startling because I'm several hundred years behind the rest of civilization,
but thrilling, nonetheless.
well.
I hate coffee.
today it was cold, and I was too lazy to get a sweater.
but the coffee maker was handy...
so i brewed up a pot of Irish cream-flavored gourmet coffee
(that my husband had sneered at).
I added the prerequisite large amount of cream and sugar.
and guzzled.
4 cups in an hour or so.
caffeine does not affect me, oddly enough.
and neither does sugar, really.
I get wound up if I'm really hungry, or if i've been really hungry and then eat--
but never from just eating sugar or drinking caffeine.
so that's not the discovery.
I'm hesitant to get into the details,
though i'm sure any of you who either drink coffee or HAVE FUNCTIONING BRAINS,
know exactly what I'm talking about.
weight loss.
oh, mama, leave the light on, cuz I'm coming home!
ok, so maybe I feel a bit shitty
(please, oh please, have mercy and pardon that horrendous play on words)
but it's worth it.
maybe.
I'll drink it for a week, and then we'll see if I've lost weight.
don't lecture me.
it's almost summer and I have a pot belly.
I used to be so smug, in high school.
when other girls would complain about their asses.
ha! I would think.
I have no problem with MY ass.
suddenly, I'm wishing for an ass.
thanks ms. lopez.
'ppreciate ya, beyonce.
so when is it going to considered sexy to have a gut, huh???
that's what I want to know.
I am so jealous of girls with asses.
you have no idea.
I have pathetically narrow hips,
which do me no good, because it just makes my waist look wider.
sure, sure.
I know what you're thinking--
don't be a fatty and you won't have to worry about it.
and you're right.
I'm working on it.
um...
did I promise to stop talking about my weight?
well.
I guess that just proves how trustworthy I'm not.
but, I suppose, I AM a girl, so y'all probably knew I wouldn't be able to drop it anyway.
(the subject, not the weight.)
I'm on fire.
and not like bruce springsteen,
or like your weiner after banging that skeevy girl in the truck stop bathroom--
more like...
hell, I dunno.
like something raging and surging--
engulfing an entire forest with its heat.
yes.
fire! fire! (beavis)
ok, fine.
so maybe caffeine has me a leeetle bit wired.
I was plotting to rape the pizza man, or at least give him "the eyes" and huskily murmur "why don't you come in and we can re-enact some really bad porn"...
but, ya know.
the kids are here, and stuff.
ok, fine.
I've been possessed by the caffeine demon.
yes!
I'll blame everything on that!!
oh, this is perfect.
a whole new world of scape goat-utilizing behavior has opened up to me..
must stop writing, in order to plot devious ways to use caffeine as my bitch.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Thoughts filter through the sogginess...
and slip gently off my fingertips.
ok, maybe they land with a thud--
a clatter, a hiccup.
but they land.
I had a bit of an epiphany last night--
(that always sounds like food to me)
I am different from these girls, in my Dice-playing group.
(yes, that's what we do for our "girls night"...don't mock, it's not your color.)
Hopefully I'm not different from Iof them.
but I am certainly different from the one who has said such hurtful things.
Last night was the first time we directly exchanged words, in 4 months.
it gave me hope...
maybe she didn't really say those things?
maybe she's over it?
then.
as I was leaving.
just as I stepped out the door--
but it was still wide open,
the cutting was done intentionally...
she said--loudly--"so we'll meet at your house, A, on friday?"
exclusion is so jr. high, bitch.
and it stung.
the rest of them are going out, without me.
I walked to my car and drove away,
with an iced over windshield,
hoping I didn't hit a dog.
shedding a few bitter tears.
then my phone rang.
hubby.
sunshine in my snowstorm.
he gently reminded me...
she's a two-faced bitch, Lisa--
why do you think I've never liked her?
it's true...the mr. has a sharp sense of people's character flaws--
sometimes too black and white for me...
but that's it.
that's what I realized--
I love all my friends, and would never treat someone the way she has treated me.
and in my innocence, I expect the same from them.
I imagine that everyone has good intentions,
and they just plain don't.
I hope that I'm in the majority...
for the sake of our world,
for the sake of the children being raised by these women--
women who could potentially be angles with barbed wire-tongues just like her.
It's hard for me to let go of people...
I love deeply, I hold closely.
and I usually have good insticts--
but I guess I fucked up this time.
so on the drive down there, I was ready to rumble.
I was imagining great dramatic scenes in my head of what I would say to her--
in front of the whole group.
Or how I would announce that I'm quitting the group,
because "someone" has been saying horrible things about me.
but, of course, I wussed out.
drama is not something I like to create.
so instead, i took shitty-quality pictures of the mountains,
with my camera phone,
and sang along to AC/DC and Van Morrison.
I thought about someone I've been missing lately,
and what it would be like (for the 8 millionth time) to touch, to taste, to...
and I wished that I had my real camera with me.
I would have pulled over.
I would have stepped out into the stinging misplaced-winter air--
and snapped.
the clouds were amazing.
the snow in the peaks, the sun setting...
good lord, I love that mountain.
I am now determined to get that shot.
kenny
wayne
sheppard
tomorrow night.
but I just found something out, about him, that I am extremely embarassed to have not known before.
he didn't do the vocals on his first 3 albums.
he was a GUITAR prodigy.
and I love the guitar, but I am a voice girl, and I fucking LOVED the voice on his first 3 albums.
his new one, the one he's touring right now, features him, on vocals.
I am willing to bet--
the show is going to surge through me like mercury in my veins--
(yes, it'll kill me. heh.)
it'll pump fire through me,
make the tips of my hair burn a smokeless blue fire,
It'll swirl around, just under my skin, dancing like a hundred hippies at a drum circle--
rhythm, harmony.
no room for peace, but I'll take some love if he's offering.
It's going to rock me til my bones shake,
and my heart follows the beat of the drums.
I will turn into someone else,
for a split second,
and the rush of my soul leaving my body will feel like a full emptiness,
something like air,
but charged with soft waves of electricity...
I was JUST thinking, at the gym yesterday, while listening to Blue on Black,
that I need to see him in concert...
which quickly deteriorated into a day dream of me asking his hotness if I could write his biography.
snort.
I'm such a fucking dope.
ok, lovers, liars, leavers, livers(the organ)--
smell ya later
be kind, rewind--
oh, come on, don't tell me you actually rent VHS???
it's 2005, welcome--now throw away your VCR.
ok, maybe they land with a thud--
a clatter, a hiccup.
but they land.
I had a bit of an epiphany last night--
(that always sounds like food to me)
I am different from these girls, in my Dice-playing group.
(yes, that's what we do for our "girls night"...don't mock, it's not your color.)
Hopefully I'm not different from Iof them.
but I am certainly different from the one who has said such hurtful things.
Last night was the first time we directly exchanged words, in 4 months.
it gave me hope...
maybe she didn't really say those things?
maybe she's over it?
then.
as I was leaving.
just as I stepped out the door--
but it was still wide open,
the cutting was done intentionally...
she said--loudly--"so we'll meet at your house, A, on friday?"
exclusion is so jr. high, bitch.
and it stung.
the rest of them are going out, without me.
I walked to my car and drove away,
with an iced over windshield,
hoping I didn't hit a dog.
shedding a few bitter tears.
then my phone rang.
hubby.
sunshine in my snowstorm.
he gently reminded me...
she's a two-faced bitch, Lisa--
why do you think I've never liked her?
it's true...the mr. has a sharp sense of people's character flaws--
sometimes too black and white for me...
but that's it.
that's what I realized--
I love all my friends, and would never treat someone the way she has treated me.
and in my innocence, I expect the same from them.
I imagine that everyone has good intentions,
and they just plain don't.
I hope that I'm in the majority...
for the sake of our world,
for the sake of the children being raised by these women--
women who could potentially be angles with barbed wire-tongues just like her.
It's hard for me to let go of people...
I love deeply, I hold closely.
and I usually have good insticts--
but I guess I fucked up this time.
so on the drive down there, I was ready to rumble.
I was imagining great dramatic scenes in my head of what I would say to her--
in front of the whole group.
Or how I would announce that I'm quitting the group,
because "someone" has been saying horrible things about me.
but, of course, I wussed out.
drama is not something I like to create.
so instead, i took shitty-quality pictures of the mountains,
with my camera phone,
and sang along to AC/DC and Van Morrison.
I thought about someone I've been missing lately,
and what it would be like (for the 8 millionth time) to touch, to taste, to...
and I wished that I had my real camera with me.
I would have pulled over.
I would have stepped out into the stinging misplaced-winter air--
and snapped.
the clouds were amazing.
the snow in the peaks, the sun setting...
good lord, I love that mountain.
I am now determined to get that shot.
kenny
wayne
sheppard
tomorrow night.
but I just found something out, about him, that I am extremely embarassed to have not known before.
he didn't do the vocals on his first 3 albums.
he was a GUITAR prodigy.
and I love the guitar, but I am a voice girl, and I fucking LOVED the voice on his first 3 albums.
his new one, the one he's touring right now, features him, on vocals.
I am willing to bet--
the show is going to surge through me like mercury in my veins--
(yes, it'll kill me. heh.)
it'll pump fire through me,
make the tips of my hair burn a smokeless blue fire,
It'll swirl around, just under my skin, dancing like a hundred hippies at a drum circle--
rhythm, harmony.
no room for peace, but I'll take some love if he's offering.
It's going to rock me til my bones shake,
and my heart follows the beat of the drums.
I will turn into someone else,
for a split second,
and the rush of my soul leaving my body will feel like a full emptiness,
something like air,
but charged with soft waves of electricity...
I was JUST thinking, at the gym yesterday, while listening to Blue on Black,
that I need to see him in concert...
which quickly deteriorated into a day dream of me asking his hotness if I could write his biography.
snort.
I'm such a fucking dope.
ok, lovers, liars, leavers, livers(the organ)--
smell ya later
be kind, rewind--
oh, come on, don't tell me you actually rent VHS???
it's 2005, welcome--now throw away your VCR.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
snowing cats and dogs
er something.
I just can't think of what else to call it.
in Maine, we had blizzards.
I have yet to see a blizzard in 11.5 years here, but sometimes it snows a lot.
today it snowed a lot.
I went for a little shopping therapy, despite the storm.
GAAAAAAWD, that feels great.
it's the same sort of false filler for an emotional emptiness that eating is.
only without the calories.
besides, I really needed some new gym clothes.
I felt a little like I was screaming "look at me!!" wearing this new orange shirt..
but it's really cute...tight across my tits, looser through the middle so I don't feel self-conscious when I do crunches and stuff...
and my ass looks great in these pants, so really, what could be better??
world peace?
eh.
a million dollars?
not really.
the end of the war?
well...sure, but only by a little.
(yes that was another one of those pesky exaggeration thingies--watch out for those)
anywho.
live is good.
nice typo.
LIFE is good.
but, i mean, if you're talking about a sexual partuner, I would say "live" is a pretty damn good start.
"willing" might be the next thing you'll wanna consider,
and from there, it's really up to you.
I read and adored each comment on last night'swhinefest post.
I always feel incredibly sheepish when I boob about how shitty my posts are,
and then get such wonderful feedback.
I do love you all--
and here's how I put it, last year, on this day, in fact!!
whoa.
now THAT'S creepy. or cool.
Have i told you lately...
that i love you?
seriously, you folks out there who read this crap on a regular or semi-regular or bran muffin type regular basis...
I love you.
and not in that slobbering drunk way.
or that sappy romantical way.
not really so much in the "all for one and one for all" way either...
hmmm.
more like the "you make me feel like a natural woman" way.
or the "you guys are all so much better at this and i am amazed by the warm words of praise you offer" way.
it was true then, and it's true now.
so, enough of the oprah moment, ok?
I'll put away my tissues if you'll stop confessing the deepest desires of your heart,
and maybe we can both get a Manic Mom Make-Over.
or something.
I love you, you love me, end of story.
I almost did an audio post while I was driving through the snow...
but I figured that wouldn't be very responsible.
so you get squat.
sucks to be you.
I was thinking about how much I love checking out guys at the gym.
...while checking out guys at the gym, today.
heh.
and I came to the conclusion that yessiree, I really do love it.
It makes my day.
making eye contact...ooooeee.
men I'll probably not see again, and DEFINITELY not speak to,
but somehow...
there's a sparky thing.
an acknowledgment of attraction--
and I get just as much of a thrill from the thought of that married 40 something guy doing a double take that someone is checking him out at all.
I think a lot of people are so focused on their lives--
careers, kids, marriages--
that they don't even give thought to whether or not some insanely horny younger woman finds them sexy.
I'm usually not an older man kinda gal.
but there was one today...gray hair, gray goatee.
completely unaware of his hotness.
I think I startled him.
the funny thing is, I'm so immersed in my music and my routine,
that I really don't think about the fact that I might be openly gawking at some guy.
but sometimes I notice that I am...
and it startles me...
it's such an oddly intimate yet completely solitary place.
for me, at least.
I know some people workout with a buddy, but most of us don't.
we all silently (gruntingly) go about our business.
me with my Cult, my Iron Maiden, my Godsmack, my GnR...
so, so loud.
I always want to sing out loud.
hell, I probably have before.
I wouldn't know it, if I did.
oh!!
Maybe THAT'S why I get looks sometimes!
suddenly this is all making a lot more sense.
hehe.
ok, time to go be productive.
and yes, being productive includes lying on the couch while my kids watch Dora the the little whore-a and day dreaming about my new furniture--pyschicly wishing it a speedy trip.
yes, we call her Dora the little whore-a.
NOT in front of the kids, don't worry.
she's really cute, i actually love the show.
(as much as I love ANY of those kids shows...shudder...)
but neither my husband nor I are capable of singing a song without changing the lyrics into something dirty/swear wordy.
it's JUST NOT POSSIBLE.
trust me, we've tried.
oh wait!!
I know what would be productive!
reading blogs.
see ya there--
I just can't think of what else to call it.
in Maine, we had blizzards.
I have yet to see a blizzard in 11.5 years here, but sometimes it snows a lot.
today it snowed a lot.
I went for a little shopping therapy, despite the storm.
GAAAAAAWD, that feels great.
it's the same sort of false filler for an emotional emptiness that eating is.
only without the calories.
besides, I really needed some new gym clothes.
I felt a little like I was screaming "look at me!!" wearing this new orange shirt..
but it's really cute...tight across my tits, looser through the middle so I don't feel self-conscious when I do crunches and stuff...
and my ass looks great in these pants, so really, what could be better??
world peace?
eh.
a million dollars?
not really.
the end of the war?
well...sure, but only by a little.
(yes that was another one of those pesky exaggeration thingies--watch out for those)
anywho.
live is good.
nice typo.
LIFE is good.
but, i mean, if you're talking about a sexual partuner, I would say "live" is a pretty damn good start.
"willing" might be the next thing you'll wanna consider,
and from there, it's really up to you.
I read and adored each comment on last night's
I always feel incredibly sheepish when I boob about how shitty my posts are,
and then get such wonderful feedback.
I do love you all--
and here's how I put it, last year, on this day, in fact!!
whoa.
now THAT'S creepy. or cool.
Have i told you lately...
that i love you?
seriously, you folks out there who read this crap on a regular or semi-regular or bran muffin type regular basis...
I love you.
and not in that slobbering drunk way.
or that sappy romantical way.
not really so much in the "all for one and one for all" way either...
hmmm.
more like the "you make me feel like a natural woman" way.
or the "you guys are all so much better at this and i am amazed by the warm words of praise you offer" way.
it was true then, and it's true now.
so, enough of the oprah moment, ok?
I'll put away my tissues if you'll stop confessing the deepest desires of your heart,
and maybe we can both get a Manic Mom Make-Over.
or something.
I love you, you love me, end of story.
I almost did an audio post while I was driving through the snow...
but I figured that wouldn't be very responsible.
so you get squat.
sucks to be you.
I was thinking about how much I love checking out guys at the gym.
...while checking out guys at the gym, today.
heh.
and I came to the conclusion that yessiree, I really do love it.
It makes my day.
making eye contact...ooooeee.
men I'll probably not see again, and DEFINITELY not speak to,
but somehow...
there's a sparky thing.
an acknowledgment of attraction--
and I get just as much of a thrill from the thought of that married 40 something guy doing a double take that someone is checking him out at all.
I think a lot of people are so focused on their lives--
careers, kids, marriages--
that they don't even give thought to whether or not some insanely horny younger woman finds them sexy.
I'm usually not an older man kinda gal.
but there was one today...gray hair, gray goatee.
completely unaware of his hotness.
I think I startled him.
the funny thing is, I'm so immersed in my music and my routine,
that I really don't think about the fact that I might be openly gawking at some guy.
but sometimes I notice that I am...
and it startles me...
it's such an oddly intimate yet completely solitary place.
for me, at least.
I know some people workout with a buddy, but most of us don't.
we all silently (gruntingly) go about our business.
me with my Cult, my Iron Maiden, my Godsmack, my GnR...
so, so loud.
I always want to sing out loud.
hell, I probably have before.
I wouldn't know it, if I did.
oh!!
Maybe THAT'S why I get looks sometimes!
suddenly this is all making a lot more sense.
hehe.
ok, time to go be productive.
and yes, being productive includes lying on the couch while my kids watch Dora the the little whore-a and day dreaming about my new furniture--pyschicly wishing it a speedy trip.
yes, we call her Dora the little whore-a.
NOT in front of the kids, don't worry.
she's really cute, i actually love the show.
(as much as I love ANY of those kids shows...shudder...)
but neither my husband nor I are capable of singing a song without changing the lyrics into something dirty/swear wordy.
it's JUST NOT POSSIBLE.
trust me, we've tried.
oh wait!!
I know what would be productive!
reading blogs.
see ya there--
Feeling claustrophic
stuck down in this rut,
looking up at the world.
but I'll roar and leap upward--
bursting out into the sunshine.
soon.
I couldn't sleep.
so here I sit.
it's freezing down here.
I spent a few minutes in my archives, earlier.
I don't do that very often.
but I found proof that i am in a rut--
those posts had an entirely different tone.
so I must apologize for being so
UNwitty
UNclever
UNsexy
UNfunny
UNhappy.
and I would also like to thank y'all for sticking around.
it's not easy to do, when this place is covered in slime, with no good handholds.
huh?
I think I'll start posting a "this day last year" post occasionally.
yes, it's a cheater's way out.
who's gonna stop me?
trust me, it's better than listening to me whine about my whining.
in related news,
we finally got confirmation today that our furniture has been ordered.
jesus christ superstar, that took long enough.
my parents will be here in 3 weeks, so let's hope the furniture beats them.
but not like that.
cuz not only do they not deserve it, but daaaaamn that would be some scary motherfucking furniture if it had enough mobility to beat people.
no, I'm not off my meds.
or my rocker.
and how do I know?
because I'm not ON any meds and I don't HAVE a rocker!
so there.
yup.
I can confirm.
I have been clincally diagnosed with being in a funk.
yes, it's a medical condition.
no, it's not treated with antibiotics, antifungal creams, or any other anti-anythings.
although...I wouldn't be averse to trying some of the medicine Dr. Anti prescribes/takes.
help me adjust my vision, or my inner perspective.
or at least giggle a little and feel funnn-ay.
oh, now THAT is highly disturbing.
I just grabbed a protein bar and refilled an empty glass sitting on the counter.
I assumed it was one of my dozens* of water glasses I leave scattered across the surfaces of my house.
It was DARK in the kitchen.
I just finished said protein bar, and guzzled some water.
I noticed that the bottom of the glass was filmy.
at first, I assumed this was somehow a remnant of the hard water stains that all our glasses had at our old house.
wrong-o, Lisa Lu.
I just took a sip--the last sip I'll be taking, even though I'm still thirsty.
and some of that "film" lifted off the bottom and floated toward me.
I can only imagine that it was milk.
curses to me, for being so ecologically considerate as to attempt to conserve water by reusing glasses!!
ok, fine, I'm just lazy.
*this is an exaggeration to make the story more interesting.
no, I don't always let you know when that's happening,
but I don't exaggerate very often.
at least, I don't think so.
but I have a terrible memory, so who knows.
I did post a braless tuesday picture yesterday, for anyone interested in that sort of thing.
I couldn't find my FTP program,
the one I use to upload shit to my server.
ok, fine--
not so much "shit" as files.
and I also couldn't find the "hello" program.
so there ya go.
you want nipples?
go click the link.
ya bunch of lazy asses.
and it's that time of the month again.
that's right, the time I dread, every month.
no, wait!!
not THAT TIME.
it's my girl's night.
with the lying bitch.
I bet it would help me get out of my rut if I would just talk to her.
the other thing weighing on me is the ex-wife of someone.
I feel incredibly guilty about some things that her husband did with my friend.
it's not technically my fault, and I was horrified at it, but...
I still am the most tender little thing inside, that it would shock you all into white haired, blood shot eyed speechlessness.
heh.
aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh.
since when did this page become Lisa's group therapy session???
oh, yeah.
since the first day I started writing it.
since it was decided that I'm too cheap and/or lazy to ever go to an actual therapist.
and since I GODDAMN WELL SAID SO, bitch.
what's that I see...?
the flickering of a flame?
beneath my ASS?
hm.
'magine that.
I might just
lick
dance
fight
climb
sing
crush
kick
bite
swim
fly
my way out of this rut.
fuck the rut.
the rut can eat shit.
it can lick my ass.
the rut can eat pubes (can i borrow some of yours?)
the rut can lay down on a fucking train track and take it like a man.
praise jesus, the rut can be struck by lightening, sucked into a vortex,
and beaten to a pulp like the dead horse that it is.
hasta la vista, rut.
looking up at the world.
but I'll roar and leap upward--
bursting out into the sunshine.
soon.
I couldn't sleep.
so here I sit.
it's freezing down here.
I spent a few minutes in my archives, earlier.
I don't do that very often.
but I found proof that i am in a rut--
those posts had an entirely different tone.
so I must apologize for being so
UNwitty
UNclever
UNsexy
UNfunny
UNhappy.
and I would also like to thank y'all for sticking around.
it's not easy to do, when this place is covered in slime, with no good handholds.
huh?
I think I'll start posting a "this day last year" post occasionally.
yes, it's a cheater's way out.
who's gonna stop me?
trust me, it's better than listening to me whine about my whining.
in related news,
we finally got confirmation today that our furniture has been ordered.
jesus christ superstar, that took long enough.
my parents will be here in 3 weeks, so let's hope the furniture beats them.
but not like that.
cuz not only do they not deserve it, but daaaaamn that would be some scary motherfucking furniture if it had enough mobility to beat people.
no, I'm not off my meds.
or my rocker.
and how do I know?
because I'm not ON any meds and I don't HAVE a rocker!
so there.
yup.
I can confirm.
I have been clincally diagnosed with being in a funk.
yes, it's a medical condition.
no, it's not treated with antibiotics, antifungal creams, or any other anti-anythings.
although...I wouldn't be averse to trying some of the medicine Dr. Anti prescribes/takes.
help me adjust my vision, or my inner perspective.
or at least giggle a little and feel funnn-ay.
oh, now THAT is highly disturbing.
I just grabbed a protein bar and refilled an empty glass sitting on the counter.
I assumed it was one of my dozens* of water glasses I leave scattered across the surfaces of my house.
It was DARK in the kitchen.
I just finished said protein bar, and guzzled some water.
I noticed that the bottom of the glass was filmy.
at first, I assumed this was somehow a remnant of the hard water stains that all our glasses had at our old house.
wrong-o, Lisa Lu.
I just took a sip--the last sip I'll be taking, even though I'm still thirsty.
and some of that "film" lifted off the bottom and floated toward me.
I can only imagine that it was milk.
curses to me, for being so ecologically considerate as to attempt to conserve water by reusing glasses!!
ok, fine, I'm just lazy.
*this is an exaggeration to make the story more interesting.
no, I don't always let you know when that's happening,
but I don't exaggerate very often.
at least, I don't think so.
but I have a terrible memory, so who knows.
I did post a braless tuesday picture yesterday, for anyone interested in that sort of thing.
I couldn't find my FTP program,
the one I use to upload shit to my server.
ok, fine--
not so much "shit" as files.
and I also couldn't find the "hello" program.
so there ya go.
you want nipples?
go click the link.
ya bunch of lazy asses.
and it's that time of the month again.
that's right, the time I dread, every month.
no, wait!!
not THAT TIME.
it's my girl's night.
with the lying bitch.
I bet it would help me get out of my rut if I would just talk to her.
the other thing weighing on me is the ex-wife of someone.
I feel incredibly guilty about some things that her husband did with my friend.
it's not technically my fault, and I was horrified at it, but...
I still am the most tender little thing inside, that it would shock you all into white haired, blood shot eyed speechlessness.
heh.
aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh.
since when did this page become Lisa's group therapy session???
oh, yeah.
since the first day I started writing it.
since it was decided that I'm too cheap and/or lazy to ever go to an actual therapist.
and since I GODDAMN WELL SAID SO, bitch.
what's that I see...?
the flickering of a flame?
beneath my ASS?
hm.
'magine that.
I might just
lick
dance
fight
climb
sing
crush
kick
bite
swim
fly
my way out of this rut.
fuck the rut.
the rut can eat shit.
it can lick my ass.
the rut can eat pubes (can i borrow some of yours?)
the rut can lay down on a fucking train track and take it like a man.
praise jesus, the rut can be struck by lightening, sucked into a vortex,
and beaten to a pulp like the dead horse that it is.
hasta la vista, rut.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Tuesdays aren't the same anymore...
I'm feeling fiesty today.
and considering a picture.
it's still too early to say for sure, but I'll let ya know.
because after all, as we know--
Tuesday gets left out, all too often.
Mondays suck
Wednesdays hump
Thursdays are almost Friday
Friday, for obvious reasons
poor little Tuesday...
and it's one of my favorite days, really.
in the top 7, at least.
yes, I'm a dork, but I believe we've covered that.
I need to plan a really big celebration for my birthday.
something wild and fabulous.
something to divert my attention from the neon flashing signs,
blaring sirens,
and fun house mirrors--
declaring, in a symphony of taunting,
THIRTY.
heh.
I'm totally kidding.
I do want to celebrate it, like I've never celebrated before.
mostly out of gratitude that it's NOT as old as I thought it would be.
just the sound of that word is fresh and cheery, to me.
Thirty.
It's round and soft and lovely.
it's fresh raspberries, still warm from the sun--
and I just realized.
I should be in Maine for this day.
I should be at the ocean, with my oldest friends, my oldest memories--
and higher alcohol percentage in my beer!!!
something to consider, at least.
I dunno.
I need to brainstorm.
It has to be AWESOME.
and I have 81 days.
ooh! I should find one of those count-down thingies for my sidebar!!!
ok, enough of that.
I watched Garden State last night.
it made my heart burst with joy and hope and sighs...
I've been in a love-filled mood lately, anyway--
spring sorta does that to me, I think.
I love movies that aren't the same old shit.
that one felt like it was about real people.
not fucking hollywood.
REAL people.
...even though one of the characters was an actor.
so that's doubly impressive, I guess.
anyway, I don't do reviews.
this was just something I had to say.
blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
I am stuck.
welcome to Rutville, may I interest you in a tour of our city?
oh, no it doesn't cost a thing--
and it lasts all day...
I feel like I am not stepping outside of myself often enough.
I am not pushing boundaries.
I am not being fearless.
maybe that's not possible for me right now.
balancing too many roles--
I reallllly suck at that.
wife, mother, friend...writer??
bah.
whatever.
I thought so, once.
lately I feel like I've turned into an endless sheet of blank canvas...
and I have no paints.
if I were a true artist I would prick my finger, and make red...
I would grab handfuls of grass and grind them into the cloth
but what I really feel like is wrapping myself in that canvas and taking a nap.
I need to write some fiction.
fridays used to be for fantasies,
but I've outgrown that, I think.
It started feeling like a chore,
so I stopped.
maybe I'll hop on the weekly serial bandwagon...
I know what it is!!
I'm censoring myself too much.
that's it, isn't it?
I have cut way back on the sexual content of this site, because of the atmosphere I felt it was creating--
and the discomfort it was causing.
well.
I guess this is something I'll have to work on.
the light came on, just now, as I thought the words, "those are two wagoneers I wouldn't mind hopping on, wink-wink" and then chose not to type them...
so fuck it.
I'm going to try reallllly hard to stop censoring myself.
I'm sure I'll have your support.
heh.
and no, that doesn't mean I'm going to start posting full nudes.
oh!!
but that reminds me!
we watched 1984 a few days ago--
great book, odd movie.
but.
DAAAAAAAAAMN.
hello european films.
what's up, full frontal nudity?
nice to see you.
America sucks.
faaaack.
is it really march 29th??
jesus.
that means it's april.
which means, it'll be shorts weather any minute now.
can someone PLEASE come take ten pounds from me really quick?
come on...you know you want it...
it's all yours.
I'll even throw in a 2 minute long french kiss.
and NO, I don't mean english money, smart asses.
I mean lumpy doughy FAT.
and if anyone dares to tell me i'm not fat, i swear to god, I'll burn this whole site to the ground and never come back.
so just don't, ok?
I also promise to attempt to stop whining about it.
but.
this IS my blog.
MINE.
so if you don't like to listen to women bitch about their spare tire on ocassion, you can just get the fuck out.
now, you'll have to excuse me.
it's time to go have some mid-morning cake.
and considering a picture.
it's still too early to say for sure, but I'll let ya know.
because after all, as we know--
Tuesday gets left out, all too often.
Mondays suck
Wednesdays hump
Thursdays are almost Friday
Friday, for obvious reasons
poor little Tuesday...
and it's one of my favorite days, really.
in the top 7, at least.
yes, I'm a dork, but I believe we've covered that.
I need to plan a really big celebration for my birthday.
something wild and fabulous.
something to divert my attention from the neon flashing signs,
blaring sirens,
and fun house mirrors--
declaring, in a symphony of taunting,
THIRTY.
heh.
I'm totally kidding.
I do want to celebrate it, like I've never celebrated before.
mostly out of gratitude that it's NOT as old as I thought it would be.
just the sound of that word is fresh and cheery, to me.
Thirty.
It's round and soft and lovely.
it's fresh raspberries, still warm from the sun--
and I just realized.
I should be in Maine for this day.
I should be at the ocean, with my oldest friends, my oldest memories--
and higher alcohol percentage in my beer!!!
something to consider, at least.
I dunno.
I need to brainstorm.
It has to be AWESOME.
and I have 81 days.
ooh! I should find one of those count-down thingies for my sidebar!!!
ok, enough of that.
I watched Garden State last night.
it made my heart burst with joy and hope and sighs...
I've been in a love-filled mood lately, anyway--
spring sorta does that to me, I think.
I love movies that aren't the same old shit.
that one felt like it was about real people.
not fucking hollywood.
REAL people.
...even though one of the characters was an actor.
so that's doubly impressive, I guess.
anyway, I don't do reviews.
this was just something I had to say.
blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
I am stuck.
welcome to Rutville, may I interest you in a tour of our city?
oh, no it doesn't cost a thing--
and it lasts all day...
I feel like I am not stepping outside of myself often enough.
I am not pushing boundaries.
I am not being fearless.
maybe that's not possible for me right now.
balancing too many roles--
I reallllly suck at that.
wife, mother, friend...writer??
bah.
whatever.
I thought so, once.
lately I feel like I've turned into an endless sheet of blank canvas...
and I have no paints.
if I were a true artist I would prick my finger, and make red...
I would grab handfuls of grass and grind them into the cloth
but what I really feel like is wrapping myself in that canvas and taking a nap.
I need to write some fiction.
fridays used to be for fantasies,
but I've outgrown that, I think.
It started feeling like a chore,
so I stopped.
maybe I'll hop on the weekly serial bandwagon...
I know what it is!!
I'm censoring myself too much.
that's it, isn't it?
I have cut way back on the sexual content of this site, because of the atmosphere I felt it was creating--
and the discomfort it was causing.
well.
I guess this is something I'll have to work on.
the light came on, just now, as I thought the words, "those are two wagoneers I wouldn't mind hopping on, wink-wink" and then chose not to type them...
so fuck it.
I'm going to try reallllly hard to stop censoring myself.
I'm sure I'll have your support.
heh.
and no, that doesn't mean I'm going to start posting full nudes.
oh!!
but that reminds me!
we watched 1984 a few days ago--
great book, odd movie.
but.
DAAAAAAAAAMN.
hello european films.
what's up, full frontal nudity?
nice to see you.
America sucks.
faaaack.
is it really march 29th??
jesus.
that means it's april.
which means, it'll be shorts weather any minute now.
can someone PLEASE come take ten pounds from me really quick?
come on...you know you want it...
it's all yours.
I'll even throw in a 2 minute long french kiss.
and NO, I don't mean english money, smart asses.
I mean lumpy doughy FAT.
and if anyone dares to tell me i'm not fat, i swear to god, I'll burn this whole site to the ground and never come back.
so just don't, ok?
I also promise to attempt to stop whining about it.
but.
this IS my blog.
MINE.
so if you don't like to listen to women bitch about their spare tire on ocassion, you can just get the fuck out.
now, you'll have to excuse me.
it's time to go have some mid-morning cake.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Golf and dirty old men--
or maybe that's just me...
watching golf in bed with hubby this morning--
commentator: Looks like we're going to be enjoying another one of those European hand jobs, Bob.
me: WHAT THE FUCK???
(rewind)
commentator: ...European hand jobs...
me: seriously, what the fuck did he just say???
hubby: what? the Europeans have been wearing some really funky pants lately.
me: PANTS JOB?
hubby: yeah (thinking: dumbass)
me: (mumbling)...sounded like handjob...
But THEN.
some guy was getting interviewed and the question involed the phrase "even though this has been sort of a ball-in-hand game"
COME ON!!!!
give a girl a break!
that shit ain't right.
and then, a while later, we were laying there, and he turned to me and said:
"I think you have some blow jobs for me."
"hm..." I replied "I ordered some, but they won't be in until next week."
"ha! I think they're here, you just hid them from me."
and this is why my marriage rocks.
also, included in the BJ discussion was,
Me: hey, I wanted to watch Garden State first, not Some Kind of Monster.
Him: We'll watch it first, if ya blow me.
Me: psh. we're going to watch it anyway.
Him (at the same time): you're going to blow me anyway.
...well, true.
Happy Easter. ;)
watching golf in bed with hubby this morning--
commentator: Looks like we're going to be enjoying another one of those European hand jobs, Bob.
me: WHAT THE FUCK???
(rewind)
commentator: ...European hand jobs...
me: seriously, what the fuck did he just say???
hubby: what? the Europeans have been wearing some really funky pants lately.
me: PANTS JOB?
hubby: yeah (thinking: dumbass)
me: (mumbling)...sounded like handjob...
But THEN.
some guy was getting interviewed and the question involed the phrase "even though this has been sort of a ball-in-hand game"
COME ON!!!!
give a girl a break!
that shit ain't right.
and then, a while later, we were laying there, and he turned to me and said:
"I think you have some blow jobs for me."
"hm..." I replied "I ordered some, but they won't be in until next week."
"ha! I think they're here, you just hid them from me."
and this is why my marriage rocks.
also, included in the BJ discussion was,
Me: hey, I wanted to watch Garden State first, not Some Kind of Monster.
Him: We'll watch it first, if ya blow me.
Me: psh. we're going to watch it anyway.
Him (at the same time): you're going to blow me anyway.
...well, true.
Happy Easter. ;)
Saturday, March 26, 2005
The weather did a complete 180--
(but is that in celsius or Farrenheit??)
blue skies just in time for the easter egg hunt.
even if hubby went snowmobiling with his brother.
I'm such a dumbass--
I encouraged him to go, but I really wish he was here for the egg hunt.
oh well.
and YESTERDAY.
psh.
yesterday was such a god damn clusterfuck of a shitty day.
it snowed all day, for one thing.
I had a GREAT workout, but then I had to drive into "the city" to sign some docs on the refinanced old house.
(on the way there, I thought, "oh my god...hubby owns 2 houses", but when I said that to him he said, "no i don't. the bank does." sourpuss.)
so I drove through the icky snow,
with two kids who didn't stop talking the entire way--
even though I was hungry and couldn't see a damn thing.
we got lunch, I got stiffed on my gawdamn dipping sauce.
due to a search for a lunch spot on my side of the road,
I missed all the on-ramps, and ended up staying on a city street for the whole 60 block trek.
and then, I FINALLY arrived at hubby's office, to pick him up to ride the 3 blocks to the bank or whatever it was,
and our mortgage guy (or real estate agent?) was there already, to take him.
so THANKS for telling me to pick you up.
why not just give me the damn address and let me and the whiney ones meet you there, so that you're not late???
grrr.
so THEN.
the kids do fine, and the chick comes in.
sifts through the papers.
I'M NOT NEEDED.
why?
because it is not an owner occupied house.
(and my name's not on anything, cuz apparently he's ready for me to bolt or something)
growls nearly erupted.
but instead, I smiled and took the little ones swiftly out the door--
saving the growls for the ride home.
what??
some people do NOT know how to drive, and I figure, they'll learn eventually if I shout at them enough.
so then...
nice quietish afternoon.
hubby comes home, we decide to trek down to his mom's so he can check out the water heater.
p.s. that house is FALLING APART since the day we moved out.
phone lines were screwy,
oven won't work,
only 3 burners work on the range,
the water pressure in the kitchen sink is a faint dribble,
and I know there's more.
we never had a problem with any of that stuff.
bah.
I think his mom is just jinxed.
but she's uh...not nearly unpacked yet, but sorta kinda settled--
and she was showing me around (and I mean AROUND all the boxes piled everywhere)
and it was really cute to see the little twin beds where my boys will sleep when she keeps them for overnights, and stuff--
gave my mind's eye a passage into the future, the traditions being started,
seeing their memories being formed.
eh, I'm just a sentimental fool, I guess.
Or is that a MENTAL fool??
yeah, that's the one.
and now my kids are both talking to me at the same time.
as usual.
out--
blue skies just in time for the easter egg hunt.
even if hubby went snowmobiling with his brother.
I'm such a dumbass--
I encouraged him to go, but I really wish he was here for the egg hunt.
oh well.
and YESTERDAY.
psh.
yesterday was such a god damn clusterfuck of a shitty day.
it snowed all day, for one thing.
I had a GREAT workout, but then I had to drive into "the city" to sign some docs on the refinanced old house.
(on the way there, I thought, "oh my god...hubby owns 2 houses", but when I said that to him he said, "no i don't. the bank does." sourpuss.)
so I drove through the icky snow,
with two kids who didn't stop talking the entire way--
even though I was hungry and couldn't see a damn thing.
we got lunch, I got stiffed on my gawdamn dipping sauce.
due to a search for a lunch spot on my side of the road,
I missed all the on-ramps, and ended up staying on a city street for the whole 60 block trek.
and then, I FINALLY arrived at hubby's office, to pick him up to ride the 3 blocks to the bank or whatever it was,
and our mortgage guy (or real estate agent?) was there already, to take him.
so THANKS for telling me to pick you up.
why not just give me the damn address and let me and the whiney ones meet you there, so that you're not late???
grrr.
so THEN.
the kids do fine, and the chick comes in.
sifts through the papers.
I'M NOT NEEDED.
why?
because it is not an owner occupied house.
(and my name's not on anything, cuz apparently he's ready for me to bolt or something)
growls nearly erupted.
but instead, I smiled and took the little ones swiftly out the door--
saving the growls for the ride home.
what??
some people do NOT know how to drive, and I figure, they'll learn eventually if I shout at them enough.
so then...
nice quietish afternoon.
hubby comes home, we decide to trek down to his mom's so he can check out the water heater.
p.s. that house is FALLING APART since the day we moved out.
phone lines were screwy,
oven won't work,
only 3 burners work on the range,
the water pressure in the kitchen sink is a faint dribble,
and I know there's more.
we never had a problem with any of that stuff.
bah.
I think his mom is just jinxed.
but she's uh...not nearly unpacked yet, but sorta kinda settled--
and she was showing me around (and I mean AROUND all the boxes piled everywhere)
and it was really cute to see the little twin beds where my boys will sleep when she keeps them for overnights, and stuff--
gave my mind's eye a passage into the future, the traditions being started,
seeing their memories being formed.
eh, I'm just a sentimental fool, I guess.
Or is that a MENTAL fool??
yeah, that's the one.
and now my kids are both talking to me at the same time.
as usual.
out--
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Easter weekend?
raining cats and/or dogs.
and I reserved a racquetball court for 10am saturday.
easter egg hunt in our neighborhood at 10am saturday.
gaw-dammmmit.
but at least my parents are coming to visit in april.
that always makes my day.
I am their travel agent, since they're a tad bit allergic to the internet.
oh, they don't get hives or anything, but they sneeze a lot and their eyes tear up.
psh.
so anyway, they're so damn cute, and they're coming.
AND.
they're going to LA in May (that rhymed!!) for my mom's high school reunion.
FIFTY YEAR.
she looks so friggin great for a woman who'll be 67 next month.
(she graduated early)
I am listening to a song.
and it's taking that yearning thang and amplifying it a bit.
as if I needed THAT??
jesus.
wait, actually, I do need it.
I am happiest when I'm...not quite happy...hm.
that's odd.
but anyway...
this song is making me imagine things.
things that are beautiful--
misty and soft, but
electrified and urgently real.
it's making me want.
making me want to live life so many times in a row, or concurrently, or...
something.
I want to be everything to everyone.
I want to love every pair of eyes that meet mine,
I want to kiss every pair of lips that speak my name in the dark, in a bed somewhere.
I want to know.
I want to have.
I want to be.
blah.
I really need some fucking music on this hard drive.
or maybe you guys could all sign a petition, to my husband--
begging him to repair MY hard drive.
all my tunes...
all my pictures...
all my writing...
yes, I suck.
yes, I know I should back up.
I guess I am a slow lear ner.
and I just happen to have a lot of faith in his abilities to work magic on computery stuff.
ok, fine, I'm just a dumbass.
and I should probably cook dinner.
cock diner?
heh.
that's a place you KNOW I'd go for some chow!!
perhaps a nice foot-long hot dog?
or some oysters?
yes, I'm funny, you don't have to tell me.
damn, now I'm making myself all sortsa horny.
and the kids won't be out of the way for at least an hour.
well.
mr. won't be home much before then anyway.
but still.
I'm fickle.
and/or impatient.
and/or Ann Dorr.
snerf.
I better go shopping for easter candy tonight, so the fucking easter bunny doesn't look bad.
damn him.
oh, and as I said in Kat's comments the other day--
my kids are somehow under the impression that Easter is the single greatest event on the plant.
it MIGHT have something to do with the video I have of them from last easter...
which consists of endless footage of them, EATING CHOCOLATE.
...can't say's I blame 'em.
good times.
remind me to do all the things I keep forgetting to do.
and if you whisper my name...in the dark...
I'll probably hear you--
and I reserved a racquetball court for 10am saturday.
easter egg hunt in our neighborhood at 10am saturday.
gaw-dammmmit.
but at least my parents are coming to visit in april.
that always makes my day.
I am their travel agent, since they're a tad bit allergic to the internet.
oh, they don't get hives or anything, but they sneeze a lot and their eyes tear up.
psh.
so anyway, they're so damn cute, and they're coming.
AND.
they're going to LA in May (that rhymed!!) for my mom's high school reunion.
FIFTY YEAR.
she looks so friggin great for a woman who'll be 67 next month.
(she graduated early)
I am listening to a song.
and it's taking that yearning thang and amplifying it a bit.
as if I needed THAT??
jesus.
wait, actually, I do need it.
I am happiest when I'm...not quite happy...hm.
that's odd.
but anyway...
this song is making me imagine things.
things that are beautiful--
misty and soft, but
electrified and urgently real.
it's making me want.
making me want to live life so many times in a row, or concurrently, or...
something.
I want to be everything to everyone.
I want to love every pair of eyes that meet mine,
I want to kiss every pair of lips that speak my name in the dark, in a bed somewhere.
I want to know.
I want to have.
I want to be.
blah.
I really need some fucking music on this hard drive.
or maybe you guys could all sign a petition, to my husband--
begging him to repair MY hard drive.
all my tunes...
all my pictures...
all my writing...
yes, I suck.
yes, I know I should back up.
I guess I am a slow lear ner.
and I just happen to have a lot of faith in his abilities to work magic on computery stuff.
ok, fine, I'm just a dumbass.
and I should probably cook dinner.
cock diner?
heh.
that's a place you KNOW I'd go for some chow!!
perhaps a nice foot-long hot dog?
or some oysters?
yes, I'm funny, you don't have to tell me.
damn, now I'm making myself all sortsa horny.
and the kids won't be out of the way for at least an hour.
well.
mr. won't be home much before then anyway.
but still.
I'm fickle.
and/or impatient.
and/or Ann Dorr.
snerf.
I better go shopping for easter candy tonight, so the fucking easter bunny doesn't look bad.
damn him.
oh, and as I said in Kat's comments the other day--
my kids are somehow under the impression that Easter is the single greatest event on the plant.
it MIGHT have something to do with the video I have of them from last easter...
which consists of endless footage of them, EATING CHOCOLATE.
...can't say's I blame 'em.
good times.
remind me to do all the things I keep forgetting to do.
and if you whisper my name...in the dark...
I'll probably hear you--
There should be a law
Something prohibiting my removal from bed before 7 am.
it's just not right.
but at least I'm not sick anymore--
yesterday was not great.
we think maybe food poisoning, but whatever.
it's over, I'll not speak of it again.
What an odd assortment of dreams I had last night!
I was actually attempting to snort cocaine--???!!!
where in the fuck did my subconscious come up with THAT one?
and then I dreamed that I finally got eMule to work, and I was happily downloading songs.
so far, the only thing I like less about my new house, than my old house, is the location, re: views.
that house...
had stunning views.
breathtaking, soul cleansing views.
this house...well.
it's more "in the city", I guess.
most of my windows all I can see is sky and houses.
upstairs, out of the windows surrounding my bathtub, I can see the mountains.
but it's not the same, and I don't spend a lot of time there.
bleh.
I'm sure I'll get used to it.
I'll just have to go searching for some good trails...
ok, what it really means is that i'm living in the suburbs and I'm a rural kinda girl.
I want an old farmhouse, with trees as my only neighbors.
I want to live where property values are low because NOBODY ELSE WANTS TO LIVE THERE.
...I wish I wasn't so resistant to change.
blah.
who cares???
I want to drive a fast car, faster
I want to feel the wind ripping through my hair, reddening my cheeks.
I want to leap into the air and fly to the moon--
Just sitting there, with my knees tucked under my chin,
Looking down on this little blue and green bouncy ball,
I would feel more homesick than the worst day in Utah.
I would glide back to earth...
Flying low over the ocean, watching for the massive dark forms of whales--
Terrifying in their largeness.
I would never want to stop flying, if I knew how.
I know what it feels like, because I fly in my dreams,
And I know that it wouldn't last forever.
I want to gallop a horse down the length of a beach--
Virginia Beach?
And dismount, breathless and blinking--12 years have slipped to the other side of me, and I'm 17 again.
I would do things differently, then quietly step out into the cold, wet dawn and canter to the other side of the beach, and 29--smiling, satisfied, and sad in an entirely different way.
The lines on my palms tell a story--
To a con artist.
The pattern of my laughter, tells the real story.
My posture, my breathing are the footnotes.
I yearn to fly, to be immortal--
To be alone sometimes.
Using the word "yearn" makes me feel vulnerable, somewhat dorky.
But I don't mind being a dork.
and now.
back to bed.
...because I can.
it's just not right.
but at least I'm not sick anymore--
yesterday was not great.
we think maybe food poisoning, but whatever.
it's over, I'll not speak of it again.
What an odd assortment of dreams I had last night!
I was actually attempting to snort cocaine--???!!!
where in the fuck did my subconscious come up with THAT one?
and then I dreamed that I finally got eMule to work, and I was happily downloading songs.
so far, the only thing I like less about my new house, than my old house, is the location, re: views.
that house...
had stunning views.
breathtaking, soul cleansing views.
this house...well.
it's more "in the city", I guess.
most of my windows all I can see is sky and houses.
upstairs, out of the windows surrounding my bathtub, I can see the mountains.
but it's not the same, and I don't spend a lot of time there.
bleh.
I'm sure I'll get used to it.
I'll just have to go searching for some good trails...
ok, what it really means is that i'm living in the suburbs and I'm a rural kinda girl.
I want an old farmhouse, with trees as my only neighbors.
I want to live where property values are low because NOBODY ELSE WANTS TO LIVE THERE.
...I wish I wasn't so resistant to change.
blah.
who cares???
I want to drive a fast car, faster
I want to feel the wind ripping through my hair, reddening my cheeks.
I want to leap into the air and fly to the moon--
Just sitting there, with my knees tucked under my chin,
Looking down on this little blue and green bouncy ball,
I would feel more homesick than the worst day in Utah.
I would glide back to earth...
Flying low over the ocean, watching for the massive dark forms of whales--
Terrifying in their largeness.
I would never want to stop flying, if I knew how.
I know what it feels like, because I fly in my dreams,
And I know that it wouldn't last forever.
I want to gallop a horse down the length of a beach--
Virginia Beach?
And dismount, breathless and blinking--12 years have slipped to the other side of me, and I'm 17 again.
I would do things differently, then quietly step out into the cold, wet dawn and canter to the other side of the beach, and 29--smiling, satisfied, and sad in an entirely different way.
The lines on my palms tell a story--
To a con artist.
The pattern of my laughter, tells the real story.
My posture, my breathing are the footnotes.
I yearn to fly, to be immortal--
To be alone sometimes.
Using the word "yearn" makes me feel vulnerable, somewhat dorky.
But I don't mind being a dork.
and now.
back to bed.
...because I can.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Today is topsy turvey day
for me, at least.
sex in the morning, (??)
no shower before taking the kids to school, (?!!)
writing a guest post,
and posting a guest post.
I'll be finishing up a post for 2% Milk, shortly,
although I can't say when he'll be posting it.
not "can't say", as in "it's a secret".
"can't say", as in "don't know."
duh.
as if you guys didn't know that.
but I will let you know when he has--
and for that matter,
let me remind you AGAIN:
if you're not reading his site already, get the fuck over there and allow yourself some god damn beauty, you deserve it.
got it???
oh yeah!!
and I posted some pictures from my weekend at Zion National Park.
...and I've just discovered that I fell for the old, "add an 's' where it doesn't belong" trick.
godDAMMMMIT, that pisses me off.
I would never have called it "Zions" if I had seen it written, I swear!
I was just following the crowd--pathetic excuse, I know...
oh, grammar gods, who I love so...
I hope you forgive me!!
(I'll be sacrificing a redneck later, to complete the offering)
The following story was left in my comments by a long-time reader,
who is still quite anonymous.
I loved it, and thought y'all might enjoy it, too.
A Story by 'Him'
I'd been drinking alone all afternoon. Drinking slowly, trying to stretch a single jack and black past half an hour without success. I'd been doing pretty well until about five pm, when the people who had jobs started to filter in. Fuckers. Until they walked into this bar, this little shithole off 9th street, I'd been all but alone in my self loathing. The bartender left me alone, polishing glasses and watching the tv over one end of the bar. After all, it was only money that changed hands when I got up for another drink. The only words we said were 'same again', then I retreated to my booth to nurse another drink into a slow death.
You walked in at about 6. I was fairly sure of the time. You caught my eye as you entered with a walk that had a hint of viper in it, distracting me from some disaster or other on the evening news. I didn't much care about people the other side of the world from me, let alone people in booths to either side of me. But then drinking always did amplify my moods. How you didn't shudder with so many eyes falling on you at once was something of a mystery to me, it took me six or seven drinks to cast my cares away and you looked like you'd been dry all day. I'd switched to doubles ten minutes before you walked into the bar. No. Before you slunk in like a hunting cat approaching a watering hole.
The moment you walked in I wanted to get up and introduce myself to you, but I didn't. Something, some self-preservation instinct still bobbing above the surface of my growing inebriation, held me back. Five minutes after you walked in, the first guy to try it on with you, some overweight fuck with a pink face and bad comb-over, probably worked in a nice office uptown, out slumming it with his buddies, he got off lightly with one of your heels ground into his toes. He should've captured the look on his face and tried to sell it. Looks of indignation like that are priceless. That made me smile for the first time since I woke up. Maybe the first time all week.
The second guy was even less lucky fifteen minutes after the first guy tried it on with you. In retrospect he should have seen you for the walking razor blade you were rapidly proving yourself to be.
Maybe he thought he had a magic touch, or he just felt brave, but he came to a bad end as well. I saw him lean in to talk to you, someone had started up the jukebox and although I couldn't place the tune it was loud enough to smother conversation across the bar. When you stubbed your cigarette out on the hand he'd placed on your knee, I knew I had to talk to you. I finished my double jack for courage, luck, and a good word with Bacchus before I stood up.
'Fuck off.' You mouthed just loud enough for me to hear as I walked up to the bar beside you. Not the best of starts, in all truth, but I'd been drinking alone all afternoon.
'I didn't even say hello.'
********
Personally, I'm dying to know what happens next.
she sounds like the kind of girl who would tear him apart and leave him for dead in a luxury suite, where he would regain consciousness with an idiot's grin on his face and a stack of incriminating Polaroids several hours later.
so happy wednesday to you all--
let's keep the humping to a minimum, shall we?
don't forget to tip your waitress.
or mine--
and don't be a cheapskate.
sex in the morning, (??)
no shower before taking the kids to school, (?!!)
writing a guest post,
and posting a guest post.
I'll be finishing up a post for 2% Milk, shortly,
although I can't say when he'll be posting it.
not "can't say", as in "it's a secret".
"can't say", as in "don't know."
duh.
as if you guys didn't know that.
but I will let you know when he has--
and for that matter,
let me remind you AGAIN:
if you're not reading his site already, get the fuck over there and allow yourself some god damn beauty, you deserve it.
got it???
oh yeah!!
and I posted some pictures from my weekend at Zion National Park.
...and I've just discovered that I fell for the old, "add an 's' where it doesn't belong" trick.
godDAMMMMIT, that pisses me off.
I would never have called it "Zions" if I had seen it written, I swear!
I was just following the crowd--pathetic excuse, I know...
oh, grammar gods, who I love so...
I hope you forgive me!!
(I'll be sacrificing a redneck later, to complete the offering)
The following story was left in my comments by a long-time reader,
who is still quite anonymous.
I loved it, and thought y'all might enjoy it, too.
A Story by 'Him'
I'd been drinking alone all afternoon. Drinking slowly, trying to stretch a single jack and black past half an hour without success. I'd been doing pretty well until about five pm, when the people who had jobs started to filter in. Fuckers. Until they walked into this bar, this little shithole off 9th street, I'd been all but alone in my self loathing. The bartender left me alone, polishing glasses and watching the tv over one end of the bar. After all, it was only money that changed hands when I got up for another drink. The only words we said were 'same again', then I retreated to my booth to nurse another drink into a slow death.
You walked in at about 6. I was fairly sure of the time. You caught my eye as you entered with a walk that had a hint of viper in it, distracting me from some disaster or other on the evening news. I didn't much care about people the other side of the world from me, let alone people in booths to either side of me. But then drinking always did amplify my moods. How you didn't shudder with so many eyes falling on you at once was something of a mystery to me, it took me six or seven drinks to cast my cares away and you looked like you'd been dry all day. I'd switched to doubles ten minutes before you walked into the bar. No. Before you slunk in like a hunting cat approaching a watering hole.
The moment you walked in I wanted to get up and introduce myself to you, but I didn't. Something, some self-preservation instinct still bobbing above the surface of my growing inebriation, held me back. Five minutes after you walked in, the first guy to try it on with you, some overweight fuck with a pink face and bad comb-over, probably worked in a nice office uptown, out slumming it with his buddies, he got off lightly with one of your heels ground into his toes. He should've captured the look on his face and tried to sell it. Looks of indignation like that are priceless. That made me smile for the first time since I woke up. Maybe the first time all week.
The second guy was even less lucky fifteen minutes after the first guy tried it on with you. In retrospect he should have seen you for the walking razor blade you were rapidly proving yourself to be.
Maybe he thought he had a magic touch, or he just felt brave, but he came to a bad end as well. I saw him lean in to talk to you, someone had started up the jukebox and although I couldn't place the tune it was loud enough to smother conversation across the bar. When you stubbed your cigarette out on the hand he'd placed on your knee, I knew I had to talk to you. I finished my double jack for courage, luck, and a good word with Bacchus before I stood up.
'Fuck off.' You mouthed just loud enough for me to hear as I walked up to the bar beside you. Not the best of starts, in all truth, but I'd been drinking alone all afternoon.
'I didn't even say hello.'
********
Personally, I'm dying to know what happens next.
she sounds like the kind of girl who would tear him apart and leave him for dead in a luxury suite, where he would regain consciousness with an idiot's grin on his face and a stack of incriminating Polaroids several hours later.
so happy wednesday to you all--
let's keep the humping to a minimum, shall we?
don't forget to tip your waitress.
or mine--
and don't be a cheapskate.
Today must be Tuesday...
because yesterday was Monday.
...and that's the logic I use to get through life.
I just spent a whole minute, balancing a single hair on my fingertip...
yeah.
looks like I'm as motivated today as I was yesterday.
it was cool, though...
a long-ish spirally black hair.
I was kind of mesmerized by it, ok?
I'm not sure who to blame for all this sleepiness, but I'm getting fed up.
If I had the energy, I would probably be growling--hurling curses accusatorily through blank folds of time--or space?--and waiting impatiently for an acknowledgment of fault.
from.
someone.
blame is a fun game.
I like it best when I'm winning,
and frankly, it's just as fun to be a sore loser at the blame game,
but far less satisfying.
do you have any idea what in the bloody hell I am talking about???
good.
cuz neither do I.
I don't actually like to blame others, just so you know.
I do like to understand cause and effect, though.
so that's close.
If I had a Lucky Star, I wonder who it would be.
I think I know what Madonna meant.
my muse could be my lucky star.
that fickle bastard.
or maybe my kids are.
if I could stop yawning, maybe I could even think of some other possibilities.
but I can't.
or at least, maybe I could remember some of the lyrics--
because apparently I've decided this song has some vast spiritual importance in my life.
(either that or I just got distracted by the way those two words look/sound/feel together...)
and I just forgot, for a moment, whether or not I've had breakfast.
(I have.)
sometimes I feel like I'm more a mother than a woman,
and other times I feel like I'm more a woman than a mother...
both scenarios scare me.
I don't know if it's harder for me to maintain both identities, while integrating them, because I stay home, or if it would be the same for me even if I had an outside job.
...why did that sound too much like "it was an inside job"??
and why can I not say "good job" anymore without pronouncing it like what's-his-face from the Homestarrunner cartoon?
that one's easy--BECAUSE IT'S FUN!!!
sorry, I don't have anymore non-sensical rhetorical questions for you...
I know how much you love them, so I'll really try harder next time.
I think the Blue's Clues host probably has a hard time getting laid.
yes, he's a celebrity.
yes, he's cute.
HOWEVER.
I think it would be creepy to fuck someone who talks to a blue dog all day,
and sings ridiculously catchy (but super lame) songs...
who else is a little excited for Episode III?
I am holding out hope that it'll make up for the disappointments in I & II...
and really just feeling like nothing will ever compare to the greatness of the original trilogy, because WE WERE KIDS.
and, for the 70's/80's, those were incredible shows.
people could have found Yoda just as laughable as Jar-Jar...
I think what it comes down to is that these 3 new ones are expected to blow the original 3 out of the water, because of the improved special effects which are available now.
well.
on that front, they do.
but it's like falling in love with someone--madly, wildly, obsessively?
and then being shown a bunch of home movies of this person when he or she was a teenager--
technically, he or she looks "better"--younger, more fit, etc.
but.
you make fun of the hairstyles and clothes, and you don't feel the same love for this video-version of your soul mate as you do for the one you've always loved.
because it's just not the same.
I know all the die-hard fans complain about the actor chosen to represent Anakin...
I'll agree that his acting sucks donkey balls, but he's hot.
...I can't say I entirely feel good about lusting after DARTH VADER, but I'll get over it.
(way less creepy than screwing the blue's clues guy.)
I think it's time for me to go sheer some sheep.
or skin some cats?
something like that.
and shower.
and figure out my new phone number.
...and that's the logic I use to get through life.
I just spent a whole minute, balancing a single hair on my fingertip...
yeah.
looks like I'm as motivated today as I was yesterday.
it was cool, though...
a long-ish spirally black hair.
I was kind of mesmerized by it, ok?
I'm not sure who to blame for all this sleepiness, but I'm getting fed up.
If I had the energy, I would probably be growling--hurling curses accusatorily through blank folds of time--or space?--and waiting impatiently for an acknowledgment of fault.
from.
someone.
blame is a fun game.
I like it best when I'm winning,
and frankly, it's just as fun to be a sore loser at the blame game,
but far less satisfying.
do you have any idea what in the bloody hell I am talking about???
good.
cuz neither do I.
I don't actually like to blame others, just so you know.
I do like to understand cause and effect, though.
so that's close.
If I had a Lucky Star, I wonder who it would be.
I think I know what Madonna meant.
my muse could be my lucky star.
that fickle bastard.
or maybe my kids are.
if I could stop yawning, maybe I could even think of some other possibilities.
but I can't.
or at least, maybe I could remember some of the lyrics--
because apparently I've decided this song has some vast spiritual importance in my life.
(either that or I just got distracted by the way those two words look/sound/feel together...)
and I just forgot, for a moment, whether or not I've had breakfast.
(I have.)
sometimes I feel like I'm more a mother than a woman,
and other times I feel like I'm more a woman than a mother...
both scenarios scare me.
I don't know if it's harder for me to maintain both identities, while integrating them, because I stay home, or if it would be the same for me even if I had an outside job.
...why did that sound too much like "it was an inside job"??
and why can I not say "good job" anymore without pronouncing it like what's-his-face from the Homestarrunner cartoon?
that one's easy--BECAUSE IT'S FUN!!!
sorry, I don't have anymore non-sensical rhetorical questions for you...
I know how much you love them, so I'll really try harder next time.
I think the Blue's Clues host probably has a hard time getting laid.
yes, he's a celebrity.
yes, he's cute.
HOWEVER.
I think it would be creepy to fuck someone who talks to a blue dog all day,
and sings ridiculously catchy (but super lame) songs...
who else is a little excited for Episode III?
I am holding out hope that it'll make up for the disappointments in I & II...
and really just feeling like nothing will ever compare to the greatness of the original trilogy, because WE WERE KIDS.
and, for the 70's/80's, those were incredible shows.
people could have found Yoda just as laughable as Jar-Jar...
I think what it comes down to is that these 3 new ones are expected to blow the original 3 out of the water, because of the improved special effects which are available now.
well.
on that front, they do.
but it's like falling in love with someone--madly, wildly, obsessively?
and then being shown a bunch of home movies of this person when he or she was a teenager--
technically, he or she looks "better"--younger, more fit, etc.
but.
you make fun of the hairstyles and clothes, and you don't feel the same love for this video-version of your soul mate as you do for the one you've always loved.
because it's just not the same.
I know all the die-hard fans complain about the actor chosen to represent Anakin...
I'll agree that his acting sucks donkey balls, but he's hot.
...I can't say I entirely feel good about lusting after DARTH VADER, but I'll get over it.
(way less creepy than screwing the blue's clues guy.)
I think it's time for me to go sheer some sheep.
or skin some cats?
something like that.
and shower.
and figure out my new phone number.
Monday, March 21, 2005
floating thickly through this day...
I am fighting to keep my well-rested eyes open.
I am refusing to leave this computer--
having read everyone's blogs,
but having no ability to comment.
I open each comment box...
then sit and stare.
haltingly, I type a few words, then sigh and delete.
maybe apple pie for breakfast is bad.
maybe being on antibiotics makes me sleepy.
maybe it's post-vacation-blues--
that feel the same as pre-vacation-blues.
I want to quit this job.
and lay in bed all day with my husband and no responsibilites.
today, I don't want to cook.
I don't want to clean.
I don't want to sort or fold or iron laundry.
I don't want to pick up the dozens and dozens of toys my kids just dumped out of their toybox.
Hell, I don't even want to shower.
they're "taking a nap."
apparently they're tired enough to be bitchy,
but not tired enough to sleep.
I am lucky enough to be both.
I don't even have the will to post my gorgeous photos.
my inbox is overflowing, and I haven't the ambition to take care of it.
I keep logging in to chat clients, seeing people I would like to talk to, and signing back out.
if this is the whiniest post you've read all day, you should win some sort of prize.
i was just hoping it would relieve my lethargy, my ennui.
but it hasn't.
of course...
I can't write "ennui" without thinking of Boz,
and that's always good for a smile.
my kids told my husband I was "growing a baby" when they called him at work, earlier.
he asked to speak to me.
I assured the poor (fixed) fella that they were talking about a show they had just watched.
one of the cartoon kids was getting a new baby brother/sister/I think it turned out to be twins, but that might just be my own life merging with tv in a psychedelic dream...
dreams
dreamy
dreamt
dreamer
dreaming
dreamweaver
I'm gonna hurl.
later.
I am refusing to leave this computer--
having read everyone's blogs,
but having no ability to comment.
I open each comment box...
then sit and stare.
haltingly, I type a few words, then sigh and delete.
maybe apple pie for breakfast is bad.
maybe being on antibiotics makes me sleepy.
maybe it's post-vacation-blues--
that feel the same as pre-vacation-blues.
I want to quit this job.
and lay in bed all day with my husband and no responsibilites.
today, I don't want to cook.
I don't want to clean.
I don't want to sort or fold or iron laundry.
I don't want to pick up the dozens and dozens of toys my kids just dumped out of their toybox.
Hell, I don't even want to shower.
they're "taking a nap."
apparently they're tired enough to be bitchy,
but not tired enough to sleep.
I am lucky enough to be both.
I don't even have the will to post my gorgeous photos.
my inbox is overflowing, and I haven't the ambition to take care of it.
I keep logging in to chat clients, seeing people I would like to talk to, and signing back out.
if this is the whiniest post you've read all day, you should win some sort of prize.
i was just hoping it would relieve my lethargy, my ennui.
but it hasn't.
of course...
I can't write "ennui" without thinking of Boz,
and that's always good for a smile.
my kids told my husband I was "growing a baby" when they called him at work, earlier.
he asked to speak to me.
I assured the poor (fixed) fella that they were talking about a show they had just watched.
one of the cartoon kids was getting a new baby brother/sister/I think it turned out to be twins, but that might just be my own life merging with tv in a psychedelic dream...
dreams
dreamy
dreamt
dreamer
dreaming
dreamweaver
I'm gonna hurl.
later.
Some sort of list or something
I'm back, the trip was wonderful.
I don't feel like narrating it,
but I think a list would work well...
incredible room, with incredible view
talking til our jaws ached
walking til our bodies ached
conquering my lingering fear of heights--
(holy fucking shit that hike was insane!!)
blue skies, red rocks
hot tub-- with U of U president
practicing our french with a lady from Quebec, on a trail
running into my neice on a trail
the rain waiting to start until we drove out of the park on our last day.
food...fantastic food.
encouraging some little boys to save a tiny dead lizard, as a gag on their dad.
the most beautiful blue eyed babies on the backs of their beautiful hippie parents.
remembering that it's not so much hiking that i love, but hiking with J.
getting home early--
building a snowman with my babies
having ridiculous amounts of fun throwing snowballs at each other.
making apple pie
missing my husband so much, that I cried when I got home.
and that's about it.
I called in an audio post on friday morning, but it seems to have not made its way here yet.
stupid audioblogger.
I want my money back.
oh yeah.
it's free.
dammmit.
well, I had a truly marvelous weekend.
refreshing, relaxing, rejuvenating.
I'll post a few pictures over on buzznet, just in case you're interested.
I'd really like you all to see the poster I bought, which captures the entire hike of death.
it's called Angel's Landing, but I'm pretty sure it got the name because most of the people who hike it fall off and die.
ok, not really.
but the first 1.9 miles of the hike is just a lot of steep switchbacks,
and then the last 1/2 mile is even steeper, and most of that distance is on rock ridges about 3 feet wide, but with plummeting drops on both sides.
and I did it.
how did someone who's afraid of heights accomplish that without any major panic issues?
here's the trick: you keep your eyes on the ground in front of you.
...and if you're a sucker for adrenaline, like me...
you get a good handhold on something, stop walking and look down every once in a while.
that was a trip--
hot fear rippling through me like waves of nausea.
one false step and--
kersplat.
if I ever learn to fly,
I'm going there.
if you ever want to kill yourself,
you should go there.
what a gorgeous way to die.
...if you're into that sorta thing.
thank you all for your comments--
Becky, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about--call me.
(nevermind, I figured it out--but since you were commenting on a comment I had read 3 days previously, you can see why I was confused.)
and Mr. Malone? I would be honored to--but I can't guarantee it'll make any sense.
and to all of you who suggested I would get hit on??
I'm laughing my ass off--
this is UTAH!!!
what can I do to make that clearer to you?
I don't fit the mold here, it's as simple as that.
I'm happy with it, but I don't get hit on, either.
and Kiki, you deserve a girls weekend!!
Special K--you're so right. and I'm quite a pro at it myself, unfortunately!
hey, Sean--how's that hangover?? (I love drunken comments!!!)
why thank you, Outburst--I'll take that!
Maine, Maine, Maine! ...I like the way you think.
oh, Kat--that sounds soooo yummy!! I say we embrace our larger selves, and would you pass the mayonaise?
and on that note,
I think I'll go shower and try really hard to abstain from eating apple pie for breakfast...
I don't feel like narrating it,
but I think a list would work well...
incredible room, with incredible view
talking til our jaws ached
walking til our bodies ached
conquering my lingering fear of heights--
(holy fucking shit that hike was insane!!)
blue skies, red rocks
hot tub-- with U of U president
practicing our french with a lady from Quebec, on a trail
running into my neice on a trail
the rain waiting to start until we drove out of the park on our last day.
food...fantastic food.
encouraging some little boys to save a tiny dead lizard, as a gag on their dad.
the most beautiful blue eyed babies on the backs of their beautiful hippie parents.
remembering that it's not so much hiking that i love, but hiking with J.
getting home early--
building a snowman with my babies
having ridiculous amounts of fun throwing snowballs at each other.
making apple pie
missing my husband so much, that I cried when I got home.
and that's about it.
I called in an audio post on friday morning, but it seems to have not made its way here yet.
stupid audioblogger.
I want my money back.
oh yeah.
it's free.
dammmit.
well, I had a truly marvelous weekend.
refreshing, relaxing, rejuvenating.
I'll post a few pictures over on buzznet, just in case you're interested.
I'd really like you all to see the poster I bought, which captures the entire hike of death.
it's called Angel's Landing, but I'm pretty sure it got the name because most of the people who hike it fall off and die.
ok, not really.
but the first 1.9 miles of the hike is just a lot of steep switchbacks,
and then the last 1/2 mile is even steeper, and most of that distance is on rock ridges about 3 feet wide, but with plummeting drops on both sides.
and I did it.
how did someone who's afraid of heights accomplish that without any major panic issues?
here's the trick: you keep your eyes on the ground in front of you.
...and if you're a sucker for adrenaline, like me...
you get a good handhold on something, stop walking and look down every once in a while.
that was a trip--
hot fear rippling through me like waves of nausea.
one false step and--
kersplat.
if I ever learn to fly,
I'm going there.
if you ever want to kill yourself,
you should go there.
what a gorgeous way to die.
...if you're into that sorta thing.
thank you all for your comments--
Becky, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about--call me.
(nevermind, I figured it out--but since you were commenting on a comment I had read 3 days previously, you can see why I was confused.)
and Mr. Malone? I would be honored to--but I can't guarantee it'll make any sense.
and to all of you who suggested I would get hit on??
I'm laughing my ass off--
this is UTAH!!!
what can I do to make that clearer to you?
I don't fit the mold here, it's as simple as that.
I'm happy with it, but I don't get hit on, either.
and Kiki, you deserve a girls weekend!!
Special K--you're so right. and I'm quite a pro at it myself, unfortunately!
hey, Sean--how's that hangover?? (I love drunken comments!!!)
why thank you, Outburst--I'll take that!
Maine, Maine, Maine! ...I like the way you think.
oh, Kat--that sounds soooo yummy!! I say we embrace our larger selves, and would you pass the mayonaise?
and on that note,
I think I'll go shower and try really hard to abstain from eating apple pie for breakfast...
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Not exactly a "sunshine day"...
but it feels just as good!
I'm packing up, and getting things in order here,
and it feels wonderful!
my husband just heard from a friend of his that it's spring break for most of the universities this week.
MY first thought was, "Oh great--maybe we should have made reservations."
HIS first thought was, "Oh great--now my wife's going to have crazy sex with thousands of college students."
I like his idea better, but, he's sadly disillusioned if he thinks that A. I would EVER IN A MILLION YEARS do that, or B. those poor boys would have such strong beer goggles as to hit on the chubby* 30 year old.
bah.
so that put a little damper on my excitement, but hopefully he'll stop fretting.
I promise to take lots of pictures, and any drugs that are offered to me by the throngs of college students.
or the crazy old man living in a van.
he usually has good drugs.
meanwhile, one of my kids has turned into a poltergist of some kind.
he emits high pitched sounds, alternately with what sounds like the barking of a dog,
and i do believe his head can spin all the way around.
I'm trying to decide between an exorcism and an exhibit at the World's Fair...
ok, maybe just a nap.
poor little buggers stayed up too late.
I was terribly excited this morning, thinking it was 8:15 when they came and got in bed with us (our wake up call).
but no such luck.
they had been playing with my alarm clock, and changed the time.
good thing I don't use the alarm, eh????
I want to eat something highly unhealthy for lunch...
I figure, if I'm going to be hiking all weekend, I might as well pig out now.
...what?
that doesn't sound like good logic to you???
well, then you're as crazy as I am--
but different.
and now I have to pee.
I'll take that as a sign.
time to end the post.
...before it turns into something we'll both regret.
heh.
no, i don't know what i meant by that either,
but it's a classic soap opera line, and how is that not fun???
have a fantastic weekend, i may post from the road if I can--
_________
*I'm not exaggerating--I've put on some ugly winter weight.
I'm packing up, and getting things in order here,
and it feels wonderful!
my husband just heard from a friend of his that it's spring break for most of the universities this week.
MY first thought was, "Oh great--maybe we should have made reservations."
HIS first thought was, "Oh great--now my wife's going to have crazy sex with thousands of college students."
I like his idea better, but, he's sadly disillusioned if he thinks that A. I would EVER IN A MILLION YEARS do that, or B. those poor boys would have such strong beer goggles as to hit on the chubby* 30 year old.
bah.
so that put a little damper on my excitement, but hopefully he'll stop fretting.
I promise to take lots of pictures, and any drugs that are offered to me by the throngs of college students.
or the crazy old man living in a van.
he usually has good drugs.
meanwhile, one of my kids has turned into a poltergist of some kind.
he emits high pitched sounds, alternately with what sounds like the barking of a dog,
and i do believe his head can spin all the way around.
I'm trying to decide between an exorcism and an exhibit at the World's Fair...
ok, maybe just a nap.
poor little buggers stayed up too late.
I was terribly excited this morning, thinking it was 8:15 when they came and got in bed with us (our wake up call).
but no such luck.
they had been playing with my alarm clock, and changed the time.
good thing I don't use the alarm, eh????
I want to eat something highly unhealthy for lunch...
I figure, if I'm going to be hiking all weekend, I might as well pig out now.
...what?
that doesn't sound like good logic to you???
well, then you're as crazy as I am--
but different.
and now I have to pee.
I'll take that as a sign.
time to end the post.
...before it turns into something we'll both regret.
heh.
no, i don't know what i meant by that either,
but it's a classic soap opera line, and how is that not fun???
have a fantastic weekend, i may post from the road if I can--
_________
*I'm not exaggerating--I've put on some ugly winter weight.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Things Creepy, Things Odd, and Things Sexy--
Bo Bice.
America's Idol, or my future love slave?
definitely the former, possibly the latter--
if I can get my hands on some chloroform and a desserted barn.
what?
I found this in my list of who's linking me...
look at the top result.
rather disturbing--
and yet...somehow intriguing.
I mean, really!
I would be interested to know what sort of price I would fetch.
I suppose the acceptable price range would depend on whether the sale was a permanent one, or for an hourly rate, though.
Either way, I'm thinking 5 bucks wouldn't be a bad starting bid.
and is it creepy when your pasty-faced phsyician's assistant asks if your hair is naturally curly, and at your affirmation remarks at its beauty, as he's laying you down on the table to check you for a kidney infection???
just checking.
America's Idol, or my future love slave?
definitely the former, possibly the latter--
if I can get my hands on some chloroform and a desserted barn.
what?
I found this in my list of who's linking me...
look at the top result.
rather disturbing--
and yet...somehow intriguing.
I mean, really!
I would be interested to know what sort of price I would fetch.
I suppose the acceptable price range would depend on whether the sale was a permanent one, or for an hourly rate, though.
Either way, I'm thinking 5 bucks wouldn't be a bad starting bid.
and is it creepy when your pasty-faced phsyician's assistant asks if your hair is naturally curly, and at your affirmation remarks at its beauty, as he's laying you down on the table to check you for a kidney infection???
just checking.
music makes me feel alive....
quite the opposite of the blackened foot
in the dirty shoe
on the wide road
in the bright sun
of early spring.
GODSMACK.
they stir me in soft slow waves--
like a shot of adrenaline to the heart.
I'm alliiiiiiiiiiiiiive
for you
I'm awaaaaake
because of you I'm alive
told you I'm awake
swallowing you--
yeah, that pretty much says it all.
sometimes that song reminds me of my kids--
like I'm blaming them for waking me up.
heh.
other times...
it just makes me want to drive through the Utah heat of summer,
with an enormous blank slate of blue above me,
with the top down.
(no, not MY top, sickos)
guess what's great about the kids being at school rightfuckingnow???
I CAN TURN UP GODSMACK SO LOUD THAT IT SORTA SHAKES THE DESK.
and...
maybe...
I'm headbanging in my chair.
what??
It helps my hair dry better.
I'm even singing along...
frightening.
good GOD, did i have some funky dreams last night.
OH!
and did I mention...
the husband is home........
swooooooon....
I missed him sooo much this time.
I think occasional business trips are good for couples who've been married for a while.
heh.
absence/heart/fonder, etc.
back to the music--
I feel like a bear who has been hibernating,
it is spring, you know.
slowly, haltingly, I'm waking up.
so after 3 years of having only cell phones--
today is the day.
we are getting a non-traditional land line,
and I'm getting a new cell phone--
thank sweet jesus for number portability, right?
anyway, I'm super-duper, ultra-uber excited.
...of course, I'll probably hate it.
but whatever.
hm.
now I'm going to do something considerably un-/non-/anti-rock n' roll--
call my mother-in-law
and
set a date for her to come up and help me plant a garden.
I'm really looking forward to it, though--
because, really, what beats home-grown produce???
yes, home-grown weed probably does, ya frickin stoner,
and maybe really great sex,
and a perfectly aged bottle of wine...
okay, fine--but you get the idea.
tomatoes still hot from the sun, all plump and juicy, so red they're almost...not red?
whatev.
I can't quite bring myself to do it, though...
I want my rock n roll fantasy to linger.
I feel like I should apologize for not replying to comments yesterday,
because it is my habit,
and my preference.
just know that i read and enjoyed each of them--
you all rock as hard as Godsmack.
heh.
what the fuck??
is today Godsmack Day or something?
if so, I think I should probably at least send an invitation for each of them to come get his dick sucked, don't you think?
I mean, that's just good manners.
no, actually, the Godsmack fixation is due to the fact that I'm STILL stuck using my husband's computer, and my vast music library is on my computer--and my i(mposter)pod, but that's in my gym bag, and I'm wicked lazy today.
SO, therefore, I have only about ten songs on here.
if anyone wants to take pity on me and dropload me songs,
that would be swell.
it's fast, easy, and clean.
clean??
eh, whatever.
I think that was just a lyric from Metallica's "Fuel" seeping in.
quench my thirst with gasoline
yup, somedays I think I could.
and I'm going to have to start sending some formal complaints to...somewhere...if I don't get to ride on a motorcycle soon.
I keep seeing them everywhere,
hearing them--
feeling them.
and all it does is stir up my restlessness.
yes, I'm talking to YOU.
(and here's where I would wink, if I could.)
unexpected silence.
playlist ended.
well, that's my cue...
I ought to go do something productive.
happy day to all--
in the dirty shoe
on the wide road
in the bright sun
of early spring.
GODSMACK.
they stir me in soft slow waves--
like a shot of adrenaline to the heart.
I'm alliiiiiiiiiiiiiive
for you
I'm awaaaaake
because of you I'm alive
told you I'm awake
swallowing you--
yeah, that pretty much says it all.
sometimes that song reminds me of my kids--
like I'm blaming them for waking me up.
heh.
other times...
it just makes me want to drive through the Utah heat of summer,
with an enormous blank slate of blue above me,
with the top down.
(no, not MY top, sickos)
guess what's great about the kids being at school rightfuckingnow???
I CAN TURN UP GODSMACK SO LOUD THAT IT SORTA SHAKES THE DESK.
and...
maybe...
I'm headbanging in my chair.
what??
It helps my hair dry better.
I'm even singing along...
frightening.
good GOD, did i have some funky dreams last night.
OH!
and did I mention...
the husband is home........
swooooooon....
I missed him sooo much this time.
I think occasional business trips are good for couples who've been married for a while.
heh.
absence/heart/fonder, etc.
back to the music--
I feel like a bear who has been hibernating,
it is spring, you know.
slowly, haltingly, I'm waking up.
so after 3 years of having only cell phones--
today is the day.
we are getting a non-traditional land line,
and I'm getting a new cell phone--
thank sweet jesus for number portability, right?
anyway, I'm super-duper, ultra-uber excited.
...of course, I'll probably hate it.
but whatever.
hm.
now I'm going to do something considerably un-/non-/anti-rock n' roll--
call my mother-in-law
and
set a date for her to come up and help me plant a garden.
I'm really looking forward to it, though--
because, really, what beats home-grown produce???
yes, home-grown weed probably does, ya frickin stoner,
and maybe really great sex,
and a perfectly aged bottle of wine...
okay, fine--but you get the idea.
tomatoes still hot from the sun, all plump and juicy, so red they're almost...not red?
whatev.
I can't quite bring myself to do it, though...
I want my rock n roll fantasy to linger.
I feel like I should apologize for not replying to comments yesterday,
because it is my habit,
and my preference.
just know that i read and enjoyed each of them--
you all rock as hard as Godsmack.
heh.
what the fuck??
is today Godsmack Day or something?
if so, I think I should probably at least send an invitation for each of them to come get his dick sucked, don't you think?
I mean, that's just good manners.
no, actually, the Godsmack fixation is due to the fact that I'm STILL stuck using my husband's computer, and my vast music library is on my computer--and my i(mposter)pod, but that's in my gym bag, and I'm wicked lazy today.
SO, therefore, I have only about ten songs on here.
if anyone wants to take pity on me and dropload me songs,
that would be swell.
it's fast, easy, and clean.
clean??
eh, whatever.
I think that was just a lyric from Metallica's "Fuel" seeping in.
quench my thirst with gasoline
yup, somedays I think I could.
and I'm going to have to start sending some formal complaints to...somewhere...if I don't get to ride on a motorcycle soon.
I keep seeing them everywhere,
hearing them--
feeling them.
and all it does is stir up my restlessness.
yes, I'm talking to YOU.
(and here's where I would wink, if I could.)
unexpected silence.
playlist ended.
well, that's my cue...
I ought to go do something productive.
happy day to all--
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
It's the Ides of March
as if that means anything to anyone anymore, anyway.
(that was a lot of "any"s--and it was no accident!)
all it really means is "it's the middle of the month".
the only reason we're still familiar with the term is an assassination.
fucking Julius Cesar.
what a punk.
once upon a time, there was a girl named headache.
no, wait, maybe that was two little boys--?
can you tell I'm ready for my weekend getaway??
AND ready for the mr. to be home from his second business trip in the past ten days.
I don't even know what day it is most of the time, lately.
I feel like someone backed over me with a bread delivery truck about a dozen times.
which reminds me--
I drove over a ratty-looking old shoe in the middle of the road, yesterday.
and it felt a little crunchy, so I started imagining that there was a severed human foot in it--
blood spurting out everywhere, followed by my screeching tires and a quick 911 call.
so many possibilities for where that foot could have come from, right?
first thought was of a bad car accident, but I quickly dismissed that, because they wouldn't leave behind the foot, for god's sake!
maybe a dog found it, where the body had been dumped, and dragged it around for a while?
or maybe the whole body was chopped up and thrown under a tarp in the bed of a pickup (with no tailgate), and the foot just sorta slid off.
also makes you wonder, if you were going to dice someone up, would you remove their clothing/shoes first?
Have I ever told you guys what my biggest involuntary creep-out fantasy is?
well, here goes:
I would have been out with some girlfriends for a couple of drinks and a lot of gossip. I would come in through the garage, to a dark and quiet house--nothing unusual, there. I would slip my shoes off and make my way through the dark. Up the stairs, with that familiar creak right in the middle, and past the kids' room, with its softly glowing night-light. My bedroom door might be slightly ajar, and as I closed it behind me, I would see my husband's sleeping shape. I would undress quietly, listening to his breathing, and slide in beside him. I would burrow into my pillow, and just as I was reaching for him--he would turn over. A smile would hit my lips and I would lean toward him. Just then, the moon would peek in through the gap in the curtains, illuminating--a face. Not his. A leering, dark, unshaven, red-splotched face. A rotten teeth and small hands, face. He would pin me with one burly arm and cover my mouth with the other hand. And I can never quite decide which would be worse--to be killed quickly, without ever knowing what had happened to my husband, or to be shown my husband's dead body first. Either way, it freaks me the HELL out. So, sometimes when I get home, after my husband's asleep? I turn on plenty of lights and make sure I see his face before I get within his reach. Just in case.
Beware the Ides of March, is right, fuckers!
have a happy day and please believe me when I tell you I'm not on drugs.
(but maybe I should be..?)
oooh, and start practicing up for St. Patrick's Day--
I'm Irish and I expect a lot of kisses.
(that was a lot of "any"s--and it was no accident!)
all it really means is "it's the middle of the month".
the only reason we're still familiar with the term is an assassination.
fucking Julius Cesar.
what a punk.
once upon a time, there was a girl named headache.
no, wait, maybe that was two little boys--?
can you tell I'm ready for my weekend getaway??
AND ready for the mr. to be home from his second business trip in the past ten days.
I don't even know what day it is most of the time, lately.
I feel like someone backed over me with a bread delivery truck about a dozen times.
which reminds me--
I drove over a ratty-looking old shoe in the middle of the road, yesterday.
and it felt a little crunchy, so I started imagining that there was a severed human foot in it--
blood spurting out everywhere, followed by my screeching tires and a quick 911 call.
so many possibilities for where that foot could have come from, right?
first thought was of a bad car accident, but I quickly dismissed that, because they wouldn't leave behind the foot, for god's sake!
maybe a dog found it, where the body had been dumped, and dragged it around for a while?
or maybe the whole body was chopped up and thrown under a tarp in the bed of a pickup (with no tailgate), and the foot just sorta slid off.
also makes you wonder, if you were going to dice someone up, would you remove their clothing/shoes first?
Have I ever told you guys what my biggest involuntary creep-out fantasy is?
well, here goes:
I would have been out with some girlfriends for a couple of drinks and a lot of gossip. I would come in through the garage, to a dark and quiet house--nothing unusual, there. I would slip my shoes off and make my way through the dark. Up the stairs, with that familiar creak right in the middle, and past the kids' room, with its softly glowing night-light. My bedroom door might be slightly ajar, and as I closed it behind me, I would see my husband's sleeping shape. I would undress quietly, listening to his breathing, and slide in beside him. I would burrow into my pillow, and just as I was reaching for him--he would turn over. A smile would hit my lips and I would lean toward him. Just then, the moon would peek in through the gap in the curtains, illuminating--a face. Not his. A leering, dark, unshaven, red-splotched face. A rotten teeth and small hands, face. He would pin me with one burly arm and cover my mouth with the other hand. And I can never quite decide which would be worse--to be killed quickly, without ever knowing what had happened to my husband, or to be shown my husband's dead body first. Either way, it freaks me the HELL out. So, sometimes when I get home, after my husband's asleep? I turn on plenty of lights and make sure I see his face before I get within his reach. Just in case.
Beware the Ides of March, is right, fuckers!
have a happy day and please believe me when I tell you I'm not on drugs.
(but maybe I should be..?)
oooh, and start practicing up for St. Patrick's Day--
I'm Irish and I expect a lot of kisses.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Mondays are like crisp one dollar bills
sure they're pretty, but they're not worth much.
huh?
don't ask.
so, I slept late today and scurried to get the kids ready for school,
got in the car, and arrived on time.
yay me.
HOWEVER.
the kids had other ideas.
they seemed to think they were sick, or something.
so home we came.
and mommy's plans for a quiet morning of writing and/or sleeping went swirling down the drain.
bah.
and now I'm explaining to the little Future Drug Addicts of America the reason the chewable tylenol is NOT candy, and is not to be eaten at will.
I mean, I'm glad they've figured out how to make most common children's medicine taste good enough that they don't fight it when they need it, but COME ON!
It tastes like candy, or kool-aid (mmmm Dimetapp!)
Poor little guys.
so, I had the genius idea of moving my computer, so that the glare wouldn't give me instant cataracts anymore,
but.
the place I chose was not very well-thought out.
there is a hallway, at the bottom of the stairs--
in the basement.
it has a nice bright light, and is carpeted.
so I thought, hey, why not?
well, dip shit, here's "why not"--
it's 20 degrees colder down there than in the rest of the house.
so much for me and my rocket scientist skills.
I am FREEEEZING.
so I guess I should move the stupid machine back upstairs, and get some sunglasses or something.
I wish they could make our shutters faster--
maybe I'llflash bribe them.
I had a thought yesterday, for something to write about--
it's rare, so I was kind of excited.
but then I forgot.
it was something about....something.
there are days when I would like to hunt down the executives of Nickelodeon (Nick Jr) and the Disney Channel and bind them with barbed wire, then sprinkle them with lemon juice and leave them in Death Valley for an afternoon.
however...
there are also days, when I would gladly give oral pleasure to each and every one of them--regardless of race, creed, or gender.
(I forgot when creed means, but just for the record, I would not service any of the member of the band Creed.)
see, the songs are cute.
once.
after that they are like nails on a chalkboard--
for people who dislike that sound.
doesn't happen to bother me, but it's sort of a universal annoyance, so I went with it.
on the good days, though, they provide some peace and quiet for a mother in need.
in need of what, you ask?
why, Lisa, don't you have everything you need, everything you want?
faack, no, kids.
I mean, shit, I may not have mentioned this before, but want I really want the most is a silver unicorn.
well, a unicorn/pegasus combo, actually.
cuz, hell, ya might as well be able to fly if you're going to by mystical, right?
and not really silver, but white.
silver sounded better at first, but as I mull it over, it seems a bit too metallic, hard, shiny, etc.
possibly it could even talk...I can't decide.
ok, so maybe this dream needs a little work--
I'll get back to you, but in the meantime, keep your eyes open, would ya?
all I know, is that when you say my name, my heart races,
and when I feel your breath against my neck, my heart stops...
being in love is hazardous to one's health, no?
heh--sorry.
sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of cliches--
but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it,
unless the birds of a feather don't flock together,
because then we'd have to look for a needle in a haystack,
and that's just not up to par
with my expectations of how this caged bird should sing.
--ya know?
am I the biggest dork you've ever met?
yes, probably.
but I'm also dead sexy, so it balances out ok.
huh?
don't ask.
so, I slept late today and scurried to get the kids ready for school,
got in the car, and arrived on time.
yay me.
HOWEVER.
the kids had other ideas.
they seemed to think they were sick, or something.
so home we came.
and mommy's plans for a quiet morning of writing and/or sleeping went swirling down the drain.
bah.
and now I'm explaining to the little Future Drug Addicts of America the reason the chewable tylenol is NOT candy, and is not to be eaten at will.
I mean, I'm glad they've figured out how to make most common children's medicine taste good enough that they don't fight it when they need it, but COME ON!
It tastes like candy, or kool-aid (mmmm Dimetapp!)
Poor little guys.
so, I had the genius idea of moving my computer, so that the glare wouldn't give me instant cataracts anymore,
but.
the place I chose was not very well-thought out.
there is a hallway, at the bottom of the stairs--
in the basement.
it has a nice bright light, and is carpeted.
so I thought, hey, why not?
well, dip shit, here's "why not"--
it's 20 degrees colder down there than in the rest of the house.
so much for me and my rocket scientist skills.
I am FREEEEZING.
so I guess I should move the stupid machine back upstairs, and get some sunglasses or something.
I wish they could make our shutters faster--
maybe I'll
I had a thought yesterday, for something to write about--
it's rare, so I was kind of excited.
but then I forgot.
it was something about....something.
there are days when I would like to hunt down the executives of Nickelodeon (Nick Jr) and the Disney Channel and bind them with barbed wire, then sprinkle them with lemon juice and leave them in Death Valley for an afternoon.
however...
there are also days, when I would gladly give oral pleasure to each and every one of them--regardless of race, creed, or gender.
(I forgot when creed means, but just for the record, I would not service any of the member of the band Creed.)
see, the songs are cute.
once.
after that they are like nails on a chalkboard--
for people who dislike that sound.
doesn't happen to bother me, but it's sort of a universal annoyance, so I went with it.
on the good days, though, they provide some peace and quiet for a mother in need.
in need of what, you ask?
why, Lisa, don't you have everything you need, everything you want?
faack, no, kids.
I mean, shit, I may not have mentioned this before, but want I really want the most is a silver unicorn.
well, a unicorn/pegasus combo, actually.
cuz, hell, ya might as well be able to fly if you're going to by mystical, right?
and not really silver, but white.
silver sounded better at first, but as I mull it over, it seems a bit too metallic, hard, shiny, etc.
possibly it could even talk...I can't decide.
ok, so maybe this dream needs a little work--
I'll get back to you, but in the meantime, keep your eyes open, would ya?
all I know, is that when you say my name, my heart races,
and when I feel your breath against my neck, my heart stops...
being in love is hazardous to one's health, no?
heh--sorry.
sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of cliches--
but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it,
unless the birds of a feather don't flock together,
because then we'd have to look for a needle in a haystack,
and that's just not up to par
with my expectations of how this caged bird should sing.
--ya know?
am I the biggest dork you've ever met?
yes, probably.
but I'm also dead sexy, so it balances out ok.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Fine, don't comment.
See if I care.
I mean, really, what is this--"bloggers get a life" weekend??
It feels like a ghost town around here.
I can almost hear an echo.
I'm having a particularly quiet weekend, so naturally I am spending more time than usual at my desk.
I just wish I had a pool boy I could store under there for times like this.
what???
I meant so that he'd be available in case the pool needs cleaning.
you guys are NASTY perverts.
...
wanna come hang out?
heh.
thinking about taking the grommets to the zoo today...
it's gorgeously blue-skied outside.
and the zoo's only 20 minutes away, now!!
because NOW I live closer to so many freaking cool things!!!
the airport, the zoo, the temple (haaaaaaaaahahahahahaa), skiing, the children's museum, the planetarium, large concert venues and um. other stuff.
DON'T ASK ME.
all I know is this is a city and there's more to do here.
stuff's even open on SUNDAY up yonder.
I am beside myself with jo.
no...
not "jo"...JOY.
I could be with "Jo", though, because that's what my college roommates and I called each other.
we all adopted that as a middle name, but usually just called each other that for short.
wait! don't go!!
that was ten years ago--
I'm at least 3% less nerdy now, I swear!!!
I'll even go drink a beer, right now, to prove it.
yes, it's 10am.
on a sunday.
and I'm home alone with my kids.
but if that's what it takes to prove my coolness, I'll do it.
I'll do anything you ask of me.
ha.
ok, no I won't.
just take my word for it, ok?
ok.
I'm probably the last person in America to watch "Napoleon Dynamite"--
but I did, and I laughed my ass off.
my husband didn't get it.
he even grew up in Idaho and Utah.
I can't shake the notion that Deb is the same actress who was in Kindergarten Cop--one of the students, with a side ponytail.
I should google it.
but I'm...
what's the word?
oh yeah--TOO DAMN LAZY.
fuck that, no I'm not.
sit tight.
I'll be right back.
ok, well, I have seen her before, but it wasn't on Kindergarten Cop.
she was in Andre (which was based on a seal in MY harbor, even if the movie was set in Connecticut and they used the wrong fucking kind of seal--i think it's a sea lion, in the movie, actually. dumbasses. try a HARBOR SEAL in Camden Maine, next time.)
ahem. pardon the tangent.
and she was in When a Man Loves a Woman--
loved that movie.
anyway.
I was also, perhaps, the only person in America to enjoy "Surviving Christmas", with Ben Assfuck, as my husband calls him, and James Gandolfini and that kick ass chick from all the Christopher Guest movies.
I loved it.
so there.
and that's all for movie review sunday...
are you glad it's over?
I know I am.
have a great day--
and just for good measure...
go fuck yourself.
I mean, really, what is this--"bloggers get a life" weekend??
It feels like a ghost town around here.
I can almost hear an echo.
I'm having a particularly quiet weekend, so naturally I am spending more time than usual at my desk.
I just wish I had a pool boy I could store under there for times like this.
what???
I meant so that he'd be available in case the pool needs cleaning.
you guys are NASTY perverts.
...
wanna come hang out?
heh.
thinking about taking the grommets to the zoo today...
it's gorgeously blue-skied outside.
and the zoo's only 20 minutes away, now!!
because NOW I live closer to so many freaking cool things!!!
the airport, the zoo, the temple (haaaaaaaaahahahahahaa), skiing, the children's museum, the planetarium, large concert venues and um. other stuff.
DON'T ASK ME.
all I know is this is a city and there's more to do here.
stuff's even open on SUNDAY up yonder.
I am beside myself with jo.
no...
not "jo"...JOY.
I could be with "Jo", though, because that's what my college roommates and I called each other.
we all adopted that as a middle name, but usually just called each other that for short.
wait! don't go!!
that was ten years ago--
I'm at least 3% less nerdy now, I swear!!!
I'll even go drink a beer, right now, to prove it.
yes, it's 10am.
on a sunday.
and I'm home alone with my kids.
but if that's what it takes to prove my coolness, I'll do it.
I'll do anything you ask of me.
ha.
ok, no I won't.
just take my word for it, ok?
ok.
I'm probably the last person in America to watch "Napoleon Dynamite"--
but I did, and I laughed my ass off.
my husband didn't get it.
he even grew up in Idaho and Utah.
I can't shake the notion that Deb is the same actress who was in Kindergarten Cop--one of the students, with a side ponytail.
I should google it.
but I'm...
what's the word?
oh yeah--TOO DAMN LAZY.
fuck that, no I'm not.
sit tight.
I'll be right back.
ok, well, I have seen her before, but it wasn't on Kindergarten Cop.
she was in Andre (which was based on a seal in MY harbor, even if the movie was set in Connecticut and they used the wrong fucking kind of seal--i think it's a sea lion, in the movie, actually. dumbasses. try a HARBOR SEAL in Camden Maine, next time.)
ahem. pardon the tangent.
and she was in When a Man Loves a Woman--
loved that movie.
anyway.
I was also, perhaps, the only person in America to enjoy "Surviving Christmas", with Ben Assfuck, as my husband calls him, and James Gandolfini and that kick ass chick from all the Christopher Guest movies.
I loved it.
so there.
and that's all for movie review sunday...
are you glad it's over?
I know I am.
have a great day--
and just for good measure...
go fuck yourself.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
I was going to write a post...
but as the demands for playing "Go Fish" or reading "Curious George" mount ....
so does my frustration at the fading ability to write coherantly.
faaack.
it's 8:30 in the morning--do I really HAVE to be a mother already???
I thought that started at 10...
ok. i'll indulge the little sweetsie pies.
back in a bit.
9:30 (I'm back)
what a gorgeous day it is!!
does that mean I should go...outside?
hm.
don't know about that.
still suffering from pollen-induced lethargy.
and maybe that's what's wrong with my kids, too.
either that or the 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies they've nearly polished off since last night...
hm...
which could it be?
well, they're ornery as HELL and not terribly drowsy, so i guess it's the cookies.
hey, it's self-preservation, ok??
if I don't let them binge on the cookies, then I WILL.
ok, I already have, but I will continue the binge-fest for much longer.
sorry for the diabetes, kids, mommy has to look pretty!
jesus.
I suck.
(hm...depending on how that is read, it could sound like some kind of confession/prayer/invitation...)
my mind is empty.
I'm furitively sweeping up all the last remaining scraps of intelligent thought,
but it's not amounting to much...
just a dusty little heap on the cold floor inside my skull.
I'm probably trying too hard.
or I'm just awake when I don't want to be.
and I still have a busy day ahead.
I would like to learn to salsa.
no, not to MAKE salsa, that's easy enough.
the dance.
I am really going to fall asleep sitting here, though, so maybe I'll just crawl up the stairs...and into my cozy bed.
i'm smiling now, thinking of my bed.
i love my bed.
hell, I love ANY bed.
and no, that doesn't make me a slut.
just a sleep slut, maybe.
I'll sleep anywhere--but not WITH anyone, so that's where the difference comes in.
things are falling apart around me faster than a straw hut in an earthquake,
so I guess I better go.
happy weekend.
if they don't nap soon, I'm going to go knocking doors until I find someone willing to babysit.
so does my frustration at the fading ability to write coherantly.
faaack.
it's 8:30 in the morning--do I really HAVE to be a mother already???
I thought that started at 10...
ok. i'll indulge the little sweetsie pies.
back in a bit.
9:30 (I'm back)
what a gorgeous day it is!!
does that mean I should go...outside?
hm.
don't know about that.
still suffering from pollen-induced lethargy.
and maybe that's what's wrong with my kids, too.
either that or the 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies they've nearly polished off since last night...
hm...
which could it be?
well, they're ornery as HELL and not terribly drowsy, so i guess it's the cookies.
hey, it's self-preservation, ok??
if I don't let them binge on the cookies, then I WILL.
ok, I already have, but I will continue the binge-fest for much longer.
sorry for the diabetes, kids, mommy has to look pretty!
jesus.
I suck.
(hm...depending on how that is read, it could sound like some kind of confession/prayer/invitation...)
my mind is empty.
I'm furitively sweeping up all the last remaining scraps of intelligent thought,
but it's not amounting to much...
just a dusty little heap on the cold floor inside my skull.
I'm probably trying too hard.
or I'm just awake when I don't want to be.
and I still have a busy day ahead.
I would like to learn to salsa.
no, not to MAKE salsa, that's easy enough.
the dance.
I am really going to fall asleep sitting here, though, so maybe I'll just crawl up the stairs...and into my cozy bed.
i'm smiling now, thinking of my bed.
i love my bed.
hell, I love ANY bed.
and no, that doesn't make me a slut.
just a sleep slut, maybe.
I'll sleep anywhere--but not WITH anyone, so that's where the difference comes in.
things are falling apart around me faster than a straw hut in an earthquake,
so I guess I better go.
happy weekend.
if they don't nap soon, I'm going to go knocking doors until I find someone willing to babysit.
Friday, March 11, 2005
What does it mean when you're sleepy all the time?
Maybe i should ask Jeeves, instead.
but i'm too lazy.
I'm hoping that if I post that question,
google will come to ME with an answer.
...does that sound reasonable?
no, I guess it doesn't.
but since when did I claim to have reasonable expectations??
that's right--never.
but, to get back to the point--
I am ultra sleepy today, as I was yesterday.
like, yawning, heavy-lidded dozey feeling
it's sooo bizarre.
I borrowed the first season of The L Word from my favorite lesbian, the other night.
whoa.
that's some good shit.
and really, besides all the so-hot-there-was-steam-coming-off-my-tv-screen sex scenes?
It seems to be a pretty well-written show.
but i was a little distracted by all the sexy sexiness of same sex sex.
huh?
so anyway.
I had a bunch of stuff I planned on doing today,
but with hubby home, unexpectedly, my day has changed.
it's fun to have him here when i didn't expect him to be,
but it seriously feels a little odd.
it's MY day.
kids are at school, so it's MY time.
ya know??
I'm a selfish little rat.
oh well.
and now my breast is being fondled, so it's realllly time to go.
(cuz who can write wtih that kinda shit going on???)
have a happy weekend, and oh! fantasy friday...
let me go find one in the archives.
this was written 12-3-04, but it's one of my favorites--
FANTASY FRIDAY--
I drove along in the night, the music loud, my anger boiling higher and higher with every mile,
my foot heavy on the gas.
my truck plowed through the cold air outside like a train through a glacier.
I would find him.
I would kick his ass.
and, i wouldn't admit it, or even think of it until the moment arrived--
but i would also fuck him until the last of my anger had receded.
my tires crunched to a stop on the gravel and ice.
i threw down my half-smoked marlboro and slammed the door behind me.
keys in the ignition, ready for flight.
i was shaking.
and not from the cold, although i had on only a tanktop and jeans--
my feet hastily crammed into slippers.
my heart was racing.
i couldn't stop thinking about what i had been told.
my eyes were on fire--
a cold fire to match the weather.
i burst through the door, without a knock, without a word.
he was sitting in his favorite chair, feet up, reading a book.
he jumped when he heard me, a smile ready on his lips--
but when his eyes caught up with his ears,
his jaw dropped and he stood, taking a step back.
baby?
he wasn't exactly scared of me--
i'm smaller than him, and not very fight-savy.
but.
he was ready.
he could see me shaking, he could see my eyes blazing.
and he waited.
i stepped forward.
I saw you.
he opened his mouth to ask, to defend?
but he closed it.
he knew.
he knew what i had seen, and he knew what he had done.
he swallowed hard, his gaze steady.
he dropped into fighter stance just as i lunged at him.
my force was enough to topple us both to the floor,
where i attempted to punch him, scratch him, kick him...
i didn't land many shots.
probably only lasted ten seconds, before he had me pinned.
baby.
there was an edge in his voice, an authority.
cocksucker.
i spit this at him, and raised my knee to his crotch.
he shifted just in time and flattened my leg.
both breathing hard, we locked gazes--
me, still so angry i could tear him apart if only he'd let go of me,
him, annoyed at having been caught, but accepting my anger.
in that pause, he relaxed just a bit.
i let out a roar and rolled us over, pinning him.
he let me.
then i started talking.
accusing.
seething.
he listened, stone-faced.
I saw you.
At that nasty little bar.
You kissed her.
You were all over her.
the words hung in the air, leaving me empty.
a tear rolled over my flushed cheeks,
and i stood, turning my back on him,
as he lay there on the floor.
the silence emanated from us both, meeting in the middle with a bang.
i grabbed his sheepskin jacket from the back of a chair and headed for the door.
as it closed behind me, i felt a bit better...
but slipping into his coat brought his smell to me and i whimpered with the feeling of loss.
he was my soul's other half.
i pulled the coat closed tightly around me, and walked down the steps.
i didn't hear him coming, but he grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.
No.
This is bullshit.
You're not leaving.
his aggressivness brought my anger back and the words began to fly.
both of us screaming,
i stepped toward him,
he stepped back--
and this awkward dance led us back into the house,
the door's hinges being tested as i slammed it closed.
i pushed him--
a small hand to a hard chest.
touching him changed the dynamic...
he slipped his arms around me and held me close.
baby...so soft against my cheek.
fuck you. i returned his embrace.
he kissed me, and i sobbed--
his lips had been on someone else.
i pushed him away, and he sighed.
for the last time, sweetheart--SHE KISSED ME.
...and what were you doing, going to the bar with slippers on?
well.
that was an interesting question...and if i admitted that someone else had relayed the information to me, i would lose all credibility.
but i didn't have to.
he knew.
and he smiled.
thank god! i thought you'd lost your mind.
you should've seen this woman, baby.
she was...old and drunk and...and she kissed me.
i didn't make a scene because i didn't think it mattered.
let the old bitty have her thrill, right?
when was the last time she got to kiss someone as sexy as your guy, hm?
before he had finished half of his monologue, i had removed his shirt and my pants.
he joined in, and soon we were tumbling to the bed.
I still had a bit of a glare on my face, as i lowered myself onto him,
riding him angrily, fast.
he had a half-smile on his face,
knowing me.
knowing that i just needed to get my anger out,
knowing that i react first, think later.
he laid still, against his nature, and let me fuck my fury out on him.
my jaw was set, my breathing more ragged than it should have been.
i reached down and twisted his nipples--
hard.
he winced, but his smile grew.
he tilted his hips to drive himself deeper into me, and reached for my breasts.
i raised my eyebrows, he rolled his eyes--mocking my determination.
i broke--
giggling as i fell forward, nuzzling his neck.
but still with a harder-than-necessary bite...
our kisses were hard and deep--
we ground our bodies together, grabbing, sucking, biting.
he rolled me over so he was in charge--
and i loved him more than ever, looking up at his steely eyes,
feeling him inside me, on top of me--
but mostly, under my skin--in the deepest, darkest depth of my self.
he moved just right...
the rhythm was perfect, and he brought forth a hard, fast culmination of my anger in the heighth of joy.
as the waves washed over me,
our fucking turned to lovemaking.
he bent down and kissed me softly, sweetly--
from my mouth, down my neck,
pausing at each breast for tender kisses, licking...
then trailing his kisses down my belly, over my hipbones,
and down the line between leg and body...
to his favorite place to settle for a while--
he licked and sucked on the wettest, hottest part of me,
still needing him, still growing wetter,
as he remained hard and ready--
waiting for me.
a slower, softer orgasm reached his lips, and he licked until i stopped writhing.
i sat up and smiled at him.
he shook his head, with a smile.
are you done being pissed off?
i nodded and crawled toward him, past him...
planting my face downward and waiting for him to take position.
he grabbed my hips and pulled me back so that my pussy swallowed him all the way to the balls.
we both let out a sound of relief at the meeting of these two parts of us.
he was huge inside me--so ready, so needy.
i held the bedpost, pushing back into him, needing him.
and his movements filled both our needs...
we collapsed to the bed, our sweaty limbs entwined,
our hearts once again united.
****
so there.
have a fan-fucking-tastic weekend!!!
but i'm too lazy.
I'm hoping that if I post that question,
google will come to ME with an answer.
...does that sound reasonable?
no, I guess it doesn't.
but since when did I claim to have reasonable expectations??
that's right--never.
but, to get back to the point--
I am ultra sleepy today, as I was yesterday.
like, yawning, heavy-lidded dozey feeling
it's sooo bizarre.
I borrowed the first season of The L Word from my favorite lesbian, the other night.
whoa.
that's some good shit.
and really, besides all the so-hot-there-was-steam-coming-off-my-tv-screen sex scenes?
It seems to be a pretty well-written show.
but i was a little distracted by all the sexy sexiness of same sex sex.
huh?
so anyway.
I had a bunch of stuff I planned on doing today,
but with hubby home, unexpectedly, my day has changed.
it's fun to have him here when i didn't expect him to be,
but it seriously feels a little odd.
it's MY day.
kids are at school, so it's MY time.
ya know??
I'm a selfish little rat.
oh well.
and now my breast is being fondled, so it's realllly time to go.
(cuz who can write wtih that kinda shit going on???)
have a happy weekend, and oh! fantasy friday...
let me go find one in the archives.
this was written 12-3-04, but it's one of my favorites--
FANTASY FRIDAY--
I drove along in the night, the music loud, my anger boiling higher and higher with every mile,
my foot heavy on the gas.
my truck plowed through the cold air outside like a train through a glacier.
I would find him.
I would kick his ass.
and, i wouldn't admit it, or even think of it until the moment arrived--
but i would also fuck him until the last of my anger had receded.
my tires crunched to a stop on the gravel and ice.
i threw down my half-smoked marlboro and slammed the door behind me.
keys in the ignition, ready for flight.
i was shaking.
and not from the cold, although i had on only a tanktop and jeans--
my feet hastily crammed into slippers.
my heart was racing.
i couldn't stop thinking about what i had been told.
my eyes were on fire--
a cold fire to match the weather.
i burst through the door, without a knock, without a word.
he was sitting in his favorite chair, feet up, reading a book.
he jumped when he heard me, a smile ready on his lips--
but when his eyes caught up with his ears,
his jaw dropped and he stood, taking a step back.
baby?
he wasn't exactly scared of me--
i'm smaller than him, and not very fight-savy.
but.
he was ready.
he could see me shaking, he could see my eyes blazing.
and he waited.
i stepped forward.
I saw you.
he opened his mouth to ask, to defend?
but he closed it.
he knew.
he knew what i had seen, and he knew what he had done.
he swallowed hard, his gaze steady.
he dropped into fighter stance just as i lunged at him.
my force was enough to topple us both to the floor,
where i attempted to punch him, scratch him, kick him...
i didn't land many shots.
probably only lasted ten seconds, before he had me pinned.
baby.
there was an edge in his voice, an authority.
cocksucker.
i spit this at him, and raised my knee to his crotch.
he shifted just in time and flattened my leg.
both breathing hard, we locked gazes--
me, still so angry i could tear him apart if only he'd let go of me,
him, annoyed at having been caught, but accepting my anger.
in that pause, he relaxed just a bit.
i let out a roar and rolled us over, pinning him.
he let me.
then i started talking.
accusing.
seething.
he listened, stone-faced.
I saw you.
At that nasty little bar.
You kissed her.
You were all over her.
the words hung in the air, leaving me empty.
a tear rolled over my flushed cheeks,
and i stood, turning my back on him,
as he lay there on the floor.
the silence emanated from us both, meeting in the middle with a bang.
i grabbed his sheepskin jacket from the back of a chair and headed for the door.
as it closed behind me, i felt a bit better...
but slipping into his coat brought his smell to me and i whimpered with the feeling of loss.
he was my soul's other half.
i pulled the coat closed tightly around me, and walked down the steps.
i didn't hear him coming, but he grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.
No.
This is bullshit.
You're not leaving.
his aggressivness brought my anger back and the words began to fly.
both of us screaming,
i stepped toward him,
he stepped back--
and this awkward dance led us back into the house,
the door's hinges being tested as i slammed it closed.
i pushed him--
a small hand to a hard chest.
touching him changed the dynamic...
he slipped his arms around me and held me close.
baby...so soft against my cheek.
fuck you. i returned his embrace.
he kissed me, and i sobbed--
his lips had been on someone else.
i pushed him away, and he sighed.
for the last time, sweetheart--SHE KISSED ME.
...and what were you doing, going to the bar with slippers on?
well.
that was an interesting question...and if i admitted that someone else had relayed the information to me, i would lose all credibility.
but i didn't have to.
he knew.
and he smiled.
thank god! i thought you'd lost your mind.
you should've seen this woman, baby.
she was...old and drunk and...and she kissed me.
i didn't make a scene because i didn't think it mattered.
let the old bitty have her thrill, right?
when was the last time she got to kiss someone as sexy as your guy, hm?
before he had finished half of his monologue, i had removed his shirt and my pants.
he joined in, and soon we were tumbling to the bed.
I still had a bit of a glare on my face, as i lowered myself onto him,
riding him angrily, fast.
he had a half-smile on his face,
knowing me.
knowing that i just needed to get my anger out,
knowing that i react first, think later.
he laid still, against his nature, and let me fuck my fury out on him.
my jaw was set, my breathing more ragged than it should have been.
i reached down and twisted his nipples--
hard.
he winced, but his smile grew.
he tilted his hips to drive himself deeper into me, and reached for my breasts.
i raised my eyebrows, he rolled his eyes--mocking my determination.
i broke--
giggling as i fell forward, nuzzling his neck.
but still with a harder-than-necessary bite...
our kisses were hard and deep--
we ground our bodies together, grabbing, sucking, biting.
he rolled me over so he was in charge--
and i loved him more than ever, looking up at his steely eyes,
feeling him inside me, on top of me--
but mostly, under my skin--in the deepest, darkest depth of my self.
he moved just right...
the rhythm was perfect, and he brought forth a hard, fast culmination of my anger in the heighth of joy.
as the waves washed over me,
our fucking turned to lovemaking.
he bent down and kissed me softly, sweetly--
from my mouth, down my neck,
pausing at each breast for tender kisses, licking...
then trailing his kisses down my belly, over my hipbones,
and down the line between leg and body...
to his favorite place to settle for a while--
he licked and sucked on the wettest, hottest part of me,
still needing him, still growing wetter,
as he remained hard and ready--
waiting for me.
a slower, softer orgasm reached his lips, and he licked until i stopped writhing.
i sat up and smiled at him.
he shook his head, with a smile.
are you done being pissed off?
i nodded and crawled toward him, past him...
planting my face downward and waiting for him to take position.
he grabbed my hips and pulled me back so that my pussy swallowed him all the way to the balls.
we both let out a sound of relief at the meeting of these two parts of us.
he was huge inside me--so ready, so needy.
i held the bedpost, pushing back into him, needing him.
and his movements filled both our needs...
we collapsed to the bed, our sweaty limbs entwined,
our hearts once again united.
****
so there.
have a fan-fucking-tastic weekend!!!
Thursday, March 10, 2005
It's been a hard night's day
and I've been sleeping like a dog.
but at leat my hair looks fantastic,
and there's leftover pizza to have for lunch.
AND.
blogger seems to have pulled its head out of its ass.
I'm not sure how I fell asleep, or at precisely what time--
but I've just woken.
I'm feeling foggy, rather groggy (phish),
but slowly returning to my senses.
my phone won't charge,
and the kids are as unruly as my hair--
but in a far less sexy way.
heh.
and hubby's on his way home for a nooner,
which i've warned him might mean a nap for me, not the kids.
he's ok with this.
and THAT makes me want to stay awake.
I wrote a post earlier.
while blogger was acting like a spoiled child--
and refusing to cooperate.
it was sticking its chin out, defiantly, and crossing its arms in front of its chest.
"FUCK YOU, users!" it was saying.
but I wrote a post anyway--
in a secure location.
problem is, that post sucked.
HARD.
like a little piggy, nearly too big to still be nursing, clinging to that teat for all he's worth.
yeah, that hard.
probably because I needed a nap.
next weekend.
I get to go hiking with my best friend.
all weekend, south of here.
I need it.
the air is close here.
tight.
all my bras are in the washer right now.
I want to spend money in irrational, large sums.
I want to sleep all day--
but not til after I finish folding all the laundry...
I.
rhymes with sigh.
and thigh.
sounds like
eye.
looks like
sky.
smells like
teen
spirit
har.
my back is itchy
my front is not.
that sounds kinda yucky.
but it shouldn't.
I guess i should have...guessed...that i was going to fall asleep,
when i laid down on the floor of my kids' room with a pillow and blanket.
to watch some crap-ass show with them.
it was cute.
snuggling there with them, not the show.
it was crap-assed.
makes me think its mother never taught it to wipe properly.
wow, someone thinks she's a stand-up comedian...
sorry.
I'm probably just scaring you all.
please don't run away.
actually, on second thought...
if you're going, can I come?
but at leat my hair looks fantastic,
and there's leftover pizza to have for lunch.
AND.
blogger seems to have pulled its head out of its ass.
I'm not sure how I fell asleep, or at precisely what time--
but I've just woken.
I'm feeling foggy, rather groggy (phish),
but slowly returning to my senses.
my phone won't charge,
and the kids are as unruly as my hair--
but in a far less sexy way.
heh.
and hubby's on his way home for a nooner,
which i've warned him might mean a nap for me, not the kids.
he's ok with this.
and THAT makes me want to stay awake.
I wrote a post earlier.
while blogger was acting like a spoiled child--
and refusing to cooperate.
it was sticking its chin out, defiantly, and crossing its arms in front of its chest.
"FUCK YOU, users!" it was saying.
but I wrote a post anyway--
in a secure location.
problem is, that post sucked.
HARD.
like a little piggy, nearly too big to still be nursing, clinging to that teat for all he's worth.
yeah, that hard.
probably because I needed a nap.
next weekend.
I get to go hiking with my best friend.
all weekend, south of here.
I need it.
the air is close here.
tight.
all my bras are in the washer right now.
I want to spend money in irrational, large sums.
I want to sleep all day--
but not til after I finish folding all the laundry...
I.
rhymes with sigh.
and thigh.
sounds like
eye.
looks like
sky.
smells like
teen
spirit
har.
my back is itchy
my front is not.
that sounds kinda yucky.
but it shouldn't.
I guess i should have...guessed...that i was going to fall asleep,
when i laid down on the floor of my kids' room with a pillow and blanket.
to watch some crap-ass show with them.
it was cute.
snuggling there with them, not the show.
it was crap-assed.
makes me think its mother never taught it to wipe properly.
wow, someone thinks she's a stand-up comedian...
sorry.
I'm probably just scaring you all.
please don't run away.
actually, on second thought...
if you're going, can I come?
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Just enough time for a quickie...
nah, not THAT kind.
(unfortunately)
but it should be nearly as satisfying.
no, no no--it won't be anywhere near as satisfying!!!
I don't know why I keep saying shit I don't mean.
I have an appointment, but I'll be back.
I spent some time last night perusing a Cosmopolitan magazine that a friend left in my car.
Daaaaaaaaaaaamn.
that magazine sucks shit.
I really appreciated their picture of this guy,
but I was rather disgusted by the tag lines and titles throughout the pages,
including the ones used for that delicioius and nutritious little snack...
ok, so maybe that was just as demeaning...
but at least I meant it!!
I don't know why everything in there irritated the hell out of me, but it did.
I suppose I'm not really the target audience.
I don't have a trust fund, and I'm not shallow, and really not much of a bitch, in general (hey--I'm a woman, I reserve the right to be bitchy on occasion!)
and they had this section of "wild and crazy moves no man can resist", with ideas sent in by readers.
actually got a couple of good ideas from the list of 65, but most of them were pathetic--
the sort of stuff that Becky and I read and went, "well, duh! isn't that protocol??"
oh well.
I guess that just means we're better in bed than the average woman.
what?
can't you hear me laughing?
well, I am, but only because I don't like to straight out brag.
heh.
yes, my husband got home from his 2 day business trip last night--
so MAYBE I'm a little preoccupied with thoughts of sex.
yum.
oh, and have I mentioned--?
IT'S SPRING!!!!!!!
yes, i'm sure the rest of you are experiencing it as well.
good stuff.
more later.
now it's time to go, and this post is sorta half-assed,
but I don't suppose that'll surprise anyone.
I love you all and would cook yummy foods for you if you were here!
have a happy hump(ing) day!
(unfortunately)
but it should be nearly as satisfying.
no, no no--it won't be anywhere near as satisfying!!!
I don't know why I keep saying shit I don't mean.
I have an appointment, but I'll be back.
I spent some time last night perusing a Cosmopolitan magazine that a friend left in my car.
Daaaaaaaaaaaamn.
that magazine sucks shit.
I really appreciated their picture of this guy,
but I was rather disgusted by the tag lines and titles throughout the pages,
including the ones used for that delicioius and nutritious little snack...
ok, so maybe that was just as demeaning...
but at least I meant it!!
I don't know why everything in there irritated the hell out of me, but it did.
I suppose I'm not really the target audience.
I don't have a trust fund, and I'm not shallow, and really not much of a bitch, in general (hey--I'm a woman, I reserve the right to be bitchy on occasion!)
and they had this section of "wild and crazy moves no man can resist", with ideas sent in by readers.
actually got a couple of good ideas from the list of 65, but most of them were pathetic--
the sort of stuff that Becky and I read and went, "well, duh! isn't that protocol??"
oh well.
I guess that just means we're better in bed than the average woman.
what?
can't you hear me laughing?
well, I am, but only because I don't like to straight out brag.
heh.
yes, my husband got home from his 2 day business trip last night--
so MAYBE I'm a little preoccupied with thoughts of sex.
yum.
oh, and have I mentioned--?
IT'S SPRING!!!!!!!
yes, i'm sure the rest of you are experiencing it as well.
good stuff.
more later.
now it's time to go, and this post is sorta half-assed,
but I don't suppose that'll surprise anyone.
I love you all and would cook yummy foods for you if you were here!
have a happy hump(ing) day!
Monday, March 07, 2005
What is that...?
I think I feel the gentle stirrings of my muse within.
...either that or I have to pee.
but seriously, I've been in a funk lately--
uninspired, and only myself to blame.
or my circumstances--the move, the low thyroxin levels, the kids out of school...
and now.
everything is zen again.
and I sorta think I might have a machinehead--
but in a good way.
hell, I don't know what ole Gavin meant by that, anyway.
better than the rest, green to red???
what in the wtf the fuck does that mean???
this is why I'm not a poet.
I like clarity.
I crave precisce descriptions.
people who say what they mean--
and I always assume people mean what they say,
although I probably shouldn't.
many of them don't.
anyway.
I have a muse, and he is wonderful.
but I also have that within myself, and I'd lost touch with it, for a while.
I think it might be back...
I can feel it, because I am inspired everywhere I look.
I want to not just be two spirits drifting past each other in a dark sky,
I want you to sink your exaggerated canines into me, and infuse me with your essence.
I want to feel the blood pumping through my body, and know that some of it is black or purple or silver--iridescent!--some of it is not mine.
I want to be a part of you, and let you possess me, for a time.
I want to write words.
I got a library card today.
I will awkwardly try to explain the degree of excitement I am experiencing.
first of all, I am a library addict--
I don't often buy books, and this is for several reasons.
one, I almost never re-read a book, so it seems sorta wasteful, to me.
two, I usually read like a bulimic locked in a grocery store over night would eat...
I plow through books, recklessly, feverishly--3 or 4 a week, sometimes.
It would be an expensive habit.
so, the next part of the story, that will help you see why I feel like I just won the book lottery, is this:
(and I've probably mentioned this before, so deal)
mr. husband checked out a book about a year ago.
he took it with us on our Metallica tour (4 shows in 2 weeks...)
and he left it in a hotel.
so.
I pulled the stubbornness card, and insisted that he deal with it.
Since we had a joint card, I was screwed, too.
so.
It's been nearly a year since I've been able to run wildly down rows of books, grabbing everything in sight,
and I am THIRSTY.
I have a bag of books sitting on my table, right now.
I'm 'unna wrap this up and grab a straw.
The list includes:
* Madame Bovary, by gustave flaubert (cuz someone said I might relate to her)
* Thief of Time, by Terry Pratchett (because I've been reading it with a friend, on audio and it's taking too long...see my last post)
* Homesick Restaurant, by Ann Tyler (because i've read a bunch of her stuff and liked it)
and two others, from the "new arrivals" shelf.
oh, baby, i'm excited!!!
such diverse choices...I almost don't know where to start.
Well...
it is Tuesday...
If you go here there might be something of interest.
maybe.
and now, I'm going to try really hard to NOT go back to bed...
I've been trying to institute a rule:
where my kids are not allowed to wake me before 7.
so far, no dice.
dammmmit, I hate mornings.
have a fantasical day!!
...either that or I have to pee.
but seriously, I've been in a funk lately--
uninspired, and only myself to blame.
or my circumstances--the move, the low thyroxin levels, the kids out of school...
and now.
everything is zen again.
and I sorta think I might have a machinehead--
but in a good way.
hell, I don't know what ole Gavin meant by that, anyway.
better than the rest, green to red???
what in the wtf the fuck does that mean???
this is why I'm not a poet.
I like clarity.
I crave precisce descriptions.
people who say what they mean--
and I always assume people mean what they say,
although I probably shouldn't.
many of them don't.
anyway.
I have a muse, and he is wonderful.
but I also have that within myself, and I'd lost touch with it, for a while.
I think it might be back...
I can feel it, because I am inspired everywhere I look.
I want to not just be two spirits drifting past each other in a dark sky,
I want you to sink your exaggerated canines into me, and infuse me with your essence.
I want to feel the blood pumping through my body, and know that some of it is black or purple or silver--iridescent!--some of it is not mine.
I want to be a part of you, and let you possess me, for a time.
I want to write words.
I got a library card today.
I will awkwardly try to explain the degree of excitement I am experiencing.
first of all, I am a library addict--
I don't often buy books, and this is for several reasons.
one, I almost never re-read a book, so it seems sorta wasteful, to me.
two, I usually read like a bulimic locked in a grocery store over night would eat...
I plow through books, recklessly, feverishly--3 or 4 a week, sometimes.
It would be an expensive habit.
so, the next part of the story, that will help you see why I feel like I just won the book lottery, is this:
(and I've probably mentioned this before, so deal)
mr. husband checked out a book about a year ago.
he took it with us on our Metallica tour (4 shows in 2 weeks...)
and he left it in a hotel.
so.
I pulled the stubbornness card, and insisted that he deal with it.
Since we had a joint card, I was screwed, too.
so.
It's been nearly a year since I've been able to run wildly down rows of books, grabbing everything in sight,
and I am THIRSTY.
I have a bag of books sitting on my table, right now.
I'm 'unna wrap this up and grab a straw.
The list includes:
* Madame Bovary, by gustave flaubert (cuz someone said I might relate to her)
* Thief of Time, by Terry Pratchett (because I've been reading it with a friend, on audio and it's taking too long...see my last post)
* Homesick Restaurant, by Ann Tyler (because i've read a bunch of her stuff and liked it)
and two others, from the "new arrivals" shelf.
oh, baby, i'm excited!!!
such diverse choices...I almost don't know where to start.
Well...
it is Tuesday...
If you go here there might be something of interest.
maybe.
and now, I'm going to try really hard to NOT go back to bed...
I've been trying to institute a rule:
where my kids are not allowed to wake me before 7.
so far, no dice.
dammmmit, I hate mornings.
have a fantasical day!!
One day, I met a girl who wanted my life--
the next day, I traded it to her for a day at the beach.
Just kidding, AmyJo, don't start packing just yet!
but either she was pulling my leg more artfully than a veteran matchstick man, or
there are a lot of creepy coincidences floating around.
well, not creepy, really, but I like how that sounds.
and she has as much interest in mormon malarky as I have knowledge of it.
so what am I saying???
have I found a new best friend?
am I smitten?
have I lost a mitten?
I don't know.
but if I thought it could end in anything but bitter disappointment,
I would probably start begging to be let back into the Real World...Blogger Style house.
Those people RAWK.
all of them.
but, alas, i was not cut out for group projects.
I'm too flakey.
so anyway.
the kids are at school,
and I have nothing to do.
my favorite playmate is nowhere to be found...
oh well.
I'll go shopping for Dad's b-day present and make some lunch for the kiddos.
then it'll be time to pick them up and time for the gym.
oh, the things one learns...
while running through the world, standing still.
or, rather:
"shit I noticed while on the treadmill," fer fuck's sake.
so, for starters, I noticed that I can't listen to audio books while I'm at the gym.
it's not possible.
why?
because there is waaaaaay too much distraction.
my eyes wander.
I see attractive men and smile,
I see attractive women and grimace,
I see fatties and smile...
(yes, I'm sorta cunty like that)
wait!!
that's not right.
I am just insecure when I'm at the gym and I like to know I'm not alone.
I am NOT cunty like that. but I like that line...
so anyway.
another thing that happens while treadmilling one's way quickly, to NOWHERE--
is.
that one's eye is caught by...
soaps.
daytime dramas.
blech.
it's not entirely my fault--
there are subtitles!
but only on certain channels.
and sometimes, I have one of those in my direct line of vision,
and since I am besieged with focusing problems...
I am drawn in.
oh, and also, it's my grandmother's fault.
it is!!!
one of my earliest memories, 4 or 5 years old, is of sitting on her lap,
watching The Young and the Restless.
I remember noticing that yes, there are young people, and there are some who are not young--but is that what "restless" means?
enquiring preschooler minds want to know...
so, because of my early exposure, I ended up watching a bit of that trash as a child.
LOVED IT.
(yes, I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm okay with it. are you? no? well, fuck off.)
so here's the disturbing thing:
It seems that EVERYONE who "dies" on a soap comes back to life.
and I mean everyone.
and there are never happy endings.
cuz, obviously, if things are going well for a character, that's boring and no one wants to see that shit.
what the HELL does this say about the viewership???
bunch of twisted freaks.
just kidding--I know that the attraction is to be entertained and escape from your own life.
but it just seems so friggin insulting!!
I could write the damn things.
nothing is EVER a surprise, because I can see where they're going from a mile away.
why?
because they're so predictable.
in any given situation, the worst will happen.
period.
depressing as hell, that's what it is.
and nauseating.
and YES, this was just from a 30 minute exposure.
imagine what lengthy diatribes i would conjure if I actually sat down and watched the things??
blech.
I can't decide which is worse, though--
soaps or sensationalist talk shows.
I better stop now, or I'll be here all day.
make it a good one, jokers.
Just kidding, AmyJo, don't start packing just yet!
but either she was pulling my leg more artfully than a veteran matchstick man, or
there are a lot of creepy coincidences floating around.
well, not creepy, really, but I like how that sounds.
and she has as much interest in mormon malarky as I have knowledge of it.
so what am I saying???
have I found a new best friend?
am I smitten?
have I lost a mitten?
I don't know.
but if I thought it could end in anything but bitter disappointment,
I would probably start begging to be let back into the Real World...Blogger Style house.
Those people RAWK.
all of them.
but, alas, i was not cut out for group projects.
I'm too flakey.
so anyway.
the kids are at school,
and I have nothing to do.
my favorite playmate is nowhere to be found...
oh well.
I'll go shopping for Dad's b-day present and make some lunch for the kiddos.
then it'll be time to pick them up and time for the gym.
oh, the things one learns...
while running through the world, standing still.
or, rather:
"shit I noticed while on the treadmill," fer fuck's sake.
so, for starters, I noticed that I can't listen to audio books while I'm at the gym.
it's not possible.
why?
because there is waaaaaay too much distraction.
my eyes wander.
I see attractive men and smile,
I see attractive women and grimace,
I see fatties and smile...
(yes, I'm sorta cunty like that)
wait!!
that's not right.
I am just insecure when I'm at the gym and I like to know I'm not alone.
I am NOT cunty like that. but I like that line...
so anyway.
another thing that happens while treadmilling one's way quickly, to NOWHERE--
is.
that one's eye is caught by...
soaps.
daytime dramas.
blech.
it's not entirely my fault--
there are subtitles!
but only on certain channels.
and sometimes, I have one of those in my direct line of vision,
and since I am besieged with focusing problems...
I am drawn in.
oh, and also, it's my grandmother's fault.
it is!!!
one of my earliest memories, 4 or 5 years old, is of sitting on her lap,
watching The Young and the Restless.
I remember noticing that yes, there are young people, and there are some who are not young--but is that what "restless" means?
enquiring preschooler minds want to know...
so, because of my early exposure, I ended up watching a bit of that trash as a child.
LOVED IT.
(yes, I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm okay with it. are you? no? well, fuck off.)
so here's the disturbing thing:
It seems that EVERYONE who "dies" on a soap comes back to life.
and I mean everyone.
and there are never happy endings.
cuz, obviously, if things are going well for a character, that's boring and no one wants to see that shit.
what the HELL does this say about the viewership???
bunch of twisted freaks.
just kidding--I know that the attraction is to be entertained and escape from your own life.
but it just seems so friggin insulting!!
I could write the damn things.
nothing is EVER a surprise, because I can see where they're going from a mile away.
why?
because they're so predictable.
in any given situation, the worst will happen.
period.
depressing as hell, that's what it is.
and nauseating.
and YES, this was just from a 30 minute exposure.
imagine what lengthy diatribes i would conjure if I actually sat down and watched the things??
blech.
I can't decide which is worse, though--
soaps or sensationalist talk shows.
I better stop now, or I'll be here all day.
make it a good one, jokers.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Another beautiful Sunday...
or is that Sundae?
either way.
gooooood stuff.
I bought strawberries yesterday.
delicious, as is.
so fresh and sweet...mmm....
however.
since I am a full-on dessert addict...
I had to melt some chocolate, and slather them in it.
I'm pathetic.
have I mentioned lately, how much I love the Beatles?
on a scale of 1 to 10?
a lot.
speaking of that cliched-up scale...
my kids' behavior?
on a scale of 1 to 10--they're a 28.
yes, that's bad.
i'm kidding, though.
they're awesome--unless I'm trying to get them to cooperate.
or obey.
bleh.
well...I think I have a problem...
I just got up to use the bathroom
(no, it's not a bathroom-related problem, it's safe to keep reading!!)
and discovered...
chocolate on my face.
nice.
perhaps there's a clinic I could go to,
for out-patient treatment?
or maybe I should just post signs all around my house with slogans like,
"Dessert will not fill the desert in your soul"
and
"Nothing tastes as good as thin feels!"
and
"Put down the cake, fattie!"
erm.
oh well.
that's why I work out.
that's why I work out.
THAT'S WHY I WORK OUT, ASSHOLE!
ahem.
talking to myself again...
and I am an asshole.
I really am.
I just want everyone to love me,
and I've discovered that most people like assholes.
heh.
no, that's not it...
anyway.
I got my "official" acceptence letter from the University last week.
and it really made me think about how different my life would have been if I had applied to this school as a teenager.
oh, I probably wouldn't have had any better of an idea about what I wanted to study.
BUT.
I wouldn't have been at BYU, either.
fuck that place.
I still have these sick urges to buy BYU apparrel and desecrate it.
I guess I have some issues.
and I think that anyone who wants to go there should be shot in the foot with a bb gun until they reconsider.
I am starting, slowly, to feel the pressure of living in Mormon Valley recede, though.
the air is surely different up here.
"up" meaning north...
i hate it when people use that wrong...
north is up, god dammmmit.
fuckers.
eh, I guess I'm just feeling "belligerant" today.
i like that word.
it's super duper redneck-y.
it makes me think of that dude I threw my virginity away on.
he was offered a shot of something and declined it, offering this explanation:
"No thanks, hard alcohol makes me belligerant."
erm.
ok.
and yes, that was before the fateful decision.
it was a clearly thought-out, pre-planned decision.
using mortally flawed logic, but logic, nonetheless.
heh.
i'm a fucking moron.
and then, I was a fucking mormon.
teaching a sunday school class of 15 year old boys...
poor, sexually-frustrated kids.
why would they put a 19 year old girl in charge of 15 year old boys???
i guess to make sure the boys showed up for sunday school.
heh.
sorry, my OnStar just took me down memory lane again--
I thought I asked for directions to the nearest Super Target.
faaack.
kids having races with the garage doors, again.
later suckers--
either way.
gooooood stuff.
I bought strawberries yesterday.
delicious, as is.
so fresh and sweet...mmm....
however.
since I am a full-on dessert addict...
I had to melt some chocolate, and slather them in it.
I'm pathetic.
have I mentioned lately, how much I love the Beatles?
on a scale of 1 to 10?
a lot.
speaking of that cliched-up scale...
my kids' behavior?
on a scale of 1 to 10--they're a 28.
yes, that's bad.
i'm kidding, though.
they're awesome--unless I'm trying to get them to cooperate.
or obey.
bleh.
well...I think I have a problem...
I just got up to use the bathroom
(no, it's not a bathroom-related problem, it's safe to keep reading!!)
and discovered...
chocolate on my face.
nice.
perhaps there's a clinic I could go to,
for out-patient treatment?
or maybe I should just post signs all around my house with slogans like,
"Dessert will not fill the desert in your soul"
and
"Nothing tastes as good as thin feels!"
and
"Put down the cake, fattie!"
erm.
oh well.
that's why I work out.
that's why I work out.
THAT'S WHY I WORK OUT, ASSHOLE!
ahem.
talking to myself again...
and I am an asshole.
I really am.
I just want everyone to love me,
and I've discovered that most people like assholes.
heh.
no, that's not it...
anyway.
I got my "official" acceptence letter from the University last week.
and it really made me think about how different my life would have been if I had applied to this school as a teenager.
oh, I probably wouldn't have had any better of an idea about what I wanted to study.
BUT.
I wouldn't have been at BYU, either.
fuck that place.
I still have these sick urges to buy BYU apparrel and desecrate it.
I guess I have some issues.
and I think that anyone who wants to go there should be shot in the foot with a bb gun until they reconsider.
I am starting, slowly, to feel the pressure of living in Mormon Valley recede, though.
the air is surely different up here.
"up" meaning north...
i hate it when people use that wrong...
north is up, god dammmmit.
fuckers.
eh, I guess I'm just feeling "belligerant" today.
i like that word.
it's super duper redneck-y.
it makes me think of that dude I threw my virginity away on.
he was offered a shot of something and declined it, offering this explanation:
"No thanks, hard alcohol makes me belligerant."
erm.
ok.
and yes, that was before the fateful decision.
it was a clearly thought-out, pre-planned decision.
using mortally flawed logic, but logic, nonetheless.
heh.
i'm a fucking moron.
and then, I was a fucking mormon.
teaching a sunday school class of 15 year old boys...
poor, sexually-frustrated kids.
why would they put a 19 year old girl in charge of 15 year old boys???
i guess to make sure the boys showed up for sunday school.
heh.
sorry, my OnStar just took me down memory lane again--
I thought I asked for directions to the nearest Super Target.
faaack.
kids having races with the garage doors, again.
later suckers--
Saturday, March 05, 2005
I think it's funny
that I cleaned my house in preparation of the arrival of--
THE CLEANING LADIES.
what a dope.
I just don't quite know what to make of this, I guess.
but...
the place is simply sparkling now,
so it was well worth it.
also, my skin is crawling right now...
I couldn't find my lysol,
and.
8 year old step son's been using this 'puter all day.
NO, I don't believe in cooties!
(well, i do, but it doesn't apply here...)
it's just that...
well.
he's EIGHT.
he picks his nose.
and the rest of the time, he has one hand down the front of his pants.
so.
yeah.
I had hoped to sanitize the thing before sitting down.
I wonder which of you are convulsing over this...
it is something I've learned to put out of my head.
but when I DO think about it...?
ew.
and writing this is making me focus on it, not put it out of my head!
so.
today was one of those days...
as close to perfection as is humanly possible--
maybe closer.
okay.
I'm going to hunt down the lysol.
and YES, I'm going to wash my hands.
two secs.
hm.
well.
that couldn't be good for the keyboard...
but at least i feel happy inside.
no more boy cooties.
crap.
one more second.
aaaaaahhhhhhh.........
slippers.
fucking fuzzy, fleecy flippin (f)slippers.
I finally remembered to get some, today.
stupid cold-ass tile floor.
so.
what the hell am I doing here??
dunno.
just seem to always end up here.
I feel discontected from my blog world--
and I wonder if that's a good thing.
it's almost as strong of an addiction for me as sugar.
massage was wonderful,
comedy was comedic.
today I bought Bambi.
not the movie--
a stripper; late birthday present for hubby.
okay, fine!
it was the disney deer cartoon.
the "he can call me a flower if he wants to--I don't mind" film.
the "they call me Thumper...cuz I-I-I-I'm thumpin'!" one.
the "good morning young prince" movie.
Lisa's favorite Disney movie of all times...
besides The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and all the Pixar joint productions...
okay, fine.
but it was my FIRST favorite.
and I'm going to (attempt to) exercise enormous self-control and give it to the kids for Easter...
when is that this year??
I think it's only 2 or 3 weeks away.
so I can probably manage.
anyway, don't tell me how it ends.
I think I'll go attempt to do something non-blog related, yet still on the internet...
I know!!!
It's a crazy thought.
I mean...what else IS there?
...I honestly can't remember anymore.
so.
instead, i'll go visit all my flavoritist blogs.
yes, I believe I made that word up.
you got a problem with that???
didn't think so, punk.
oh!
I just remembered...
a childhood friend of mine got married sometime today--
in Jamaica.
I should take a moment and honor her.
at 10, we were "H & M Detective Agency"--sitting at my mom's old desk, with mounds of fabulous office supplies.
at 11, we founded the Grey Ghost Club, with A and J.
at 12, we all saw a ghost together--in the church bathroom.
at 13, we became the Four Musketeers.
somewhere in there, my crush on her brother, and her sister marrying my brother.
running through wet woods,
in mortal fear of the electric fences.
and did I mention her brother...?
Fibber, Cavalla, and that golden retriever...Tucker? Tanner? Tinker!
she is one of the smartest women I know, and one of the most stubborn.
she deserves this happiness--
God bless you, Angie, wish I was there.
I'll end on that happy note.
love to you all--
THE CLEANING LADIES.
what a dope.
I just don't quite know what to make of this, I guess.
but...
the place is simply sparkling now,
so it was well worth it.
also, my skin is crawling right now...
I couldn't find my lysol,
and.
8 year old step son's been using this 'puter all day.
NO, I don't believe in cooties!
(well, i do, but it doesn't apply here...)
it's just that...
well.
he's EIGHT.
he picks his nose.
and the rest of the time, he has one hand down the front of his pants.
so.
yeah.
I had hoped to sanitize the thing before sitting down.
I wonder which of you are convulsing over this...
it is something I've learned to put out of my head.
but when I DO think about it...?
ew.
and writing this is making me focus on it, not put it out of my head!
so.
today was one of those days...
as close to perfection as is humanly possible--
maybe closer.
okay.
I'm going to hunt down the lysol.
and YES, I'm going to wash my hands.
two secs.
hm.
well.
that couldn't be good for the keyboard...
but at least i feel happy inside.
no more boy cooties.
crap.
one more second.
aaaaaahhhhhhh.........
slippers.
fucking fuzzy, fleecy flippin (f)slippers.
I finally remembered to get some, today.
stupid cold-ass tile floor.
so.
what the hell am I doing here??
dunno.
just seem to always end up here.
I feel discontected from my blog world--
and I wonder if that's a good thing.
it's almost as strong of an addiction for me as sugar.
massage was wonderful,
comedy was comedic.
today I bought Bambi.
not the movie--
a stripper; late birthday present for hubby.
okay, fine!
it was the disney deer cartoon.
the "he can call me a flower if he wants to--I don't mind" film.
the "they call me Thumper...cuz I-I-I-I'm thumpin'!" one.
the "good morning young prince" movie.
Lisa's favorite Disney movie of all times...
besides The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and all the Pixar joint productions...
okay, fine.
but it was my FIRST favorite.
and I'm going to (attempt to) exercise enormous self-control and give it to the kids for Easter...
when is that this year??
I think it's only 2 or 3 weeks away.
so I can probably manage.
anyway, don't tell me how it ends.
I think I'll go attempt to do something non-blog related, yet still on the internet...
I know!!!
It's a crazy thought.
I mean...what else IS there?
...I honestly can't remember anymore.
so.
instead, i'll go visit all my flavoritist blogs.
yes, I believe I made that word up.
you got a problem with that???
didn't think so, punk.
oh!
I just remembered...
a childhood friend of mine got married sometime today--
in Jamaica.
I should take a moment and honor her.
at 10, we were "H & M Detective Agency"--sitting at my mom's old desk, with mounds of fabulous office supplies.
at 11, we founded the Grey Ghost Club, with A and J.
at 12, we all saw a ghost together--in the church bathroom.
at 13, we became the Four Musketeers.
somewhere in there, my crush on her brother, and her sister marrying my brother.
running through wet woods,
in mortal fear of the electric fences.
and did I mention her brother...?
Fibber, Cavalla, and that golden retriever...Tucker? Tanner? Tinker!
she is one of the smartest women I know, and one of the most stubborn.
she deserves this happiness--
God bless you, Angie, wish I was there.
I'll end on that happy note.
love to you all--
Friday, March 04, 2005
know what's cool?
when you think you have an 11:30 appointment,
and you hurry around, thinking you're late--
but it's really a 12:00.
so now there's time to blog.
heh.
it's also cool when you look in the mirror,
while you're showering,
and discover that your hair goes much further past your shoulders when it's wet.
stupid ole curls.
but yay for my hair finally growing again.
you would think, that...
since I took the time to log in,
I might have something to say.
psh.
not me!!
I don't let little things like content keep me from posting.
nope.
it's off for massages, dinner, and a comedy club tonight.
...
my husband has accused me of getting him stuff for his birthday that is as much for me as for him...
he's probably right.
I almost bought PS2 Tetris,
so I would have a game to play with him!!!
...but after that comment, I don't think I ought to.
and, to be fair, the only reason we're BOTH getting massages is that I fell down the stairs last week, and the therapist is a friend and wants to make sure I'm realigned properly, etc.
AND I'm taking the kids shopping after the gym to pick out some actual gifts.
AND he got a morning (non)quickie--ON A WORK DAY!
jeeez.
normally that could be argued as being more "for me"...
but in an extremely rare twist, I didn't even orgasm, so baby, that one was ALL you!
(and no, i can't really complain--mine usually outnumber his exponentially.)
okay, enough of those grodie (grody?) details of my sex life.
have a great weekend, and give a hoot--don't pollute!
and you hurry around, thinking you're late--
but it's really a 12:00.
so now there's time to blog.
heh.
it's also cool when you look in the mirror,
while you're showering,
and discover that your hair goes much further past your shoulders when it's wet.
stupid ole curls.
but yay for my hair finally growing again.
you would think, that...
since I took the time to log in,
I might have something to say.
psh.
not me!!
I don't let little things like content keep me from posting.
nope.
it's off for massages, dinner, and a comedy club tonight.
...
my husband has accused me of getting him stuff for his birthday that is as much for me as for him...
he's probably right.
I almost bought PS2 Tetris,
so I would have a game to play with him!!!
...but after that comment, I don't think I ought to.
and, to be fair, the only reason we're BOTH getting massages is that I fell down the stairs last week, and the therapist is a friend and wants to make sure I'm realigned properly, etc.
AND I'm taking the kids shopping after the gym to pick out some actual gifts.
AND he got a morning (non)quickie--ON A WORK DAY!
jeeez.
normally that could be argued as being more "for me"...
but in an extremely rare twist, I didn't even orgasm, so baby, that one was ALL you!
(and no, i can't really complain--mine usually outnumber his exponentially.)
okay, enough of those grodie (grody?) details of my sex life.
have a great weekend, and give a hoot--don't pollute!
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