...a big-legged woman ain't got no soul.
hey, don't ask me.
i didn't write it.
also brings to mind my question--
what IS he talking about when he says he's going to make her burn and make her sting?
sounds threatening.
yet strangely arousing.
okay, fine.
nothing strange about it.
and now that i've finished with my zep rant of the month...
i don't necessarily think i have anything to say.
although...
i have been known to think that, and been wrong.
it's been a strange week.
my best friend in the blog world is on vacation...
i find myself pacing around, looking for something that's not there.
we have been each other's escape from boredom for months.
and now.
i'm all alone,
but i think i'm going to make it.
(i am so vigorously rolling my eyes at my dramatics that i'm getting a headache)
it is rather humorous to note how much someone can affect my life--
someone i'll never meet.
so...if i look a bit mopey, or act a bit dopey...
keep your snickers to yourself.
unless we're talking Snickers...cuz...i like those.
they really do satisfy.
(and so do I)
either that or I'm a sucker for good advertising.
(or just plain "a good sucker"...)
i was reading somewhere that there is a way to remove one's blog from the google searches.
in the Blogger FAQ section it tells how.
at first i was THRILLED by this, thinking how nice it would be to stop getting so many hits from people searching for porn.
but then i thought...
i LOVE people who find me by searching for porn!!
and things such as:
* "down jacket" fetish
* what to do with a bored wife
* sex with a housewife
(or my new favorite, which i've now seen on 3 separate occassions...)
* bored wife lisa
cuz doesn't that last one sound like they know who they're looking for??
the visits are long on that one, and i'm assuming it's a repeat customer.
i mean reader.
ahem.
so anyway, i'm still tossing that idea around.
to google or not to google.
that is the question...
sometimes...
when i read back over what i've written ,
(which i don't do very often)
i wonder if i was on on drugs when i wrote it.
it's quite possible that someone is lacing my thyroid pill with acid.
okay...
maybe "quite possible" is a bit of a stretch.
sometimes i'm afraid i've lost touch with a part of me that is very important...
but i don't know what part it is.
i feel like i should be sitting in a bungalow on a bright, sunny beach.
alone.
writing.
sometimes i think too hard about the wrong things, although hard is the wrong word.
thinking isn't hard.
sometimes i think too long--distance, not time--about the wrong things, maybe that's it.
yeah.
i follow a thread of thought so far that i get tired.
there is darkness around, quiet and comfortable, and yet.
i am finished with it.
other times i forget to think about things until it is too late.
preferring to just live and feel.
i think that one day...
one day i will write something on a bathroom wall.
or not give the polite response in an uncomfortable situation.
one day i will drop the ball--
although my pattern of behavior would indicate that it would be an event more comparable to throwing a ball...
walking in a cloud is so different from walking on clouds.
...but i do both.
again...the roaring rumble of a harley outside my window.
the most purely beautiful sound on earth...
whispering to the deepest part of the inside me.
calling to that restless wanderer i ignore and neglect...
hoping to out-grow the feeling.
the need to drive fast and far.
the urge to be nameless.
i am a two headed beast--or a sweet girl with two solid but opposite ideas about life.
and then i say, fuck this, i'm going to bed.
and sadly, most of you won't read this until morning.
i wonder what you're all doing right now...
as i write.
i hope you're getting laid.
or having wonderful dreams.
or waking to the sound of rain.
or walking the dog under this gorgeous moon.
and do me a favor--if you haven't left a comment before, do it today.
it'll make me smile.
and when i'm happy, i take pictures of my rack.
which reminds me, new posts on buzznet.
okay, bed i said.
maybe i'll even dream of you...
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