I wasted some time with this earlier...
This is fantastic fun, thanks go out to D-Man
Absolut Boredhousewife.
Only Boredhousewife Can Prevent Forest Fires.
This Is Not Your Father's Boredhousewife.
When You've Got Boredhousewife, Flaunt It.
Probably The Best Boredhousewife In The World.
It's That Boredhousewife Feeling.
The Real Smell of Boredhousewife.
There Ain't No Party Like A Boredhousewife Party
Every Boredhousewife Helps.
Melts In Your Boredhousewife, Not In Your Hand.
If You've Got the Time, We've Got the Boredhousewife.
It's a Beautiful Boredhousewife.
I Wish They All Could Be Boredhousewife Girls.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Monday mornings don't suck when:
1. your ass looks so great in your new jeans that you have a hard time making yourself walk forward...
2. your hair somehow dries into perfect bouncy ringlets with no more fussing than usual (usual fussing = zero)
3. your husband is cajoled into "working from home" for the morning so that you can:
a. bake him blueberry muffins and scramble some perfect eggs
b. turn on some pr0n and make like the Discovery Channel.
4. there's still enough time left before kid pickup to write a post.
Yes, there is a god.
or at least a very smooth karmic flow surrounding my freshly fucked aura.
So, Mondays are goooood.
to the last drop.
Although I'm sure tonight will be a much less pleasant work-to-pleasure ratio...
oh well, it's still going to be super fun.
TRICK OR TREAT!
Now if only I can convince my kids not to chant "smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don't I don't care, I'll pull down my underwear!"
Pretty sure that won't get them very far...
And at least I have $70 worth of candy.
good christ, I hope that's enough.
Although, if it's not...
I don't care.
I'll just flash 'em.
er.
not the kids...
just the hot dads.
there are a bunch of hotties in our neighborhood, by the way.
Sluuuurp.
Tomorrow begins National Novel Writing Month.
The gist is: write 50,000 words (approx 175 pages) before November 30th.
no prize, just the rush of doing it, the thrill of accomplishing it.
I started and finished in 2002.
I have yet to make it past the first page since then.
But...
I think I might be ready to give it a shot.
No, I will not be posting my work as I go.
Stephen King says to write with the door closed,
and I don't think he just means so you don't get caught looking at pr0n.
which brings me back to my earlier reference,
and I feel you should know:
traditionl pr0n does nothing for me.
I get too distracted by the absurd fakeness of it.
That doesn't mean I don't want each and every one of you to send me the dirtiest possible photographs of yourself
(dirty sexy, not dirty unclean, for you pedantists out there)
um...
(in case my husband's reading...)
I was just kidding.
wink-wink.
Well, damn.
On that somewhat awkward note,
I think I'll go Lysol my brain & pick up the kids.
Happy Halloween!!!
2. your hair somehow dries into perfect bouncy ringlets with no more fussing than usual (usual fussing = zero)
3. your husband is cajoled into "working from home" for the morning so that you can:
a. bake him blueberry muffins and scramble some perfect eggs
b. turn on some pr0n and make like the Discovery Channel.
4. there's still enough time left before kid pickup to write a post.
Yes, there is a god.
or at least a very smooth karmic flow surrounding my freshly fucked aura.
So, Mondays are goooood.
to the last drop.
Although I'm sure tonight will be a much less pleasant work-to-pleasure ratio...
oh well, it's still going to be super fun.
TRICK OR TREAT!
Now if only I can convince my kids not to chant "smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don't I don't care, I'll pull down my underwear!"
Pretty sure that won't get them very far...
And at least I have $70 worth of candy.
good christ, I hope that's enough.
Although, if it's not...
I don't care.
I'll just flash 'em.
er.
not the kids...
just the hot dads.
there are a bunch of hotties in our neighborhood, by the way.
Sluuuurp.
Tomorrow begins National Novel Writing Month.
The gist is: write 50,000 words (approx 175 pages) before November 30th.
no prize, just the rush of doing it, the thrill of accomplishing it.
I started and finished in 2002.
I have yet to make it past the first page since then.
But...
I think I might be ready to give it a shot.
No, I will not be posting my work as I go.
Stephen King says to write with the door closed,
and I don't think he just means so you don't get caught looking at pr0n.
which brings me back to my earlier reference,
and I feel you should know:
traditionl pr0n does nothing for me.
I get too distracted by the absurd fakeness of it.
That doesn't mean I don't want each and every one of you to send me the dirtiest possible photographs of yourself
(dirty sexy, not dirty unclean, for you pedantists out there)
um...
(in case my husband's reading...)
I was just kidding.
wink-wink.
Well, damn.
On that somewhat awkward note,
I think I'll go Lysol my brain & pick up the kids.
Happy Halloween!!!
Saturday, October 29, 2005
I have GOT to sue my OB
That fucking prick did a terrible job of severing the umbilical cords.
Such a hack.
Seriously, though?
WHY THE FUCK DO THEY LIKE ME SO MUCH????
I am not that nice.
one of them even told me straight out that I'm not as much fun as his 9 year old half brother.
psh.
whatever, like that kid has anything on me??
please.
I'm the Fun Master.
Ok, maybe not...
maybe all I ever want is to be left alone for long enough to become aware again of my own skin, my own reflection--my own armpit odor, fer chrissakes!!
my new office in our beautiful new basement is wonderful.
Sadly, the boys seem to think so, too.
even more sadly, the husband hasn't set up a tv in the living room down here yet.
so....
let's add this up:
boys can't stand to be out of spitting range from mommy dearest
minus
anything for them to do on this floor of our house
equals
hysteria.
(and not the Def Leppard song)
This office is on the small side--
although plenty big for MY needs.
add two loud (if sweet and wonderful) voices, chanting "make an 's' and slide to the top"...
we're practicing '8's........
ok, so it's damn cute.
but when I first attempted this post, they were doing more of a bickery thing.
It's more than I can bear, I tell ya.
(more beer?)
aw, fuck.
and we're supposed to go have dinner and play poker with some great friends tonight.
but.
we haven't exactly been successful at securing a babysitter.
I need a nanny.
and a maid.
and a LAWN BOY, baby!!!!!
sorry...having a bit of a bitch fest here, aren't I??
well, on a happy note:
at least my professor loved my unit project...
he even suggested that I should send it out to some magazines, see if I can get it published...
I think I'm going to cry.
Guess what you should all do?
go buy a cheap bouquet of flowers and put them in a vase, somewhere you'll see them a lot--kitchen table, desk, whatever.
I know Wal Mart has its evils, but when I get a lovely fresh flower bouquet for just under $4, as well as all my other grocery and drug store-type needs met???
sorry, I'm a customer.
Got a fucking great deal on my salon shampoo/conditioner yesterday,too.
that nearly caused a spontaneous orgasm, believe me.
See, I finally gave up my cynicism and tried a set of the expensive shit and was instantly converted--huge difference in my hair's behavior.
(hey, this just reminded me! I stumbled across this blog once, where the dude's only purpose was to click "next blog" and then write a review of the site he found there. Sadly, this guy has a small penis and a smaller brain because he never had anything good to say about any of the sites--I know, because I scrolled down and read as many reviews as I could. It was kind of humorous, I suppose...but I guess I'm just not that negative of a person. I like to see the best in people, and so I generally do. This has caused me a wide range of friends, who often don't get along with each other. Anyway, needless to say, my blog was his most recent review, which is how I ended up there--his link was on my list of referrers. It hurt my feelings a lot more than it should have, and one of the things he mentioned was that I had talked about my hair for 20 lines or something....I checked all my recent posts, and I had only mentioned my hair once, for 2 or 3 sentences. Fucker. wow...nice tangent...and do you like how I write in a slightly more conventional paragraph format when I'm inside a set of parentheses? There's something about those round, loving arms...they make feel safe and secure...heh. Ok. back to your regularly scheduled whatever-the-fuck-this-is).
Anywho, I'm now a sucker for the $20 shampoo.
but I got lucky yesterday, because the salon was having a sale.
I ended up getting about $60 worth of product for about $25.
yay!!
and now I just want to hang out in the bathroom and repeatedly condition my hair...
could have something to do with the fact that there's a lock on the door, too, though.
unlike my (god damn motherfucking) office.
eh.
I'll live.
It's just that I really only require an hour or so of peace and then I absolutely love spending time with them--we play UNO 412 times a day, and I'm ok with that.
they help me make cookies, and...er...that gives me a headache, actually.
we read books and more books together and that kicks ass.
so.
don't think I'm ungrateful...
I love the little turds.
oh yeah, and then there's the added bonus that if they're out of sight, they are not blessedly "out of mind", but more likely causing some great mischief, resulting in massive amounts of work for ME.
ok.
I'm totally finished ranting about my precious little bare-bottomed kids.
yes, they took a bath...
no, they don't like wearing clothes.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
cowboy take me away.
(sing it like a dixie chick, COME ON!!)
however, guess who has the BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD?
(for a million different reasons)
yup.
I do.
Even if I want to kill him at least 12% of the time, too.
oh well.
Ok.
the boys have bee upstairs for nearly 7 minutes now.
I guess I better go...
wish me luck...
(oh, and mostly: HAVE A FUCKING GREAT/WONDERFUL/FABULOUS/TERRIFIC weekend...)
Such a hack.
Seriously, though?
WHY THE FUCK DO THEY LIKE ME SO MUCH????
I am not that nice.
one of them even told me straight out that I'm not as much fun as his 9 year old half brother.
psh.
whatever, like that kid has anything on me??
please.
I'm the Fun Master.
Ok, maybe not...
maybe all I ever want is to be left alone for long enough to become aware again of my own skin, my own reflection--my own armpit odor, fer chrissakes!!
my new office in our beautiful new basement is wonderful.
Sadly, the boys seem to think so, too.
even more sadly, the husband hasn't set up a tv in the living room down here yet.
so....
let's add this up:
boys can't stand to be out of spitting range from mommy dearest
minus
anything for them to do on this floor of our house
equals
hysteria.
(and not the Def Leppard song)
This office is on the small side--
although plenty big for MY needs.
add two loud (if sweet and wonderful) voices, chanting "make an 's' and slide to the top"...
we're practicing '8's........
ok, so it's damn cute.
but when I first attempted this post, they were doing more of a bickery thing.
It's more than I can bear, I tell ya.
(more beer?)
aw, fuck.
and we're supposed to go have dinner and play poker with some great friends tonight.
but.
we haven't exactly been successful at securing a babysitter.
I need a nanny.
and a maid.
and a LAWN BOY, baby!!!!!
sorry...having a bit of a bitch fest here, aren't I??
well, on a happy note:
at least my professor loved my unit project...
he even suggested that I should send it out to some magazines, see if I can get it published...
I think I'm going to cry.
Guess what you should all do?
go buy a cheap bouquet of flowers and put them in a vase, somewhere you'll see them a lot--kitchen table, desk, whatever.
I know Wal Mart has its evils, but when I get a lovely fresh flower bouquet for just under $4, as well as all my other grocery and drug store-type needs met???
sorry, I'm a customer.
Got a fucking great deal on my salon shampoo/conditioner yesterday,too.
that nearly caused a spontaneous orgasm, believe me.
See, I finally gave up my cynicism and tried a set of the expensive shit and was instantly converted--huge difference in my hair's behavior.
(hey, this just reminded me! I stumbled across this blog once, where the dude's only purpose was to click "next blog" and then write a review of the site he found there. Sadly, this guy has a small penis and a smaller brain because he never had anything good to say about any of the sites--I know, because I scrolled down and read as many reviews as I could. It was kind of humorous, I suppose...but I guess I'm just not that negative of a person. I like to see the best in people, and so I generally do. This has caused me a wide range of friends, who often don't get along with each other. Anyway, needless to say, my blog was his most recent review, which is how I ended up there--his link was on my list of referrers. It hurt my feelings a lot more than it should have, and one of the things he mentioned was that I had talked about my hair for 20 lines or something....I checked all my recent posts, and I had only mentioned my hair once, for 2 or 3 sentences. Fucker. wow...nice tangent...and do you like how I write in a slightly more conventional paragraph format when I'm inside a set of parentheses? There's something about those round, loving arms...they make feel safe and secure...heh. Ok. back to your regularly scheduled whatever-the-fuck-this-is).
Anywho, I'm now a sucker for the $20 shampoo.
but I got lucky yesterday, because the salon was having a sale.
I ended up getting about $60 worth of product for about $25.
yay!!
and now I just want to hang out in the bathroom and repeatedly condition my hair...
could have something to do with the fact that there's a lock on the door, too, though.
unlike my (god damn motherfucking) office.
eh.
I'll live.
It's just that I really only require an hour or so of peace and then I absolutely love spending time with them--we play UNO 412 times a day, and I'm ok with that.
they help me make cookies, and...er...that gives me a headache, actually.
we read books and more books together and that kicks ass.
so.
don't think I'm ungrateful...
I love the little turds.
oh yeah, and then there's the added bonus that if they're out of sight, they are not blessedly "out of mind", but more likely causing some great mischief, resulting in massive amounts of work for ME.
ok.
I'm totally finished ranting about my precious little bare-bottomed kids.
yes, they took a bath...
no, they don't like wearing clothes.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
cowboy take me away.
(sing it like a dixie chick, COME ON!!)
however, guess who has the BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD?
(for a million different reasons)
yup.
I do.
Even if I want to kill him at least 12% of the time, too.
oh well.
Ok.
the boys have bee upstairs for nearly 7 minutes now.
I guess I better go...
wish me luck...
(oh, and mostly: HAVE A FUCKING GREAT/WONDERFUL/FABULOUS/TERRIFIC weekend...)
Friday, October 28, 2005
Housewife: Fully Rested
This is a beautiful thing.
Now, if only I could go around and retract the innumerable, crazy-girl comments I left yesterday...
ok, so I had a few moment of lucidity (no, not silent),
but I have vague and foggy recollections that make me cringe.
but cringing is half the fun.
or half the battle...?
(shut up, G.I. Joe--that's "knowing" not "cringing")
I think that not only should "half day" Kindergarten by OUTLAWED,
but god damn motherfucking "early out" Fridays should be burned at the stake.
guess what that means?
it means that my normally way-too-short 3 hours is cut down to TWO.
What the FUCK can you get done in two hours???
not much, I tell you what.
* dash off a quick post,
* take a quick shower,
* hurry to gym for trainer abuse
(said with a smile cuz I love to be pushed), and
* pick up kids.
I might even have time for a quick stop at the library
(if our stupid ass library opened before TEN. Or the kids' school last beyond 10:15)
ok, so it's a mild concern.
but, shit, ranting's kinda fun...
I had some thougths about silly putty yesterday...
something to the effect of: my brain felt like silly putty, and not just because I'm silly and absorb newsprint like a rubber stamp...
and it was true.
obviously.
It's strange to think of how my relationship with this blog has changed over the years.
Fridays used to be for fantasies...
I'm almost never in the mood to write one anymore, though.
and I'm not sure why.
something tells me it's a subconscious fear.
I had a really bad case of food poisoning from TGIFridays once and--
ok, no I didn't.
and I'm hungry.
and I almost never have the peace and quiet required to sink into a fantasy.
eh, I just learned that wanting things can be pushed to an unsafe degree, that's all.
because when I want something...it consumes me.
wow, I'm awfully serious for this time of the day.
hell, it's still dark outside!
(partly due to the rain)
I better go eat something and get to the gym.
If I can find the duct tape,
I'll be back later to write something that might
(POSSIBLY)
be worth reading.
but don't hold your breath.
(unless you're going under water, or the dude in the next cube has a habit of too few showers + too many burittos)
;aoijagojat;tlsdkmf{s0vzox;v,sal;gja;sdghadapoiawp3et to you.
Now, if only I could go around and retract the innumerable, crazy-girl comments I left yesterday...
ok, so I had a few moment of lucidity (no, not silent),
but I have vague and foggy recollections that make me cringe.
but cringing is half the fun.
or half the battle...?
(shut up, G.I. Joe--that's "knowing" not "cringing")
I think that not only should "half day" Kindergarten by OUTLAWED,
but god damn motherfucking "early out" Fridays should be burned at the stake.
guess what that means?
it means that my normally way-too-short 3 hours is cut down to TWO.
What the FUCK can you get done in two hours???
not much, I tell you what.
* dash off a quick post,
* take a quick shower,
* hurry to gym for trainer abuse
(said with a smile cuz I love to be pushed), and
* pick up kids.
I might even have time for a quick stop at the library
(if our stupid ass library opened before TEN. Or the kids' school last beyond 10:15)
ok, so it's a mild concern.
but, shit, ranting's kinda fun...
I had some thougths about silly putty yesterday...
something to the effect of: my brain felt like silly putty, and not just because I'm silly and absorb newsprint like a rubber stamp...
and it was true.
obviously.
It's strange to think of how my relationship with this blog has changed over the years.
Fridays used to be for fantasies...
I'm almost never in the mood to write one anymore, though.
and I'm not sure why.
something tells me it's a subconscious fear.
I had a really bad case of food poisoning from TGIFridays once and--
ok, no I didn't.
and I'm hungry.
and I almost never have the peace and quiet required to sink into a fantasy.
eh, I just learned that wanting things can be pushed to an unsafe degree, that's all.
because when I want something...it consumes me.
wow, I'm awfully serious for this time of the day.
hell, it's still dark outside!
(partly due to the rain)
I better go eat something and get to the gym.
If I can find the duct tape,
I'll be back later to write something that might
(POSSIBLY)
be worth reading.
but don't hold your breath.
(unless you're going under water, or the dude in the next cube has a habit of too few showers + too many burittos)
;aoijagojat;tlsdkmf{s0vzox;v,sal;gja;sdghadapoiawp3et to you.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Half-Nekkid Thursday
Or in my case, "Half-awake thursday"
or maybe half-dead thursday...
but it's ok because I think I'm mostly ready for my test.
and who said procrastination wasn't FUN????
wasn't me, that's fer damn sure.
I love it like a fudgsicle on a summer afternoon.
I love it like you loved your first puppy.
(i've never had a puppy. oh except that one my sister had named "Travis" and I was later in love with a travis...weird. Oh, shit, and that sharpe I tried to smuggle into my student apartment which didn't allow pets...that worked well.)
fucking god damn tangent.
That's my half-nekkid knee,
and my totally
(shockingly!)
naked hand.
I strive for balance 'round here.
Scroll down
if you're needing more skin...
*******************
I'm a little tired, if ya hadn't noticed the time stamp.
3 am.
do NOT start singing Matchbox 20.
...not because I don't looooove the Rob Thomas and his dark eyes and, hey I saw him in concert a few years ago,
but because my ears are still ringing.
guess what the half-life is of this game:
HUBBY: I can't hear anything!
ME: What?
HUBBY: I said I can't hear anything!
ME: WHAT??
HUBBY: My ears are ringing, so I can't hear anything!
ME: Yeah, I know...it was a joke...
no, don't actually tell me your guesses.
chances are you'll confuse the fuck out of me, and I'll think you're insulting me.
hey, I'm testy when I don't get any sleep,
AND I get screwed out of the Anthrax I was pining for...
yup, you heard me.
went to the show.
stoooooooooopid girl didn't read up on the ole Anthrax boys before heading out.
APPARENTLY they've reacquired their old singer.
the one they had in the 80s.
who, I'm pretty sure, they froze in 1985 and he was just thawed earlier this week.
CHRIST that was ugly.
and I'm not just talking about his hair...
he sang like...
well, like a poor imitation of Rob Halford (I'll get to him in a minute)
and.
they didn't sing any songs I know.
and my brother in law (whose convertible BMW I am now in sparkly-eyed possession of until further notice/he sobers up and wonders where the FUCK it is) uh...that parenthetical notation was way-too-fucking-long.
forgot my thought train.
or missed it, or derailed or--
just checked my inbox.
god DAMN some people are hot.
OKAY, ENOUGH WITH THE TRAIN.
uh...
oh yeah.
bro-in-law was a little pissed that we told him he would love Anthrax.
WHAT THE FUCK???
yeah....they sucked, man, sorry.
I'm going to have him listen to my favorite tracks.
he'll like them.
why?
because he has good taste in music.
and so do I.
and--
your mom!
fucking shit, hellfire, people, I'm not even drunk.
But I did finish my stydying.
er, most of it.
I wish that word was really spelled that way...
hahahaha!!
I just remembered it's HNT, so it's possible that a lot of folks who don't "know" me will be passing through.
well.
welcome to my fucking rabbit hole of a head.
(head like a hole??? I'd rather take a nap than give you control...wait, that's not right...)
ok, here's the deal, sparky...
who's sparky?
I'm going to start posting at 3 am every day.
I like the so-many-screws-loose-I'd -fall-apart-if-shaken Me.
she's cool.
or some temperature vaguely close to that.
fucking brain dead-ness of daylight hours.
Oh yeah: Judas Priest.
they put on a great moutehr fucking show
(wow, what word is that??)
I was tired and pre-occupied, though.
wondering if I should go out to the car and study,
wondering if I should join bro-in-law in the floor section to more fully emerse myself in teh show.
fucking SEATS at rock shows.
psh.
that's unnatural is what that is.
I even got a bright idea:
buy those fucking dr. scholl's "I'm gellin'!" insoles.
so I could stand there in high heeled boots for 6.3 hours and not want to kill even one single red neck.
yeah, there were a few there, why do you ask??
I love the dear mutants, though.
they make me feel smart and pretty.
ha.
everyone bow yuor heads and pray with me--
dear handsome, stylish, smart, funny god:
will you please make sure it doesn't rain tomorrow?
and if it doesn't, will you please whisper into my ear, so softly, instructions on how to open the lid on the Beamer?
Thanks, Man.
you're my best friend.
hey Procrastination?
you've been replaced.
God is now my best friend.
sucker!!
I want you guys to have a good day (and so does my Buddy Christ).
I get to have 4 hours of sleep--what more could a girl ask for???
hey, that's 4 more than I planned on, so what the fuck am I doing still awake???
oh yeah...skin...
fine.
bite me.
(yes...there...)
oh yeah, and please don't let me fall asleep while driving (someone else's car) or while taking the test...or before picking kids up from school, but DEFINITELY AFTER.
or maybe half-dead thursday...
but it's ok because I think I'm mostly ready for my test.
and who said procrastination wasn't FUN????
wasn't me, that's fer damn sure.
I love it like a fudgsicle on a summer afternoon.
I love it like you loved your first puppy.
(i've never had a puppy. oh except that one my sister had named "Travis" and I was later in love with a travis...weird. Oh, shit, and that sharpe I tried to smuggle into my student apartment which didn't allow pets...that worked well.)
fucking god damn tangent.
That's my half-nekkid knee,
and my totally
(shockingly!)
naked hand.
I strive for balance 'round here.
Scroll down
if you're needing more skin...
*******************
I'm a little tired, if ya hadn't noticed the time stamp.
3 am.
do NOT start singing Matchbox 20.
...not because I don't looooove the Rob Thomas and his dark eyes and, hey I saw him in concert a few years ago,
but because my ears are still ringing.
guess what the half-life is of this game:
HUBBY: I can't hear anything!
ME: What?
HUBBY: I said I can't hear anything!
ME: WHAT??
HUBBY: My ears are ringing, so I can't hear anything!
ME: Yeah, I know...it was a joke...
no, don't actually tell me your guesses.
chances are you'll confuse the fuck out of me, and I'll think you're insulting me.
hey, I'm testy when I don't get any sleep,
AND I get screwed out of the Anthrax I was pining for...
yup, you heard me.
went to the show.
stoooooooooopid girl didn't read up on the ole Anthrax boys before heading out.
APPARENTLY they've reacquired their old singer.
the one they had in the 80s.
who, I'm pretty sure, they froze in 1985 and he was just thawed earlier this week.
CHRIST that was ugly.
and I'm not just talking about his hair...
he sang like...
well, like a poor imitation of Rob Halford (I'll get to him in a minute)
and.
they didn't sing any songs I know.
and my brother in law (whose convertible BMW I am now in sparkly-eyed possession of until further notice/he sobers up and wonders where the FUCK it is) uh...that parenthetical notation was way-too-fucking-long.
forgot my thought train.
or missed it, or derailed or--
just checked my inbox.
god DAMN some people are hot.
OKAY, ENOUGH WITH THE TRAIN.
uh...
oh yeah.
bro-in-law was a little pissed that we told him he would love Anthrax.
WHAT THE FUCK???
yeah....they sucked, man, sorry.
I'm going to have him listen to my favorite tracks.
he'll like them.
why?
because he has good taste in music.
and so do I.
and--
your mom!
fucking shit, hellfire, people, I'm not even drunk.
But I did finish my stydying.
er, most of it.
I wish that word was really spelled that way...
hahahaha!!
I just remembered it's HNT, so it's possible that a lot of folks who don't "know" me will be passing through.
well.
welcome to my fucking rabbit hole of a head.
(head like a hole??? I'd rather take a nap than give you control...wait, that's not right...)
ok, here's the deal, sparky...
who's sparky?
I'm going to start posting at 3 am every day.
I like the so-many-screws-loose-I'd -fall-apart-if-shaken Me.
she's cool.
or some temperature vaguely close to that.
fucking brain dead-ness of daylight hours.
Oh yeah: Judas Priest.
they put on a great moutehr fucking show
(wow, what word is that??)
I was tired and pre-occupied, though.
wondering if I should go out to the car and study,
wondering if I should join bro-in-law in the floor section to more fully emerse myself in teh show.
fucking SEATS at rock shows.
psh.
that's unnatural is what that is.
I even got a bright idea:
buy those fucking dr. scholl's "I'm gellin'!" insoles.
so I could stand there in high heeled boots for 6.3 hours and not want to kill even one single red neck.
yeah, there were a few there, why do you ask??
I love the dear mutants, though.
they make me feel smart and pretty.
ha.
everyone bow yuor heads and pray with me--
dear handsome, stylish, smart, funny god:
will you please make sure it doesn't rain tomorrow?
and if it doesn't, will you please whisper into my ear, so softly, instructions on how to open the lid on the Beamer?
Thanks, Man.
you're my best friend.
hey Procrastination?
you've been replaced.
God is now my best friend.
sucker!!
I want you guys to have a good day (and so does my Buddy Christ).
I get to have 4 hours of sleep--what more could a girl ask for???
hey, that's 4 more than I planned on, so what the fuck am I doing still awake???
oh yeah...skin...
fine.
bite me.
(yes...there...)
oh yeah, and please don't let me fall asleep while driving (someone else's car) or while taking the test...or before picking kids up from school, but DEFINITELY AFTER.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Crunch Time
Test tomorrow morning.
Anthrax/Judas Priest tonight.
have already wasted too much time reading blogs to write a post...
more homework posted here, if you're interested.
love to you all--
in the form of kisses trailing up your arm,
a warm hug,
a warmer laugh,
and no regrets.
Tardily posted Braless Tuesday below.
Anthrax/Judas Priest tonight.
have already wasted too much time reading blogs to write a post...
more homework posted here, if you're interested.
love to you all--
in the form of kisses trailing up your arm,
a warm hug,
a warmer laugh,
and no regrets.
Tardily posted Braless Tuesday below.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Braless Tuesday
don't even fucking think about complaining about
or even MENTIONING my tardiness.
I do love you, I'm just buried in a pile of stress...
why couldn't I just be buried in a pile of beautiful fall leaves...?
oh yeah!
that's right: because there are only 6 trees in Utah.
it's hard to get a decent pile when there are no trees around.
shitpissfuckcocksuckermotherfuckerballsweat
well, I have to say, I feel a little better after that.
Sorry...
I guess the grouchies will pass soon.
as soon as someone borrows my kids.
Oh, but at least we are officially planning on going to the Judas Priest/Anthrax show.
will you guys please remind me to print out a couple of my half-nekkid shots with my URL on them, so I can fold them into paper airplanes and throw them to the stage?
thanks.
hey, it's the 21st century version of throwing one's bra.
and it's MY idea.
so dont' fucking steal it.
cunts.
wow...all this rage...
I should probably take it out on my husband tonight...
yes, like that.
Oh, look...it's a two-fer Tuesday...
yes, a little blurry.
but I was in the mood to really flash you guys, ok??
that far tit looks a little funky.
maybe I have a problem.
maybe YOU do.
piss up a rope.
or even MENTIONING my tardiness.
I do love you, I'm just buried in a pile of stress...
why couldn't I just be buried in a pile of beautiful fall leaves...?
oh yeah!
that's right: because there are only 6 trees in Utah.
it's hard to get a decent pile when there are no trees around.
shitpissfuckcocksuckermotherfuckerballsweat
well, I have to say, I feel a little better after that.
Sorry...
I guess the grouchies will pass soon.
as soon as someone borrows my kids.
Oh, but at least we are officially planning on going to the Judas Priest/Anthrax show.
will you guys please remind me to print out a couple of my half-nekkid shots with my URL on them, so I can fold them into paper airplanes and throw them to the stage?
thanks.
hey, it's the 21st century version of throwing one's bra.
and it's MY idea.
so dont' fucking steal it.
cunts.
wow...all this rage...
I should probably take it out on my husband tonight...
yes, like that.
Oh, look...it's a two-fer Tuesday...
yes, a little blurry.
but I was in the mood to really flash you guys, ok??
that far tit looks a little funky.
maybe I have a problem.
maybe YOU do.
piss up a rope.
Raindrops on Roses...
and whiskers on kittens.
you might be wondering if those are a few of my favorite things.
eh, i suppose.
i mean, not if it's a short list, but possibly in the top twenty or thirty.
hangnails and burned tongues, ehhh, not so much.
so now that you're all caught up on that.
(repost, from feb 25, 2004--hey, I'm late for school, hungry, tired, and just plain fucking ornery. Be glad I found ya a post that does NOT reflect my true mood. kisses--)
just reminded my husband of the whole "making an ass out of u and me" clause associated with assumptions.
he said his boss was meeting with E and Y.
I asked what that was.
he went into this long winded explanation of the fact that they're an actuarial consulting firm and that some companies don't hire actuaries they just contract it out to a consultant and blah blah BLAH.
i'm nearly snoring at this point and he says something about Ernst and Young are blah blah blah.
and i say, 'E and Y???? why didn't you just tell me it stood for Ernst and Young??'
apparently i'm the only person alive who's not on acronym basis with them.
what're the odds?
(hee hee hee hee hee)
so i did it.
i submitted an article to Lick magazine.
i have another one ready to go, but i'll wait for a while.
and i guess i'm not supposed to tell you which one it is, because that's the whole point...
but the updated issue comes out on Sunday, so you should all go read it because there will be a bunch of great posts, as usual.
i love this concept.
it gets me all twittery every time i think of it, all the possibilities for gut spillage--for creativity--for story telling.
sparkles my eye, upturns my lips.
i want to wrap myself in satin and smoke something.
i want to run through a warm rain in my bare feet.
i want to climb a tree, row a boat, ride a horse.
i want to drive a fast car, slow around a curve then bury that needle.
i want to remember to appreciate the easy, happy life i have.
i want to run a marathon.
i want to have time to read thoroughly and enjoy every email, blog post, and milk carton.
i want to sit on the moon and read a book, take a nap.
i am a fountain pouring my thoughts and feelings into the sky as they splash down around me.
good night.
sleep tight.
if you have bed bugs--call the exterminator you cheap bastard.
you might be wondering if those are a few of my favorite things.
eh, i suppose.
i mean, not if it's a short list, but possibly in the top twenty or thirty.
hangnails and burned tongues, ehhh, not so much.
so now that you're all caught up on that.
(repost, from feb 25, 2004--hey, I'm late for school, hungry, tired, and just plain fucking ornery. Be glad I found ya a post that does NOT reflect my true mood. kisses--)
just reminded my husband of the whole "making an ass out of u and me" clause associated with assumptions.
he said his boss was meeting with E and Y.
I asked what that was.
he went into this long winded explanation of the fact that they're an actuarial consulting firm and that some companies don't hire actuaries they just contract it out to a consultant and blah blah BLAH.
i'm nearly snoring at this point and he says something about Ernst and Young are blah blah blah.
and i say, 'E and Y???? why didn't you just tell me it stood for Ernst and Young??'
apparently i'm the only person alive who's not on acronym basis with them.
what're the odds?
(hee hee hee hee hee)
so i did it.
i submitted an article to Lick magazine.
i have another one ready to go, but i'll wait for a while.
and i guess i'm not supposed to tell you which one it is, because that's the whole point...
but the updated issue comes out on Sunday, so you should all go read it because there will be a bunch of great posts, as usual.
i love this concept.
it gets me all twittery every time i think of it, all the possibilities for gut spillage--for creativity--for story telling.
sparkles my eye, upturns my lips.
i want to wrap myself in satin and smoke something.
i want to run through a warm rain in my bare feet.
i want to climb a tree, row a boat, ride a horse.
i want to drive a fast car, slow around a curve then bury that needle.
i want to remember to appreciate the easy, happy life i have.
i want to run a marathon.
i want to have time to read thoroughly and enjoy every email, blog post, and milk carton.
i want to sit on the moon and read a book, take a nap.
i am a fountain pouring my thoughts and feelings into the sky as they splash down around me.
good night.
sleep tight.
if you have bed bugs--call the exterminator you cheap bastard.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Home again, home again, jiggity jig...
Oh, just pretend you didn't read that title, ok???
I don't think that's too much to ask.
After all, I do bare my soul (and most of my body!) for you guys.
So the weekend was lovely, in myriad ways.
Good food, great scenery, conversation, etc.
The play was fantastic,
karaoke night at the local bar was surprisingly gentle on the ears (and eyes!),
and antique shopping was soothing for the soul--
especially since the husbands hung out at the cabin playing play station while we shopped.
I found some cool old signs that I REALLY wanted to get for my new office
(which I'm using right now!!)
(the office, not the signs)
but decided against it because I wasn't sure when the kids would catch on,
and frankly I don't think they need to know what a pervert their mother is.
yes, you heard right:
after 2.3 months, our basement is finally finished!
The carpet went smoothly, and we moved some stuff down here last night.
my office is set up, just need one of those roller-mats for my gorgeous chair.
we still need to get desks, and a poker table, but it's looking good for now.
The husband wants to wait until Christmas to get the projection tv thing, but I'm going to try to talk him into doing it sooner.
It feels weird to have my computer so far away from the action.
As much as I hated having it in the middle of so much chaos,
it was kind of convenient for my obsessive checking of email and comments.
oh well.
ya can't have it all, right??
I do have a test to study for, though.
I don't want to jinx myself, because it's probably already sold out, but...
there's a show we're going to attempt to attend on Wednesday.
I'm not sure how I missed the fact that ANTHRAX was touring with Judas Priest.
Judas Priest, fine, good, whatever.
but ANTHRAX.
ooooh....must. go.
I'm pretty sure that my brain is still asleep.
I wonder if it's still having that crazy dream about the assassin...
I'm sure I have more to say, but alas, there is that test to study for.
and the sleeping brain.
have a happy Monday.
I'll write later if I wake up...
I don't think that's too much to ask.
After all, I do bare my soul (and most of my body!) for you guys.
So the weekend was lovely, in myriad ways.
Good food, great scenery, conversation, etc.
The play was fantastic,
karaoke night at the local bar was surprisingly gentle on the ears (and eyes!),
and antique shopping was soothing for the soul--
especially since the husbands hung out at the cabin playing play station while we shopped.
I found some cool old signs that I REALLY wanted to get for my new office
(which I'm using right now!!)
(the office, not the signs)
but decided against it because I wasn't sure when the kids would catch on,
and frankly I don't think they need to know what a pervert their mother is.
yes, you heard right:
after 2.3 months, our basement is finally finished!
The carpet went smoothly, and we moved some stuff down here last night.
my office is set up, just need one of those roller-mats for my gorgeous chair.
we still need to get desks, and a poker table, but it's looking good for now.
The husband wants to wait until Christmas to get the projection tv thing, but I'm going to try to talk him into doing it sooner.
It feels weird to have my computer so far away from the action.
As much as I hated having it in the middle of so much chaos,
it was kind of convenient for my obsessive checking of email and comments.
oh well.
ya can't have it all, right??
I do have a test to study for, though.
I don't want to jinx myself, because it's probably already sold out, but...
there's a show we're going to attempt to attend on Wednesday.
I'm not sure how I missed the fact that ANTHRAX was touring with Judas Priest.
Judas Priest, fine, good, whatever.
but ANTHRAX.
ooooh....must. go.
I'm pretty sure that my brain is still asleep.
I wonder if it's still having that crazy dream about the assassin...
I'm sure I have more to say, but alas, there is that test to study for.
and the sleeping brain.
have a happy Monday.
I'll write later if I wake up...
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Sex, Drugs & Rock n Roll
one of these things does not belong.
that would be "drugs", unless you count alcohol, which I sorta think you should.
you almost got a VERY drunk post last night--
I was barely coherant, but still thinking of you.
I couldn't quite manage to ask my husband to log in to his computer for me, though, and since his laptop's a work machine, he won't give me the password,
and therefore, I was unable to post.
it's as good an excuse as any, right?
it's possible that I just bought a fur coat from an antique/consignment store, here in small town Utah for $15.
How cool is that???
and yes, I'll post a picture.
I also tried on a gorgeous camel-hair coat, but it was too small.
I am have having some pre-dinner drinks right now, but have not yet even approached the "buzzed" point.
so sorry.
I'll try again later.
and now my friend is asking me all about blogging--
so I'm explaining it all to her,
and will now show her the site.
don't anybody say anything...
be vewy vewy quiet...
I'm hoping she won't notice all the nudity...
sh....
miss you, later--
that would be "drugs", unless you count alcohol, which I sorta think you should.
you almost got a VERY drunk post last night--
I was barely coherant, but still thinking of you.
I couldn't quite manage to ask my husband to log in to his computer for me, though, and since his laptop's a work machine, he won't give me the password,
and therefore, I was unable to post.
it's as good an excuse as any, right?
it's possible that I just bought a fur coat from an antique/consignment store, here in small town Utah for $15.
How cool is that???
and yes, I'll post a picture.
I also tried on a gorgeous camel-hair coat, but it was too small.
I am have having some pre-dinner drinks right now, but have not yet even approached the "buzzed" point.
so sorry.
I'll try again later.
and now my friend is asking me all about blogging--
so I'm explaining it all to her,
and will now show her the site.
don't anybody say anything...
be vewy vewy quiet...
I'm hoping she won't notice all the nudity...
sh....
miss you, later--
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Half-nekkid Thursday
Ok, well, without further ado--
No, that's not a zit.
It's my stud.
er...hey there, stud...
wait! not like that!
nose ring/stud. thing.
yeah.
oh, and I don't know why my upper chest is so red.
so don't ask.
I am going out of town for the rest of the weekend,
leaving Thursday evening.
I cannot express my joyful anticipation any better than this:
FUCKING RIGHT, BABY!
happy weekend to you all--
No, that's not a zit.
It's my stud.
er...hey there, stud...
wait! not like that!
nose ring/stud. thing.
yeah.
oh, and I don't know why my upper chest is so red.
so don't ask.
I am going out of town for the rest of the weekend,
leaving Thursday evening.
I cannot express my joyful anticipation any better than this:
FUCKING RIGHT, BABY!
happy weekend to you all--
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
It's a beautiful day outside,
and I've had a great day.
But...
in the stillness my heart becomes heavy,
my thoughts are pulled in a direction I don't want to go.
I don't want to ask myself if I've lost heart.
I don't want to find the answer to whether or not I've lost one of the best things about me...
my ability to sympathize, to empathize.
I don't know where it went, or why.
Or if it's really gone, at all.
Maybe it's just on vacation...
or maybe it has been tempered by time.
It hurts too much when I feel everyone's pain.
and it does no one any good.
But it sure does feel strange not to feel certain kinds of pain.
or to react to certain news with a blink and a marked lack of emotion--
a dullness in my chest.
Sometimes I wonder how much my marriage has changed me.
and while I will readily point out the positive changes...
I hate to place blame.
I would hate to not take responsibility.
but there is a certain re-shaping that has occurred,
and it's been slow, hardly noticeable.
but I fear that I've lost some things, some small, tender parts of me...
parts that I need.
parts that are requisite to my view of this world.
Can I get an X-ray...?
I sent a package to my parents--
a few things they left in the guest room on their last visit.
(april)
I also printed out all of my homework so they could see.
Since most of the writing I've done over the past couple of years has been somewhat un-parent-friendly, I was glad to have something to show them.
My mom called me, breathlessly, on Monday.
She was so excited to have seen what I am doing, and so proud...
that was a great moment.
It was her idea for me to write.
It was, in fact, a very special moment, but I didn't have anyone to relate it to,
so I guess you guys get to know.
My husband got that promotion I mentioned the other day.
It'll be great for his career.
and I guess I like money, so that's nice.
I hate being alone, though.
The upside is, I'll have more time for writing when he's gone.
bleh.
I think I'll write a more upbeat post a little later...
I also think I crushed my fucking pinky finger today at the gym.
housewife out.
But...
in the stillness my heart becomes heavy,
my thoughts are pulled in a direction I don't want to go.
I don't want to ask myself if I've lost heart.
I don't want to find the answer to whether or not I've lost one of the best things about me...
my ability to sympathize, to empathize.
I don't know where it went, or why.
Or if it's really gone, at all.
Maybe it's just on vacation...
or maybe it has been tempered by time.
It hurts too much when I feel everyone's pain.
and it does no one any good.
But it sure does feel strange not to feel certain kinds of pain.
or to react to certain news with a blink and a marked lack of emotion--
a dullness in my chest.
Sometimes I wonder how much my marriage has changed me.
and while I will readily point out the positive changes...
I hate to place blame.
I would hate to not take responsibility.
but there is a certain re-shaping that has occurred,
and it's been slow, hardly noticeable.
but I fear that I've lost some things, some small, tender parts of me...
parts that I need.
parts that are requisite to my view of this world.
Can I get an X-ray...?
I sent a package to my parents--
a few things they left in the guest room on their last visit.
(april)
I also printed out all of my homework so they could see.
Since most of the writing I've done over the past couple of years has been somewhat un-parent-friendly, I was glad to have something to show them.
My mom called me, breathlessly, on Monday.
She was so excited to have seen what I am doing, and so proud...
that was a great moment.
It was her idea for me to write.
It was, in fact, a very special moment, but I didn't have anyone to relate it to,
so I guess you guys get to know.
My husband got that promotion I mentioned the other day.
It'll be great for his career.
and I guess I like money, so that's nice.
I hate being alone, though.
The upside is, I'll have more time for writing when he's gone.
bleh.
I think I'll write a more upbeat post a little later...
I also think I crushed my fucking pinky finger today at the gym.
housewife out.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Oh my...
I am such a bitch.
What's weird is, I'm really not.
Or at least I didn't used to be...
maybe I'm getting bitchier as I let go of the need to please everyone else.
anyway.
the point is:
today was one of those days where the kids seem to be working for the CIA--
or whoever has a vested interest in my loss of sanity.
(god DAMN these cookies are good!! and I feel guilty for a reason besides the obvious, but I'm getting ahead of myself...)
anywho, it was a stressful day for me, I guess.
lots of whining and fussing and MESSES.
So.
last word from hubby around 2pm was that he would home at "the regular time"--5:30 or 6:00.
It has now reached 8pm and he hasn't answered his phone for the last 3 hours.
I have finally secured my solitude, at the very least, and cleaned up 90% of their messes...
just slipped into my PJs, and hunkered down in the main floor bathroom for a nice, relaxing pee.
(hey! you trying peeing with 2 five year olds swarming you!! not. fun.)
when.
the doorbell rings.
what
the
fuck??? blaaaaaaaaaaah......
a feeling of resignation washes over me as I check my jammies for obvious stains or modesty issues and head for the front door.
three cute little women standing there, one holding a (fucking luscious!!!) package of homebacked chocolate chip (oh my mouth-gasm) cookies....
for you Utah readers: yup. The Ward found me.
Oh, I'm so ashamed...
My mom raised me to be polite.
but jesus fucking christ.
It was bad timing.
so, they all smiled and the one holding the (god damn mouth watering) cookies said,
"Hi, we're from the Ward, just going around visiting everyone...."
The bitch who was in possession of my body/mouth said,
"I don't have a ward."
good lord, I'm nasty.
here they are...
with COOKIES ("c" is for the crumbs i'll lick out of the bottom of the bag, "oo" is for the sound I'll make while scarfing them, "k" is for the kinetic energy I'll need to burn these calories, "i" is for the incredible taste sensations, "e" is for the elegance with which they sat, in their little celephane bag with ribbons, "s" is for the saliva I'm accruing just thinking of the rest of them over there on the counter...)
ahem.
where was I??
See.
here's the thing about the Mormons.
Individually?
I like just about every one of 'em I've met.
that's how they GET you!
they're LIKEABLE!!
It's really more the misogyny and opressiveness that I detest about the religion,
than it is the people themselves.
I mean...Utah is full of asshats, and the fact that most of them are mormon makes the lines all a little blurry for me.
help.
anyway, I finally broke down and offered the "I just put on my pjs and i'm mad at my husband for being late, I'm sorry I was so gruff with you." excuse.
and we chatted pleasantly for a bit...
but I still feel like an asshole.
and eating the cookies makes me feel super guilty.
because one of those nice ladies spent her time baking beautiful (gorgeously edible) cookies. for a bunch of thankless bitter britches like me????
siiiigh.
I'll probably have to re-enlist.
HOW CAN YOU FIGHT COOKIES???
so.
I really needed to vent about my litter box of a day,
but instead those poor sweet ladies got a very inhospitable welcome.
oh, I didn't just stop at "I didn't think I had a Ward." (that's like a congregation for those of you who don't do Mormon speak...)
oh no. I went on with a little something like, "how did they find me?" and a dash of "I was hoping they wouldn't" toppped off with a "god DAMN I hate Mormons!!" ok, not that last one...but I can't remember any more of them.
one thing I do know is this:
Thursday, my kids may not have school, but I.
I get my carpet laid (yes it's a firm date, but we'll see...)
and.
I get to drop said demon spawn off at the demonic grandmother's house,
and keep heading south.
Cedar City, baby.
Shakespeare Festival.
And on Friday we'll go to Zion or Bryce and hikey hike.
I am pretty sure that I'll have to wait...
but I can't!!!!!!!
The promise of this weekend is literally saving my life at the moment.
fucking full moon.
fucknig hormones.
fucking husband.
(why yes, he is, and fairly skilled, I might add...)
do you want to know the worst part of him being late and incommunicado?
(or however that's fucking spelled...)
that it is A. probably entirely justified and 2. he's tireder than I am.
yes, I went from A to 2, and yes, I used the wrong superlative form of 'tired'.
I'm pretty sure you all know how to
FUCK OFF.
if not, email me.
I'll give you detailed instructions.
ok, I feel a little better...
I did encourage them to invite me to fun stuff...
bleh.
It's really not the religious aspect of it that's making me feel so bad, just for the record--
it's the fact that was kinda rude.
to nice people.
makes me want to cry, actually.
and here we are, back to the full moon/hormones issue again.
sorrry...
let's look at a beautiful picture of the sunset in Maine.
so we can cheer up.
Oh yeah, and I typed responses to yesterday's comments, but then my son pushed the escape key.
apparently that deletes haloscan comments if they're not posted yet.
and I had already punished him every way I know how, and I was on the phone finalizing details for this weekend with the other couple, so he pretty much got away with it.
he got a firm lecture about how important mommy's computer is, but I'm pretty sure he didn't give a flying fuck.
I should probably mention how incredibly beautiful and smart and funny my little boys are...
just so that knot in the pit of my stomach doesn't expand to the size of Brazil.
fuck this day.
fuck it in the ass.
with no lube and no foreplay.
Sorry I've been so grouchy lately...
I bet I'll have something more cheerful posted by at least Sunday.
(oh boy, here comes the other flavor of hormones...)
I really love you guys.
I honestly truly completely do.
sure, some of you I'm closer to than others, but I really love you all.
I love reading your words, and seeing your lives.
I love this bizarre little social situation, where it's like we're friends...only digital.
Some day...
I will drive around the country being crazy and free, writing and thinking, singing and dancing--
and when I do.
I will come and visit each and every last damned one of ya.
Now.
I'm going to go put some time in on my compilation book thingy.
because if Tony can do a blook, I can do a blook.
(I'm not linking him because if I do, he might come here, and I wouldn't want to drag his Rock Star ass all the way over here just for this post.)
have a good day......night, whatever.
What's weird is, I'm really not.
Or at least I didn't used to be...
maybe I'm getting bitchier as I let go of the need to please everyone else.
anyway.
the point is:
today was one of those days where the kids seem to be working for the CIA--
or whoever has a vested interest in my loss of sanity.
(god DAMN these cookies are good!! and I feel guilty for a reason besides the obvious, but I'm getting ahead of myself...)
anywho, it was a stressful day for me, I guess.
lots of whining and fussing and MESSES.
So.
last word from hubby around 2pm was that he would home at "the regular time"--5:30 or 6:00.
It has now reached 8pm and he hasn't answered his phone for the last 3 hours.
I have finally secured my solitude, at the very least, and cleaned up 90% of their messes...
just slipped into my PJs, and hunkered down in the main floor bathroom for a nice, relaxing pee.
(hey! you trying peeing with 2 five year olds swarming you!! not. fun.)
when.
the doorbell rings.
what
the
fuck??? blaaaaaaaaaaah......
a feeling of resignation washes over me as I check my jammies for obvious stains or modesty issues and head for the front door.
three cute little women standing there, one holding a (fucking luscious!!!) package of homebacked chocolate chip (oh my mouth-gasm) cookies....
for you Utah readers: yup. The Ward found me.
Oh, I'm so ashamed...
My mom raised me to be polite.
but jesus fucking christ.
It was bad timing.
so, they all smiled and the one holding the (god damn mouth watering) cookies said,
"Hi, we're from the Ward, just going around visiting everyone...."
The bitch who was in possession of my body/mouth said,
"I don't have a ward."
good lord, I'm nasty.
here they are...
with COOKIES ("c" is for the crumbs i'll lick out of the bottom of the bag, "oo" is for the sound I'll make while scarfing them, "k" is for the kinetic energy I'll need to burn these calories, "i" is for the incredible taste sensations, "e" is for the elegance with which they sat, in their little celephane bag with ribbons, "s" is for the saliva I'm accruing just thinking of the rest of them over there on the counter...)
ahem.
where was I??
See.
here's the thing about the Mormons.
Individually?
I like just about every one of 'em I've met.
that's how they GET you!
they're LIKEABLE!!
It's really more the misogyny and opressiveness that I detest about the religion,
than it is the people themselves.
I mean...Utah is full of asshats, and the fact that most of them are mormon makes the lines all a little blurry for me.
help.
anyway, I finally broke down and offered the "I just put on my pjs and i'm mad at my husband for being late, I'm sorry I was so gruff with you." excuse.
and we chatted pleasantly for a bit...
but I still feel like an asshole.
and eating the cookies makes me feel super guilty.
because one of those nice ladies spent her time baking beautiful (gorgeously edible) cookies. for a bunch of thankless bitter britches like me????
siiiigh.
I'll probably have to re-enlist.
HOW CAN YOU FIGHT COOKIES???
so.
I really needed to vent about my litter box of a day,
but instead those poor sweet ladies got a very inhospitable welcome.
oh, I didn't just stop at "I didn't think I had a Ward." (that's like a congregation for those of you who don't do Mormon speak...)
oh no. I went on with a little something like, "how did they find me?" and a dash of "I was hoping they wouldn't" toppped off with a "god DAMN I hate Mormons!!" ok, not that last one...but I can't remember any more of them.
one thing I do know is this:
Thursday, my kids may not have school, but I.
I get my carpet laid (yes it's a firm date, but we'll see...)
and.
I get to drop said demon spawn off at the demonic grandmother's house,
and keep heading south.
Cedar City, baby.
Shakespeare Festival.
And on Friday we'll go to Zion or Bryce and hikey hike.
I am pretty sure that I'll have to wait...
but I can't!!!!!!!
The promise of this weekend is literally saving my life at the moment.
fucking full moon.
fucknig hormones.
fucking husband.
(why yes, he is, and fairly skilled, I might add...)
do you want to know the worst part of him being late and incommunicado?
(or however that's fucking spelled...)
that it is A. probably entirely justified and 2. he's tireder than I am.
yes, I went from A to 2, and yes, I used the wrong superlative form of 'tired'.
I'm pretty sure you all know how to
FUCK OFF.
if not, email me.
I'll give you detailed instructions.
ok, I feel a little better...
I did encourage them to invite me to fun stuff...
bleh.
It's really not the religious aspect of it that's making me feel so bad, just for the record--
it's the fact that was kinda rude.
to nice people.
makes me want to cry, actually.
and here we are, back to the full moon/hormones issue again.
sorrry...
let's look at a beautiful picture of the sunset in Maine.
so we can cheer up.
Oh yeah, and I typed responses to yesterday's comments, but then my son pushed the escape key.
apparently that deletes haloscan comments if they're not posted yet.
and I had already punished him every way I know how, and I was on the phone finalizing details for this weekend with the other couple, so he pretty much got away with it.
he got a firm lecture about how important mommy's computer is, but I'm pretty sure he didn't give a flying fuck.
I should probably mention how incredibly beautiful and smart and funny my little boys are...
just so that knot in the pit of my stomach doesn't expand to the size of Brazil.
fuck this day.
fuck it in the ass.
with no lube and no foreplay.
Sorry I've been so grouchy lately...
I bet I'll have something more cheerful posted by at least Sunday.
(oh boy, here comes the other flavor of hormones...)
I really love you guys.
I honestly truly completely do.
sure, some of you I'm closer to than others, but I really love you all.
I love reading your words, and seeing your lives.
I love this bizarre little social situation, where it's like we're friends...only digital.
Some day...
I will drive around the country being crazy and free, writing and thinking, singing and dancing--
and when I do.
I will come and visit each and every last damned one of ya.
Now.
I'm going to go put some time in on my compilation book thingy.
because if Tony can do a blook, I can do a blook.
(I'm not linking him because if I do, he might come here, and I wouldn't want to drag his Rock Star ass all the way over here just for this post.)
have a good day......night, whatever.
Braless Tuesday
Yeah, it's that time of the week again.
So the big question seems to be:
Why?
Quite simply, because Tuesday didn't have a "thing".
Mondays suck
Wednesay is hump day
Thursday is almost friday
Friday is the beginning of the weekend...
However.
Tuesdays are invisble--like wallflowers, not superheroes or ghosts.
Tuesdays are the last kid to get picked for the kick ball team.
Tuesdays are the fat free cookies that taste FAT FREE.
Tuesdays are ugly and smelly--
like that pair of shoes in the back of your closet.
(ok, fine, some of you are probably wearing that pair...)
Tuesdays???
No one Thanked God for Tuesdays before this little venture, I tell ya what.
heh.
Anyway...
I decided to add a little sparkle to MY Tuesdays.
By walking around with a little secret.
by being extra comfortable all day.
by wondering if anyone actually notices that I'm without a bra--
and if so, what do they think.
I hope they're scornful...
I hope they're jealous of my freedom and inspired to follow suit.
AND THEN.
I got bullied into posting proof.
(yes, I'm snickering at that thought...an exhibitionist doesn't get bullied into flashing, right??)
so here we are.
the evolution of a phenomenon.
(or something.)
Ok.
So...
perhaps a little less conversation, a little more action...?
yes?
you think?
what, like right now???
ok, ok...
I'll choose a picture.
shit, it looks like all the pictures I took today were for Half Nekkid Thursday...
but.
I guess...
this is close enough.
I am sans brasiere, after all.
I'm sans anything but a bandana, frankly.
(is it weird that I use that word so much, considering I lost my virginity to a guy named "Frank"?)
Happy Braless Tuesday, kids.
don't poke an eye out.
So the big question seems to be:
Why?
Quite simply, because Tuesday didn't have a "thing".
Mondays suck
Wednesay is hump day
Thursday is almost friday
Friday is the beginning of the weekend...
However.
Tuesdays are invisble--like wallflowers, not superheroes or ghosts.
Tuesdays are the last kid to get picked for the kick ball team.
Tuesdays are the fat free cookies that taste FAT FREE.
Tuesdays are ugly and smelly--
like that pair of shoes in the back of your closet.
(ok, fine, some of you are probably wearing that pair...)
Tuesdays???
No one Thanked God for Tuesdays before this little venture, I tell ya what.
heh.
Anyway...
I decided to add a little sparkle to MY Tuesdays.
By walking around with a little secret.
by being extra comfortable all day.
by wondering if anyone actually notices that I'm without a bra--
and if so, what do they think.
I hope they're scornful...
I hope they're jealous of my freedom and inspired to follow suit.
AND THEN.
I got bullied into posting proof.
(yes, I'm snickering at that thought...an exhibitionist doesn't get bullied into flashing, right??)
so here we are.
the evolution of a phenomenon.
(or something.)
Ok.
So...
perhaps a little less conversation, a little more action...?
yes?
you think?
what, like right now???
ok, ok...
I'll choose a picture.
shit, it looks like all the pictures I took today were for Half Nekkid Thursday...
but.
I guess...
this is close enough.
I am sans brasiere, after all.
I'm sans anything but a bandana, frankly.
(is it weird that I use that word so much, considering I lost my virginity to a guy named "Frank"?)
Happy Braless Tuesday, kids.
don't poke an eye out.
Monday, October 17, 2005
My favorite time of the blog day…
Is right.
Now.
My house is so quiet I can hear the fan on my CPU.
I can see occasional flashes of lightening in the slim windows above the shutters…
And sometimes, a jet.
I love twilight
(which it’s not…)
because the jets are more visible than the stars,
easily discerned.
And did I mention that I haven’t felt my voice for days…
Not the one that comes through my throat
and mouth
and tongue
and teeth.
The one whispering through the winding pathways in my head…
It has been too loud here.
Oh, what a fucking weekend.
FUCKING.
GOD DAMN STUPID.
Weekend.
Exhausting, non-restorative, shitty.
Weekend…
Book ended by fabulousness.
I haven’t made up a word in a while…
I’m sure I will soon.
Am I sounding scattered to you?
I almost feel scattered.
I am skipping rather quickly through the thoughts
Because…
They are lined up eagerly…
And they all tumble out.
You know the drill:through my fingers, and into your eyes.
But I want to slow down…
Complete a thought—
Or two.
My leg just fell asleep.
So, here’s the recap:
Crappy weekend, book ended by fabulousness.
I should dwell on the fabulous.
(ness.)
Friday night: good food, good friends, great conversation.
Fast forward through the domestic pain that was Saturday and the first half of Sunday—
(pain of the “my kids are driving me nuts” variety, just fyi.)
to my afternoon with J.
My best best best friend.
We had a lovely…
Late lunch? Early dinner?
Whichever.
So good to catch up.
We’re both busy, etc…you know how it goes.
We don’t get together as often as we should.
She is an amazing woman, and I am so proud of her.
Saw an old friend…
Sunday nights are magical…
They are like an empty canvas,
Only without all the paint fumes…
Go ahead, give me a “what the fuck?” I dare ya.
I’m just glad the boys have school in the morning AND I DON’T.
Glory
Glory
Hallelujah.
Whoever said, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” was most definitely talking about mothers of spazzy twins.
Like, fer sure.
God DAMN I love those kids…
Even more when I’ve had a few hours to myself.
Carpet is FINA-fucking-LLY getting laid in the basement this week.
Was that déjà vu, or did I already say that, LAST WEEK??
…I guess I should stop counting my cocks before they hatch, eh?
What???
They could all be male baby chickens!!!!
Um…is it strange that all that cock talk made me horny?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Be glad you didn’t admit to your somewhat-conservative best friend that you showcase your bralessness every Tuesday to a bunch of strangers on your highly nerdy by nature website…huh? No, I don’t know what I said, either. (ok, maybe I do, but I didn’t want you to feel bad. Or make fun of my long/retarded sentence. Bite me.)
Ok, on that note…
Happy Monday, fuckers.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
I'm pretty sure some aliens abducted my brain
What?
It's clearly missing, and that makes as much sense as the "ran away with the circus" theory.
I was about to write a post...
it's possible it would have been the best post I've EVER written.
(yes, it's much more likely that it would have been among the bottom 10%, but since it didn't happen, I can pretend whatever I want...right?)
so.
I was about to write a post, but then my kids plowed
tumbled
charged
swarmed
through...
and took my last coherant thought with them.
...I wonder what they'll use it for?
probably to pad the landing when they jump from the top bunk.
I think I've mentioned my post office allergy before,
and I think I've also developed a bit of a call-the-babysitter rash as well.
It's really strange...
and mostly it sucks.
cuz when the weekend hits,
all I want is dinner and drinks, out on the town.
and these days, I keep finding myself without a babysitter.
and it rots
licks
stinks
sucks
blows
reeks.
at least I won't have to worry about it next weekend...
we'll be out of town.
yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!
oh, for fuck's sake.
one of the boys has decided that he needs a bath.
now.
and I told him to ask his father to fill the tub, since they're upstairs and I'm down.
this isn't working for some reason.
and child is having a melt down.
yaaaaaaaaaaay!!!
oh
my
fucking
christ.
I'm going to lose my mind.
oh wait...the aliens have it.
see?
I told ya.
I couldn't even remember that for five lines.
I think my kids need to go to bed EARLY.
and so do I.
I think I'm getting sick.
or tired.
or sick and tired.
however you look at it,
I would recommend ducking and covering your ears.
when my kids are tired it is UGLY.
housewife out.
It's clearly missing, and that makes as much sense as the "ran away with the circus" theory.
I was about to write a post...
it's possible it would have been the best post I've EVER written.
(yes, it's much more likely that it would have been among the bottom 10%, but since it didn't happen, I can pretend whatever I want...right?)
so.
I was about to write a post, but then my kids plowed
tumbled
charged
swarmed
through...
and took my last coherant thought with them.
...I wonder what they'll use it for?
probably to pad the landing when they jump from the top bunk.
I think I've mentioned my post office allergy before,
and I think I've also developed a bit of a call-the-babysitter rash as well.
It's really strange...
and mostly it sucks.
cuz when the weekend hits,
all I want is dinner and drinks, out on the town.
and these days, I keep finding myself without a babysitter.
and it rots
licks
stinks
sucks
blows
reeks.
at least I won't have to worry about it next weekend...
we'll be out of town.
yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!
oh, for fuck's sake.
one of the boys has decided that he needs a bath.
now.
and I told him to ask his father to fill the tub, since they're upstairs and I'm down.
this isn't working for some reason.
and child is having a melt down.
yaaaaaaaaaaay!!!
oh
my
fucking
christ.
I'm going to lose my mind.
oh wait...the aliens have it.
see?
I told ya.
I couldn't even remember that for five lines.
I think my kids need to go to bed EARLY.
and so do I.
I think I'm getting sick.
or tired.
or sick and tired.
however you look at it,
I would recommend ducking and covering your ears.
when my kids are tired it is UGLY.
housewife out.
Friday, October 14, 2005
So...I'm supposed to write a post or something?!
I've been slacking off so much this week that I'm not sure I even remember how to do this.
oh, that's right:
discard all rhyme, reason, focus, pertinence and self-censoring.
then start typing.
I guess I can handle that.
I have a little bit of homework to do.
and I finally caught up on my sleep.
and sex.
I'm not sure I was behind on that one, but a little extra sex never hurt.
well, I guess that's not the case, is it??
sorry...so many possible meanings for that sentence, kinda makes my head spin with jokes and exceptions...
forget I said it.
Yesterday I finally dug out some of my older CDs and I'm getting them ripped onto my computer so I can upload them to my i(mposter)pod.
I figure, I have enough space on there, so I might as well.
the last thing I want is to be wasting hard drive space.
it would be a tragedy.
(is it just me, or is this post downright painful to read??)
I have a writing assignment due today.
one part of the assignment is to overhear a conversation and write it down.
just a page or so, nothing huge.
but.
I don't EVER overhear conversations.
at the gym, I have my headphones on the whole time.
and at my one on-campus class it's pretty hit or miss, whether I'll be sitting near anyone who's talking to someone else.
and that covers it.
If I'm with people any other time, I'm talking TO them.
blah.
so of course I left it til the last minute--
it's sorta my trademark.
I'm a HUGE dumbass.
but anyway, I guess I'll just have to give it one last shot at the gym,
then make something up...
will you guys talk, and pretend I'm not here...?
oh!
yesterday while I was driving to school, I was stopped at a red light.
I glanced in my rearview mirror,
and just as my smile was spreading from having discovered some eye candy,
dude starts lipsyncing the song on MY radio, "American Woman".
It was surreal.
I mean, obviously it wasn't magic or anything--
he had his radio tuned to the same station I did.
but...
I loved the way it felt to be connected to someone else in the throngs of traffic on a crisp fall morning.
and yeah, it didn't hurt that he was lickable.
I think when the author is tired of the post,
it's time to stop writing.
I'm getting a little frustrated, actually.
I felt like writing a good post today.
and instead, look at this bile that poured out of me.
it's ridiculous.
I can't decide if the cause is that I'm not trying hard enough, or that I'm trying too hard...
but at least Deidra's coming over tonight to download songs.
and that'll be fun.
Mr. husband is starting a project at 5 that might last all night,
so I am glad I have something fun to look forward to.
this is fucking pathetic.
I will write something else later.
I swear it on my last nose hair.
thank the good/bad/ugly lord it's friday, eh???
someone shoot me.
and teach my husband how to pay attention when I'm talking.
oh, that's right:
discard all rhyme, reason, focus, pertinence and self-censoring.
then start typing.
I guess I can handle that.
I have a little bit of homework to do.
and I finally caught up on my sleep.
and sex.
I'm not sure I was behind on that one, but a little extra sex never hurt.
well, I guess that's not the case, is it??
sorry...so many possible meanings for that sentence, kinda makes my head spin with jokes and exceptions...
forget I said it.
Yesterday I finally dug out some of my older CDs and I'm getting them ripped onto my computer so I can upload them to my i(mposter)pod.
I figure, I have enough space on there, so I might as well.
the last thing I want is to be wasting hard drive space.
it would be a tragedy.
(is it just me, or is this post downright painful to read??)
I have a writing assignment due today.
one part of the assignment is to overhear a conversation and write it down.
just a page or so, nothing huge.
but.
I don't EVER overhear conversations.
at the gym, I have my headphones on the whole time.
and at my one on-campus class it's pretty hit or miss, whether I'll be sitting near anyone who's talking to someone else.
and that covers it.
If I'm with people any other time, I'm talking TO them.
blah.
so of course I left it til the last minute--
it's sorta my trademark.
I'm a HUGE dumbass.
but anyway, I guess I'll just have to give it one last shot at the gym,
then make something up...
will you guys talk, and pretend I'm not here...?
oh!
yesterday while I was driving to school, I was stopped at a red light.
I glanced in my rearview mirror,
and just as my smile was spreading from having discovered some eye candy,
dude starts lipsyncing the song on MY radio, "American Woman".
It was surreal.
I mean, obviously it wasn't magic or anything--
he had his radio tuned to the same station I did.
but...
I loved the way it felt to be connected to someone else in the throngs of traffic on a crisp fall morning.
and yeah, it didn't hurt that he was lickable.
I think when the author is tired of the post,
it's time to stop writing.
I'm getting a little frustrated, actually.
I felt like writing a good post today.
and instead, look at this bile that poured out of me.
it's ridiculous.
I can't decide if the cause is that I'm not trying hard enough, or that I'm trying too hard...
but at least Deidra's coming over tonight to download songs.
and that'll be fun.
Mr. husband is starting a project at 5 that might last all night,
so I am glad I have something fun to look forward to.
this is fucking pathetic.
I will write something else later.
I swear it on my last nose hair.
thank the good/bad/ugly lord it's friday, eh???
someone shoot me.
and teach my husband how to pay attention when I'm talking.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Because my mouth is dry from talking...
You get a post from approximately one year ago:
so i'm sitting here, listening to some tunes.
some wonderful tunes.
weekends make me think--
i need to take some serious time out and just breathe.
breathing is harder than it sounds.
okay, not really, but that sounded cool.
not cool like Kerouac, or cool like Cobain, or cool like Kennedy.
cool like...
water running over dark smooth rocks...
moss covering the banks, sun sneaking through rustling leaves...
a carpet of wet leaves, pine needles, frost covered grass.
home.
i wanna go home.
i have this strange feeling that i could be a better writer there.
stooooopid thought.
all i need is a laptop to be a writer.
but...
there's something about living in a conformist's paradise that is rather hellish on one's creativity.
or maybe not.
maybe it's just what i need, to force me to be different.
yeah, that's more like it.
...over the rainbow, way up high...
(still have my tunes running...)
anyway, i should stop dwelling on it.
i should just be thankful my parents are in good enough health that i'm not needed.
but i did ask my mom if she wouldn't mind just breaking her ankle or something.
so i would be NEEDED, for god's sake.
she was willing, cutely enough.
or maybe i can just swing some sort of weekend trip.
like a normal person.
i think i have delusions of grandeur.
or maybe, once again, i just like the sound of that.
...but doesn't that prove it?
ah, nevermind.
sleight of hand and twist of fate...
sometimes i wonder.
actually, most of the time i'm not talking, i spend wondering...
wondering and wandering, in my head.
needing and wanting and wishing and dreaming.
planning?
never.
regretting?
rarely.
appreciating what i have?
ugh.
only if you remind me...
fucking brat.
(me)
you know...
sometimes i am confused.
sometimes i am apathetic.
sometimes i am inspired.
sometimes i am a little bit country...
and i'm ALWAYS a little bit rock n' roll.
over and out.
ten-four.
Oh yeah...and it's half nekkid thursday...
have a happy one, darlings--
(this picture is my penance for last week's skank-fest...sorry guys.)
so i'm sitting here, listening to some tunes.
some wonderful tunes.
weekends make me think--
i need to take some serious time out and just breathe.
breathing is harder than it sounds.
okay, not really, but that sounded cool.
not cool like Kerouac, or cool like Cobain, or cool like Kennedy.
cool like...
water running over dark smooth rocks...
moss covering the banks, sun sneaking through rustling leaves...
a carpet of wet leaves, pine needles, frost covered grass.
home.
i wanna go home.
i have this strange feeling that i could be a better writer there.
stooooopid thought.
all i need is a laptop to be a writer.
but...
there's something about living in a conformist's paradise that is rather hellish on one's creativity.
or maybe not.
maybe it's just what i need, to force me to be different.
yeah, that's more like it.
...over the rainbow, way up high...
(still have my tunes running...)
anyway, i should stop dwelling on it.
i should just be thankful my parents are in good enough health that i'm not needed.
but i did ask my mom if she wouldn't mind just breaking her ankle or something.
so i would be NEEDED, for god's sake.
she was willing, cutely enough.
or maybe i can just swing some sort of weekend trip.
like a normal person.
i think i have delusions of grandeur.
or maybe, once again, i just like the sound of that.
...but doesn't that prove it?
ah, nevermind.
sleight of hand and twist of fate...
sometimes i wonder.
actually, most of the time i'm not talking, i spend wondering...
wondering and wandering, in my head.
needing and wanting and wishing and dreaming.
planning?
never.
regretting?
rarely.
appreciating what i have?
ugh.
only if you remind me...
fucking brat.
(me)
you know...
sometimes i am confused.
sometimes i am apathetic.
sometimes i am inspired.
sometimes i am a little bit country...
and i'm ALWAYS a little bit rock n' roll.
over and out.
ten-four.
Oh yeah...and it's half nekkid thursday...
have a happy one, darlings--
(this picture is my penance for last week's skank-fest...sorry guys.)
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
These thoughts they are a churnin'
my eyes they are a burnin'.
Ok, maybe it's too early in the day/my life to start writing country songs.
whatever.
The point is, hubby got offered a new position in his company--
a promotion.
(He literally said to me, "G. has a new position in mind for me."
OF COURSE my response was, "yeah, I've got a new position in mind for ya, too...")
***Rant Removed***
ok, I'm really glad I got to work through that.
I'm unable to think without vocalizing or putting into print.
it is not a very convenient personality flaw, let me tell ya...
wow.
I should be required to flash you or something, if you made it this far.
I am, however, thinking of a slight alteration in tomorrow's Half Nekkid-ness,
as suggested by the top celebrity on my (about to be written)list of celebrities I can schtup without landing myself in divorce court...
It'll be Panties-less Thursday.
I'm not sure how I'll prove it, though--
any ideas for creative photography?
Time for the gym.
and then it's Bunko night with the mormons!!
wooo hooo!
I finished that paper last night, that I was bitching about.
just in the nick of time, too.
find it here.
happy hump day, dirty dogs--
Ok, maybe it's too early in the day/my life to start writing country songs.
whatever.
The point is, hubby got offered a new position in his company--
a promotion.
(He literally said to me, "G. has a new position in mind for me."
OF COURSE my response was, "yeah, I've got a new position in mind for ya, too...")
***Rant Removed***
ok, I'm really glad I got to work through that.
I'm unable to think without vocalizing or putting into print.
it is not a very convenient personality flaw, let me tell ya...
wow.
I should be required to flash you or something, if you made it this far.
I am, however, thinking of a slight alteration in tomorrow's Half Nekkid-ness,
as suggested by the top celebrity on my (about to be written)list of celebrities I can schtup without landing myself in divorce court...
It'll be Panties-less Thursday.
I'm not sure how I'll prove it, though--
any ideas for creative photography?
Time for the gym.
and then it's Bunko night with the mormons!!
wooo hooo!
I finished that paper last night, that I was bitching about.
just in the nick of time, too.
find it here.
happy hump day, dirty dogs--
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
because I'm feeling like a crotchety old lady at the moment--
and that just won't do.
that paper is due, that I've been mentioning for weeks now.
for the professor who thinks I'm the greatest writer this side of the library.
and.
that's a fuck of a lot of pressure.
So.
What did I do?
yeah, that's right:
I haven't technically started the paper.
6-15 pages.
due by midnight.
it's 7pm, local time...
and I still have to finish putting the kids to bed.
so, I'm going to count on about 4 hours.
would somebody please come over here and fuck(ing motivate) me???
My brain is mush.
High expectations tend to do that to me.
I've put in a lot of hours on the project already,
but I'm not at all satisfied with any of the topics I've pursued.
Did some brainstorming today,
on the stationary bike
(a nice, calligraphy embossed cream, with a BHW...).
Where was I?
fuck that, where am I???
I am pretty sure that I need to have a radio show, though.
a talk show.
everyone could call in and we could talk about sex.
ok, enough random thoughts for the moment.
In unrelated news, I am now scrambling to fill out one of those "5 celebrities I can fuck without my husband divorcing me" lists...
Eddie Vedder has always been on the list,
but I've never ventured much further.
I'm not much of a celeb girl.
(hey! shut up! I've forgotten alllll about Bo Bice, just let it go!)
so anyway.
gotta work on that list.
I have a new one to add.
No, I'm not telling you who.
Gee, I wonder why I can't ever get anything DECENT written?
yes, there are two five year olds chatting away to me.
asking questions.
pretty sure one of them just asked what a nipple is.
let's hope I can distract him with something sparkly or sugar-filled.
I did, however, explain the theory of water displacement to them during their bath a little earlier.
they get it.
ah...sweet silence....
maybe it'll last long enough for my severed synapses to heal.
no, I'm not being dramatic.
do you even know how many half-thunk thoughts I have in my head?
after 3 years of this non-stop, dual-mode barage of chatter???
usually they stay quiet long enough for me to settle into a thought--
like, the first sentence of a paragraph will form in my head,
and it feels good.
it feels like...
a thought.
and then it's:
MOM!!! or some other, less pleasant but equally jarring exclamation.
siiiiiigh.
nope, no one made me have kids.
I should stop complaining.
especially since they're the most beautiful-smart-funny-wonderful little boys
on the whole
damn
planet.
but it's my right, gawdammit, and I will exercise it!!!
sorry...
I'm just trying to open the flow of thoughts so I can write the paper
that will bow away the professor
who will give me the grade
which will catapult me to instant success.
er.
or something.
fuck you.
look for me on IM.
if you see me, tell me to GET THE FUCK TO WORK.
yeah.
I suck.
(but at least I'm good at it.)
that paper is due, that I've been mentioning for weeks now.
for the professor who thinks I'm the greatest writer this side of the library.
and.
that's a fuck of a lot of pressure.
So.
What did I do?
yeah, that's right:
I haven't technically started the paper.
6-15 pages.
due by midnight.
it's 7pm, local time...
and I still have to finish putting the kids to bed.
so, I'm going to count on about 4 hours.
would somebody please come over here and fuck(ing motivate) me???
My brain is mush.
High expectations tend to do that to me.
I've put in a lot of hours on the project already,
but I'm not at all satisfied with any of the topics I've pursued.
Did some brainstorming today,
on the stationary bike
(a nice, calligraphy embossed cream, with a BHW...).
Where was I?
fuck that, where am I???
I am pretty sure that I need to have a radio show, though.
a talk show.
everyone could call in and we could talk about sex.
ok, enough random thoughts for the moment.
In unrelated news, I am now scrambling to fill out one of those "5 celebrities I can fuck without my husband divorcing me" lists...
Eddie Vedder has always been on the list,
but I've never ventured much further.
I'm not much of a celeb girl.
(hey! shut up! I've forgotten alllll about Bo Bice, just let it go!)
so anyway.
gotta work on that list.
I have a new one to add.
No, I'm not telling you who.
Gee, I wonder why I can't ever get anything DECENT written?
yes, there are two five year olds chatting away to me.
asking questions.
pretty sure one of them just asked what a nipple is.
let's hope I can distract him with something sparkly or sugar-filled.
I did, however, explain the theory of water displacement to them during their bath a little earlier.
they get it.
ah...sweet silence....
maybe it'll last long enough for my severed synapses to heal.
no, I'm not being dramatic.
do you even know how many half-thunk thoughts I have in my head?
after 3 years of this non-stop, dual-mode barage of chatter???
usually they stay quiet long enough for me to settle into a thought--
like, the first sentence of a paragraph will form in my head,
and it feels good.
it feels like...
a thought.
and then it's:
MOM!!! or some other, less pleasant but equally jarring exclamation.
siiiiiigh.
nope, no one made me have kids.
I should stop complaining.
especially since they're the most beautiful-smart-funny-wonderful little boys
on the whole
damn
planet.
but it's my right, gawdammit, and I will exercise it!!!
sorry...
I'm just trying to open the flow of thoughts so I can write the paper
that will bow away the professor
who will give me the grade
which will catapult me to instant success.
er.
or something.
fuck you.
look for me on IM.
if you see me, tell me to GET THE FUCK TO WORK.
yeah.
I suck.
(but at least I'm good at it.)
Yes, it's Tuesday...
That means that none of you should be wearing bras!!!!!
I am tired, but I will be around after class (noonish)
happy tuesday, preverts!!
Monday, October 10, 2005
Mondays are like...
the snoring of your muse,
or the absence of a guardian angel.
Mondays are accidentally pouring sugar on your fries or salt in your coffee.
(this is a reprint of a post from january, since I have a paper to write and have procrastinated)
anyway, at least I had a dream that I won some "be a rock star for a day" contest.
there was much discussion about my hair.
and i'm pretty sure ryan seacrest was there.
apparently no one had noticed that I CAN'T SING.
i love that kind of dream!
and you know what else I love?
hickies.
I left a rather dark one on Mr. bored's neck over the weekend,
and when I pointed it out to him he said, "You suck!"
It was almost too much of an unintentional pun to even laugh at.
but somehow I managed.
so I got a surprise nipple-piercing from the cat the other day.
stingy bitch didn't even include the jewelery.
I can still see the hole she made, and I am now certain that my choice to NEVER EVER NO-MATTER-WHAT-THEY-PAY-ME get my nipples pierced was the right one for me.
oh, i think it would be sexy as hell, but...
I've known since before "the incident" that I am not cut out for such things.
I like a little pain with pleasure, but piercing certain places would never work for me, that's all.
sometimes my world feels like a swirling mixture of past, present and future--
all of those realities on one plane, in one breath.
I see people who aren't here, and I wonder which version of my life they came from.
sometimes they flutter through my head and are gone again as I exhale.
sometimes I run my fingers through the textured memory of someone,
wondering, wandering...
It feels like a good stretch would take my present to a different place,
but it only lasts a moment.
the tastes are stronger, the sounds echo-y, and distant--
and the light that penetrates my loosely-closed eyelids casts an eery glow on everything.
I want to live 9 lives, like a cat.
I want to live them all at once, and on repeat.
I want to be a ray of light, sliding across the earth,
seeking a landing point, a reflection point.
I want to absorb all other colors, and only reflect the color of joy.
what is that color?
I want to feel.
EVERYTHING.
I want to taste and smell and hear...
I would like to be standing on my beach right now.
It is ten degrees below freezing there.
no matter how long I live in this other "home",
that beach still fits just right in my heart--
a little too big, so it is bursting,
but the blues and greens and white capped waves--
iceberg-y bay, right now.
the choppy look of the ice, as it is always shifting
the cold made sharper by the salt-tipped winds.
the heightened sense of being alive,
of being mortal.
i am a fragile creature in the arms of that ocean.
it has taken members of my family,
and i am sure it is not done yet.
I will reach out and grasp my purpose,
like reaching through the fog of those shores,
or walking down a train track with headphones on...
I feel it out there.
I know it's mine.
It is larger than me, I am larger than it.
for the record...
my muse doesn't sleep late or wake up ornery on Mondays...
he courses through me, whispering, kissing, coaxing.
he breathes for me so i can sink deeper inside,
he tickles my arm with his whiskers,
he breathes softly in my ear, and I shrug him off this time--
not today, my love, not today...
sometimes I wonder if my muse has a home of his own,
or where he goes when he's not pattering his fingers over my soul...
but whatever he is, he has shown me how to fly.
he kissed my back and wings appeared,
he laughed into my neck, as we lay together,
and I was filled with a giggle-like power surge--
the ability to use those wings for flight.
he is burned into my skin, more deeply than my tattoo, or his.
he is sewn into me, he is the blood in my veins.
he is.
my muse.
...or am I his?
(Happy Birthday to Julie O. today!! More on that later...)
or the absence of a guardian angel.
Mondays are accidentally pouring sugar on your fries or salt in your coffee.
(this is a reprint of a post from january, since I have a paper to write and have procrastinated)
anyway, at least I had a dream that I won some "be a rock star for a day" contest.
there was much discussion about my hair.
and i'm pretty sure ryan seacrest was there.
apparently no one had noticed that I CAN'T SING.
i love that kind of dream!
and you know what else I love?
hickies.
I left a rather dark one on Mr. bored's neck over the weekend,
and when I pointed it out to him he said, "You suck!"
It was almost too much of an unintentional pun to even laugh at.
but somehow I managed.
so I got a surprise nipple-piercing from the cat the other day.
stingy bitch didn't even include the jewelery.
I can still see the hole she made, and I am now certain that my choice to NEVER EVER NO-MATTER-WHAT-THEY-PAY-ME get my nipples pierced was the right one for me.
oh, i think it would be sexy as hell, but...
I've known since before "the incident" that I am not cut out for such things.
I like a little pain with pleasure, but piercing certain places would never work for me, that's all.
sometimes my world feels like a swirling mixture of past, present and future--
all of those realities on one plane, in one breath.
I see people who aren't here, and I wonder which version of my life they came from.
sometimes they flutter through my head and are gone again as I exhale.
sometimes I run my fingers through the textured memory of someone,
wondering, wandering...
It feels like a good stretch would take my present to a different place,
but it only lasts a moment.
the tastes are stronger, the sounds echo-y, and distant--
and the light that penetrates my loosely-closed eyelids casts an eery glow on everything.
I want to live 9 lives, like a cat.
I want to live them all at once, and on repeat.
I want to be a ray of light, sliding across the earth,
seeking a landing point, a reflection point.
I want to absorb all other colors, and only reflect the color of joy.
what is that color?
I want to feel.
EVERYTHING.
I want to taste and smell and hear...
I would like to be standing on my beach right now.
It is ten degrees below freezing there.
no matter how long I live in this other "home",
that beach still fits just right in my heart--
a little too big, so it is bursting,
but the blues and greens and white capped waves--
iceberg-y bay, right now.
the choppy look of the ice, as it is always shifting
the cold made sharper by the salt-tipped winds.
the heightened sense of being alive,
of being mortal.
i am a fragile creature in the arms of that ocean.
it has taken members of my family,
and i am sure it is not done yet.
I will reach out and grasp my purpose,
like reaching through the fog of those shores,
or walking down a train track with headphones on...
I feel it out there.
I know it's mine.
It is larger than me, I am larger than it.
for the record...
my muse doesn't sleep late or wake up ornery on Mondays...
he courses through me, whispering, kissing, coaxing.
he breathes for me so i can sink deeper inside,
he tickles my arm with his whiskers,
he breathes softly in my ear, and I shrug him off this time--
not today, my love, not today...
sometimes I wonder if my muse has a home of his own,
or where he goes when he's not pattering his fingers over my soul...
but whatever he is, he has shown me how to fly.
he kissed my back and wings appeared,
he laughed into my neck, as we lay together,
and I was filled with a giggle-like power surge--
the ability to use those wings for flight.
he is burned into my skin, more deeply than my tattoo, or his.
he is sewn into me, he is the blood in my veins.
he is.
my muse.
...or am I his?
(Happy Birthday to Julie O. today!! More on that later...)
Saturday, October 08, 2005
It feels like the right time to write another post
so would that make it the write time?
nope, not where I come from.
the heavy grey of this heavy day is pressing down on my shoulders, my spine--
the soles of my feet hurt, from it.
I feel like gravity increased a bit today.
I would smile, but it's hard to lift the corners of my mouth.
It's ok, though, because I'm smiling on the inside.
really, I am--
my cells have lips, those lips smile.
it's kinda freaky...
a genetic mutation.
the evening has almost begun.
babysitter was secured,
friends were not.
a quiet dinner for two...
at the aforementioned "fancy schmancy" joint.
bad news:
I don't have a hell of a lot for clothes I want to wear to a place like that.
god damn housewife status sorta causes a snag in my serenity on occasion.
s'okay.
I have some things that'll do, in fact...
it's not like Salt Lake is a real city.
no one knows anything here.
they all take toddlers to nice restaurants and loud, horror movies.
fucking mor(m)ons.
s'okay, I'll be hot.
er, well...
soon I'll be hot again--
right now I'm more like...
"Hot--with 20% more free!"
what a bargain.
I need to start taking a notebook to the gym.
I have now destroyed two books, from having URGENT ideas while working out,
and writing them on said books.
I better go get the little angels settled before we head out.
have a great night--
nope, not where I come from.
the heavy grey of this heavy day is pressing down on my shoulders, my spine--
the soles of my feet hurt, from it.
I feel like gravity increased a bit today.
I would smile, but it's hard to lift the corners of my mouth.
It's ok, though, because I'm smiling on the inside.
really, I am--
my cells have lips, those lips smile.
it's kinda freaky...
a genetic mutation.
the evening has almost begun.
babysitter was secured,
friends were not.
a quiet dinner for two...
at the aforementioned "fancy schmancy" joint.
bad news:
I don't have a hell of a lot for clothes I want to wear to a place like that.
god damn housewife status sorta causes a snag in my serenity on occasion.
s'okay.
I have some things that'll do, in fact...
it's not like Salt Lake is a real city.
no one knows anything here.
they all take toddlers to nice restaurants and loud, horror movies.
fucking mor(m)ons.
s'okay, I'll be hot.
er, well...
soon I'll be hot again--
right now I'm more like...
"Hot--with 20% more free!"
what a bargain.
I need to start taking a notebook to the gym.
I have now destroyed two books, from having URGENT ideas while working out,
and writing them on said books.
I better go get the little angels settled before we head out.
have a great night--
I like bandwagons...
especialy when they're actually wagons, carrying bands (preferrably rock).
I've seen people doing this meme thing, which consists of finding your 23rd post and selecting the 5th sentence.
So here ya go:
"Perhaps a live chicken, or a goat...or a skinny chick of the girl variety."
It's from March 25, 2003.
I can't believe it took me that long to reach 23 posts.
(my first post was December 19th of 2002, so I averaged 2 posts a week)
I was a little hit or miss in the beginning, as are many people, I assume.
anyway, whatever.
that was fun.
Wish me luck on finding a last-minute babysitter for tonight...
gnona get all dressed up and go to a fancy schmancy restaurant.
unless our friends are free, also last-minute, in which case we'll go somewhere cool with them.
hold on.
I'm going to go get the vacum.
why?
cuz this post SUCKS.
(but then, so do I...)
I had crazy weird dreams last night,
but other than that I don't think I have anything to say.
it was sunny and warm this morning,
and now it looks gray and strange...
I should have guessed that it was a pre-storm warm front.
fuck winter.
I guess I'll go make some stuff happen.
so I have something to write about.
...my sincere apologies for wasting your time.
I've seen people doing this meme thing, which consists of finding your 23rd post and selecting the 5th sentence.
So here ya go:
"Perhaps a live chicken, or a goat...or a skinny chick of the girl variety."
It's from March 25, 2003.
I can't believe it took me that long to reach 23 posts.
(my first post was December 19th of 2002, so I averaged 2 posts a week)
I was a little hit or miss in the beginning, as are many people, I assume.
anyway, whatever.
that was fun.
Wish me luck on finding a last-minute babysitter for tonight...
gnona get all dressed up and go to a fancy schmancy restaurant.
unless our friends are free, also last-minute, in which case we'll go somewhere cool with them.
hold on.
I'm going to go get the vacum.
why?
cuz this post SUCKS.
(but then, so do I...)
I had crazy weird dreams last night,
but other than that I don't think I have anything to say.
it was sunny and warm this morning,
and now it looks gray and strange...
I should have guessed that it was a pre-storm warm front.
fuck winter.
I guess I'll go make some stuff happen.
so I have something to write about.
...my sincere apologies for wasting your time.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Okay, SERIOUSLY!
I'm so sick of seeing myself displayed baudily on this site,
that I'm probably going to shower with my eyes closed.
and not like THAT.
I should write today about something entirely un-sexy.
the antithesis of sex.
but what would that be?
dunno, I'm too tired to figure it out.
I know one thing, though:
I suck enormous, hairy, sweaty football player's nuts at getting up in the morning.
my poor kids are almost missing the bus every day now.
and why?
because I have discovered that they hate getting up, too.
so, out ofselfishness kindness I try to let myself them sleep as long as possible.
that's a ridiculous train of thought, and I know it--
in the full morning light.
but in the cozy depths of my bed,
with the snooze button so conveniently located...
it's a little hard (that's what she said) to see the error of such a statement.
I shall strive to do better.
(probably).
I still fucking hate mornings, though.
So what am I doing here??
I should be crawling back to bed!!
Well...I couldn't wait any longer to move those sassy displays of my half-nekkid self out of the spotlight.
christ, I feel crappy.
like a hangover, kind of.
more like the onset of a cold combined with too little sleep, actually.
I need to go to the showroom and choose a new color of god damn carpet this morning, but I would rather go back to bed.
Wow...
I think I may have found the antithesis of sexy.
I'm not sure whether to be proud of or disgusted with myself.
it's too early.
but this post is most definitely on the other end of the sepctrum from all things sensual and lovely.
It's Friday, so there's not much blogging traffic about.
but, after I wake up a bit more I think I'll post again.
I some fucking great thoughts last night as I drifted off to sleep,
and I'll see if I can remember them.
(it's doubtful).
have a superb Friday.
that I'm probably going to shower with my eyes closed.
and not like THAT.
I should write today about something entirely un-sexy.
the antithesis of sex.
but what would that be?
dunno, I'm too tired to figure it out.
I know one thing, though:
I suck enormous, hairy, sweaty football player's nuts at getting up in the morning.
my poor kids are almost missing the bus every day now.
and why?
because I have discovered that they hate getting up, too.
so, out of
that's a ridiculous train of thought, and I know it--
in the full morning light.
but in the cozy depths of my bed,
with the snooze button so conveniently located...
it's a little hard (that's what she said) to see the error of such a statement.
I shall strive to do better.
(probably).
I still fucking hate mornings, though.
So what am I doing here??
I should be crawling back to bed!!
Well...I couldn't wait any longer to move those sassy displays of my half-nekkid self out of the spotlight.
christ, I feel crappy.
like a hangover, kind of.
more like the onset of a cold combined with too little sleep, actually.
I need to go to the showroom and choose a new color of god damn carpet this morning, but I would rather go back to bed.
Wow...
I think I may have found the antithesis of sexy.
I'm not sure whether to be proud of or disgusted with myself.
it's too early.
but this post is most definitely on the other end of the sepctrum from all things sensual and lovely.
It's Friday, so there's not much blogging traffic about.
but, after I wake up a bit more I think I'll post again.
I some fucking great thoughts last night as I drifted off to sleep,
and I'll see if I can remember them.
(it's doubtful).
have a superb Friday.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Half-Nekkid Thursday/Breast Cancer Awareness
****************************************
Half-Nekkid Thursday/Breast Cancer Awareness
What a fiiiine combination that is, eh?
it's half-nekkid thursday,
and with all this focus on breasts...
I thought I could give you "ass men" a little something to tide you over.
yes, this picture was posted on buzznet many moons (HA!!) ago, but(t) I believe it still packs a punch...
scratch that.
(no, not THAT.)
I found a different one in the folder that I like better...
for the buzznet one, go here.
this one actually makes me look like a have an arse.
Sadly, it is an optical illusion.
next week, I'm posting a picture of my god damn knee.
too much sexiness!!
ok...
there's never too much sexiness.
but I have definitely filled my quota here.
*******
Help Fight Breast Cancer the old fashioned way!
yes, that's right.
fight breast cancer by donating $50 or more so you can see my entirely exposed, in-the-shower, breasts.
(as well as all the other fabulous fully nude photos!!)
I'll take Lily's lead--
if you show me proof of any donation, I'll tell you which one's mine
AND
send you another picture of questionable nature.
exploiting men's (entirely adorable) lustfullness makes me feel all warm and fuzzy--
if it's for a good cause.
I just submitted them, so they probably won't be up until later tonight or tomorrow...
I'll let ya know when I see them.
They're up.
and I submitted more...
it's rather addictive.
come on...
you know you want to...
Half-Nekkid Thursday/Breast Cancer Awareness
What a fiiiine combination that is, eh?
it's half-nekkid thursday,
and with all this focus on breasts...
I thought I could give you "ass men" a little something to tide you over.
yes, this picture was posted on buzznet many moons (HA!!) ago, but(t) I believe it still packs a punch...
scratch that.
(no, not THAT.)
I found a different one in the folder that I like better...
for the buzznet one, go here.
this one actually makes me look like a have an arse.
Sadly, it is an optical illusion.
next week, I'm posting a picture of my god damn knee.
too much sexiness!!
ok...
there's never too much sexiness.
but I have definitely filled my quota here.
*******
Help Fight Breast Cancer the old fashioned way!
yes, that's right.
fight breast cancer by donating $50 or more so you can see my entirely exposed, in-the-shower, breasts.
(as well as all the other fabulous fully nude photos!!)
I'll take Lily's lead--
if you show me proof of any donation, I'll tell you which one's mine
AND
send you another picture of questionable nature.
exploiting men's (entirely adorable) lustfullness makes me feel all warm and fuzzy--
if it's for a good cause.
I just submitted them, so they probably won't be up until later tonight or tomorrow...
I'll let ya know when I see them.
They're up.
and I submitted more...
it's rather addictive.
come on...
you know you want to...
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Help Fight Breast Cancer--
the old fashioned way!
yes, that's right.
fight breast cancer by donating $50 or more so you can see my entirely exposed, in-the-shower, breasts.
(as well as all the other fabulous fully nude photos!!)
I'll take Lily's lead--
if you show me proof of any donation, I'll tell you which one's mine
AND
send you another picture of questionable nature.
exploiting men's (entirely adorable) lustfullness makes me feel all warm and fuzzy--
if it's for a good cause.
I just submitted them, so they probably won't be up until later tonight or tomorrow...
I'll let ya know when I see them.
come on...
you know you want to...
yes, that's right.
fight breast cancer by donating $50 or more so you can see my entirely exposed, in-the-shower, breasts.
(as well as all the other fabulous fully nude photos!!)
I'll take Lily's lead--
if you show me proof of any donation, I'll tell you which one's mine
AND
send you another picture of questionable nature.
exploiting men's (entirely adorable) lustfullness makes me feel all warm and fuzzy--
if it's for a good cause.
I just submitted them, so they probably won't be up until later tonight or tomorrow...
I'll let ya know when I see them.
come on...
you know you want to...
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Tuesdays aren't just for braless tom foolery anymore!
...they're also a fucking GREAT excuse for me to not spend any time on a post.
class was awesome today.
we covered The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zepellin.
I was in ecsatsy.
if you're not a hormone-addled boy,
and you would like to read something from me today,
go read the little story I wrote for my homework last night.
and remind me to do all the things I keep forgetting to do.
plan the girls' weekend to Zion, for one.
set up a babysitter for the Shakespeare festival weekend for another.
get the kids to draw "thank you" notes/pictures for Deidra for taking them to the circus.
and more.
but.
in the meantime...
press your lips to my collarbone,
pull me roughly toward you by my hips,
whisper something against my ear,
kiss me so hard I black out.
write me a bad love song.
tell me a funny story, a sad story...
your story.
place my hand on your thigh,
dare me with your eyes.
free me with your greed.
class was awesome today.
we covered The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zepellin.
I was in ecsatsy.
if you're not a hormone-addled boy,
and you would like to read something from me today,
go read the little story I wrote for my homework last night.
and remind me to do all the things I keep forgetting to do.
plan the girls' weekend to Zion, for one.
set up a babysitter for the Shakespeare festival weekend for another.
get the kids to draw "thank you" notes/pictures for Deidra for taking them to the circus.
and more.
but.
in the meantime...
press your lips to my collarbone,
pull me roughly toward you by my hips,
whisper something against my ear,
kiss me so hard I black out.
write me a bad love song.
tell me a funny story, a sad story...
your story.
place my hand on your thigh,
dare me with your eyes.
free me with your greed.
Monday, October 03, 2005
monday ruddy monday
I slept too long and now my whole day is lost in a fog.
Put the kids on the bus, then went back to bed…
“for a minute.”
Which turned into 3 hours.
It was a luxury, that’s for sure.
But.
I…
I prefer outer fog to inner fog.
I like fog that encounters my eyes, and settles on my skin.
I like fog that destroys visibility on winding dark roads…in Maine.
I hate anything and everything that causes a fog to settle behind my eyes and beyond.
Spiraling deep inside my thought cavern.
I will shake it off with a trip to the gym.
…either that or I’ll end up doing everything in slow motion and getting a whole different set of stares.
On the stairs…
I didn’t help matters by taking a long soak in a lavender filled tub,
Reading some short stories for class.
Well, one of them was assigned, the rest of them just sorta…
Lined up, all eager-like.
Ready to be read(y).
I’m not so great at saying no.
So I didn’t.
And they were beautiful.
I wish I could wake up.
Maybe I shouldn’t go to the gym…
I might fall asleep at the wheel.
Probably I should finish up my homework,
And start dinner.
Or just take a nap…
I should have some Red Bull or something.
I wonder if it still gives you wings, if you already have them.
I wonder if, instead, it would stretch them from dormancy to flight…
I’m glad my husband isn’t answering my son’s calls.
Because now I get to listen to him have a meltdown “he’s not answering his phone!” over
And over
And over.
But maybe it’ll clear the fog.
Happy frickin Monday.
I love you all.
Put the kids on the bus, then went back to bed…
“for a minute.”
Which turned into 3 hours.
It was a luxury, that’s for sure.
But.
I…
I prefer outer fog to inner fog.
I like fog that encounters my eyes, and settles on my skin.
I like fog that destroys visibility on winding dark roads…in Maine.
I hate anything and everything that causes a fog to settle behind my eyes and beyond.
Spiraling deep inside my thought cavern.
I will shake it off with a trip to the gym.
…either that or I’ll end up doing everything in slow motion and getting a whole different set of stares.
On the stairs…
I didn’t help matters by taking a long soak in a lavender filled tub,
Reading some short stories for class.
Well, one of them was assigned, the rest of them just sorta…
Lined up, all eager-like.
Ready to be read(y).
I’m not so great at saying no.
So I didn’t.
And they were beautiful.
I wish I could wake up.
Maybe I shouldn’t go to the gym…
I might fall asleep at the wheel.
Probably I should finish up my homework,
And start dinner.
Or just take a nap…
I should have some Red Bull or something.
I wonder if it still gives you wings, if you already have them.
I wonder if, instead, it would stretch them from dormancy to flight…
I’m glad my husband isn’t answering my son’s calls.
Because now I get to listen to him have a meltdown “he’s not answering his phone!” over
And over
And over.
But maybe it’ll clear the fog.
Happy frickin Monday.
I love you all.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
I'm not a lush,
but I play one on the weekends.
last night, it wasn't my fault.
hubby bought a pitcher,
and I just kept refilling.
usually his largeness out-drinks me.
I didn't even notice that I had drunk the whole pitcher.
He had a half a glass.
not my fault.
he was sick.
...and did I mention that it WASN'T MY FAULT?
I drank enough water and got enough sleep,
so I feel fine.
(ish).
I was thinking, though...
lying in bed with my smudged mascara and my bedhead--
although, catching a glimpse of myself, I wasn't appalled.
lying in bed, I thought of you.
somewhere out there.
and I marvelled at the thought of your hands, so rough,
caught in the rhythm of ordinary tasks,
when once they touched me.
I can see that look of awe on your face, for just a moment--
hear you speak the words like a prayer, you're crazy!
I go back further, and laugh at your confidence--
devoid of cockiness, and overflowing with smiles and my kinda jokes.
you're all about the shock value.
I imagine you out there in the world...
carrying traces of me, which have faded to the lightest scar.
the tattoo you left on me is invisible, but deep--
I feel it from the inside, like running my fingers over raised ink.
the light intake of breath is not enough to press your lines into me,
but a quiet place, with eyes closed and a loosening of my hold on things temporal...
there they are, the lines of your design, pulsing out into full color under my skin.
and you have moved from accident to art.
No, I didn't do any hallucinogens whilst out last night.
why do you ask?
there was a skinny boy with a cowboy hat.
hubby teased me for staring at him, but it was really just the hat.
I needed it.
couldn't figure out a way to get it without an obvious flirtation.
flirtation nation.
station.
almost...
you were there, on the other side of the phone.
and my skin tingled at the thought of you.
hearing your muffled voice, almost following the conversation,
but instead, staring out the window, gulping down the blue sky and wishing we were already--
3 hours ahead, full bellies, beer poured, pool racked.
wishing.
for things that falling stars couldn't grant.
wouldn't grant.
most definitely shouldn't
grant.
the beauty of not having leprechauns or genies is that we would all fuck it up in the end, anyway.
we are greedy, horrible things.
Happy October first.
I think it's somebody's birthday today.
somebody from my past...
oh!
Helene...my french exchange student from senior year of high school.
she was my french sister.
I should look her up...
we swore we would never lose touch.
it only took a year.
but we also swore that no matter what, if we did lose touch
(both romantics to the core, but with a thin ribbon of realism)
that we would not let the time between stop us from making contact again.
well, bon anniversaire, ma soeur.
and now, I'm off to have a wonderful
delicious
whipped cream and cherry on top
kinda day.
Deidra (the amazing un-blogger) is taking the boys and I on a surprise outing today!
and as soon as we get home from that, hubby and I are off to a party at a friend's new house.
I wonder if the backstabbing bitch will be there...
but I don't really care.
if she is, she better bring her hot brother.
no, not to protect her from me (what do I look like here, white trash???)
but so that it'll be easier to ignore her...
last night, it wasn't my fault.
hubby bought a pitcher,
and I just kept refilling.
usually his largeness out-drinks me.
I didn't even notice that I had drunk the whole pitcher.
He had a half a glass.
not my fault.
he was sick.
...and did I mention that it WASN'T MY FAULT?
I drank enough water and got enough sleep,
so I feel fine.
(ish).
I was thinking, though...
lying in bed with my smudged mascara and my bedhead--
although, catching a glimpse of myself, I wasn't appalled.
lying in bed, I thought of you.
somewhere out there.
and I marvelled at the thought of your hands, so rough,
caught in the rhythm of ordinary tasks,
when once they touched me.
I can see that look of awe on your face, for just a moment--
hear you speak the words like a prayer, you're crazy!
I go back further, and laugh at your confidence--
devoid of cockiness, and overflowing with smiles and my kinda jokes.
you're all about the shock value.
I imagine you out there in the world...
carrying traces of me, which have faded to the lightest scar.
the tattoo you left on me is invisible, but deep--
I feel it from the inside, like running my fingers over raised ink.
the light intake of breath is not enough to press your lines into me,
but a quiet place, with eyes closed and a loosening of my hold on things temporal...
there they are, the lines of your design, pulsing out into full color under my skin.
and you have moved from accident to art.
No, I didn't do any hallucinogens whilst out last night.
why do you ask?
there was a skinny boy with a cowboy hat.
hubby teased me for staring at him, but it was really just the hat.
I needed it.
couldn't figure out a way to get it without an obvious flirtation.
flirtation nation.
station.
almost...
you were there, on the other side of the phone.
and my skin tingled at the thought of you.
hearing your muffled voice, almost following the conversation,
but instead, staring out the window, gulping down the blue sky and wishing we were already--
3 hours ahead, full bellies, beer poured, pool racked.
wishing.
for things that falling stars couldn't grant.
wouldn't grant.
most definitely shouldn't
grant.
the beauty of not having leprechauns or genies is that we would all fuck it up in the end, anyway.
we are greedy, horrible things.
Happy October first.
I think it's somebody's birthday today.
somebody from my past...
oh!
Helene...my french exchange student from senior year of high school.
she was my french sister.
I should look her up...
we swore we would never lose touch.
it only took a year.
but we also swore that no matter what, if we did lose touch
(both romantics to the core, but with a thin ribbon of realism)
that we would not let the time between stop us from making contact again.
well, bon anniversaire, ma soeur.
and now, I'm off to have a wonderful
delicious
whipped cream and cherry on top
kinda day.
Deidra (the amazing un-blogger) is taking the boys and I on a surprise outing today!
and as soon as we get home from that, hubby and I are off to a party at a friend's new house.
I wonder if the backstabbing bitch will be there...
but I don't really care.
if she is, she better bring her hot brother.
no, not to protect her from me (what do I look like here, white trash???)
but so that it'll be easier to ignore her...
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