Monday, January 31, 2005

Mom? What today is it?

sorry, son, mom would love to tell you what "today" it is, but she is currently out of her mind.
actually, my stress levels peaked earlier and were allayed, mostly.
husband was supposed to close on our new (god damn motherfucking) house at 5pm.
I sat nervously, pacing, worrying, wondering, etc...
the more time that passed, the better I felt--
my logic?
if he's not calling to tell me that the bank didn't get the docs prepped,
then we're home free.
as that was the only thing that could have gone south.
He finally called at 7:30
"Do we have a house?" I gushed into the phone.
bottom drops out.
"huh? wha--?"
and i don't mean a joint.
I mean a large, erect, male horse's sex organ.
they have fucked up our documents repeatedly.
AT CLOSING tonight, they once again did not have them.
the seller said, "you close today or you lose the house."
thank all the gods and their sexiest concubines for real estate agents with rich uncles.
so, some dude we don't know bought our house today.
and we get to buy it back in a couple of days, when WASHINGTON GOD DAMNED MUTUAL gets their shit together.
we are extremely lucky/fortunate/grateful that we had the agent we did--
and that we went with a friend, even though that can be a bad idea.
in this case, it saved our asses, in the largest sense possible.
i mean...
that's a pooo load of money to fuck around with.
so anyway.
I nearly blew chunks from the sheer physical improbability of feeling such vast relief (closing is done) to rampant horror (some stranger shelled out $xxx,xxx??).
I think i have to sit down.
oh, wait.
I AM sitting.
I need a drink.
oh wait--I AM drinking.
just kidding.

sorry for that.
hope it was at least a little entertaining.
if not, i'm sure you all know the drill,
but just for the benefit of our new friends here at the boredhousewife:
if ya didn't like that rant?

aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.........that felt good.
I didn't like the rant, ok?
and I'm a very obedient little girl...

Been listening to some Buck Cherry lately,
and loving it.
in fact, my workout playlist is sort of...
iron maiden, j-lo, buck cherry, anthrax, jane's addiction, violent femmes, kenny wayne shepperd, pearl jam...beyonce.
okay, so it's not that funny.
I just happen to like hip hop from women with great asses, I guess.
that was a play on words, ya know...
great = really good
great = large
I'm quite the comedienne.

Twin A: mom, why was the garbage truck in front of our house for so long?
me: because it broke down.
twin a: why?
me: I don't know...(thinking: we go)
twin a: i know why! maybe something was broken under where...under where...under where the wheels are?
me: underwear???
twin a: no...under WHERE...
me: underwear!!!
us: giggle...giggle...
we both busted up laughing.
he kept trying to ask if something was broken "under where the wheels are", but i would just say "underwear" and we would both drown in laughter again.

I was actually all motherly proud that he "got it", y'know?
hey!!! i freely admit i act like a 12 year old boy half the time, so don't go acting all surprised/disgusted.
(for the record, the other half of the time I act like a dirty old man)
sometimes I'll have an off day and act like a TOTAL GIRL--
and believe me, it pisses me off.
of the bedroom, I'm all woman.
I have a detachable penis, fortunately.
sorry, that was uncalled for.
I have no penises of any kind--
ask Becky.

lordy, this post went downhill faster than a fucking bobsled.

okay, on that note:
buh bye.
I'll try to post something better before too many of you have to endure this post...

I hope the shining sun is not a calculated distraction--

to keep me from seeing something even worse barrelling toward me.
what a day.
a call from home--
a tragedy, a girl I knew as a kid.
distant enough to not have the waves of shock destroy me,
but near enough to seem a hell of a lot more real than a news story.
she was my age, two kids.
shot to death by a lover--
she and her husband went to tell him it was over, that they would work things out.
apparently not.
some of the other girls and I are sending flowers.
stupid gesture--how is that enough?
beat that guy to death with my trapper keeper, that's what would be enough.

fast forward.
lovely dinner with the husband and his buddy.
silliness, bad jokes, great drinks.
then on to the bar.
a band with lots of equipment setting up--
rock cover band, tingles of excitement, "this could be good!"
eh, or NOT, as it turned out...
they blew.
but we played pool, and i was even worse than usual.
I was done drinking, felt shitty--but pretty.
drank water, peed a lot.
fucking-hot-as-hell girl walks in and ruins my mojo.
heh--i know, what a dumbass.
so I call my friend...
to see if she can come inject me with some "get your head outta your ass" serum.
she did.
everything turned upside down.
her date was lying in the parking lot covered in blood and the other guy was getting arrested.
there were at least 6 cop cars there.
I looked on.
this felt less real to me than a book I read--or wrote?
I was separate from it, but there was a tiny string slipping between all the chaos,
connecting me to the girl with splattered blood* on her face.
the girl who, in the middle of it all, as I finally made it to her, said, "but at least the cop who interviewed me is HOT--and he smells GOOOOD."
yes, yes--at least.
and at least they didn't charge her date.
and at least I got to take my first (and last, i hope) breathalizer test.
that made me giggle.
I was sober, as I mentioned, I had switched from beer to water, nearly 3 hours previous.
and hadn't had much beer to begin with.
but, cops being cops, they needed to be sure about my status if they were going to release this drunken bloody creature into my custody.
so I blew.
and blew.
and BLEW.
I suck at blowing.
but I was copesetic.
silly cops kept telling me I wasn't--
but with a twinkle in their eye.
"oooh, sorry, you're DUI."
cops love me.
have i mentioned that?
i'm glad it's still true, since i'm not 18 anymore.
that's when i met the most cops.
small town, late nights of driving fast = lots of traffic stops.
20, to be exact.
ZERO tickets.
i was a good girl.
still am, it would seem.

It was a stranger day than I had anticipated.
and today looks promising--
blue, blue sky, like we usually have around here,
but it's been hidden by foggy inversiony poo for weeks.
sun and blue and sparkly white mountains give me a rush.
a thrill.
an "I'm so happy to be alive!!!!!" song-without-words which giggles through me--
or maybe that's just circulation returning after sitting on my feet a little too long.
either way...
I am.

and those events served as a harsh contrast to the relative splendor of my life--
I promise you I did not fail to notice that,
with gratitude and humility.

even if my kids discovered some new "game"(???) in which there is the dropping of something heavy, repeatedly.
fucking jarring, that.
and even if the garbage truck broke down right in front of my house, 2 hours ago.
fucking loud, that.
and even if...
last night hubby told me that he's considering backing out of this house deal.
the one we should have closed 2 weeks ago, but it's a "definite" for today.
either backing out or switching mortgage companies (switch=10-14 day delay).
anyone have some fucking, god damned MAALOX????
but I smile and nod.
I knew there was a reason I did the right thing by not setting the kids up at a new preschool yet--how could I, if I don't even know if/when we're moving??
and maybe I would be less stressed about moving if I knew anything about the place to which we're moving.
i don't know where any of the stores are, where my new gym will be,
i need to choose new doctors (like, urgently, because my god damn thyroid scrip has expired and my old doctor won't refill it without an appointment, and with our new insurance i can't see him ANYWAY.)
all I know is where my house is.
but I doubt I could find it on the first try.
which fucking freeway is the most direct route???
do i stay on 15, or switch to 215?
which exit do i take?
this makes me want to cry.
I am such a self-centered whimpy thing right now.
I do remember a time when I was a tough, self-reliant chica.
that era seems to be huddled in the distant, distant past.
perhaps I'll meditate a bit and find that girl today.
it is a good day for such things.
a good day indeed.

* she was NOT injured or involved in the fight. she tried to stop them, and got jostled a bit, and their blood got on her.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

and did I mention--

"I'M BACK!!!!!"?

yeah, well I am.
was I gone?
no, not really.
but I wasn't here, either.
or should I say, I wasn't here, either...

Skittles taste good after re-heated pizza.
but when the pizza only heats in segments and you hit a cold spot--
that's not terribly pleasant.
for some reason, eating COLD pizza is different from eating warmed up pizza and finding a cold spot....
what a crazy life I lead!!
can you STAND the excitement???
I know I can't.
I mean, really.
it's almost too much to bear.
but damn if those skittles don't taste like a rainbow!!

I almost forgot--
I got a most rude and hurtful comment this morning, from a reader who was so repulsed by me that he/she/it wasted 77 minutes researching my site(s) and coming to some really interesting, if unfounded, conclusions.
Mostly, my reaction was, "huh, that's funny."
But, of course...
I'm a girl, and have a sensitive side (was that redundant???) so it felt a little bad.
but only a little, because obviously this person knows even less about me than the people who like me around here, and even y'all don't know the full version.
this is a place for me to express the most adult side of me,
as I spend most of each day wrapped up in my matched set of handsome, funny little angels.
this is a place for ME to be vulgar and sexy and silly, because I don't get the chance to do that in my real life very often.
I am not making excuses, as the cowardly commenter deserves none.
I am simply addressing this for the sake of those of you who may wonder.

I wasn't planning on addressing the comment, at all, but now that I'm here,
it sounds like it might be fun...
I'll try to refrain from personal attacks on this person's ability to express him/her/itself.
clearly, self-expression is not a strong point, but that's okay.
It makes me giggle, just to read it, actually.

I stumbled across your blog. I'm confused by the whole "I'm a mom, I'm a mormon, I'm a wife" thing. Its confusing with your "I'm a wanna be chat whore writing stories online and looking for acceptance from a bunch of strangers who I don't know" concept. I guess I don't understand that. Also, what gives with showing the world your tits and crotch photos? Who are you writing for? Sad I think. Sorry I stumbled onto your site.
Anonymous | Email | Homepage | 01.29.05 - 5:15 am | #

1. I am not looking for acceptance from ANY of you, just so's ya know.
I write what I write because it's fun for me.
and you all know that, so we're cool.
i MAY write to get attention, but not acceptance.
I looooooooooooooves me some attention--I'm a youngest child, what can I say?
2. another personal favorite is "strangers who I don't know."
actually, they are strangers who I know.
oh wait, that's a contradiction.
so maybe YOURS was redundant. for thought.
3. also, you didn't "stumble" onto my blog--
you entered the URL by hand and came here on purpopse,
spending 77 minutes here, trying your hardest to see me in a bad light.
We see what we want to see, don't we kids?
Ole Anonymous was looking for Bad Lisa, and there I was.
4. I'm not sure where this person got the idea that I'm a "wanna be chat whore."
This disturbs me, actually.
There is nothing on here to indicate that I have ever or would ever chat in a whore-ish manner.
My IM info is not listed, currently, so it's a HUGE assumption on the part of the anonymous bully.
5. and I am, most assuredly, NOT a mormon.
6. another thing I would like to know, is why can't a wife and mother be sexy?
and express this sexiness through writing and mostly-tasteful photos?
I have never posted "nudity" here, and I would never/will never do so.

so that was my fun for the day.
truly, made me giggle, so a hearty "thank you!" to anonymous.

going out tonight, for some much needed time with mr. husband between his business trips and moving.

hope you're all having as gorgeous of a weekend as I am.
morning quickies, chocolate chip pancakes, and catching up on 24/Alias season beginnings.

***Skittles update: there IS a limit. bleh. most definitely a limit. I would recommend stopping before the rainbow leaves what feels like a pot of gold in your gut. but do whatever works for you.

Friday, January 28, 2005

Fantasy Friday....

I've been a good girl this week...
I followed through with my intention to tone things down a bit.

And I'm going to take one more Friday off--at least.
fortunately, I have plenty of re-runs for you.
I have more episodes than ANY sit-com or drama on tv these days.
I wrote one a week for a whole year.
those bastards give us like 20 a year if we're LUCKY.
moral of the story?
I am way cooler/more of a badass/a bigger dork than tv's script-writers.
also, I have waaaaaay more free time and a smaller travel budget/office/staff.
(note: a small staff does NOT make you less of a man, but you could always give Viagra a shot...)
so my point is, I have plenty of oldies so sit back and enjoy.

I also want to take a moment to thank the Academy.
or my lucky stars?
no, no, i'm getting distracted again!!!
I wanted to thank all of you darlings for reading my silliness--
and my deep thoughts, and all the meanderings of my head.
I am, truly, a housewife who is bored from lack of external stimulation,
and this little pseudo-social circle has saved me from a fate worse than valium.
that reminds me--
i have been blessed to never use chemicals to deal with problems.
unless food counts...
and FOR THE RECORD: food don't solve problems.
unless you're in a third world country.
jesus christ (superstar) I can't stay on task for more than 3 seconds.
love all your guts, etc.
If I'm ever a millionaire, I am SOOOOOOOOOO flying you all here for a weekend of major sins and minor felonies!!!!!!!

have a happy-non-crappy weekend, and give your husband head whether he deserves it or not. if you have a wife? do something unexpected and unselfish for her, ya prick.

(I was looking for a super steamy one, but I hope you'll enjoy this slightly more subtle one as much as I did on the re-read)


we laugh at each other, all evening.
joking, teasing--never flirting.
we know the rules...
i'm off limits, so you are too.
as the night stretches out, the tension surfaces.
the jokes have all been made...
the stories all told.
your eyes tell me what your mouth will not.
i don't want to see...
i don't want you to see in me what i've carefully tucked away.
peeling the label off my beer bottle, i glance up, without thinking.
--without remembering not to look too long at your beautiful eyes.
the casual comment, still on my tongue, goes cold.
my lips pause, parted to speak, but with nothing left to say.
it's like falling asleep in a car as it drives through city streets, and waking at the seashore...
you see all this in the long moment before i dig down into my shoes and find something to say...
something non-threatening.
something non-committal.
something about sports or the weather or politics.
you don't reply.
you look down, at your slender fingers and the hands i love...
safer than your eyes, and just as beautiful.
i lick my lips, aware suddenly of the salt from the damn bar nuts.
the silence grows.
i know i should talk, but...
my mind is like a skipping record, stuck on the thought of your skin.
over and over it plays in my head...
your back, your chin, your knees--
each flashing behind my eyes to the beat of my heart.
you clear your throat, and softly speak my name.
my eyes almost water, i bite the edge of my lip.
you say my name again, firmly.
my eyes disobey the voice of reason in my head and meet yours.
my stomach flips...
you say, let's go.
all of my fears and indecsions fall to a messy heap on the floor,
and i step over them, taking your hand as we walk to the door.
nothing has ever felt so right.
sometimes mere desire can warp the mind's sense of right or wrong...
but that is enough for now.
arriving back at your place, the silence is soft and still around us--
not menacing anymore.
i am letting you lead, afraid to be the one to break the barrier.
you cock your head and smile at me, reaching to brush a stray curl off my cheek.
this gesture--so ordinary in some situations--sends a shudder through me,
and i lean into you.
close enough to kiss, but not touching--
you keep my eyes on yours as the heat grows.
i don't notice that you're shaking.
you kiss me once...
so softly it's like someone brushed my lips with a silk cloth.
i follow you, lips still parted, as you pull back from the kiss.
you smile at this and give me what i want:
more kisses.
so tender and sweet...
we kiss like teenagers, for so long that my mind finally begins to clear.
with this clarity, i find urgency, desperation.
my body catches up to my lips so quickly that i nearly stumble.
ripping at your clothes, pulling you to the bed.
you laugh--once, briefly, before attacking back...
the thrill of finally touching your precious skin is lost in the frenzy of the moment,
overlooked by my need to have you inside me.
we are locked together in such a fierce embrace that we both wake up with bruises we don't recognize.
for a few minutes the only sounds are our breathing and the squeak of the bedsprings...
then i hear you, so softly...
and i know you didn't want me to hear...
i bite your neck in response--and to keep myself from crying.
as our frenzy peaks and slows, we both sigh with joy and sorrow.
knowing we've taken the most beautiful wrong turn anyone has ever taken--
and not wasting time looking back.

Thursday, January 27, 2005

why am i writing again?

because my kids are asleep and it's raining outside.
besides, do I really need a reason?
I don't.

I had a cool fucking idea for the opening line of a book, today.
on the tread mill.
no, i'm not going to TELL you--are you CRAZY???
or do you think I am crazy?
or is Beyonce crazy (in love)?
i don't know about you, and the verdict's still out on me,
but she is.
at least she was when she wrote or sang or recorded that song. I TALKING???
no, moron, no you're not.
you're typing.
and now am I talking/typing to myself in the third person?

I guess I inadvertently solved that whole "craziness" mystery, didn't I?

and all of this, just because my kids are sleeping.
maybe instead of typing inane/insane things I should...
get a perm.
get some sperm?
kill a germ?

but I do think it's sad that not everyone is walking around with poetry squirming around inside them.
that not everyone feels things in shades of blues and reds and deep, dark purples--
how can they miss it?
how can they buy gum and pay for gas and punch their timecard...
and not notice....
not ache...
not yearn.
not exult.
how can they?
i doubt that applies to any of you reading this, by the way...
but you KNOW there are people out there like that...
people who just don't remember to find beauty around them,
people who are too tired, or too sad, or too empty...
some of those emotions inspire poetry, create deeply etched words.
but some people don't pay attention...
and some people...

lost my train of thought.
(I guess that makes me one of "those" people. heheeh)

today is the day that it is

I know, it floored me, too.
I am one muthafuckin profound chick.

yesterday was a strange day.
at the gym, one of the ladies in the daycare gave me her number so we could go out sometime,
and two of the (hunky) pro shop guys exchanged bee-sting/peanut allergy stories with me.
what the fuck??
i'm moving next week, and NOW i talk to people at the gym?
and then, at home, a girl from 'the church' stopped by.
without warning--ugh.
well, the girl couldn't have been sweeter.
works at the library, is just finishing her ENGLISH TEACHING degree.
even gave me a cutesy little card with an Emily Dickenson quote on it!
jeeeeez, I almost succumbed to her voodoo powers, too--her adorable factor was a little unsettling.
all i can say is, it's a good thing she didn't invite me to church--i would have GONE!!! egads.
and then it was off to my Girl's night thingy.
I felt like i was getting weird vibes from everyone...
the girl hosting was the girl who I mentioned a while back--
saying horrible things about me to another girl. was probably just my paranoia, but I felt like maybe the word had spread.
I ended up being the life of the party (as usual) anyway.
even if i did manage to make it through the evening without directly speaking to the host.
it breaks my heart, just for the record...
I miss her.
I did, however, figure out a way to approach it without divulging that I know something.
...didn't take a genius, either.
"I get the feeling that you're mad at me, but i don't know why."
pretty damn simple, dumbass Lisa.
I love those girls, though.
the wives of my husband's high school friends...
there have been some major changes since our last meeting,
one pregnant belly getting bigger and less comfortable,
and another getting smaller...much before its time...
we shared laughter, tears--and mudslides!
(no, not the pregnant girl)
most of us turn 30 this year...
there will be much partying.

I had a dream, around 5 this morning.
there were tornadoes, dozens of them, all over the valley i live in.
(it's wide and flat between the rows of mountains)
it was INTENSE.
my kids were at home with a babysitter, and all i could think of was getting home to them.
it was a beautiful sight--tornados of different shapes and sizes, filling the landscape--
but so deeply frightening.
i woke up very shaken.

do I have anything else to say today?
but I can't concentrate right now...
my kids sure did inherit my loquaciousness.
they are both in this room with me,
each playing a separate little self-made game--with the accompanying non-stop chatter.
it is adorable...
if a little distracting.
one boy is using a 3.5X5 disk, in and out, in and out of my machine--
right now it is a basketball, the drive is a hoop??
earlier it was a credit card, and at one point it was something else...
hey, at least they're imaginative, right?
the other one is stacking couch cushions and narrating his movements,
indicating his intent to jump on them, crash into them or knock them over--and something about an airplane.
BORED housewife????
where in the FUCK did I pull that adjective from???
yes, my ass.
everything originates there, frankly.
but damn, man.
I am anything but bored.
now they're wrestling.
apparently the cushion kid is lord and master of this particular domain and disk kid didn't pay proper homage to cross the stairwell.

I will go give my muse head and come back with something sparkly later.
I promise.

I really feel like writing more right now...
i want to hitchhike, blindfolded.
just head out.
no plan, no motivation.
I want to get in my car, with a laptop,
and drive until I have something to write,
then stop and write until my fingers sleep,
then drive some more.
rinse, repeat.
I want to unlock my mind to new possibilities.
i want to reach out and caress the cheeks of all of you...
there is more to being human than living.
at least, that's what I heard.
a little bird told me.
I want to be--
under the sea,
in an octopus's garden, etc.
i used to dream of being a mermaid.
mermaids in movies always have too stiff of tails--
too leg-filled-costumey.
I want a REAL fish's tail.
and gills.
and someting softer than seashells to cover my nips--
those fish do NOT need a free show.
If I was a mermaid...
I would swim to your shore.
and I would sing for you--
a song only you could hear,
a song only a mermaid could sing,
and you would walk, dream-like, from your house--
half-dressed, probably, and with shaving cream on half your face.
bare feet.
(i hope it's summer...)
your eyes would be cloudy, your heart beating slowly, your steps straight and sure.
you would reach the edge of the sand, and keep walking
your pants clinging to you with seawater.
You would see me, then, blending in with the rocks,
and your eyes would clear.
you would smile a smile of coming home.
my song would stop...
i would swim toward you and pull you to me
your gills would sprout as your pants were shredded by your new tail,
and we would glide through the water, holding hands.
i would tell you to go home, at one point.
and you would smile...
I am home.

two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl?
yeah...something like that...

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Now that the dust has settled...

(read tuesday 5pm post for details...or at least a vague idea of what i'm talking about.)

I am calm again.
I am focused--
well, as focused as I get.
hubby late...again.
i cooked salmon and threw some baby romaine in a bowl with cesar dressing.
ate it here, reading blogs.
i mopped and vacumed and washed odd parts of my bedding--
mattress cover, quilt.
my neck hurts from--
from what?
something at the gym,
but it's all a blur.
my thoughts today were like a heavy rainstorm,
I prefer the steady flow of a mountain stream.
like the one in Camden...
curling its steady way down the side of Mt. Battie,
slipping under Rt. 1, and into the ocean.
that stream, wide but shallow.
that stream, cool and crisp and soft with mossy rocks.
that hike.
up a stream--
up a mountain?
rustling leaves all around, sunlight only peeking through in bits and pieces.
ferns and moss,
damp brown leaves--
slippery-when-dry (but they are wet) pine needles.
I miss that hike.
I miss passing cars on those narrow winding roads.
I hate the things about Utah that aren't Maine.
why can't Utah be Maine?
those are just the rules, Lisa. get over it.
yeah. I am.

and my thoughts wander...
like that stream.
I wonder about some things,
and I ponder others...
all those words, just one letter different from word to word...
but so similar.
I think that makes me un-creative.
I could be wrong.
I have thoughts just out of reach today.
thoughts i think at the wrong times--
no keyboard lies under fingers,
which makes any time the wrong time.
a pen?
what the fuck would I do with a pen?
don't have one, anyway.

I feel things shifting--
more of my life than I know is changing.
I heard it, whispered across the alfalfa field--
did it come from the setting sun?
or from the blue-white mountain?
did it come from the hawk overhead?
or the horses at the end of my road?
it doesn't matter...
none of them know me.
none of them could really know what's happening inside the walls of this house,
or the walls of my skull.
besides, I dig change.
...sometimes I dig for change (in the bottom of my purse).
and I do love change, if I expect it...
but mostly I love the feeling of the waves hitting my boat--
okay, fine...
I'm lying.
I get sea sick easily.
" the horizon," they say.
it works, too.


I want to write something my mother would be proud of.
sounds silly, i know...
but I do.
I want to write about her life, as I see it.
I want to see if she guesses...
I want to describe the taste of the first raspberry cobbler I ever made...
that golden topping so insanely rich and perfect--
perfect, yes: i have yet to duplicate it.
my mother taught me everything worth knowing.
...i'm a slow learner, it seems.
but I have a lifetime to do extra credit...
I hope I use my time wisely.

One of the dearest friends that I have, and that anyone could hope for,
turned 30 today.
I called her, left a message.
I miss her so.
She is the Anne to my Diana--or vice versa?
Lucille to my Ethel--at least in our silly game of childhood "old lady names."
She is one of my greatest heroes, one of my fondest-memory-sharers,
she has a heart of gold and the outer beauty to match.
...when we were 5 or so, and first became inseparable, I remember watching my 16 year old brother get dropped off from a date with his girlfriend and giggling over their kiss (they've now been married 20 years...) and i remember lying on the front porch, on a warm summer night. staring up at the moths, swarming the porch light, and telling each other which new kid on the block we wanted to meet, and how it would go--with endless variations, of course. I remember sending her off to the University of Kansas, the week before I left for Utard...crying over the first big step away from our childhood. feeling the end of innocence in our guts, hard and sharp. no more sleepovers, no more whole pans of brownies while watching Grease, no more...shit, now i'm crying. fer fuck's sake, girl! I should have made a better effort to talk to Ethel on the first day of what is our 30th year...Lucille, as it turns out, is a shitty friend. I'm sorry, Ethel... I will fly home to see your first baby, though. (don't tell my sister...) and I will call YOUR sister... and... maybe someday we can spend hours and hours in your kitchen, cooking and chatting as our kids play...a relaxed chatting, though. not these hurried, almost awkward catch-up talks, after months and months apart. i want to be your neighbor. maybe someday.

I hate loving people, sometimes.

happy day to you all--

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Is it still Tuesday??

well, in my time-zone it is.

today kicked ass.
I submitted my application for admission--
to a large, lovely university close to our new house.
i even sent letters to the other two universities i've attended,
requesting transcripts.
yaaaay, me!
if they don't reject my lazy ass,
I could be a co-ed as of Fall semester...
I doubt it'll cramp my blogging style, fear not.
yeah, yeah, i know no one's worried.
and, if i'm lucky, i'll learn a little something.

my mind is racing.
which leads me to...

1. see: "my mind is racing"
2. getting to the gym, and hopping on the treadmill for the usual 7 minute speed walk warm up--and instead running 2 miles.
3. darting around from station to station, lifting heavier-than-usual weights
4. (while muttering like a fuckin' auctioneer)
5. drinking 8 gallons of water
6. calling one's mother and talking non-stop for 40 minutes. NON STOP.
like, as in--don't ask me how SHE'S doing, cuz I DON'T know.
7. calling everyone in one's phonebook and leaving inane, fast-paced messages.
8. using all of one's focus to write this list.
9. realizing the idea was a lot funnier in my head
10. there isn't a tenth, but i'm surprised i made it this far.

what a waste.
I don't know how those crackheads get anything done.

so my kids were helping me warm up some food in the microwave,
and i was thinking about how much they love to push the buttons for me.
but HEAVEN FORBID i request a "zero"--
they won't do it.
i am forced to alter the amount of time i wish to heat something,
in order to suit their finicky tastes.
i don't get it, really i don't.
it's like zero's not even a number!
that made me giggle.
maybe that IS why they balk...?
cuz it IS a number, but it's also the lack of a quantity...
fuck you.
and the ephedra-free horse you rode in on.

I love my gym.
it's the only thing in my routine that will change much, when i move.
I mean, I'll still go, but the faces will change.
there are people i've been seeing, daily, for 2 years.
no, I have never talked to a single one of them.
but I'll still miss them.
especially the hotties.
I will also miss that frumpy chick, who sweats her ASS off every day,
but still remains flopsy mopsy--wtf??
I will miss the skinny-buff chicks who inspire me.
I will miss that one guy who is still riding his (p.o.s.)motorcycle everyday--
even in snowstorms, and flirts with all the chubby girls.
I will miss the hotties.
oh, i mentioned that. hehe.
I will NOT miss that girl I used to work with at JB's restaurant, here in town.
she was in high school, i was in college.
she looks exactly like the girl who played "felicity" on the show of the same name.
only prettier.
she seriously takes my breath away.
I gawk, sometimes, by mistake.
but I haven't spoken to her.
yes, I'm a weirdo.
she was never terribly friendly, and still isn't.
(don't look at ME!! I'm friendly!!! the gym...okay, nevermind)
I am anxious to see what the atmosphere will be like at my new gym...
and in my neighborhood!!!!
like, i might actually HAVE a neighborhood this time!
not just a "ward" that we're not a part of.
fucking mormons.
which reminds me--
it was SO nice to request a copy of my transcript from BYU to be sent to the U of U.
they're rivals.
I was itching to include something in my request like, "sod off ya fucking pricks!!"
but, i didn't figure that would speed things up much.
I still dream of the day when I will streak that campus.
okay, no I don't.
but it would ROCK.
and I will hold as one of my nearest memories last year's valentine's day...
when the mr. and I rode the elevator to the top floor of the highest building on that self-righteous, dream-shattering, oppressive campus and fucked. I sound bitter?
not I.
cock suckers.

so, i'll get my revenge.
I'll be successful without them.
and then I'll write a national best-seller about what it's like to grow up Mormon.
they'll never see it coming.

so anyway.
I need a better camera.
one with a major zoom lens.
and a wide-angle lens.
and a macro setting.
that wasn't interesting enought to include here, i know.
but, bite me--my mind is racing.
this is almost as bad as being drunk.
or as good?
or, as Max said earlier, "very very more bigger"
I'm glad to see I'm instilling such a full vocabulary in them...

okay, on that note, me and my addled brain will go make dinner.
I don't have the energy left to tell you to fuck off, so i won't.
but do it anyway.

Monday, January 24, 2005

I have a headache.

...and I NEVER get headaches.
it's probably my body's way if flipping me the bird.
i made it run for an hour today,
followed closely by 2 large glasses of good microbrew--
Chasing Tail, I believe it was called.
worse than silly.
they were just dinner beers.
but apparently they can still make my head hurt and bloat me up like....
i can't think of anything that's bloated.
all i can think of is that stone temple pilot's song..........
et al.
ad nauseum.

did i mention I'm DRUNK?
as in, more than tipsy, less than sloshed-ola.
and i have a headache.
I like drunk posts.
especially by Chuck.
(cuz they're extremely rare)
it took me 3 times to type that URL properly,
and DO NOT call him chuck.
he doesn't like it.
but I do, at this moment, under these stars, and with this headache.
I like it.
and I like sitting here in the dark of my loft,
with my quiet little town all around,
and I like the sound of my cat chasing something around on the floor behind me.
mostly because that means she's not sitting on the keyboard right now.
or licking my fingers.
(yes, i am not surprised that she likes the taste of pussy, either)
that took a lot of mental effort.
that last sentence.
the one in parantheses.
so did typing: parentheses--
i even spelt it right the second time.

FYI: it hasn't hit me yet that i'm moving.

FBI: you should check out the guy around the corner--he has way too many teenage boys living with him to be up to anything but yer classic "no good". if ya catch my drift.

speaking of teenage boys (yum), I was thinking today about the last one i dated before i got married.
he was a teeeensy bit younger than me, as i was not a teenager and he was.
but that's not the point.
what was the point?
he was purdy.
also, not the point.
don't know.

i really want to listen to some music right now, but the pounding in my head would probably drown out the tunage.

and i am appalled at what a lightweight i am.
my space bar is really touchy.

you know what's annoying?
is that they've sucked all the phone out of life with too many new laws.
possibly substitute "fun" for "phone" In that last sentence--
it might make more sense.
now my ears hurt.
i swear to GOD, if i come down with a flu or some shit tomorrow, I"m quitting.
no, not quitting drinking, dumbasses, quitting LIFE.
he can keep it.
this is ridiculous.
i worked out, had a healthy dinner, and TWO glasses of beer.

stopped at the store on our way home.
I made the most cliche purchase ever:
tampons and chocolate.
made me giggle.
oh, and batteries--but not for THAT ya friggin pervs.
frankly, i am so well-fucked that i rarely have need for such a thing.
although i do have quite a collection.
getting off the subject.
getting off on the subject?

okay, here's one to sober YOU up (if not me)--
beer farts are among the smelliest things on earth.
that's all I"m saying.

I wish you were awake.
fucking time zones.
wake up, you....

mondays are like...

the snoring of your muse,
or the absence of a guardian angel.
Mondays are accidentally pouring sugar on your fries or salt in your coffee.
they are, for me, the sound of the garbage truck making passes through the neighborhood,
and kids who woke up too early...
for a moment, I actually had whining in full stereo--
same voice, same words, one on either side of me.
it would have made me giggle, if I wasn't so far past my quota of patience for the day already...

anyway, at least I had a dream that I won some "be a rock star for a day" contest.
there was much discussion about my hair.
and i'm pretty sure ryan seacrest was there.
apparently no one had noticed that I CAN'T SING.
i love that kind of dream!

and you know what else I love?
I left a rather dark one on Mr. bored's neck over the weekend,
and when I pointed it out to him he said, "You suck!"
It was almost too much of an unintentional pun to even laugh at.
but somehow I managed.

so I got a surprise nipple-piercing from the cat the other day.
stingy bitch didn't even include the jewelery.
I can still see the hole she made, and I am now certain that my choice to NEVER EVER NO-MATTER-WHAT-THEY-PAY-ME get my nipples pierced was the right one for me.
oh, i think it would be sexy as hell, but...
I've known since before "the incident" that I am not cut out for such things.
I like a little pain with pleasure, but piercing certain places would never work for me, that's all.

sometimes my world feels like a swirling mixture of past, present and future--
all of those realities on one plane, in one breath.
I see people who aren't here, and I wonder which version of my life they came from.
sometimes they flutter through my head and are gone again as I exhale.
sometimes I run my fingers through the textured memory of someone,
wondering, wandering...
It feels like a good stretch would take my present to a different place,
but it only lasts a moment.
the tastes are stronger, the sounds echo-y, and distant--
and the light that penetrates my loosely-closed eyelids casts an eery glow on everything.
I want to live 9 lives, like a cat.
I want to live them all at once, and on repeat.
I want to be a ray of light, sliding across the earth,
seeking a landing point, a reflection point.
I want to absorb all other colors, and only reflect the color of joy.
what is that color?
I want to feel.
I want to taste and smell and hear...
I would like to be standing on my beach right now.
It is ten degrees below freezing there.
no matter how long I live in this other "home",
that beach still fits just right in my heart--
a little too big, so it is bursting,
but the blues and greens and white capped waves--
iceberg-y bay, right now.
the choppy look of the ice, as it is always shifting
the cold made sharper by the salt-tipped winds.
the heightened sense of being alive,
of being mortal.
i am a fragile creature in the arms of that ocean.
it has taken members of my family,
and i am sure it is not done yet.
I will reach out and grasp my purpose,
like reaching through the fog of those shores,
or walking down a train track with headphones on...
I feel it out there.
I know it's mine.
It is larger than me, I am larger than it.

for the record...
my muse doesn't sleep late or wake up ornery on Mondays...
he courses through me, whispering, kissing, coaxing.
he breathes for me so i can sink deeper inside,
he tickles my arm with his whiskers,
he breathes softly in my ear, and I shrug him off this time--
not today, my love, not today...
sometimes I wonder if my muse has a home of his own,
or where he goes when he's not pattering his fingers over my soul...
but whatever he is, he has shown me how to fly.
he kissed my back and wings appeared,
he laughed into my neck, as we lay together,
and I was filled with a giggle-like power surge--
the ability to use those wings for flight.
he is burned into my skin, more deeply than my tattoo, or his.
he is sewn into me, he is the blood in my veins.
he is.
my muse.
...or am I his?

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Weekends, and other (less-good) stuff...

first of all, it is important to note:
the darling husband finally made it home,
a day late and a suitcase short.
(well, 2 actually)
they still don't know where his bags are.
they've been in delta's custody for 50 hours or so,
and have been sited at several airports across the west,
but have yet to be re-captured.
oh well.
the funny thing is, less than 12 hours before checking those bags,
my husband told me this joke:
A man goes up to the ticket desk for Delta and says, "I'd like a ticket to L.A., please. And could you send my suitcase to Denver, my duffel bag to Seattle, and my attache case to Phoenix?"
"Sir, we don't do that, we're an airline."
"Well, you did it last week!"

we had a good chuckle over it.
until it happend TO US.
dun dun DUN.
just kidding.

so anyway, yeah the reunion was warm and wonderful and rather wet.
lots of muffled screams.
(muffled, because it's getting a little weird for our kids to ask us why I was crying or if daddy was hurting me or whatever...ugh...)
and this morning?
Becky (who always calls during or just after) will be relieved to know that yes, we did finally squeeze in our round of saturday morning sex--
learned a little something new about myself, re: a certain position.
but i'm not telling...
that reminds me, she actually posted, and I believe she wrote something bitchy about me.
just kidding.
but i haven't had a chance to read it yet, so it's entirely possible.
well, except for the fact that I'M the bitch in this relationship.
...uh, we're in a relationship now??
that's bound to piss off at least one husband, one ex-husband or one sometimes- girlyfriend, between us.

so after a lazy, lusty morning, we had to head to the city for a pee-wee basketball game with the step son.
just as we pulled into the parking lot, little Oliver says, "mom...i need to puke..."
My eyes darted around for something to catch the stuff,
while I spoke soothingly...
I leaped out and stood there like an idiot while he hurled on himself.
being totally grossed out, as always, and wishing i had found something to catch it.
so that was fun.
walked all through that damned Rec center looking for a bathroom, to finish the clean-up job.
the one i knew of, was closed for repairs.
after much to-ing and fro-ing,
and lugging of pukey boy,
and eventually needing to find hubby to take him into a locker room,
he was cleaned up.
good GOD.

we did drive by our new house.
so the kids could get a look.
we didn't end up closing friday, cuz the documents weren't quite ready.
not a surprise at all.
but it was really cool to see it again...
and to discover that the pool and playground for the neighborhood are on our street.
less than 2 blocks down.
it's a new neighborhood, very nice.
some houses still going up, ours is less than 2 years old.
I got kind of excited, escorting the kids through the back yard.
I can't begin to express how marvelous it will be to have a roomy back yard.
maybe i'll even plant some veggies this year...

so it was a fun day, and all is swell.
i just got off the phone with another best friend,
and we've planned our next great adventure.
yeeeeeeee haaaaaaaaaaaw!!
it's been too long.

hope y'all are having happy weekends.
hugs and kisses to some of you, handshakes and winks to the rest.

Friday, January 21, 2005

So many things today...

and maybe even a fantasy.
I don't know yet...

So who thinks it's cool that the end of a 12 day business trippy thing was SUPPOSED TO BE TONIGHT, but that a god damned FOG BANK over all of salt lake city is keeping my husband from me??? who? not me.
he's not terribly thrilled, either.
especially since his luggage made it on an earlier flight,
and his phone charger was in it,
and his brother arranged him a hotel,
but this brother must secretly hate him--
howard johnson's express, chinatown oakland.
...he's afraid to go out for a pack of smokes and has only paid dial-up.
poor spoiled business traveller.
I feel so bad for him...
but mostly for me.
there's just a way you SLEEP with your husband you know?
(well not YOU, you're a guy, jesus, quit taking me so literally.)
all spoonerific and such.

and did i mention (i've started more paragraphs with that fucking line than i can count...okay, more than I WILL count, cuz c'mon, who has that kind of time?)
i lost my train of thought.
oh yeah!
the remote is fucked up for the dvd player in my room.
and the menus of the movie i'm trying to watch happen to be set up in such a fashion as to make it impossible for me to actually view the movie without the GOD DAMNED remote.
I could watch it on one of my 21 inch monitors--
scratch that, I only have ONE working computer.
does anyone notice a pattern?
my life is falling apart without the spousal unit around.
i can guarantee that i'll have severe car trouble tomorrow.
probably preventing me from taking my kids to preschool.
you do realize that if this occurs, i most assuredly WILL have a nervous breakdown?
like, not a REAL one, but I'll cry, swear, throw stuff...
maybe even curl up in a ball and rock back and forth, just for effect.
i might even get a weekend trip to the loony bin out of the deal--
party on!!

which reminds me...
i've always tried to be honest on here--
no, scratch that.
i haven't "tried" jack shit.
i just am.
but sometimes i lean a little too much in a certain direction--
so much so that i end up horizontal,
nudge nudge wink wink
in other words, this place reaks of bad sex and worse haircuts.
I'm going for a full make-over.
we're going to focus on the kids, cooking, helpful cleaning tips and--
how to load a revolver.
just in case.
ok, the kids can stay, but jesus.
my real point is, I'm trying to reassess and make sure i'm really being as true to myself with this crapola as I think I am.
(god DAMN I wish I knew how to spell that)

mentioning the kids reminded me...
I had a wake-up call as to how overwhelming they can be from senor smartass preschooler the other day.
(a kid i drove to the fucking field trip from hell)
about 34 seconds into our drive, he said, "aaah! they talk to much! they're giving me a headache!"
it was sorta cute the first time,
as i politely asked if he had any brothers or sisters--
thinking, he must be an only child if he can't handle two kids lightly chattering...
he's one of four kids under 7.
well. there goes that theory.
by the by, it got less cute each of the next 45 times he said it...
so anyway, they rock and i'm more in love with them than i can even stand sometimes,
but this blog is not the place for that.
it is the place, however, for knee-slapping accounts of life with Lisa:

this is an audio post - click to play

at the gym today, I was having..."a day"...
I put the wrong shirt with the pants I was wearing and it was highly unflattering...
So, I was repeating to myself, as I lifted weights,
"fucking fat ass, fucking fat ass"
and I think I even mumbled it aloud a few times--
that could explain the crusties that larger fella shot me.
(sorry man--me, not you, me not you...)
so about that time, I realized I was being a dipshit--
happened a little more quickly than usual--
probably because The Cult's Edie came up in the rotation on the ole i(mposter)pod.
And decided to be a bigger dipshit, but a kinder, gentler dipshit...
And began repeating, "I am strong. I am healthy. I am beautiful." kinda worked.
I was smiling, at least.
Even if it was in response to my newfound dorkhood.
And speaking of the music maker--
The other day I was doing declined situp thingies--
(Ankles hooked, head down by floor, about a 45 degree angle, I'd say.)
and I could see the monster out of the corner of my eye, bulging out of my pocket.
"Is that a 40 gig Ipod in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
flitted through my brain.
I started giggling.
And as soon as I suppressed it, I said it again, and guffawed a bit.
Good thing I don't care what level of crazy the other gym patrons have me pegged at, isn't it?

didn't I just basically tell y'all "no sex"?
I'm a sucker.
yes, that too.
dammit, i have ADD or something.
I'm a sucker for you sweet things, so I shouldn't leave you hanging without warning...
I'm going to pull my old re-run trick again.
I figure I deserve it after cranking out 55 of the damnable things.
(if you're wondering why they're not in the archives it's because i purposely took them out...)

Fantasy Friday--originally posted May 16, 2004
(something rather soft...)

riding along in an old pick up truck, the windows open, the gravel road a tunnel of dust behind us....
the heat is heavy and thick--the wind coming in is hot.
there is a perfect spot for swimming ahead.
all i can think is: i don't have my swimming suit. and my dad would kill me.
i glance over at you, and my body fights the outside heat to remind me how you make me feel.
i've never even had a real boyfriend...
Joey Reid is taking me to the prom next week, but we've been friends since 3rd grade.
and he's just a boy.
you have no idea how much i've watched you--wanted you.
...since the day my parents hired you to train our horses for competition.
you treat me like a little sister...but today i hope to change that.
we park under a tree and you get out, tossing your cowboy hat onto the seat and bending to remove your boots.
i pull my long hair out of its clasp, letting it fall over my shoulders.
you glance up as i do this and i can see your face flush a little.
i pretend not to notice, as i slip out of my shorts and tank top.
you blush more deeply and mumble something about my dad.
he's not here.
i smile back at you as i walk toward the water in my little matching set of black lace underclothes.
your jaw drops for a second, then you hurry to catch up to me.
your offer, oblivious to the markedly different source causing the heat to radiate off me.
as i take the towel from you, i touch your hand and you take a step back.
i laugh, breaking the spell.
race ya?
i run for the dock and dive off into the cool water, without looking back.
you dive in after me and we both swim silently for a few minutes, then tread water, as we talk about the horses.
i climb up the ladder, to dive back in--
catching a look on your face that i've been hoping to see.
as i slip back into the water i'm smiling.
when i come up, you're there.
you reach out to touch the water dripping from my chin, your blue eyes boring into me.
i put a hand to your chest, as i find my footing on a rock.
there is a moment--filled with complete silence and stillness--in which we could still turn back.
in the slight movement required to lift my eyes to yours it's as if i've run a hundred miles--our world is flipped inside out.
your arms encircle me, your lips are on mine and there is only us.
touching, breathing, kissing...the water lapping around us.
you slip my bra off and toss it to the dock.
i am equally enamoured of your hard and smooth.
you take my hand and lead me back to the truck, where you pull a blanket from behind the seat and lay it under a tree.
we kneel there, kissing again as we finish undressing.
you pause, ask if i'm sure.
in answer i pull you down on top of me, wrapping my legs around your back, lazily stretching my arms above my head.
you run a finger down the length of one arm, leaning down to kiss each breast.
i shiver in the heat and tighten my legs around you.
you kiss my neck, my ears, as you slowly move into me.
the smell of wild flowers and apple blossoms fills the air, and the buzz of insects is soon drowned out by our breathing, panting--moaning.
the water has dried and is being replaced by sweat as we move together in the spare shade of a tree.

we lay back, both staring at the sky with silly grins on our faces.
you roll to your side and ask me if i'm okay, as you smooth my hair back from my face.
i smile, nodding slightly, and stand to dress.
what's your hurry?
i nod in the direction of the dirt road, causing you to scramble for your clothes.
my dad.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Thank GOD for Thurdsdays...

they're so quiet.
I like it.

yesterday licked dog balls, and I'm not entirely sure why.
there was the kids' field trip, which I joined as a chaperone or whatever.
I knew it wouldn't be "fun",
but I sorta figured it would fall into the category--
somewhere between "fun" and "I want to find a rusty razorblade and a warm bath".
I was wrong.
I'll spare you the details, but I'll never volunteer for anything again.
unless MY kids aren't going to be there...
oh, yeah, and if I don't have to have a writhing little black and red snake shoved in my face.
and did I say I would spare you the details??
I'm not sure why I said that--it's not exactly in my repertoire.

At least I FINALLY got into organizational mode last night and kicked the toy box's ass.
I hate Christmas.

Did I mention we sign on our new house tomorrow?
...that's my favorite solution to EVERYTHING lately--
it's very convenient.
hubby: The cat's killing my allergies.
me: yes, but in the new house it'll be better because we can make sure she doesn't get into our room, and the whole main floor is ceramic tile with leather furniture.

hubby: i'm glad you got the play room organized.*
me: it'll be easier to keep the kids' stuff organized in the new house because of all the new containers i'm going to buy to sort it into.

*(that's paraphrased...he was much less coherant/interested than that)

You may want to note that the bolded solutions could also be put into play here.
that would be no good, though.
and do you want to know why?
because then I wouldn't be forming an extensive procrastination plan
which includes the delicate structuring of setting myself up to fail.
I'm being dramatic and a bit silly.
Just ignore me.

I had some crazy-ass, grade A fucked up dreams last night.
could have had something to do with falling asleep with "Beavis & Butthead" on...
but man, I love those guys.
I did wake up in the middle of them watching "The Devil Went Back to Georgia" and got all satan-y freaked out, though.
for a minute, I was convinced HE was in my house.
I'm pretty sure it was just the cat, but I am glad that was the last night I'll be sleeping alone for a while.

which reminds me--
first of all: super stoked to have the husband figure back from monster business trip.
(king-sized beds are waaaaay too big for one little fetal-position-sleeper, although making the bed is way easier.)
and secondly: I realized what sucks the most about him having a job where travel is required.
It's that feeling of uncertainty--
there's usually a week's notice or so, before a trip, because he doesn't do a lot of emergency stuff,
but it's still a feeling of being at the mercy of the company.
they're an amazing company--very thoughtful of their employees well-being, etc.
everyone he meets LOVES their job--no matter which office they're in.
so i'm fairly sure i'll get used to it...
I just like having him around--
especially when the sink's clogged or my computer goes cliff-diving and forgets to wear a life jacket.
oooh, or maybe satan really WAS in my room last night!
surfing for porn on my computer.
I bet he was pissed cuz all the good stuff was free.
He hates it when there are things that make good people happy.
yes, I said "good" people.
my definition of "good" happens to include people who like getting their rocks off for free.
and why?
because that makes them smart.
and smart=good.
like, duh.
so the point is, MY computer is hosed.
like a house fire after a 911 call.
wait, no...that would be "hosed down".
it's hosed like...
the Rockettes?
no, that's "pantyhosed"...
I'm scaring myself here, hold on a minute--
how's about, my computer is on vacation in the swamplands, and wearing a sign that says "eat me" in crocodile language.

I've long since stopped apologizing for not having a point to my posts--
and expecting myself to have one.
but I still sometimes consider writing a themed post.
(don't count on it...too much forethought required.)
I do feel like making a list of something, though...
maybe a list of reasons I don't like to plan out a post?
maybe a list of people who were not in my whacked-out dream last night?
nah, too short.
maybe a list of reasons not to eat pizza for breakfast when you're 30?
(yes, i know i'm not there yet, but i figure it'll dull the shock if i say it a lot right now...)
how about a list of reasons that eating does nothing to lower stress??
what the hell is wrong with me?
i'm turning into a lump of bread dough, all because I've been worried about selling the house
(which we're now keeping as a rental property)
and buying a house,
(which, god willing, is over tomorrow)
and moving to a whole new city,
and fighting for custody of the stepson,
and having lost a friend to a tragic case of back stabbing,
and my dad's shitty health and its impact on my mom,
and and AND.
...that felt good, actually.
maybe i should do that more often. ;)
I promise I won't, but I suppose some of you have a vested interest in my self-image.
if I don't vent, I eat.
if I continue eating like this, I'll stop posting pictures.
although, on the plus size SIDE, my tits will grow, too.
eh. not worth it, trust me.

so anyway.
is everyone asleep yet???
my work is done.
dare to have a shitty day and still be a rock star.
(or at least a washed up 80's popstar)

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

All turned on and no one to do...

sad innit?
I just took a few (dozen) pictures for Braless Tuesday...
yes, i know i'm late.
fuck off.
damn that sounds good.
let's just say i kept my nips hard for the pictures and now I need...
I'm so horny I could just...
I could...write a wet wednesday to go along with the pictures?
oh, okay!

well first, i'm going to finish removing the half-buttoned shirt from the pics...
and rub my nipples again...
they've started to soften again and we can't have that...
and...speaking of "wet"...
if i slide a hand down the front of my little cotton panties...
i'll feel the hot wetness--
but then my fingers will get the keyboard sticky...
what a dilemma...
maybe i'll just have to spread my legs and writhe with need.
or keep my rubbing to the outside of my panties...
that feels good...
(it reminds me of when i was a teenager and i was so fucking chaste it was disgusting.
all the rubbing remained outside the clothes.
stupid girl.)
i run my fingernails up the inside of my thighs, one at a time...
can i stay in control?
can i keep my fingers dry?
...not for much longer...
shirt and pants, hastily thrown to floor...
cotton thong, dripping wet...
maybe just a little taste?
oh god...
so salty sweet...
almost like semen, but different, distict--
now lightly i trail my fingers over my thighs, and up to my breasts--
my hands are small, they feel big...
my nipples so pointy, hard--
aching to be touched by other hands
i arch my by back and tilt my hips forward, rhythically, wishing...
wishing there was a taut male body hard and naked, just inches away...
i can't take it anymore--
i must
a finger
these soaked panties--
one finger.
sliding across wet folds
impatiently i pull the whole (small) piece of fabric aside
my whole hand must rub, touch, probe...
one finger darts into my mouth...
now back down,
nearly there.
a man.
wishing i could bend over this desk and let him slide into place and finish this right.
fingers moving faster now...
oh god......
so wet, so hot...
pussy sucking at my fingers--
no time to type=--
whisper in my ear
tell me all the things
and listen to me screeeeeeeeeeeammmmmm--------------

well, there ya go.
raw, uncensored.
but then...
you've cum come to expect no less, right?

happy day to you all--
Note: I uploaded the pictures and added the links AFTER writing the post. It was written in real time as a dictation of my actions...yes, i believe I just said, "dictation". heh.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

What's that you say?

Braless Tuesday?
Well, I'll see what I can do about that...

Which reminds me--
the origins of this "holiday" are simple:
Tuesday didn't have a "thing"...
like, Monday sucks because it's MONDAY.
Wednesday is Hump Day,
Thursday is great because "tomorrow's friday!"
and Friday is the best because, well duh.
So, I thought, what the hell?
We'll spice up Tuesdays just a bit.
anyway, what's my point?
oh yeah!
January is a bit of a downer month, right?
so maybe it could use something...
something really great to look forward to.
like, national free carribean cruise week?
nah, that'd never work.
how about upping Mardi Gras by a few weeks and pushing it beyond the boundaries of N'Awlins?
that sounds perfect to me, but i might not be able to make it happen--especially this year.
i could go on all day with silly suggestions, but I will spare you--
THIS time.

So, after my piss-poor account of a great night out, I bring to you--
The Other Perspective.
I'm not sure why I felt the need to hold back--
perhaps because I didn't want to brag that I met the coolest blogger on the block,
or because I didn't want to giggle like a dopey kid over meeting said blogger, and risk looking like-- A DOPEY KID.
so what does that make me?
that's right ladies and gents--
a dopey damn kid.
He captured the night, in its truth and entirety (which i'm having a bloody awful time spelling properly), and I urge you to read it.
and, frankly, if you're not reading him regularly you should be shot.
or at least ashamed of yourself.
the only reason i can think of for NOT reading him is that you are intimidated by someone who's a better writer than you are.
get over it.
and as far as that goes--
be jealous.
we had a great time, and you weren't there!!
heh. maybe that's the sort of thing i was trying not to say...
that little man soooo wanted to fight Whitey, btw.
Why do tiny men have enormous trucks??
And I forgot to mention the lovely woman who was trying to teach me how to play pool,
right as Whitey showed up.
I couldn't figure out how to shut her up, and I was beginning to panic.
She was very pretty, EC's type, definitely.
but, she wouldn't stop wtih the "your cue ball is the knife and the ball you're aiming for is an apple--cut it up."
what the fuck, lady??
And the bartender had great tits, or so thunk the boys.
okay, fine, i agreed!
and yes, I'll second the turd-in-a-box for Mapquest.
fucking morons.
sometimes they get it right.
sometimes they get it soooooooo wrong.
the joke whitey mentions...
it's so good, i would consider having a sex change just so i could tell it.
okay...i think i've done all the damage i can.
it was a pleasure, Travis.

I finally got my San Fransisco pictures up, on Buzznet.
and wouldn't ya know it?
their marvelous little "change the date to reorder photos" utility really smoothed that process out for me!!
have i mentioned that i heart them?
and glove them?
somehow that makes me think cardio surgeon...

oh, and did I mention?
I left my heart in San Fransisco.
(but he'll be home in a few days)
hahahahahahaa--I've waited my whole life to say that!!
he's not really in san fran, anyway.
so I guess I'm a big fat liar.

happy Hard Nips Tuesday, and I'll get a picture up soon.

Monday, January 17, 2005


REASON #434 Why it's a bad idea to stay in your pjs until 5pm (and counting)...

because sometimes.
even though your house has been off the market for over a week,
and the signs have been down for even longer...
a pushy agent will still knock on your door and want to show it.

and, okay...
the worst of it wasn't even the jammies.
it was the state of the house.
I am such a slob sometimes.
now you know.

Happy Civil Rights Day

It's a beautiful day in my neighborhood.

the worst thing about taking trips--
no matter how short or long--
is coming home.
I's the best part, too, but...
it's the anti-climactic part of it, I guess.
I just wanted to stay there, sleeping late and snuggling all morning.
we really had a great time.

I flew in, through blue skies on friday.
we went back to the hotel so I could ditch my stuff,
then we headed out to find a restaurant which was recommended.
we spent nearly 2 hours looking for it, and not only did we never find that restaurant...
but we failed to even stumble across anything else!
it was truly bizarre.
like being in The Twilight Zone--
dying of starvation in the middle of a city, and with a wad of money in your pocket.
well, to be fair, we were not in san fransisco--
i imagine we would have had better luck there.
we were in a smaller town a little south of there, where my husband's company is located.
(still over-populated, though)
at one point we even stopped at our hotel to ask for recommendations.
the non-english speaking front desk chick handed him a brochure with some restaurants in it.
it proved highly unhelpful.
finally after much swearing and many u-turns,
we returned to the hotel and found a cheap/not great chinese place right around the corner.
it was, though, the ONLY restaurant we had seen all night.
so the weekend started on a somewhat down note, but we had fun with it.

saturday morning we headed for the Muir Forest--Redwoods!
I doubt that my words could convey the majestic beauty,
and my photos will not even come close to capturing their grandeur.
but i'll post 'em anyway.
it was well worth the drive--
part of which took us over the Golden Gate Bridge, which I've always wanted to see.
also very beautiful.
we then headed to downtown San Fransisco and The Fisherman's Wharf.
it was...
very crowded and touristy--
and i'm not sure why i was surprised.
it was fun, though.
we did a little souvenir shopping and had some decent seafood.
we opted against the Alcatrez tour because we had heard it was boring--
it looked tough out there in the harbor, though.

then we went to meet whitey for beer and pool.
we got lost, but so did he.
on our way there, an ENORMOUS pickup truck was stopped next to us at a light, and asked for directions to the same street we were looking for...
we sorta pretended to know, then they drove off.
UTAH plates.
it made me giggle.
(we saw them later at the bar; they live about 4 miles from us)
it was a nice quiet place, and we had a great time.
I learned that Whitey knows how to shoot some pretty mean pool,
and used to be even better.
It was really great to have met my first "internet" acquaintence, in person,
and to have it go so well.
thanks, whitey, for not being a psycho.
it was very cool of mr. white to make the 15 mile/2 hour trip to come see us--
that was a california traffic joke, for those of you who aren't familiar...
this is awkward...i want to go on and on about how much fun it was, and how cool he is, etc.
but i feel self-concious.
so i'll leave it at that.
I have pictures, too.
of course, they're on a cell phone, and i have no idea how to get them off, so i'll post them when/if i figure it out.

sunday we just stayed in bed until it was time to go to the airport, in the afternoon.
it was a completely grand and glorious weekend.
for a two day trip, i'd say it was just about right.

just made me miss the husband, though.
(4 more days til he's back)
also, i b'lieve i wore him out...
he's still walking funny today, he says...
hey! i had to get my money's worth, right?
well, it's his money, but, whatever.
he sure got HIS money's worth.
i think i ruined that joke.

i can't post today

i will write about the weekend tomorrow.

hung over, cranky, and annoyed

oh, and a little hungry, too.
so watch the fuck out.

I did, however, have a marvelous weekend.
and i'll write all about it later.
right now, i really should just crawl into bed with some healthy-ish snack and fall asleep.
i even come home to a clogged kitchen sink--
just how i left it.
how cute.
at least i had the forethought to pick up some drano on the way home from the plano.
(sorry, had to)

i even did some writing on the plane.
i am excited to transcribe it for your viewing pleasure.
actually most of it was the beginning of my book.

i can feel...something.
i don't know what it is, but it isn't very sunshiney.
it seems like everything is inside out, or upside down--
or both.

i saw the ocean this morning, though, so everything should still be aligned properly.
the ocean...
well, it wasn't my ocean, so maybe that's why it didn't work.
my ocean heals me.
my ocean feeds me.
my ocean is angry and fierce and reminds me of what's important.
...which is not to imply that i actually know.
my ocean a cruel barrier, keeping at bay...
a world i swim in at night.

a full report will be made soon.
by me?
well, duh. who else?

let me reiterate, it was a fantastic weekend.
and, again, remind me not to drink EVER again.
i wasn't even drunk--
like maybe just a hint of drunk, but only for a moment.
fucking hangovers.
happy god damned monday.
and be civil.

Saturday, January 15, 2005

do YOU know the way to San Jose?

well, my husband does.
I'm thinking of dropping Dionne Warwick a little note.
in case she hasn't found it yet.

it's been a wonderful visit, so far.
redwoods before lunch,
seafood at the (holy motherfucking tourist spot) Fisherman's Wharf,
and more rolls in the hay than there are farms here, that's fer damn sure.

i can't believe Didamo's back--
and OUT!!!
you're all jealous that I get to have lunch with her and hear all about it, aren't you?
and I'll bet you're also rather jealous that I am less than an hour away from a face to face encounter with Whitey the Magnificent.
It's going to be hard not to call him Whitey.
my husband tried out "Blackie" earlier, but it didn't sound quite right...

also, to anyone who lives in the Bay area--
i don't know how you stand the traffic.
it's INSANE.
as in, mentally unwell.

and, for the record:
typing on an unfamiliar laptop is kinda tweaky.

yes, i already have vast amounts of pictures.
thank god for digital cameras.
i took some amazing ones of the sky, right before we landed.
wrote a bit of a "thing" about it, too.
on the inside cover of my How to Blog.
cuz it's all I had.
I figured that was poetically just,
or something similar.

I miss you all.

Friday, January 14, 2005

(non)Fantasy Friday

I am tired.
and I still have to finish packing, just a little bit.
the house is a wreck AGAIN (see: 4 year old twin boys)
and I just realized I haven't arranged anyone to feed the cat.
nor have i cleaned her litter box in what looks like a week and is probably more like 2 days.
I did, however, have a marvelous massage earlier this evening.
a professional-in-training one.
and it was, well, as I said, "marvelous".
the evening was filled with clusterfucks, however, and i just smashed my brain against the top bunk as I tucked in bottom-bunk boy.
i ate too many non-tree-derived cookies,
and skipped the weight training part of my workout (doubled the cardio though) because my FUCKING i(mposter)pod's 14 hour cellphone-esque battery died.

...if i could form a few more creative words that would be great.
I count 5--if you can find them all you get a prize.
I shall warn you, I've offered prizes before...
they usually consist of a jpeg...
of me...
cuz I don't really DO prizes, and i happen to think it's funny/clever/cute/non-lame to tell people to fuck off, with my hands.
don't fuck off with MY hands, please--use your own.
except YOU....
you're welcome to my hands anytime, dream lover.
anyway, I actually know it's not funny or clever or cute and it can even be sometimes construed as lame...
but it still makes me giggle.
and no, not particularly like a school-girl.
more like a maniac.

maybe i could write a porned-up version of cinderella,
or a happied-up version of Wild Things.
maybe I could tell you about the time--
but i don't remember any times.
well, not any pre-marriage times.
I'm not trying to claim i have completely forgotten them, it's just that the details are losing color like a shirt in bleach.
nah, i guess that's not it.
i could still work with it, if i had the energy.
my mind is just plain foggy.

also, just so's ya know--
my belly is rumbling like a semi over a bridge.
and not cuz i'm hungry.
THANKS goddamn Murphy's Law asshole--
going on my lil trip tomorrow, sick today.

so how was THAT for the anti-Fanti?
(fanti could be short for fantasy friday...and i think that makes 7)

since I'm a huge slacker, and most of you are either newbies or (i hope)have shitty memories--

here's a Re-run
(if ya haven't seen it, it's new to you, etc)

--********Blue Collar Caller (as opposed to Gentleman Caller...hee hee)************

Without a word, you step through the door.
I don't even know your name, just your face and the roar of your Harley.
my pulse quickens, like a cliche.
I step back, you close the door.
you remove your sunglasses, and my stomach leaps to my throat as our eyes meet.
this is it, I think.
you step closer, removing my shirt in one fluid motion.
before the shock can register, i'm against the wall,
with you filling my field of vision,
your mouth finding mine.
I have always known it would be like this, as I watched you from my kitchen window.
working on your bike, smoking.
nothing else exists.
I tear at your belt, finally getting to what's inside and reveling in that first touch
--the smooth, dry skin against my hands, I begin with a light massage.
you smile down at me, almost a sneer, showing your approval.
you thought I might resist.
apparently you never saw me watching.
you with your tattoos and earrings, your bike, your blue collar quietness.
I want to push you down, slide on top.
you are in control, and it makes me squirm, adding to the pleasure.
your hands rough from building houses feel like warm sand paper against my skin, and I don't want you to ever stop touching me.
as your shirt comes off, I bite your neck, you grab my hair and pull my head back, biting back, licking...
i've already started moaning and you're not even inside...
you kiss me on the mouth, for the first time--hard.
I continue my massage, just so, thumb on the vein, rotating my wrist.
you brace yourself, hands on the wall on either side of me and let it rock you.
I stop abruptly and stand still.
the gleam in your eye is mixed with anger and pleasure.
you easily encircle both my wrists and pin them above my head, as you slide inside.
finally, an end to the torment of wanting.
and the beginning of the sweetest torment of all...
you release my hands and kiss me softly, as if to reassure me that the tough guy act is just an act.
I bite your lip, and sink my nails into your back.
you kiss me again and I can't take anymore...
I push you onto the table and pin your arms, with a defiant half-smile.
i'm almost close...
you break free of my loose grip and spank me, just right, sending me over the edge.

we tumble to the floor in exhaustion, and you say drily, "wanna catch dinner sometime?"

happy weekend ladies and gents--

Thursday, January 13, 2005

The day that launched a thousand posts...

or 3, so far.
(can you tell i've been watching Troy?)

My kids have driven me to drink. far it's only gone as far as water (on the rocks!),
but it's bound to escalate.

although, to help return the scales to a balance,
twin A said this morning, "mom, what kind of trees do cookies grow on?"
he had asked earlier who put the peeling on oranges...
so i had explained that no one "put" it there, that's just how they grow, and that they grow on trees.

Sotto Voce

I awoke with that term running through my head--
no, swirling through my head.
I drowsily pondered, "Is it a musical direction, or a law term?"
(shut up)
I kept running it over the tongue of my mind,
loving the feel of pronouncing it,
So I googled it.
(like, duh)
and it means "whispered, or spoken in soft tones" and it is also a musical direction.
it is Italian for "under(soto)+ voice(voce)".
guess why this kicks ASS?
because today, sending me some audio files on How to Speak Italian.
and this is just the tip of the iceberg.
we're as connected as a Don's first-born son.

Throbbing Thursday, anyone?

hahahaha--i'm just kidding.
i think i need fewer sex-drenched posts, not more.
yeah, yeah, i know y'all disagree, but you don't get a vote.

have I MENTIONED that I'm going to Silicon valley this weekend?
no, not silicone valley, although that does sound like fun...
you're probably all sick of hearing about it, but that doesn't really bother me.
(it's funny how disaffected i act on here...i love people and i love making them happy)
and i'm really excited for me little tiny short trip,
so i'll talk about it all i want.
it's going to be warm(er than here) and sunny!!
honestly, i'd be happy to sit in a shit hole in RENO--as long as that meant i wasn't in Utah.
i love utah.
i just hate it more.
what the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

I'm neither a creep nor a loser but that song still belongs to me.
It's one of my "I'm stuck in utah and that feels like wearing someone else's glasses" songs.
that and marilyn manson's "beautiful people" and some others.
but i can't remember, cuz that chip fell off my shoulder a while back.
but seriously, i don't belong here.
it's just a temporary nesting spot.
Yes, I'm 11 years in, but that's nothing in the course of a life.
okay, so it's 10% of a life, at the bare minimum.
probably more, but the math on anything under a 100 year life span is too complex to do at this time of night.
10:30 is late when you're...
what's my cop out?
i got none.
do you know how frigging easy my life is???
do you??
if you did, you would hate me.
hell, you might already.
no one in the real world hates me, so probably none of you darlings do either.
and if you do, then why are you still reading me?
or better yet, why am I addressing these masses of non-existent Lisa-haters?
adjust my medication.

i'm quite normal most of the time, but sometimes i get on these fucked up little rants where i think i'm the king of the world, and I sound like the Mad Hatter.
Since I'm a girl, being a king ain't likely.
but i realllly like the sound of King Lisa.
it sorta makes me snort water out my nose.
(...well, that time it did.)
I love being completely out of control of what i say or write or whatever.
it's like i'm possessed--or my muse went on a coke bender.

(deep breaths)

have I mentioned that I think I have leprosy?
(look at my arm on yesterday's picture for proof)
my skin gets so dry here, in the winter.
oh god!
I just ew.
I just gulp.
I just searched for a picture to use as an example of true leprosy...
that was so disgusting.
I mean...i'm very sad for those afflicted with such a horrible disease.
I can't get that image out of my head.
think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts...
brad pitt's single, brad pitt's single, brad pitt, brad pitt....
okay, my breathing has returned to normal.

which reminds me, I must be ovulating.
my stupid body thinks I should have more kids or something.
all I can think of is sex.
at the gym today, I kept imagining pulling some guy's shirt up and licking...
I wasn't trying to imagine it--
it just sorta flew into my head.
he probably wasn't even hot.
he was just in my line of vision.
I guess I should distract myself by watching "Troy."
...which begs the question: "what the fuck was i doing writing a post when that movie is the player paused and ready??????"
crazy fucking girl.

But at least my son responded to my request for him to hang up his coat at the gym babysitting with this:
But I need a hooker!
(yes son, don't we all...)

I told that story in a comment earlier, so I feel i bit smarmy posting it again.
it's priceless.

have a good day and give me a beer--

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Happy Hump(ing) Day!

I don't know why I'm not writing a post right now.
I mean, i guess i am now...
but i wasn't before.
hold on.
let me start over:
I have been racing through my links list, like a bull in a china cupboard
(only with far less porcelein breakage)
leaving comments the size of emails--
and feeling so full of wit, or its bastard child "smart assery",
that I finally realized I should come here.
yes, that was COME.
not "cum".
friggin pervs.
(yes, once again, that translates to: I'M the perv. get over it.)

here's the rant I deleted from the comment I was leaving on Panacylum,
after a response to a post about god's lack of coolness re: the recent natural disasters/life in general.
(i paraphrased profusely, just go read it)

...and in a related story, the Mormons think it's crunch time.
As in, the big JC is on the Concorde headed our way...
I'm kind of excited for their version of hell.
All it is, is earth.
I'm not even kidding.
Of course it might--
hold on.
I think i need to go repent, because...
if they're right
(yes, that's a bigger IF than the sun's gasses spread out in a line across the universe...)
but if they are, then guess what makes it hell?
oh, just guess!
no procreation powers.
that never really clicked, when i was "in".
guess what that means, party people: NO SEX.
i have to live forever but can't ever get laid.
god dammmmit, why didn't they just say so?
(this is where I realized it was not a comment sized train of thought, moved it to my own blog, and kept writing:)
THAT, boys and girls, would be the true definition of hell for many of us, no?
I remember, growing up, thinking: 3 levels of heaven.
that's cool.
the lowest level will be physically located on the planet earth
(that should've been my first tip-off, I know...but what the FUCK do you expect?? I was raised in it!)
and the only two things that are markedly different about the levels of heaven are:
the highest level you will be able to procreate and the upper levels can visit folks below them.
so, basically, shoot for the lowest level, cuz then you don't have to chill with all the self-righteous pricks, right?
no sex.
we can hope, right?
maybe it just means you can fuck all day and all night, but will not make babies.
since that's the true definition of "procreation"....
oh please oh please oh please oh please--
wait a second...
...I forgot...
i got a little carried away.
that was really fun for me, and I swear mormons aren't as crazy as i JUST made them sound.
okay, well sorta...
but they're generally a really swell group of folks.
(except in utah, but that's another rant for another day...)

and your reward for sitting through that is...
dun dun daaaaaaaaaaaaah-----


yesterday was Wet Wednesday, so it's only fair...

I know it's a little late to be prompting people to vote...
wish I would have thought of this shirt back in November.
oh well.

be good kids today, and don't make me send you to time out.
oops, that was a memo to the twinlets, how'd it get in here??
but still...
be good.
be kind to each other and do something unselfish...
(i figure, if each of you does it, I don't have to. heh.)

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

today is one of those days...

one of those gray and cold days.
with clouds and fog and overcast skies,
all together in a happy jumble of shades.
of gray.
and isn't most of life a rainbow of grays?
I don't mean dull...
I mean, nothing is black and white.
there are a million possible twists on every situation,
inumerable outcomes.
today is a day with a different sort of feeling...
and it doesn't come from the rain, which lies heavily in the sky.
it comes from within--
originating somewhere nestled between the very top part of my thighs,
and I want to touch there,
and run my small hands over the front of my long satin nightgown...
(i do have small hands, and small feet.)
I want to think secret thoughts, and force them out of my head onto a screen in front of me...
where i can watch them with my lasik-ed hazel eyes--
it's easier than watching from inside, letting someone else make the pictures.
but then i wouldn't be able to close my eyes, and i want to...
i want to close them and run my hands all over that thin silky covering of my body,
revelling in the contrast of hard nipples on soft mounds,
and smiling at the firm muscles on my legs.
and i want to believe myself when i whisper his name...
he's here, doing this to me.
he's leaning close to me, but not quite touching.
his hands are now exploring every outside inch of me, greedily.
his breath is on my neck,
his hardness just brushed my leg as he leaned closer,
his fingers (not mine) just trailed up my neck...
(just for the sake of accuracy in reporting: i just...finished...)
(yes, I'm an easy target when properly aroused.)
my legs part, expecting him--my mind has done well to trick me.
i am picturing him, kneeling before me, rough hands on smooth thighs...
pulling aside panties, buring his face in his favorite place.
i slide down in my chair, just a little--
offering him a better feast, pressing into him.
he licks and teases and sucks and kisses...
I whimper.
he's really there.
he is.
i arch my back and let out a soft moan as he holds still,
enjoying the feeling of my muscles contracting against his lips and tongue.
I put my fingers in my mouth, believing that it's his mouth...
he loves the taste of me...

and no, i'm not sure why i was quite so frisky just now.
consider this Wet Wednesday.
maybe tomorrow i'll toss ya a braless tuesday, ya friggin pervs.
(yes, i realize I'm projecting my own thoughts and feelings onto you--
I'M the "friggin perv". so what??)
and don't forget to go fuck yourselves...
and for once, maybe you could buy yourself flowers after, hm?
just to be a gentleman.
hell, for that matter, buy ME flowers.
I like Lillies.