and those are sad days.
because, as we all know, "pickle" is code for--
as in, "I'm in a bit of a pickle" or "I'm in a bit of a jam"
see how that works?
no, I wasn't originally thinking "penis", why do you ask?
you guys are a bunch of friggin perverts!
and for anyone who's either new or particularly slow--
whenever I say that, it's just to deflect attention from my own extreme,
intense, deep-rooted PERVERTEDNESS.
glad we settled that.
I have this list of 69 boring things about me,
but I think I should update it.
I mean, they're still true,
but it was done very haphazardly--
on my laptop,
in the dark,
while hubby watched tv,
over a year ago.
I remember it.
but it was, not surprisingly,
just a rambling list of
I just remembered that my mom told me today...
that my best friend's baby shower is June 4th (in Maine).
will you guys PLEASE call my husband and tell him to get a frickin grip,
and just let me go?????
ok, I didn't think so.
but it doesn't hurt to ask.
should I plan it out, this time?
let's just jump in, and see where we end up, shall we?
piling into the car,
with a little pipe and a lot of snacks...
did I ever do that?
no, not really.
my smoking experiences were rather limited,
and none of my closest friends did that stupid stuff.
I only smoked with hot little long haired boys--
daaaamn, I'm getting thirsty for one just talking about it!
them with their hemp necklaces,
and acoustic guitars.
and gaaaaaaaaawd, what a feeling--
like a waterfall, of sparkles, running through my soul--
slightly drunk, slightly high.
shivering in the summer,
sweating in the winter--
steaming up windows, either way...
their cobwebbed smiles, through my slow-relaying eyes...
me, the newbie, though much older than them.
I was always outside that life, though.
part of me wanted to drown in it--
the easy door to open and step outside of incessantly spinning thoughts,
in that time of my life, when I didn't know where I was going,
or what would make me change paths.
but I did know that I wasn't one of them.
I did know that I would be somebody...
I still know.
even if I've recently stopped dreaming in the daytime.
maybe that's why the night time has picked up the slack...
I should just write.
then it would be okay to dream...
but sometimes, it's not ok to dream.
dreams make you want things that you shouldn't want.
dreams make you devalue the things that you do have.
dreams can be the harshest form of self-torture that the earth has ever seen.
when I learn how to focus my dreaming better,
then it'll be ok.
instead of allowing my whole heart to believe that I simply must have or be--
instead of that, I'll focus on dreams and write them...
maybe this is how men break horses.
the teach them that dreaming is a quick trip down trouble lane.
fitting molds has never been my strong point.
but it's getting to seem like the easiest route to take.
the group without the backstabbers.
and a mormon who doesn't know she's a lesbian...
it'll be good.
better if we could flush out those damn mormons.
drinking and vulgarity!!
that's what I'm in the mood for.
too bad I don't have any friends I could do that with.
what the fuck has gone wrong in my life that I don't have any friends I could get drunk and BELLIGERANT with???
now that's a problem.
here I am, getting myself all worked up--
when there's a man waiting upstairs to eat a banana split off me.
ok, he's not "waiting"--
he's playing SSX 3
but he'd eat anything off me I want--
even cooked fruit--which he abhors.
even hard alochol, which he despises
spends a lot of time doing whatever it takes to make me happy.
good thing, too.
No list, today.
maybe next time...