
i've never been with another girl, but you make me forget that i've ever been with a man.
the sounds of your work stop.
so does my breathing, as i feel you coming closer.
you turn the music up then stand looking at me for long enough that i look up, ready to speak.
you ask if i've finished with the money, and as I gather it up for you to return to the safe...
you round the desk and kneel before me.
then you take my hand.
you've done this before.
my heart is racing.
i bite my lower lip to keep from gasping when you start unbuttoning my shirt.
you kiss my bare chest before you kiss my lips and they're as soft as i'd imagined, softer...
i whisper that i've never been with a girl.
you whisper back that that's the way you like it.
Van Morrison's Crazy Love playing in the background...
you slip your own shirt off and sit on the desk, pulling me to you.
i have never felt so much passion, so much desire for another person.
i am immersed in this moment like a fish in water, with not a thought in my head but how to please you and how to taste every inch of you before the magic spell is broken.
you are tender and strong, so different from any man i've been with.
your skin is soft and smooth...
and even though it's the end of a long day in a restaurant, you still smell--and taste--like fresh raspberries.
we make a mess of the neatly stacked bills and receipts...
we groan and laugh and moan and kiss...
and i will never look at women the same again.
or men.
we're the only two still here.
adding up receipts, i glance up.
you're placing chairs upside down on tables.
your long black hair swaying with your graceful movements.
you feel me watching you, and turn to look.
hastily i look back down, blushing.
i've been noticing you for some time now...
wondering what it would be like to kiss you, to run my fingers through your waist length hair.
i've never been with another girl, but you make me forget that i've ever been with a man.
the sounds of your work stop.
so does my breathing, as i feel you coming closer.
you turn the music up then stand looking at me for long enough that i look up, ready to speak.
you ask if i've finished with the money, and as I gather it up for you to return to the safe...
you round the desk and kneel before me.
then you take my hand.
you've done this before.
my heart is racing.
i bite my lower lip to keep from gasping when you start unbuttoning my shirt.
you kiss my bare chest before you kiss my lips and they're as soft as i'd imagined, softer...
i whisper that i've never been with a girl.
you whisper back that that's the way you like it.
Van Morrison's Crazy Love playing in the background...
you slip your own shirt off and sit on the desk, pulling me to you.
i have never felt so much passion, so much desire for another person.
i am immersed in this moment like a fish in water, with not a thought in my head but how to please you and how to taste every inch of you before the magic spell is broken.
you are tender and strong, so different from any man i've been with.
your skin is soft and smooth...
and even though it's the end of a long day in a restaurant, you still smell--and taste--like fresh raspberries.
we make a mess of the neatly stacked bills and receipts...
we groan and laugh and moan and kiss...
and i will never look at women the same again.
or men.
mmmm salad.
**For Fantasy Friday, see the next post down (it's a keeper)**
so here's my big secret that i promised not to tell anyone for at least a week.
that was yesterday.
I'm plunging feet first into the Atkins pool...
i've always thought this was a stupid way to try to lose weight...
but my husband was determined to do it, and i'll be damned if a) he loses weight without me and b) i have to prepare separate food for him.
i mean, please.
shopping and cooking are a big enough pain in my ass as it is.
so anyway.
it's day 2.
or 3?
don't remember.
it's not as hard as being on a "diet".
but it is really weird to try to adjust my eating habits to exclude foods with carbs.
i love carbs.
which is why i think this will work well for me.
but for now, i think my body is like, super duper confused.
where the fuck is the dessert???
and are we supposed to be eating this much fat???
actually, it's pretty cool because you can buy all this non-carbohydrated stuff to replace breads and cookies and stuff.
for like a million bucks.
but it's nice to know that they're there if i can't handle going without a cookie for another minute.
i can still have them without fucking up the whole diet thang.
whatever.
so now you know.
and you'll be hearing more about it than you care to, i'm fairly certain.
but whatever.
at least you can all laugh at me when i fail.
i'll be sure to let you know when that's official so you can all commence the laugh party...
and i hope you do laugh--hard.
i mean really hard.
like so hard you pee your pants.
or cry.
or get a side ache.
or something else bad.
cuz if i have to endure failure you can at least join me in my misery.
even while you're laughing??
what the fuck am i talking about?
i have made no sense whatsoever for this entire day.
but i'm okay with that.
i wouldn't turn down any mood stabilizing drugs though.
or any psychedelic ones, for that matter.
i'm watching The Apprentice right now.
kind of fun stuff.
reality tv.
psh.
who can stand that shit???
so wish me luck and don't talk about bread, cakes, pies, cookies, brownies, popcorn, chips, tortillas, pancakes, waffles...
aw fuck.
i'm making myself crave stuff.
and i'm making all of you doubt my sanity--more than you already did, i mean.
it's a full moon, though, so it's not my fault.
i believe the moon makes us all a little crazy(er than we were before).
and to all you nay sayers out there:
QUIT SAYING NAY, YOU SOUND LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING HORSES.
and we're back to the sanity questioning.
dammit.
I forgot how much I love Fight Club.
now that's a fucking movie.
...and some worse sanity issues than i'll ever experience.
so there.
lick me.
so here's my big secret that i promised not to tell anyone for at least a week.
that was yesterday.
I'm plunging feet first into the Atkins pool...
i've always thought this was a stupid way to try to lose weight...
but my husband was determined to do it, and i'll be damned if a) he loses weight without me and b) i have to prepare separate food for him.
i mean, please.
shopping and cooking are a big enough pain in my ass as it is.
so anyway.
it's day 2.
or 3?
don't remember.
it's not as hard as being on a "diet".
but it is really weird to try to adjust my eating habits to exclude foods with carbs.
i love carbs.
which is why i think this will work well for me.
but for now, i think my body is like, super duper confused.
where the fuck is the dessert???
and are we supposed to be eating this much fat???
actually, it's pretty cool because you can buy all this non-carbohydrated stuff to replace breads and cookies and stuff.
for like a million bucks.
but it's nice to know that they're there if i can't handle going without a cookie for another minute.
i can still have them without fucking up the whole diet thang.
whatever.
so now you know.
and you'll be hearing more about it than you care to, i'm fairly certain.
but whatever.
at least you can all laugh at me when i fail.
i'll be sure to let you know when that's official so you can all commence the laugh party...
and i hope you do laugh--hard.
i mean really hard.
like so hard you pee your pants.
or cry.
or get a side ache.
or something else bad.
cuz if i have to endure failure you can at least join me in my misery.
even while you're laughing??
what the fuck am i talking about?
i have made no sense whatsoever for this entire day.
but i'm okay with that.
i wouldn't turn down any mood stabilizing drugs though.
or any psychedelic ones, for that matter.
i'm watching The Apprentice right now.
kind of fun stuff.
reality tv.
psh.
who can stand that shit???
so wish me luck and don't talk about bread, cakes, pies, cookies, brownies, popcorn, chips, tortillas, pancakes, waffles...
aw fuck.
i'm making myself crave stuff.
and i'm making all of you doubt my sanity--more than you already did, i mean.
it's a full moon, though, so it's not my fault.
i believe the moon makes us all a little crazy(er than we were before).
and to all you nay sayers out there:
QUIT SAYING NAY, YOU SOUND LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING HORSES.
and we're back to the sanity questioning.
dammit.
I forgot how much I love Fight Club.
now that's a fucking movie.
...and some worse sanity issues than i'll ever experience.
so there.
lick me.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
wait, did i promise a gooood post?
shit.
well, you'll get something...
but let's not get all up in arms with labels, m'kay?
give a girl some space to think, for chrissakes.
so i'm freeeezing cold right now.
it's still 73 degrees in my house, though.
just like every other minute of the day here.
maybe it's because
why the fuck is my playlist of classic rock stuck on led zep?
and furthermore, why is that bothering me?
i love them.
now i feel all traitor-ish.
yeah, so maybe the pms fairy didn't leave the building...
bite me.
anyway.
the gym was glorious.
lots of new faces.
fat faces.
ugly faces, really.
good for them.
i was a little worried i wouldn't be able to run well/long/whatever.
i felt like a new woman, though.
pumped out those miles, even threw in a few sprints.
i think my music was too loud, though, cuz the guy next to me kept looking at me.
well, either that or i was singing out loud and didn't know it...
hate it when that happens.
okay, so it's never happened.
that i know of.
shit, now i'm all paranoid.
could someone get me a fucking sweater?
damn.
okay, i found a sweatshirt and i feel much better.
speaking of sweatshirts...
wait, don't go!!
it'll be good, i promise.
through high school and college, i collected my fair share of school/team/whatever sweatshirts.
then one summer i left some boxes at my brother's house and the one with all my sweatshrits got sent to the good will.
i went for several years with no sweatshirts at all.
i know!
it's just not right.
i was broke and not highly motivated to buy sweatshirts then.
so, i finally have one again.
one.
not counting the hooded zippered ones.
but there's something just wrong about wearing one of those around the house.
i think i'd get all confused and not know if i was coming or going--when the reality would be neither.
life is hard when you're...uh, me.
i love lynard skynard.
actually, that's not quite true.
i love two or three songs by them.
tomorrow's thursday.
that means the next day will be Friday.
hope you all have a quiet spot you can go jerk off after you read this one.
okay, okay, so i'm probably getting you all excited (no pun intended...well, okay, maybe a little intended...) and it'll end up disappointing you.
so, forget what i said.
it's boring.
it's a story about two ugly people having that kind of sex that you walk away from going, "well that was hardly worth the effort of removing my pants."
well, it's time to go cook dinner.
time shore does fly when you're having...
fun?
sex?
psychotic episodes?
your ass spanked?
i can never remember what that saying is.
well, you'll get something...
but let's not get all up in arms with labels, m'kay?
give a girl some space to think, for chrissakes.
so i'm freeeezing cold right now.
it's still 73 degrees in my house, though.
just like every other minute of the day here.
maybe it's because
why the fuck is my playlist of classic rock stuck on led zep?
and furthermore, why is that bothering me?
i love them.
now i feel all traitor-ish.
yeah, so maybe the pms fairy didn't leave the building...
bite me.
anyway.
the gym was glorious.
lots of new faces.
fat faces.
ugly faces, really.
good for them.
i was a little worried i wouldn't be able to run well/long/whatever.
i felt like a new woman, though.
pumped out those miles, even threw in a few sprints.
i think my music was too loud, though, cuz the guy next to me kept looking at me.
well, either that or i was singing out loud and didn't know it...
hate it when that happens.
okay, so it's never happened.
that i know of.
shit, now i'm all paranoid.
could someone get me a fucking sweater?
damn.
okay, i found a sweatshirt and i feel much better.
speaking of sweatshirts...
wait, don't go!!
it'll be good, i promise.
through high school and college, i collected my fair share of school/team/whatever sweatshirts.
then one summer i left some boxes at my brother's house and the one with all my sweatshrits got sent to the good will.
i went for several years with no sweatshirts at all.
i know!
it's just not right.
i was broke and not highly motivated to buy sweatshirts then.
so, i finally have one again.
one.
not counting the hooded zippered ones.
but there's something just wrong about wearing one of those around the house.
i think i'd get all confused and not know if i was coming or going--when the reality would be neither.
life is hard when you're...uh, me.
i love lynard skynard.
actually, that's not quite true.
i love two or three songs by them.
tomorrow's thursday.
that means the next day will be Friday.
hope you all have a quiet spot you can go jerk off after you read this one.
okay, okay, so i'm probably getting you all excited (no pun intended...well, okay, maybe a little intended...) and it'll end up disappointing you.
so, forget what i said.
it's boring.
it's a story about two ugly people having that kind of sex that you walk away from going, "well that was hardly worth the effort of removing my pants."
well, it's time to go cook dinner.
time shore does fly when you're having...
fun?
sex?
psychotic episodes?
your ass spanked?
i can never remember what that saying is.
freaking snowing again
what the hell is this, winter??
god DAMN.
so anyone who read my comments and saw the "u r gay" comment here's the story...
i know the whole flame wars re-cap thing is annoying, but it's just never happened before so i'm a little excited.
besides, the kid is a dumbass and i need to share that with as many people as possible.
i'll be as brief as i can...
on the fresh blogs list there was a blog with "mormon" in the title, and also "ass" so i was naturally intrigued.
seemed to be the work of a fairly young boy, 14-17 ish, looked like it was more of a message board for his buddies, no big woop. but he also mentioned a game against West Valley, which is a city near salt lake, so i figured, mormon, west valley, gotta be a utah kid. so i left a little message.
"have i actually found another Utah blogger?
you sound like ahigh school boy...
but hey, nothing's better than mormon and ass in the same title--rock the fuck on."
dude emails me this:
alright, never fucking go to my site again. I am not from Utah. just because u suck at life dosn't mean u need to go putting gay worthless comments in peoples websites. burn in hell and leave me alone.
your friend,
a dude
Am i delirious here, or did that actually make sense to any of you?
it's not like i told him his site was lame and i merely asked a question about his location.
so of course i had to respond to his email with "Why don’t you go fuck your little boyfriends and quit being such a douche bag?"
cuz i'm about as mature as a teenage boy...and then he or one of his little buddies left that u r gay comment.
i think it's hilarious, and i'm not even close to being offended.
i hope they reach puberty safely and get into good colleges.
okay enough of THAT crap.
but it is time to go to the gym.
wish me luck fighting off the january crowds...
i'll write something good when i get back and put the kids to bed.
i'm not writing without tunes anymore!!
well, until i get lazy again...so, tomorrow, noonish?
also, i usually don't write those Fantasy Friday thangs ahead of time, i just sort of let out what's in...
well, yesterday i got inspired and i wrote one that'll knock your socks off.
t-rust me.
i almost posted it today just cuz i could, but i figure i'll exercise a petite bit of self control...
god DAMN.
so anyone who read my comments and saw the "u r gay" comment here's the story...
i know the whole flame wars re-cap thing is annoying, but it's just never happened before so i'm a little excited.
besides, the kid is a dumbass and i need to share that with as many people as possible.
i'll be as brief as i can...
on the fresh blogs list there was a blog with "mormon" in the title, and also "ass" so i was naturally intrigued.
seemed to be the work of a fairly young boy, 14-17 ish, looked like it was more of a message board for his buddies, no big woop. but he also mentioned a game against West Valley, which is a city near salt lake, so i figured, mormon, west valley, gotta be a utah kid. so i left a little message.
"have i actually found another Utah blogger?
you sound like ahigh school boy...
but hey, nothing's better than mormon and ass in the same title--rock the fuck on."
dude emails me this:
alright, never fucking go to my site again. I am not from Utah. just because u suck at life dosn't mean u need to go putting gay worthless comments in peoples websites. burn in hell and leave me alone.
your friend,
a dude
Am i delirious here, or did that actually make sense to any of you?
it's not like i told him his site was lame and i merely asked a question about his location.
so of course i had to respond to his email with "Why don’t you go fuck your little boyfriends and quit being such a douche bag?"
cuz i'm about as mature as a teenage boy...and then he or one of his little buddies left that u r gay comment.
i think it's hilarious, and i'm not even close to being offended.
i hope they reach puberty safely and get into good colleges.
okay enough of THAT crap.
but it is time to go to the gym.
wish me luck fighting off the january crowds...
i'll write something good when i get back and put the kids to bed.
i'm not writing without tunes anymore!!
well, until i get lazy again...so, tomorrow, noonish?
also, i usually don't write those Fantasy Friday thangs ahead of time, i just sort of let out what's in...
well, yesterday i got inspired and i wrote one that'll knock your socks off.
t-rust me.
i almost posted it today just cuz i could, but i figure i'll exercise a petite bit of self control...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)