Well, unless you live near a paper plant, cuz CHRIST those are unpleasant.
It's been quite an exciting day 'round these parts
(no, not those parts, perv-o),
so I think I'll just relax and pretend nothing has changed.
Ok?
good.
I am super-tingly excited about all the delicious new folks stopping by, though.
Or for our barely-literate asswipes out there: I like nice people.
And I wouldn't exactly be prone to say "mean people suck", because, frankly...
it's more like, "sexy women suck (if you're lucky)".
I think I love you fine fellers.
(and for you newbies, I enjoy using "fella" as a unisex term, deal with it.)
(oh, and I like pretending to be all bossy, but I'm really not...so, if you have a problem with the "fella" thing, please feel free to PISS UP A ROPE. ha! gotcha...)
That reminds me of how much it annoys me that English doesn't have separate words for the plural and singular forms of "you".
That is the one thing I got from all those French classes that has really continued to irritate me over the years
(that, and the strange little rash I caught from making out with the exchange student...)
Ok, so if you'll recall,
I got my car detailed today.
It was my first time...
and might I just say--
entirely orgasmic.
(Of course, that goes for any and all "work" that I should do but can pay someone else to do.)
Just thinking of how clean my car is makes me sneeze with joy.
It is so clean it sparkles...
which is quite a trick for cloth seats.
Just caught up with my oldest friend.
she is amazing.
she makes me laugh so hard I snort.
and you know what was great about it?
As I was regaining my composure, she said she didn't think she has laughed in months...
ok, that's the sad part, obviously, but the good part is that we laughed tonight.
She's getting ready to apply to grad schools, because she is finally sick of her free spirited life...
we were so much alike in so many ways, and have lived such different lives.
I love knowing that we're still the same silly little girls we were.
oh, good times.
I really think some of the negative comments I got today were hilarious.
especially the guy who stated that I am the reason the human race is getting more stupid...
um.
Let me check that IQ test again...
yup, still huge.
And as far as what I personally have contributed to the human race--
My genes are doing just fine.
Two very smart little boys.
Which reminds me of how funny it is when people think that just because a person has children, she should no longer be sexual or sexy.
er.
ok.
How about this?
I don't dress or act like a slut in real life.
HOWEVER.
I have a wickedly dirty mind and I love to express that.
My sexuality doesn't affect my children in the least.
...except for how happy their father and I are--we have great sex, and we love and respect each other.
I suspect that the majority of those were from teenage boys who have never seen real breasts, or at the most, they have seen some 15 year old's A cups.
Sorry to disappoint, boys, but natural Ds don't come much perkier than mine.
And, finally, some of those comments downright scared me.
Sort of a "what the fuck??" feeling.
whatever.
Sorry to talk about...the reason that most of you are here.
I hope you cool cats stay a while.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
What the FUCK?
First of all, I'd like to know where all my new readers came from today
(so maybe I should check my site meter),
but more importantly, here's a message for them:
IF YOU'RE NEW HERE, AND YOU DON'T LIKE IT, STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY COMMENTS BOX.
NO ONE CARES.
to the rest of you:
a warm and laughing welcome.
I am happy with me, with my boobs, and this site.
negativity makes me gag.
like with a spoon, only worse.
Update:
Thanks for the tip, dear kiddos--
and thanks to Blogger for thinking I'm notable.
I realy am excited,
and am not generally quite so demanding.
ok, maybe I am...
(so maybe I should check my site meter),
but more importantly, here's a message for them:
IF YOU'RE NEW HERE, AND YOU DON'T LIKE IT, STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY COMMENTS BOX.
NO ONE CARES.
to the rest of you:
a warm and laughing welcome.
I am happy with me, with my boobs, and this site.
negativity makes me gag.
like with a spoon, only worse.
Update:
Thanks for the tip, dear kiddos--
and thanks to Blogger for thinking I'm notable.
I realy am excited,
and am not generally quite so demanding.
ok, maybe I am...
I am.
A yam.
No, I'm not actually a sweet potato (although I am sweet...).
I just like how two such different phrases can sound the same.
My car is getting detailed right now...
because!
I'm putting it up for sale!
which means...
the Vulva is right around the corner.
heh.
sorry...couldn't resist.
I remember a time when I used to be so in-tune with this site,
so tuned in to it,
so turned on by it--
that posts were constantly churning through my mind.
They would burst into the flame of thought, crackling and glowing until I breathed out the smoke of them into my keyboard.
I remember a time when Michael Jackson was black, too.
BOY OH BOY does the world change!
In about 3 weeks it will be the 3 year anniversary of this blog.
I plan to plan something big in way of celebration...
Has it really only been 3 years?
It feels like ten.
...and I'm not sure if that's a compliment.
(probably not).
I would like to thank the academy.
(what?? that's what I call the voices in my head who write this shit!)
And my kids.
No, really--I should thank them for the 5 minutes a day that they leave me alone long enough to compose a partially coherant thought.
It frickin' rocks.
Actually, I am rather amazed at how mainstream blogging is becoming.
It makes me feel a little funny...
but not quite the same as when we climbed the ropes in gym class, Garth.
Like, I feel like one of those people who only listens to indie music, and once it's mainstream they don't like it anymore.
only, I would never desert my blog for something as silly as "what other people are doing".
It's just that I felt way cooler (read: nerdier) when I used to have to explain what a blog is to everyone.
Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself,
as I still have to explain what it is to everyone I talk to,
but I can see that it is coming...one day soon, blogs will be the new black.
and I will cry a thousand angry, bitter tears.
or 3, at least.
I'm hungry.
and I keep feeling like there's something I should be posting.
a story or a meme or a picture.
but I can't think what it is, so it'll have to turn to ash and further clutter my burned out brain.
Have a humpingly fantastic Wednesday, and don't forget to floss--
No, I'm not actually a sweet potato (although I am sweet...).
I just like how two such different phrases can sound the same.
My car is getting detailed right now...
because!
I'm putting it up for sale!
which means...
the Vulva is right around the corner.
heh.
sorry...couldn't resist.
I remember a time when I used to be so in-tune with this site,
so tuned in to it,
so turned on by it--
that posts were constantly churning through my mind.
They would burst into the flame of thought, crackling and glowing until I breathed out the smoke of them into my keyboard.
I remember a time when Michael Jackson was black, too.
BOY OH BOY does the world change!
In about 3 weeks it will be the 3 year anniversary of this blog.
I plan to plan something big in way of celebration...
Has it really only been 3 years?
It feels like ten.
...and I'm not sure if that's a compliment.
(probably not).
I would like to thank the academy.
(what?? that's what I call the voices in my head who write this shit!)
And my kids.
No, really--I should thank them for the 5 minutes a day that they leave me alone long enough to compose a partially coherant thought.
It frickin' rocks.
Actually, I am rather amazed at how mainstream blogging is becoming.
It makes me feel a little funny...
but not quite the same as when we climbed the ropes in gym class, Garth.
Like, I feel like one of those people who only listens to indie music, and once it's mainstream they don't like it anymore.
only, I would never desert my blog for something as silly as "what other people are doing".
It's just that I felt way cooler (read: nerdier) when I used to have to explain what a blog is to everyone.
Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself,
as I still have to explain what it is to everyone I talk to,
but I can see that it is coming...one day soon, blogs will be the new black.
and I will cry a thousand angry, bitter tears.
or 3, at least.
I'm hungry.
and I keep feeling like there's something I should be posting.
a story or a meme or a picture.
but I can't think what it is, so it'll have to turn to ash and further clutter my burned out brain.
Have a humpingly fantastic Wednesday, and don't forget to floss--
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Take off those bras, girls!!
Throw 'em out the window!
Toss 'em in the air!!
Burn those binding bands!
er, well. don't be hasty...
there are still 6 other bra-optional days.
Oh, and it's homework day for me,
so go check out my latest.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Ok, ok, OKAY--
it seems that my brain has been restored to proper working order.
"proper", of course, being very loosely defined.
last week was, as I just wrote in a comment and now realize is the perfect description so I'll use it even though I feel a little redundant and in need of taking a breath--
like a Turkey-fied version of Groundhog's Day.
But at least it was all good.
well, except for the time my oven decided that even though the brownies should be cooked at 350, and it was set at 350, that it would burn the shit out of the top while leaving them runny in the middle anyway.
I'm thinking it was just for the fun of it.
I also ran out of real butter, about 3 sticks short of my requirements, but the tub maragarine worked out ok (lord forgive me).
There was also the 2 hour block during which two of my mother-in-law's 3 present sons tried to convince her that her religion (yes, mormonism, duh) is false.
That was wild.
One of the sons also got her to concede that she had sex with their father more than the rumored one-per-pregnancy...
They are ruthless.
I'm proud to say that my husband (almost) always keeps clear of such conversations.
It was really a fun day, though, and everyone had a great time...
for the most part.
I hemmed a couple of pairs of pants for my (in her own words) "freakishly short" sister-in-law,
while the other sister-in-law did ALL the dishes...
holy cow, i love that woman.
I think a tear or two came to eyes when I discovered my clean kitchen.
And, of course, everyone raved over the food.
which is why it's all worth it!
ha.
same reason I put so much effort into sex, now that I think of it...
We also spent all day Saturday cleaning out the garage.
just in the nick of time, too--
it started snowing about ten minutes after we got the cars inside,
and laid down about 8 inches of fresh powder.
the ski resorts are all open and happy.
and I am left anxious to get my all-wheel drive volvo...
yes, I've settled on the volvo.
thank you all sooo much for your input on the silly debate.
what the hell was I thinking??
I'll save the Jag for when I can get the truly luxurious one.
because I will.
I will be a star.
(in somebody else's sky, but why why whhhhyyyy, can't it be, why can't it be miiiiine?)
sorry...heard some pearl jam on the way to pick up the kiddos.
which was as ugly as the genital warts page in Becky's human sexuality textbook...
(which reminds me: you should be reading her. feel guilty if you're not.)
they were, apparently, possessed by the spirits of premenstrual nazis on crack.
I'll have to call a priest.
oh!
speaking of...er...well, whatever.
last night on the news there was a story that got my panties into such a twist there was actually smoke from all the friction.
(not like that you pervs! ....well...maybe...)
anyway.
the story was about addiction to pornography.
guess what my issue with this is?
The report was like listening to goddamned general conference.
(this is a semi-annual world wide broadcast for LDS church members where they are given all sorts of uplifting/inspirational/misogynistic speeches.)
SO.
It offended me that they would put such a biased report on the evening news.
what about the perspective that pornography is only as addictive as any other pleasure-giving activity?
yes, such as drinking or smoking or EATING SUGAR?
Yes, scientifically speaking anything that gives us pleasure--especially orgasms, I mean come on--is potentially addictive, because we must employ self-control in order to not binge on things we love.
duh.
However, their insinuation that pornography destroys lives was ludicrous (thanks mr. rapper, for making "Ludacris" look right).
for mormons, at least, guess what it is about that situation that destroys their life?
THE GUILT.
the stigma.
It is a natural human state to enjoy being aroused.
Sure it's a problem if pornography replaces normal sexual activity with a spouse,
but just looking at it (and, yes, the horror--beating off!) shouldn't be an confused with addiction.
I was furious last night.
this one STUPID ASS WOMAN actually divorced her husband because of his "problem"--
and I've heard of that several other times, just through friends locally.
WHAT
THE
FUCK????
how's about if we don't criminalize masturbation, fuck faces, and then we'd all be ok.
So this mongoloid of a woman says, "I never knew if he was thinking about me or about them while we were in bed."
REALLY?
OH MY GOD, STOP THE PRESSES!!!!!!!
DO YOU MEAN SOME PEOPLE ACTUALLY HAVE FANTASIES????
sweet jesus save us all!
Seriously, you guys.
I'm going to have to become a politician or something.
Or get a talk radio show.
Sorry, I don't even know if any of that made sense, but I had a little venom left to spew.
I am just so pissed off at the closed-mindedness of it all.
the mormon religion was founded by a man who was so horny he married 40 women in 4 years--
made up an entire prophecy just to make it spiritually "legal",
and yet they can't abide masturbation or PRE marital sex.
oh no, don't screw your boyfriend, just marry him.
then spend your life bitterly dissatisfied because you rushed into it and have lost hope.
And once you're married, make sure you only do it in the missionary position and don't talk about sex or you're a black-souled, black-soled Sinner-with a capital-snake-like-S.
fuckers.
Ok, so...
enough of that.
I made a master plan to get my kids to nap this afternoon.
Nonchallantly--aloofly, even--I stated, "I'm going to get in bed and watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
They both jumped on me, "No you're not! I'm coming, too!"
See, that pick up from school scene was a flashing neon indicator that they didn't get enough sleep last night.
so they're pissy little highnesses need to rest.
Or mom's going postal.
shit, I have a poem due tonight.
I suck shit at poems.
too bad I can't just turn in a pie...
I'm wicked good at pies.
and sex, but I don't think I would feel right about trading sex for a non-graded assignment.
heh.
I actually said that to highlight the fact that it's a not-very-important assignment,
but instead it looks like I would be willing to trade sex for something of it was important enough.
that makes me giggle.
because I wouldn't do it, not because I would, you damn dirty-minded fools.
It's supposed to snow again tomorrow...
I want to see your breath in the air,
and watch it meet mine, our clouds mixing as a precursor to our bodies meeting.
cold lips meeting warm tongues,
warm hands leaving pockets for wind-bitten cheeks.
snowflakes kissed from eyelashes,
while harshly unseasonal butterflies storm through stomachs...
Just had a cool idea for braless tuesday picture.
"proper", of course, being very loosely defined.
last week was, as I just wrote in a comment and now realize is the perfect description so I'll use it even though I feel a little redundant and in need of taking a breath--
like a Turkey-fied version of Groundhog's Day.
But at least it was all good.
well, except for the time my oven decided that even though the brownies should be cooked at 350, and it was set at 350, that it would burn the shit out of the top while leaving them runny in the middle anyway.
I'm thinking it was just for the fun of it.
I also ran out of real butter, about 3 sticks short of my requirements, but the tub maragarine worked out ok (lord forgive me).
There was also the 2 hour block during which two of my mother-in-law's 3 present sons tried to convince her that her religion (yes, mormonism, duh) is false.
That was wild.
One of the sons also got her to concede that she had sex with their father more than the rumored one-per-pregnancy...
They are ruthless.
I'm proud to say that my husband (almost) always keeps clear of such conversations.
It was really a fun day, though, and everyone had a great time...
for the most part.
I hemmed a couple of pairs of pants for my (in her own words) "freakishly short" sister-in-law,
while the other sister-in-law did ALL the dishes...
holy cow, i love that woman.
I think a tear or two came to eyes when I discovered my clean kitchen.
And, of course, everyone raved over the food.
which is why it's all worth it!
ha.
same reason I put so much effort into sex, now that I think of it...
We also spent all day Saturday cleaning out the garage.
just in the nick of time, too--
it started snowing about ten minutes after we got the cars inside,
and laid down about 8 inches of fresh powder.
the ski resorts are all open and happy.
and I am left anxious to get my all-wheel drive volvo...
yes, I've settled on the volvo.
thank you all sooo much for your input on the silly debate.
what the hell was I thinking??
I'll save the Jag for when I can get the truly luxurious one.
because I will.
I will be a star.
(in somebody else's sky, but why why whhhhyyyy, can't it be, why can't it be miiiiine?)
sorry...heard some pearl jam on the way to pick up the kiddos.
which was as ugly as the genital warts page in Becky's human sexuality textbook...
(which reminds me: you should be reading her. feel guilty if you're not.)
they were, apparently, possessed by the spirits of premenstrual nazis on crack.
I'll have to call a priest.
oh!
speaking of...er...well, whatever.
last night on the news there was a story that got my panties into such a twist there was actually smoke from all the friction.
(not like that you pervs! ....well...maybe...)
anyway.
the story was about addiction to pornography.
guess what my issue with this is?
The report was like listening to goddamned general conference.
(this is a semi-annual world wide broadcast for LDS church members where they are given all sorts of uplifting/inspirational/misogynistic speeches.)
SO.
It offended me that they would put such a biased report on the evening news.
what about the perspective that pornography is only as addictive as any other pleasure-giving activity?
yes, such as drinking or smoking or EATING SUGAR?
Yes, scientifically speaking anything that gives us pleasure--especially orgasms, I mean come on--is potentially addictive, because we must employ self-control in order to not binge on things we love.
duh.
However, their insinuation that pornography destroys lives was ludicrous (thanks mr. rapper, for making "Ludacris" look right).
for mormons, at least, guess what it is about that situation that destroys their life?
THE GUILT.
the stigma.
It is a natural human state to enjoy being aroused.
Sure it's a problem if pornography replaces normal sexual activity with a spouse,
but just looking at it (and, yes, the horror--beating off!) shouldn't be an confused with addiction.
I was furious last night.
this one STUPID ASS WOMAN actually divorced her husband because of his "problem"--
and I've heard of that several other times, just through friends locally.
WHAT
THE
FUCK????
how's about if we don't criminalize masturbation, fuck faces, and then we'd all be ok.
So this mongoloid of a woman says, "I never knew if he was thinking about me or about them while we were in bed."
REALLY?
OH MY GOD, STOP THE PRESSES!!!!!!!
DO YOU MEAN SOME PEOPLE ACTUALLY HAVE FANTASIES????
sweet jesus save us all!
Seriously, you guys.
I'm going to have to become a politician or something.
Or get a talk radio show.
Sorry, I don't even know if any of that made sense, but I had a little venom left to spew.
I am just so pissed off at the closed-mindedness of it all.
the mormon religion was founded by a man who was so horny he married 40 women in 4 years--
made up an entire prophecy just to make it spiritually "legal",
and yet they can't abide masturbation or PRE marital sex.
oh no, don't screw your boyfriend, just marry him.
then spend your life bitterly dissatisfied because you rushed into it and have lost hope.
And once you're married, make sure you only do it in the missionary position and don't talk about sex or you're a black-souled, black-soled Sinner-with a capital-snake-like-S.
fuckers.
Ok, so...
enough of that.
I made a master plan to get my kids to nap this afternoon.
Nonchallantly--aloofly, even--I stated, "I'm going to get in bed and watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
They both jumped on me, "No you're not! I'm coming, too!"
See, that pick up from school scene was a flashing neon indicator that they didn't get enough sleep last night.
so they're pissy little highnesses need to rest.
Or mom's going postal.
shit, I have a poem due tonight.
I suck shit at poems.
too bad I can't just turn in a pie...
I'm wicked good at pies.
and sex, but I don't think I would feel right about trading sex for a non-graded assignment.
heh.
I actually said that to highlight the fact that it's a not-very-important assignment,
but instead it looks like I would be willing to trade sex for something of it was important enough.
that makes me giggle.
because I wouldn't do it, not because I would, you damn dirty-minded fools.
It's supposed to snow again tomorrow...
I want to see your breath in the air,
and watch it meet mine, our clouds mixing as a precursor to our bodies meeting.
cold lips meeting warm tongues,
warm hands leaving pockets for wind-bitten cheeks.
snowflakes kissed from eyelashes,
while harshly unseasonal butterflies storm through stomachs...
Just had a cool idea for braless tuesday picture.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Happy Thanksgiving, Redux
Today was feast number two,
and it was marvelous.
I got to work on my 4 pies around 9:30 this morning,
and we were out the door by 12:30.
That last hour was pure cooking, too...
so, yes, I kick ass in the kitchen.
They were all mouth-watering, too, if I do say so.
hee..
we dropped the kids with grandma and had a fabulously wine-y
(as opposed to frighteningly whiney) afternoon.
a langorous and lovely day.
I even scored a new recipe for sweet potato pie,
which I will use on sunday for the stupid dinner I'm throwing for the husband's family.
there will only be 15 of us, which isn't too bad.
and I can't wait to see my sisters-in-law, because we haven't gotten together for a while.
oh, shit.
do NOT let me forget to guy a god damned turkey!!!
fucking hell.
One Thanksgiving dinner without turkey was enough for me.
...hey, the Pilgrims ate lobster!
don't even think about arguing with me.
I'm having a hard time choosing classes for next semester...
I think I'm going to post a list and let you guys vote.
That sounds responsible, doesn't it???
no?
hm.
well, you could always go fuck yourselves...you know, just for old time's sake?
or something.
I guess I'm just afraid that I won't have time to write that pesky novel if I take the "wrong" classes.
Next year I'll be fine, since the boys will be in FIRST damn GRADE.
as if you guys care.
really and truly, I beg your pardon for carrying on like this.
It seems I am incapable of making decisions without mulling
and hashing
and debating
and pondering
and...
praying???
hee.
Just a little joke for my co-former-mormons out there.
Winter is here.
and I think I'm almost ready...
maybe I'll get some skiing in this year.
or maybe I'll just spend a LOT of time in front my fireplace, writing.
sometimes I feel like there are secrets of the universe,
or at least slices of humor,
just lying dormant in my soggy ole head.
but they don't come to the surface.
eh, oh well.
I hope that I am not giving up on my grandest dream.
I hope that instead I am living it...
and it was marvelous.
I got to work on my 4 pies around 9:30 this morning,
and we were out the door by 12:30.
That last hour was pure cooking, too...
so, yes, I kick ass in the kitchen.
They were all mouth-watering, too, if I do say so.
hee..
we dropped the kids with grandma and had a fabulously wine-y
(as opposed to frighteningly whiney) afternoon.
a langorous and lovely day.
I even scored a new recipe for sweet potato pie,
which I will use on sunday for the stupid dinner I'm throwing for the husband's family.
there will only be 15 of us, which isn't too bad.
and I can't wait to see my sisters-in-law, because we haven't gotten together for a while.
oh, shit.
do NOT let me forget to guy a god damned turkey!!!
fucking hell.
One Thanksgiving dinner without turkey was enough for me.
...hey, the Pilgrims ate lobster!
don't even think about arguing with me.
I'm having a hard time choosing classes for next semester...
I think I'm going to post a list and let you guys vote.
That sounds responsible, doesn't it???
no?
hm.
well, you could always go fuck yourselves...you know, just for old time's sake?
or something.
I guess I'm just afraid that I won't have time to write that pesky novel if I take the "wrong" classes.
Next year I'll be fine, since the boys will be in FIRST damn GRADE.
as if you guys care.
really and truly, I beg your pardon for carrying on like this.
It seems I am incapable of making decisions without mulling
and hashing
and debating
and pondering
and...
praying???
hee.
Just a little joke for my co-former-mormons out there.
Winter is here.
and I think I'm almost ready...
maybe I'll get some skiing in this year.
or maybe I'll just spend a LOT of time in front my fireplace, writing.
sometimes I feel like there are secrets of the universe,
or at least slices of humor,
just lying dormant in my soggy ole head.
but they don't come to the surface.
eh, oh well.
I hope that I am not giving up on my grandest dream.
I hope that instead I am living it...
Thursday, November 24, 2005
I am thankful for...
my extraordinary mother, who taught me to cook well.
my husband for driving to 3 different groceries stores with me last night, searching for lobsters.
a husband who will do the entire cleanup of a massively messy meal like this one...
eh.
that's all I have right now.
earlier today, I had visions of a beautiful, heartfelt long and winding list of thankfulness.
I'm too tired now from cooking and entertaining to think of anything I'm actually thankful for...
mostly I'm thinking of how great my bed will feel
(in a different way than it felt about an hour before dinner when hubby took me-- uh. and took me...)
and I'm trying not to think about the four pies I am taking to the dinner tomorrow,
or the 2 pies and batch of brownies that I am making Saturday for the Turkey feast I'm hosting Sunday...
Tomorrow we leave here at 12:30...
er...
Marie Calendar's anyone???
but at least we secured the mother in law to watch the boys so we dont' have to take them to the dinner tomorrow.
praise the lord and pass the wine/beer/Jager!!
woooot!!!
Ok, I had forgotten that lovely morsel...I guess I'll live afterall.
I am thankful for mothers in law who babysit,
and friends who let friends drink and not-drive.
I will cross the pie bridge when I come to it.
i.e.: if I feel like it, I'll make them in the morning.
if not, I won't.
that's the best part about going to a thanksgiving celebration on Friday...
ok, my brain is fried.
I need to go get my camera and post the pictures of my lovely,
non-traditional feast.
oh, and I drove the Jaguar and decided it's not that great--
not the one I can afford, at least!!!
hahaha.
Sure, those XJ8s are smoooooth as ice, and just as cool.
and the X-type was a nice car, but...
I guess I'm more of a Volvo wagon girl at this point.
When I sell a book, I'll get an XJ8 convertible...or a Vette.
bleh.
whatever.
I need to have dreams, right?
I wish this cold would shit or get off the pot.
no, I guess I just wish it would get off the pot.
speaking of pot...
we bought a HUGE (muthafuckin) pot to boil the lobsters in,
and both of us failed to notice that the edge was crushed in on the bottom.
and it looked like someone had driven across the top edge of it, with a chain saw.
and did I mention that pot was gigantically enormerrific?
I think you could probably fit two human heads in it.
I mean, probably.
fuckity fuck.
Ok, here are the pictures....
I nearly died laughing when I saw the last one,
because I had forgotten it.
My first ever batch of clam chowder.
Which came out perfect, by the way.
I feel such a kinship to the little insects...
(I'm referring to the lobsters as insects, not the children...)
"lizards" as Oliver kept calling them.
I almost felt bad killing them.
but then I remembered the flavor and laughed all the way to the stove.
which, incidentally, was just behind me.
short trip.
It was a day of firsts, with this being my first EVER lattice-topped pie.
It came out like a tastebud explosion, or massage, or something...
it was truly a gift to my mouth, and that after homemade biscuits, lobster and clam chowder???
yup, that good.
and this.
oh.
MY.
GAWD.
I can't stop laughing....
(and it kinda makes me horny!)
I noticed it when I was adding a handful of clams to the chowder...
I hope you each had a fantastic, happy, full-bellied day.
someone come rub my neck and I'll be good as new.
muah!
my husband for driving to 3 different groceries stores with me last night, searching for lobsters.
a husband who will do the entire cleanup of a massively messy meal like this one...
eh.
that's all I have right now.
earlier today, I had visions of a beautiful, heartfelt long and winding list of thankfulness.
I'm too tired now from cooking and entertaining to think of anything I'm actually thankful for...
mostly I'm thinking of how great my bed will feel
(in a different way than it felt about an hour before dinner when hubby took me-- uh. and took me...)
and I'm trying not to think about the four pies I am taking to the dinner tomorrow,
or the 2 pies and batch of brownies that I am making Saturday for the Turkey feast I'm hosting Sunday...
Tomorrow we leave here at 12:30...
er...
Marie Calendar's anyone???
but at least we secured the mother in law to watch the boys so we dont' have to take them to the dinner tomorrow.
praise the lord and pass the wine/beer/Jager!!
woooot!!!
Ok, I had forgotten that lovely morsel...I guess I'll live afterall.
I am thankful for mothers in law who babysit,
and friends who let friends drink and not-drive.
I will cross the pie bridge when I come to it.
i.e.: if I feel like it, I'll make them in the morning.
if not, I won't.
that's the best part about going to a thanksgiving celebration on Friday...
ok, my brain is fried.
I need to go get my camera and post the pictures of my lovely,
non-traditional feast.
oh, and I drove the Jaguar and decided it's not that great--
not the one I can afford, at least!!!
hahaha.
Sure, those XJ8s are smoooooth as ice, and just as cool.
and the X-type was a nice car, but...
I guess I'm more of a Volvo wagon girl at this point.
When I sell a book, I'll get an XJ8 convertible...or a Vette.
bleh.
whatever.
I need to have dreams, right?
I wish this cold would shit or get off the pot.
no, I guess I just wish it would get off the pot.
speaking of pot...
we bought a HUGE (muthafuckin) pot to boil the lobsters in,
and both of us failed to notice that the edge was crushed in on the bottom.
and it looked like someone had driven across the top edge of it, with a chain saw.
and did I mention that pot was gigantically enormerrific?
I think you could probably fit two human heads in it.
I mean, probably.
fuckity fuck.
Ok, here are the pictures....
I nearly died laughing when I saw the last one,
because I had forgotten it.
My first ever batch of clam chowder.
Which came out perfect, by the way.
I feel such a kinship to the little insects...
(I'm referring to the lobsters as insects, not the children...)
"lizards" as Oliver kept calling them.
I almost felt bad killing them.
but then I remembered the flavor and laughed all the way to the stove.
which, incidentally, was just behind me.
short trip.
It was a day of firsts, with this being my first EVER lattice-topped pie.
It came out like a tastebud explosion, or massage, or something...
it was truly a gift to my mouth, and that after homemade biscuits, lobster and clam chowder???
yup, that good.
and this.
oh.
MY.
GAWD.
I can't stop laughing....
(and it kinda makes me horny!)
I noticed it when I was adding a handful of clams to the chowder...
I hope you each had a fantastic, happy, full-bellied day.
someone come rub my neck and I'll be good as new.
muah!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
I'm a lazy ass, how are you?
I should have left for the gym over an hour ago.
But as you can PLAINLY see--
I haven't.
I have, however, been working on my class schedule for next semester.
It's going to be a huge adjustment from this time.
Looks like American Civilization and Intro to Literary Criticism or some bullshit.
Now, here's my gripe:
I could fit both classes on the same days if it weren't for the idiocy of my school district.
We have "short day" on Fridays, and half the time they have it on Thursday cuz there's no school on Friday.
I sweart to god, they've only been in session about 43% of the time so far.
whatever.
so the problem with that is that I would have to skip my second class on almost every Friday.
Unless I can find someone to pick up my kids and chill with them for about an hour every Friday.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
I think I might have to hire Mona to whoop my school district's ass.
Oh, by the way...
I officially have not written a single word for Nanowrimo yet.
I really thought I would this year...
I also thought my husband was going to be travelling a lot,
and he hasn't.
which I'll take over free time with which to write ANYDAY.
but I am still going to start a novel as soon as I can.
maybe I should drop out of school.
heh.
I know, I know.
but I really wish I had a nanny or a chef or a genie...
ok, so I've discovered something that made my heart flutter like nothing has since Bo Bice first stepped onto the American Idol stage.
that is this:
my ultimate dream car is within my price range.
well, sorta.
I mean, obviously the truly sleek and elegant ones are still morethan my husband would be willing to spend on a car (although not necessarily outside our budget),
and the brand new ones are even a little more than he wants to part with.
HOWEVER.
I could get a 2002 or 2003 Jaguar for the same as I was going to pay for a 2001 or 2002 Volvo Station wagon.
(yes, the volvo remains 2nd on my list...I don't know why I love them so much, I just do.)
Just the word "Jaguar", all capitalized and dripping with leather and a leaping hood ornament makes me light headed.
can you picture ME in a Jag???
I feel like an imposter just thinking about it.
I guess I could take a bunch of nude shots of myself splayed across the hood and I might be able to reconcile the idea.
that was a joke.
I felt I should clarify that after the warm reaction I got to yesterday's porn discussion.
I'm hungry.
This post sucks like a toothless hooker.
it feels like friday.
I have shit to do.
eat
work out
answer emails
go to the store for last minute seafood feast ingredients.
test drive CARS.
(not SARS)
I think I'll close my eyes...
I see myself sitting in the shadowy corner of a pub.
somewhere small, like the places back home.
maybe a fire place, maybe a couple of pool tables.
a small stage, with a stool.
a man with a guitar.
my foot tapping, my fingers wrapping around the dewey glass, tracing shapes on the side.
there is a passion contained in rooms like that,
a depth of feeling and an ability to see all the way around the world with bare eyes.
but it is lost on the patrons; drunk and stupid, stupid or drunk.
that soul on the stage is like gossamer, it could be plucked out and wrapped around and spun into a tapestry...
but most don't even know it's there.
the crushing of a heart against ribs is mistaken for plain sadness,
the dance of the fingers over strings is seen as a mere physical motion instead of the pulsing of pain into the air.
the notes and syllables wash over me and leave me chilled or breathless or on my feet.
My cheeks flush, my eyes grow darker and shine.
mmm...
Have a happy Thanksgiving, Americans, and a great week the rest of you.
Don't know when I'll be back...
But as you can PLAINLY see--
I haven't.
I have, however, been working on my class schedule for next semester.
It's going to be a huge adjustment from this time.
Looks like American Civilization and Intro to Literary Criticism or some bullshit.
Now, here's my gripe:
I could fit both classes on the same days if it weren't for the idiocy of my school district.
We have "short day" on Fridays, and half the time they have it on Thursday cuz there's no school on Friday.
I sweart to god, they've only been in session about 43% of the time so far.
whatever.
so the problem with that is that I would have to skip my second class on almost every Friday.
Unless I can find someone to pick up my kids and chill with them for about an hour every Friday.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
I think I might have to hire Mona to whoop my school district's ass.
Oh, by the way...
I officially have not written a single word for Nanowrimo yet.
I really thought I would this year...
I also thought my husband was going to be travelling a lot,
and he hasn't.
which I'll take over free time with which to write ANYDAY.
but I am still going to start a novel as soon as I can.
maybe I should drop out of school.
heh.
I know, I know.
but I really wish I had a nanny or a chef or a genie...
ok, so I've discovered something that made my heart flutter like nothing has since Bo Bice first stepped onto the American Idol stage.
that is this:
my ultimate dream car is within my price range.
well, sorta.
I mean, obviously the truly sleek and elegant ones are still morethan my husband would be willing to spend on a car (although not necessarily outside our budget),
and the brand new ones are even a little more than he wants to part with.
HOWEVER.
I could get a 2002 or 2003 Jaguar for the same as I was going to pay for a 2001 or 2002 Volvo Station wagon.
(yes, the volvo remains 2nd on my list...I don't know why I love them so much, I just do.)
Just the word "Jaguar", all capitalized and dripping with leather and a leaping hood ornament makes me light headed.
can you picture ME in a Jag???
I feel like an imposter just thinking about it.
I guess I could take a bunch of nude shots of myself splayed across the hood and I might be able to reconcile the idea.
that was a joke.
I felt I should clarify that after the warm reaction I got to yesterday's porn discussion.
I'm hungry.
This post sucks like a toothless hooker.
it feels like friday.
I have shit to do.
eat
work out
answer emails
go to the store for last minute seafood feast ingredients.
test drive CARS.
(not SARS)
I think I'll close my eyes...
I see myself sitting in the shadowy corner of a pub.
somewhere small, like the places back home.
maybe a fire place, maybe a couple of pool tables.
a small stage, with a stool.
a man with a guitar.
my foot tapping, my fingers wrapping around the dewey glass, tracing shapes on the side.
there is a passion contained in rooms like that,
a depth of feeling and an ability to see all the way around the world with bare eyes.
but it is lost on the patrons; drunk and stupid, stupid or drunk.
that soul on the stage is like gossamer, it could be plucked out and wrapped around and spun into a tapestry...
but most don't even know it's there.
the crushing of a heart against ribs is mistaken for plain sadness,
the dance of the fingers over strings is seen as a mere physical motion instead of the pulsing of pain into the air.
the notes and syllables wash over me and leave me chilled or breathless or on my feet.
My cheeks flush, my eyes grow darker and shine.
mmm...
Have a happy Thanksgiving, Americans, and a great week the rest of you.
Don't know when I'll be back...
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Braless TUESDAY
Two's day
Tooozday
Shoes day.
Unencumbered Knockers Day.
Free-as-a-Bird Boobies Day.
Braless for Peace Day.
No-one-reads-the-post Day.
Tuesday...
Booz Day.
Right?
Right.
(I couldn't decide which shot I like better...)
This is a celebration of my husband's hard work last night--
(no, not in the bedroom, although he deserves a prize of some kind for that, as well...)
No, I'm celebrating the new computer he put together for THE KIDS.
I can't guarantee they won't still use mine more than I would like,
but at least I won't feel guilty kicking them off mine so I can surf porn.
oh, come ON.
I don't really do that.
I prefer to make
what??
It's way less expoitative to women that way.
or something.
Ya know, sometimes I forget that I'm a little more...
er...
adventurous?
forward thinking?
than the average American.
This week's Desperate Housewives episode sorta brought that home.
The couple filming themselves, etc.
I was sort of confused as to why all the fuss--
I would totally let someone else film us having sex, if they had such a sweet setup.
crap.
I guess I'm the creepy neighbor.
Good thing I don't have anyone to have playdates with anyway...
And there goes one more day of Lisa Shares a whole-helluva-lot More Than Anyone Needed to Hear.
So, not only do I get screwed out of longer days of Kindergarten,
but every week the last day of the week is "short", whether it's a Friday or not.
TODAY WAS A FUCKING SHORT DAY.
Which means they're there for 2 damn lousy stinkin hours.
AND.
they didn't send home a reminder.
I meant to check the calendar...
to see what the schedule was like this week...
but I forgot.
So.
when I scurried to their school from my school, and discovered no crowd waiting...
I knew.
and I felt like a fucking MORON.
Oh well.
I'm just glad I didn't have to miss class again.
Whatever.
My head hurts.
Or maybe it's my heart not hurting that feels strange.
or my head not thinking.
Or my feet in these damn boots.
And I am sick of being such a damn whiner
bitcher
moaner
screamer
uh...oops...
sidetracked.
have a great day.
Tuesday...
oh, precious Tuesday!
how do I love thee?
no, really--
how do I manage to love such a shitty, stressful day??
Because it needs me, that's how.
er.
whatever.
Class tomorrow.
it's been over a week since I went...
I miss it!
I have nothing to say.
So why am I posting?
I guess I thought I would get the braless thang out of the way first.
but then I realized I don't have a picture ready, and I'm not taking one right now.
don't ask.
I'm just not.
I have other stuff I should be doing.
so I will.
but at least know this:
You can get Cherries in Virgin...
and that makes me giggle.
Ok, Ok, I am going to cop out on you guys again.
here's an old one, but I'll try to get something really creative done for Thursday--
oh, wait...
Thursday.
Thanks-frigging-giving.
I guess we're not doing HNT this week, eh?
well.
Maybe I'll post something good sometime, anyway, how 'bout THAT??
how do I love thee?
no, really--
how do I manage to love such a shitty, stressful day??
Because it needs me, that's how.
er.
whatever.
Class tomorrow.
it's been over a week since I went...
I miss it!
I have nothing to say.
So why am I posting?
I guess I thought I would get the braless thang out of the way first.
but then I realized I don't have a picture ready, and I'm not taking one right now.
don't ask.
I'm just not.
I have other stuff I should be doing.
so I will.
but at least know this:
You can get Cherries in Virgin...
and that makes me giggle.
Ok, Ok, I am going to cop out on you guys again.
here's an old one, but I'll try to get something really creative done for Thursday--
oh, wait...
Thursday.
Thanks-frigging-giving.
I guess we're not doing HNT this week, eh?
well.
Maybe I'll post something good sometime, anyway, how 'bout THAT??
Monday, November 21, 2005
When it's cold outside...
I've got the month of November.
er.
whatever.
If I could get my ass into the shower
(and hopefully the rest of my body as well)
then maybe I could go get some "shit" done before I pick my kids up from school.
That thought somehow feels heavy and awkward...
which is probably because it's not gonna happen.
not even remotely.
but we'll see.
(I like to set the bar low so I don't end up cowering in a corner, hoping Failure will get hungry enough to leave for long enough that I can sneak out the back door...)
SPEAKING of failure...
I'm starting to (tentatively) search for a literary agent.
the problem is, I don't have a completed novel and that's sorta what they're mostly looking for.
one of the agents on the list looked pretty good--
except for the two enormous grammatical errors, which could have been typos, but still.
"a author" and "for" instead of "from"...thanks, but no thanks.
I found one who actually lives in MY suburb of Salt Lake,
and one who sounds like she is looking for me, personally.
So I'll start with those two.
Guess why I'm telling you all this?
Just guess...
no, not that.
try again.
ok, that was uncalled for.
NO.
The reason I'm writing this--here--is to try to make myself accountable.
to try to establish a deadline of sorts.
And also, to sabatoge myself.
heh.
I rock.
anyway.
It is suddenly winter, today,
and I'm freezing.
me and the dew on the grass...
perhaps it'll spur me into finishing the Great Garage Reorganization Project of 2005,
so that I may
finally
fucking park in my THREE CAR garage again.
yeah.
we have 3 vehicles in the driveway right now.
and shit stacked all over the garage.
It started 2 weeks ago, and I'm already as over it as one of those stupid-ass half-sweaters and a cami.
(...sweater over camisole...get it? eh, nevermind.)
for anyone not already in mad,
deep,
platonic-and/or-raging sexual love with Zach Braff,
go here.
now.
And do you want to know why he scores so high on my rate-a-guy scale?
(I don't actually have one of those, but just play along)
Here's why:
smart.
funny.
hot.
and yes, those attributes are listed in order of importance,
although probably funny should be first,
since I don't generally find complete dumbasses to be funny...
well, not in a good way, at least,
so if I find a guy suitably funny,
chances are he's smarter than your average asshole.
("asshole" as a guy, not a body part...)
Oh, did I fail to link the post?
oops.
So did any of you know that today is the first day of the rest of your--
* gym membership
* carton of milk's shelf life
* tank of gas
* celibacy
* pregnancy
* cold
* flu
* really low IQ affecting your ability to get dates or keep jobs
Ok, so that was fun.
Maybe I should design a meme and start forcing everyone to do it.
Oh, what?
you don't think I could FORCE you?
puh-leeeez.
I was trained by the CIA for a covert ops team and my specialty is information extrication.
(I was SOOOO tempted to phrase that in such a way that I could use "garner" instead of "extrication", but I didn't. And I still worked in the joke; how 'bout that?)
Has anyone noticed that I've made a goal to start using more semi colons?
You can thank the dude in my english class who's more anal about grammar than I am.
I was rather shocked to discover that, as you might suspect.
(but pleased.)
oh, I posted my latest poems from class, for those of you who are into that sorta thing.
(for the record, I LOOOOVE those of you who are into that sorta thing...)
uh, and those of you who are into THAT sorta thing.
ahem.
blushing...
ok, I have to pee like--
like a woman who chugged a cup of cofee and a huge glass of icewater!
...how's that for a non-metaphorical turn of phrase???
yippeeeee----------
have a great Monday, you folks in some time zones, you.
the rest of ya, have a great Tuesday...
er.
whatever.
If I could get my ass into the shower
(and hopefully the rest of my body as well)
then maybe I could go get some "shit" done before I pick my kids up from school.
That thought somehow feels heavy and awkward...
which is probably because it's not gonna happen.
not even remotely.
but we'll see.
(I like to set the bar low so I don't end up cowering in a corner, hoping Failure will get hungry enough to leave for long enough that I can sneak out the back door...)
SPEAKING of failure...
I'm starting to (tentatively) search for a literary agent.
the problem is, I don't have a completed novel and that's sorta what they're mostly looking for.
one of the agents on the list looked pretty good--
except for the two enormous grammatical errors, which could have been typos, but still.
"a author" and "for" instead of "from"...thanks, but no thanks.
I found one who actually lives in MY suburb of Salt Lake,
and one who sounds like she is looking for me, personally.
So I'll start with those two.
Guess why I'm telling you all this?
Just guess...
no, not that.
try again.
ok, that was uncalled for.
NO.
The reason I'm writing this--here--is to try to make myself accountable.
to try to establish a deadline of sorts.
And also, to sabatoge myself.
heh.
I rock.
anyway.
It is suddenly winter, today,
and I'm freezing.
me and the dew on the grass...
perhaps it'll spur me into finishing the Great Garage Reorganization Project of 2005,
so that I may
finally
fucking park in my THREE CAR garage again.
yeah.
we have 3 vehicles in the driveway right now.
and shit stacked all over the garage.
It started 2 weeks ago, and I'm already as over it as one of those stupid-ass half-sweaters and a cami.
(...sweater over camisole...get it? eh, nevermind.)
for anyone not already in mad,
deep,
platonic-and/or-raging sexual love with Zach Braff,
go here.
now.
And do you want to know why he scores so high on my rate-a-guy scale?
(I don't actually have one of those, but just play along)
Here's why:
smart.
funny.
hot.
and yes, those attributes are listed in order of importance,
although probably funny should be first,
since I don't generally find complete dumbasses to be funny...
well, not in a good way, at least,
so if I find a guy suitably funny,
chances are he's smarter than your average asshole.
("asshole" as a guy, not a body part...)
Oh, did I fail to link the post?
oops.
So did any of you know that today is the first day of the rest of your--
* gym membership
* carton of milk's shelf life
* tank of gas
* celibacy
* pregnancy
* cold
* flu
* really low IQ affecting your ability to get dates or keep jobs
Ok, so that was fun.
Maybe I should design a meme and start forcing everyone to do it.
Oh, what?
you don't think I could FORCE you?
puh-leeeez.
I was trained by the CIA for a covert ops team and my specialty is information extrication.
(I was SOOOO tempted to phrase that in such a way that I could use "garner" instead of "extrication", but I didn't. And I still worked in the joke; how 'bout that?)
Has anyone noticed that I've made a goal to start using more semi colons?
You can thank the dude in my english class who's more anal about grammar than I am.
I was rather shocked to discover that, as you might suspect.
(but pleased.)
oh, I posted my latest poems from class, for those of you who are into that sorta thing.
(for the record, I LOOOOVE those of you who are into that sorta thing...)
uh, and those of you who are into THAT sorta thing.
ahem.
blushing...
ok, I have to pee like--
like a woman who chugged a cup of cofee and a huge glass of icewater!
...how's that for a non-metaphorical turn of phrase???
yippeeeee----------
have a great Monday, you folks in some time zones, you.
the rest of ya, have a great Tuesday...
Sunday, November 20, 2005
It is a dark not-stormy night...
Or maybe that's just me.
Maybe I'm the one who's dark...
and maybe a little stormy.
but more like the ocean is stormy,
than a bad mood is stormy.
We use that word so comfortably to describe anger,
and yet.
It has its own life, let's don't forget.
Just because I feel a bit stormy doesn't mean I'm angry or conflicted.
And I'm not sure what the hell I mean by it anyway.
but I'm not angry or conflicted.
and yet somehow...
I still feel stormy.
...as if the wind will seep out of me
and rain will pound down from me...
I feel pretty and settled and happy today.
We had a fun evening with some cool-and-interesting friends.
good food.
goooood beer.
high-larry-us movie.
oh, and when I got home I noticed some rather unsightly dandruff.
awesome.
I feel like a Head & Shoulders commercial is about to leap out of my chest,
so I'll stop.
(it's a sensation not unlike the hiccups, in case you're wondering...)
Thanksgiving is coming right up.
we've decided on a lobster feast for Thursday,
since I'm hosting my husband's family next Sunday for our turkey dinner.
I am really excited.
I didn't go home this summer, so it's been a while since I've had lobster.
No, I don't ever order it at restaurants.
it tends to taste like cardboard and feel like rubber.
I learned that lesson the hard way, believe me.
I bought a big old pad of Mad Libs today...
Don't even think about telling me you're not jealous.
Cuz...
if you say that then you're either lying or not someone I want to be friends with.
ok?
ok.
whoa.
I wonder if I'm dying...
I just noticed that my left hand is pale and normal-looking,
while my right hand is darker and a little blotchy.
I think it means I'm having a heart attack.
or I'm about to have a stroke.
OR.
that I'm turning into a hypochondriac before my very eyes...
my decision to buy a Volvo station wagon was reaffirmed tonight.
hot chick in "40-year-old Virgin" drove one,
as well as the Terri hatcher character on Desperate Housewives.
(not to be confused with BORED housewife...)
so it's settled.
hot brunettes who are either smart or artsy (or both) drive Volvo station wagons.
of course, both of those women have teenage daughters, vastly smaller waists than I, and scripts, so...
well, whatever.
I'm gettin' me a volvo.
unless I go for the audi wagon...
blah.
you know what I wish?
I wish I would have used my "shift" key more often on this blog.
Not really, though.
ok.
that's enough non-stormy, non-drunk rambling.
peace.
peas.
and piece...
P.S. I just noticed this is post # 1111 Yaaay!!!
Maybe I'm the one who's dark...
and maybe a little stormy.
but more like the ocean is stormy,
than a bad mood is stormy.
We use that word so comfortably to describe anger,
and yet.
It has its own life, let's don't forget.
Just because I feel a bit stormy doesn't mean I'm angry or conflicted.
And I'm not sure what the hell I mean by it anyway.
but I'm not angry or conflicted.
and yet somehow...
I still feel stormy.
...as if the wind will seep out of me
and rain will pound down from me...
I feel pretty and settled and happy today.
We had a fun evening with some cool-and-interesting friends.
good food.
goooood beer.
high-larry-us movie.
oh, and when I got home I noticed some rather unsightly dandruff.
awesome.
I feel like a Head & Shoulders commercial is about to leap out of my chest,
so I'll stop.
(it's a sensation not unlike the hiccups, in case you're wondering...)
Thanksgiving is coming right up.
we've decided on a lobster feast for Thursday,
since I'm hosting my husband's family next Sunday for our turkey dinner.
I am really excited.
I didn't go home this summer, so it's been a while since I've had lobster.
No, I don't ever order it at restaurants.
it tends to taste like cardboard and feel like rubber.
I learned that lesson the hard way, believe me.
I bought a big old pad of Mad Libs today...
Don't even think about telling me you're not jealous.
Cuz...
if you say that then you're either lying or not someone I want to be friends with.
ok?
ok.
whoa.
I wonder if I'm dying...
I just noticed that my left hand is pale and normal-looking,
while my right hand is darker and a little blotchy.
I think it means I'm having a heart attack.
or I'm about to have a stroke.
OR.
that I'm turning into a hypochondriac before my very eyes...
my decision to buy a Volvo station wagon was reaffirmed tonight.
hot chick in "40-year-old Virgin" drove one,
as well as the Terri hatcher character on Desperate Housewives.
(not to be confused with BORED housewife...)
so it's settled.
hot brunettes who are either smart or artsy (or both) drive Volvo station wagons.
of course, both of those women have teenage daughters, vastly smaller waists than I, and scripts, so...
well, whatever.
I'm gettin' me a volvo.
unless I go for the audi wagon...
blah.
you know what I wish?
I wish I would have used my "shift" key more often on this blog.
Not really, though.
ok.
that's enough non-stormy, non-drunk rambling.
peace.
peas.
and piece...
P.S. I just noticed this is post # 1111 Yaaay!!!
Friday, November 18, 2005
Is it really Friday?
I don't believe it.
and I think I'll leave ya with a rerun--
hey, remember: if you haven't seen it, it's new to you!
(lucky us, I opened it and took the first post...from the land of Fantasy Friday)
April 30, 2004
I forgot about this, again.
dammit.
seriously, i should assign one of you to remind me on wednesday....
cuz lord knows i can't be trusted to remember jack or shit on my own.
okay, here goes...
(I'm planning to tone it down a bit from the direction the last few have taken, but we'll see where the path leads.)
Too many drinks, too many smokes....
music--every song the soundtrack to your eyes on mine...
your skin on mine.
we stumble to a room, a mattress on the floor.
candles cover every surface,
a fleeting thought to light them is replaced with your lips on mine.
where are we?--another fleeting thought replaced with your hand on my bare stomach, pushing my shirt higher.
the music is loud, the smoke heavy, softening the edges of everything.
you ask to see my tattoo.
i unbutton my pants, opening them to reveal my hip to you...
you kneel, kissing...your hands on my waist.
showing so much restraint, creating so much heat....
we are so young, so unsure.
breathless.
you look up at me, head cocked, questioning.
i nod slightly, my breathing turns shallow.
you slide my pants down, i step out.
you stand, pulling your t-shirt over your head.
you kiss me on the mouth, both of us suddenly aware of so much skin, a closed door, a bed...
i touch your chest with a tenative hand, the thrill from it reaching my toes.
our kisses open our minds and bodies to each other--and close out all else.
the music stops for a moment, and we hear voices.
we pause, looking into each other's eyes--by mistake, almost.
the shyness nearly returns,
but the music starts again and we make our way to that bed on the floor, shedding clothes along the way.
all of your skin on all of mine, the kissing continues, each of us afraid to take the next step.
you say my name and my stomach flips.
i look at you, mouth open ready to speak...
you say your name with a soft smile, for the first time that evening.
my hands go to your purposely-messy hair, a thumb tracing your studded earlobe.
your hand strays down my side, hesitantly inching inward...
i let out a soft moan as your fingers find their mark.
i reach down to touch....you...so smooth...
both of us ready, both of us hesitant.
i spread my legs wider, you sink in.
we both sigh.
moving together in a rhythm so soft and sure, that it seems we've done this a thousand times.
in that moment i know it is the future i'm feeling and not the past.
you know it too, and smile, saying my name again, the breath it takes tickling my ear.
your hands are soft and have found all the right places, this interlocking opening the store of memories yet to come.
we have become a sweating writhing tangle of limbs, with tunnel vision.
my nails find your back, your lips find my breasts, we are lost in this maze.
it builds to a frenzy of need, being released only by the waves of ecstasy which wash over us together.
so there.
happy friday.
------------------------
Half-Nekkid...Friday:
Really, have a great weekend.
and hope I get my groove back soon.
I should have more to write about soon....
smooches to all the napes of all your necks.
and I think I'll leave ya with a rerun--
hey, remember: if you haven't seen it, it's new to you!
(lucky us, I opened it and took the first post...from the land of Fantasy Friday)
April 30, 2004
I forgot about this, again.
dammit.
seriously, i should assign one of you to remind me on wednesday....
cuz lord knows i can't be trusted to remember jack or shit on my own.
okay, here goes...
(I'm planning to tone it down a bit from the direction the last few have taken, but we'll see where the path leads.)
Too many drinks, too many smokes....
music--every song the soundtrack to your eyes on mine...
your skin on mine.
we stumble to a room, a mattress on the floor.
candles cover every surface,
a fleeting thought to light them is replaced with your lips on mine.
where are we?--another fleeting thought replaced with your hand on my bare stomach, pushing my shirt higher.
the music is loud, the smoke heavy, softening the edges of everything.
you ask to see my tattoo.
i unbutton my pants, opening them to reveal my hip to you...
you kneel, kissing...your hands on my waist.
showing so much restraint, creating so much heat....
we are so young, so unsure.
breathless.
you look up at me, head cocked, questioning.
i nod slightly, my breathing turns shallow.
you slide my pants down, i step out.
you stand, pulling your t-shirt over your head.
you kiss me on the mouth, both of us suddenly aware of so much skin, a closed door, a bed...
i touch your chest with a tenative hand, the thrill from it reaching my toes.
our kisses open our minds and bodies to each other--and close out all else.
the music stops for a moment, and we hear voices.
we pause, looking into each other's eyes--by mistake, almost.
the shyness nearly returns,
but the music starts again and we make our way to that bed on the floor, shedding clothes along the way.
all of your skin on all of mine, the kissing continues, each of us afraid to take the next step.
you say my name and my stomach flips.
i look at you, mouth open ready to speak...
you say your name with a soft smile, for the first time that evening.
my hands go to your purposely-messy hair, a thumb tracing your studded earlobe.
your hand strays down my side, hesitantly inching inward...
i let out a soft moan as your fingers find their mark.
i reach down to touch....you...so smooth...
both of us ready, both of us hesitant.
i spread my legs wider, you sink in.
we both sigh.
moving together in a rhythm so soft and sure, that it seems we've done this a thousand times.
in that moment i know it is the future i'm feeling and not the past.
you know it too, and smile, saying my name again, the breath it takes tickling my ear.
your hands are soft and have found all the right places, this interlocking opening the store of memories yet to come.
we have become a sweating writhing tangle of limbs, with tunnel vision.
my nails find your back, your lips find my breasts, we are lost in this maze.
it builds to a frenzy of need, being released only by the waves of ecstasy which wash over us together.
so there.
happy friday.
------------------------
Half-Nekkid...Friday:
Really, have a great weekend.
and hope I get my groove back soon.
I should have more to write about soon....
smooches to all the napes of all your necks.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Today I Think I'll Write
I'm not feeling sassy
or svelte
or silly.
I'm not even feeling like talking about the current events of my world.
my small and soft and careful world.
Today.
I am feeling the need to push something creative out from the far reaches of my soul.
It is stretched far, I fear.
Wandering about the globe in its quest for--
what?
Its quest for butter.
Yeah...I know, it sounds odd.
But my soul loves butter, what can I say?
My body is only in a platonic relationship with butter, but soul wants to
hit third base with butter
take a carriage ride around the city with butter
stroll the moonlit streets of Paris with butter
take a blood oath to be forever loyal to butter.
Too bad neither my soul nor butter have blood...
See?
I needed to close my eyes and purge some sticky poetic residue,
clinging to the backs of my eyelids,
crusted under my fingernails.
that shit starts to stink after a while, ya know?
Besides...
some days I am finished with writing about MY LIFE.
I'm thinking of starting a vacation/spa/camp thing for brains.
Just a little get away, a retreat.
My brain could use one of those...
especially if my soul is going to insist on chasing down its secret lover.
psh.
dinner tonight with best friend, J.
at one of our faaaavorite places.
I can't wait!
(shut up. I know I promised no boring "life" crap...)
and Saturday night hubby and I are going out with a couple with whom we are long over due for plans.
wow, that sentence was just craaaazy, eh?
I honestly don't know if it was grammatically correct or not.
guess I don't care, neither.
I mean, hellfire, if my soul can be incessantly infatuated with saturated fat...
or is that unsaturated fat?
whatever.
It's amazing how fantastic both Oliver and I feel after one night in our own beds!
and it's cute how both boys are soooo excited to have each other to play with again.
they're inventing all sorts of games and not even getting into mischief...yet.
allowing me to get caught up on some homeworky stuff.
I need to pick some classes for next semester...
blah blah, draining my brain...
sorry.
I should probably go shower.
and fight the urge to nap.
and make some calls regarding the in-law's plans for Turkey day.
why didn't someone TELL me it was next week????
jeeezus fucking christ, these things should be on the calendar or something!!!
um.
ok.
bye.
or svelte
or silly.
I'm not even feeling like talking about the current events of my world.
my small and soft and careful world.
Today.
I am feeling the need to push something creative out from the far reaches of my soul.
It is stretched far, I fear.
Wandering about the globe in its quest for--
what?
Its quest for butter.
Yeah...I know, it sounds odd.
But my soul loves butter, what can I say?
My body is only in a platonic relationship with butter, but soul wants to
hit third base with butter
take a carriage ride around the city with butter
stroll the moonlit streets of Paris with butter
take a blood oath to be forever loyal to butter.
Too bad neither my soul nor butter have blood...
See?
I needed to close my eyes and purge some sticky poetic residue,
clinging to the backs of my eyelids,
crusted under my fingernails.
that shit starts to stink after a while, ya know?
Besides...
some days I am finished with writing about MY LIFE.
I'm thinking of starting a vacation/spa/camp thing for brains.
Just a little get away, a retreat.
My brain could use one of those...
especially if my soul is going to insist on chasing down its secret lover.
psh.
dinner tonight with best friend, J.
at one of our faaaavorite places.
I can't wait!
(shut up. I know I promised no boring "life" crap...)
and Saturday night hubby and I are going out with a couple with whom we are long over due for plans.
wow, that sentence was just craaaazy, eh?
I honestly don't know if it was grammatically correct or not.
guess I don't care, neither.
I mean, hellfire, if my soul can be incessantly infatuated with saturated fat...
or is that unsaturated fat?
whatever.
It's amazing how fantastic both Oliver and I feel after one night in our own beds!
and it's cute how both boys are soooo excited to have each other to play with again.
they're inventing all sorts of games and not even getting into mischief...yet.
allowing me to get caught up on some homeworky stuff.
I need to pick some classes for next semester...
blah blah, draining my brain...
sorry.
I should probably go shower.
and fight the urge to nap.
and make some calls regarding the in-law's plans for Turkey day.
why didn't someone TELL me it was next week????
jeeezus fucking christ, these things should be on the calendar or something!!!
um.
ok.
bye.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Home sweet home
I can't begin to thank you all enough for your sweet words...
no, really, my brain is far too fried to compose properly thankful replies.
we are home and it feels great (add italics and bold and larger font on that would ya? thanks.)
and the fuckfaced doctors came to the solid and punctual conclusion that it is definitely, most assuredly--
either pneumonia or asthma.
great, thanks for that.
so we're still treating for both.
and they all are morons.
also, I really think it would have been nice to know that the cafeteria closes sometime before 10:45 am for god-knows-what-reason.
that was probably the hardest part for me--never really being able to eat when I needed to.
the hardest part for lil shnookums was a dead tie between the IV, the oxygen (up his nose-with-a-rubber-hose), the steroids making him angry, and the other shit winding him up--all while plugged in to various machines keeping him bed ridden.
gar.
I'm not complaining, though.
I know it could have been so much worse.
I'm just glad he's getting better, and we're home.
It is also under discussion, whether or not Becky is, in fact, jesus christ himself.
not only did she bring joy and relief with her Santa Claus-like visit last night,
but she seems to have cured Oliver by her mere presence (at least that's what we're going with...).
I actually got tears in my eyes when I realized I will sleep in my bed with my husband tonight--and might even have the energy for some of that whatchamacalit-sex-stuff.
I also realized that the lecture I missed yesterday was not, after all, covering the love of my life Eddie vedder, so I felt much better about that.
yup.
it's all about me.
bless you all.
no boobies this week, but perhaps back to something a bit raunchy by tomorrow...
no, really, my brain is far too fried to compose properly thankful replies.
we are home and it feels great (add italics and bold and larger font on that would ya? thanks.)
and the fuckfaced doctors came to the solid and punctual conclusion that it is definitely, most assuredly--
either pneumonia or asthma.
great, thanks for that.
so we're still treating for both.
and they all are morons.
also, I really think it would have been nice to know that the cafeteria closes sometime before 10:45 am for god-knows-what-reason.
that was probably the hardest part for me--never really being able to eat when I needed to.
the hardest part for lil shnookums was a dead tie between the IV, the oxygen (up his nose-with-a-rubber-hose), the steroids making him angry, and the other shit winding him up--all while plugged in to various machines keeping him bed ridden.
gar.
I'm not complaining, though.
I know it could have been so much worse.
I'm just glad he's getting better, and we're home.
It is also under discussion, whether or not Becky is, in fact, jesus christ himself.
not only did she bring joy and relief with her Santa Claus-like visit last night,
but she seems to have cured Oliver by her mere presence (at least that's what we're going with...).
I actually got tears in my eyes when I realized I will sleep in my bed with my husband tonight--and might even have the energy for some of that whatchamacalit-sex-stuff.
I also realized that the lecture I missed yesterday was not, after all, covering the love of my life Eddie vedder, so I felt much better about that.
yup.
it's all about me.
bless you all.
no boobies this week, but perhaps back to something a bit raunchy by tomorrow...
Monday, November 14, 2005
Almost there...
No, actually I'm almost here.
So my little one is out of danger, but we still don't really know much.
they're keeping him longer, so I'm off to trade places with my husband.
I wasn't going to let him sleep there, but both kids were asking for the other parent.
besides...now that I got a solid 6 hours of sleep, I'm not sure I could have made it through the night of sleeplessness that my previously well-rested husband just endured.
which was the real reason he insisted on relieving me.
I got my 10 page story written and turned in by 2 am, which I'm hoping was ok.
actually I sent him an email as soon as I got home, 10pm-ish, and outlined the situation--just to relieve the pressure for myself, i guess.
and now I feel a bit like you do after sending drunken, rambling emails to ex-boyfriends.
yes, YOU.
not me, as I've never done that.
what??
ok, just the one, and it wasn't very rambly.
so we spent a grand total of 11 hours yesterday in two emergency rooms andone ambulance (how the fuck do you spell that??? ambulence? neither looks right and if you DARE tell me, I'll bark at you with the venom of a snakey dog. huh? you heard me.)
anywho.
4 hours in the first ER which didn't show much improvement, so the doctors all said "we pass".
yup, the lame asses didn't dare to continue treating my son,
so they sent him to the Big Cheese hospital.
(no, it's not called that).
on the ambulence/ance ride my formerly super-sick-acting kid talked the EMT's ear off.
(literally. good thing she was a trained professional, and just sewed it back on.)
so that was a GREAT sign.
my little charmer...
so then we sat at the new hospital, in a highly uncomfortable ER exam room for 3 more hours, talking to 4 different doctors (telling them the same exact damn medical history) who all happened to be women, which is a cool and useless sidenote.
In aaalll that time, we never ate.
My little one finally started getting hungry, but we had the world's worst nurse,
and it took her almost 2 hours to walk to a fridge that was less than 10 yards away and extract a couple of chocolate puddings!
I dunno, maybe it was the spoon that gave her so much trouble.
anyway.
we finally got admitted around 7pm and I just wanted to eat and go to sleep.
Unfortunately this meant that I had still not enough time to even think about my 6-15 page story that was due last night at midnight.
let alone add anything to the few pages I already had written (ironically, I started the story last week in the ER with peanut head.)
which is why I thought I would be able to finish it up while in the hospital.
stupid, naive girl.
there wasn't a moment's peace, and after we moved hospitals, my fitfully sleeping child turned into turbo jaw, and somehow I couldn't bring myself to say "sit there and stare at the wall for a while so mommy can do her homework." heh.
anywho, we settled into his room, we both ate--
he ate TONS, which rocked.
they think he has asthma, instead of pneumonia.
they don't really know, though.
and he's ok but he's not breathing well enough without oxygen yet.
grr and sigh and more grrs.
and then my husband showed up around 8:30 and yadda yadda yadda, me and the healthy (ish) twin went home.
I got him something to eat and read him some stories and took a little rest, by watching part of a movie with him.
He was up way past his bedtime, but couldn't sleep without his brother there...aw...
so, then I felt a little better and headed to my office to start finishing my homework.
and panicked.
My brain felt like sludge.
like saw dust.
like a bag of straw.
like scrambled egg whites.
etc.
et al.
eternally.
so.
I wrote this crazy-sounding email to my professor explaining my day and insisting that I would still try my hardest to get the paper in, but that it would be past midnight.
so...because I believe in honesty here, and I don't think he'll ever find this page...
I'll admit that I really and truly couldn't do it.
I couldn't force 3 more pages of creativity out of myself.
I had a great start to a story, but it wasn't enough.
So...
I dug through my writing folder and found the attempt I made at NaNoWriMo last year--
which happened to be a glorious 7 pages long.
so, I spent the next 3 hours revising it and adding a more full scene at the tattoo parlor, and an ending, however hokey.
Blurg.
I feel quite shitty about it--
if only because I know I could do better, and would have really loved to.
oh well...
it's here if you're interested.
I'm off to the hospital again, and kind of looking forward to it, oddly enough.
maybe I'll jot down that list of ten things.
happy monday to ya.
So my little one is out of danger, but we still don't really know much.
they're keeping him longer, so I'm off to trade places with my husband.
I wasn't going to let him sleep there, but both kids were asking for the other parent.
besides...now that I got a solid 6 hours of sleep, I'm not sure I could have made it through the night of sleeplessness that my previously well-rested husband just endured.
which was the real reason he insisted on relieving me.
I got my 10 page story written and turned in by 2 am, which I'm hoping was ok.
actually I sent him an email as soon as I got home, 10pm-ish, and outlined the situation--just to relieve the pressure for myself, i guess.
and now I feel a bit like you do after sending drunken, rambling emails to ex-boyfriends.
yes, YOU.
not me, as I've never done that.
what??
ok, just the one, and it wasn't very rambly.
so we spent a grand total of 11 hours yesterday in two emergency rooms andone ambulance (how the fuck do you spell that??? ambulence? neither looks right and if you DARE tell me, I'll bark at you with the venom of a snakey dog. huh? you heard me.)
anywho.
4 hours in the first ER which didn't show much improvement, so the doctors all said "we pass".
yup, the lame asses didn't dare to continue treating my son,
so they sent him to the Big Cheese hospital.
(no, it's not called that).
on the ambulence/ance ride my formerly super-sick-acting kid talked the EMT's ear off.
(literally. good thing she was a trained professional, and just sewed it back on.)
so that was a GREAT sign.
my little charmer...
so then we sat at the new hospital, in a highly uncomfortable ER exam room for 3 more hours, talking to 4 different doctors (telling them the same exact damn medical history) who all happened to be women, which is a cool and useless sidenote.
In aaalll that time, we never ate.
My little one finally started getting hungry, but we had the world's worst nurse,
and it took her almost 2 hours to walk to a fridge that was less than 10 yards away and extract a couple of chocolate puddings!
I dunno, maybe it was the spoon that gave her so much trouble.
anyway.
we finally got admitted around 7pm and I just wanted to eat and go to sleep.
Unfortunately this meant that I had still not enough time to even think about my 6-15 page story that was due last night at midnight.
let alone add anything to the few pages I already had written (ironically, I started the story last week in the ER with peanut head.)
which is why I thought I would be able to finish it up while in the hospital.
stupid, naive girl.
there wasn't a moment's peace, and after we moved hospitals, my fitfully sleeping child turned into turbo jaw, and somehow I couldn't bring myself to say "sit there and stare at the wall for a while so mommy can do her homework." heh.
anywho, we settled into his room, we both ate--
he ate TONS, which rocked.
they think he has asthma, instead of pneumonia.
they don't really know, though.
and he's ok but he's not breathing well enough without oxygen yet.
grr and sigh and more grrs.
and then my husband showed up around 8:30 and yadda yadda yadda, me and the healthy (ish) twin went home.
I got him something to eat and read him some stories and took a little rest, by watching part of a movie with him.
He was up way past his bedtime, but couldn't sleep without his brother there...aw...
so, then I felt a little better and headed to my office to start finishing my homework.
and panicked.
My brain felt like sludge.
like saw dust.
like a bag of straw.
like scrambled egg whites.
etc.
et al.
eternally.
so.
I wrote this crazy-sounding email to my professor explaining my day and insisting that I would still try my hardest to get the paper in, but that it would be past midnight.
so...because I believe in honesty here, and I don't think he'll ever find this page...
I'll admit that I really and truly couldn't do it.
I couldn't force 3 more pages of creativity out of myself.
I had a great start to a story, but it wasn't enough.
So...
I dug through my writing folder and found the attempt I made at NaNoWriMo last year--
which happened to be a glorious 7 pages long.
so, I spent the next 3 hours revising it and adding a more full scene at the tattoo parlor, and an ending, however hokey.
Blurg.
I feel quite shitty about it--
if only because I know I could do better, and would have really loved to.
oh well...
it's here if you're interested.
I'm off to the hospital again, and kind of looking forward to it, oddly enough.
maybe I'll jot down that list of ten things.
happy monday to ya.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Baby in hospital
he got drenched in a nasty case of pneumonia between last night and this morning, so we're in for a while.
don't know yet how long.
i just ran home to shower and get my homework, which is due tonight.
didn't sleep last night.
already composed a top ten list of reasons it's bearable to be in the ER on a grey sunday morning, and will post it later.
the list includes the fact that everyone there swoons over my dear little one.
hugs.
don't know yet how long.
i just ran home to shower and get my homework, which is due tonight.
didn't sleep last night.
already composed a top ten list of reasons it's bearable to be in the ER on a grey sunday morning, and will post it later.
the list includes the fact that everyone there swoons over my dear little one.
hugs.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Raise your hand if you're ready to crack your first beer of the weekend
wow, nice title.
also:
please don't really raise your hand
(or crack a beer)
if you're still at work.
M'kay?
Last night I stayed up until 1, waiting for hubby to get home from work
(it was planned)
and trying to get caught up on blogging so I could do some homework...
yeah, you heard me right:
I put blogging/emailing before homework.
shut up.
anyway, then he got home and tempted and teased and touched me into some steamy damn sex, which ended in a 3am bedtime.
Not so awesome.
At least I had crazy/fucked-up/cool dreams.
I know I dreamed about at least one of you bloggy folks,
but sadly it wasn't anything sexual.
Oh! except for...you...but that was before I fell asleep, and um, where was I??
(crap, I'm glad you can't see me blushing!)
I'll blame it on Orange, though, because we were discussing blog crushes right before I went upstairs.
So...she started it!!
hee...
and NO, I'm not telling.
I also tossed and turned a bit last night,
fretting that I might have made a big deal out of nothing.
My English class is reviewing each other's essay projects right now, on our discussion board.
I settled in last night to cross that off my list
(so I didn't ONLY blog last night...)
and read the first one, which was amazingly well written and sparkly.
Dude has a blog, so I tried googling him to no avail.
Bummer.
Anyway, the next one I pull up has shity grammar to begin with,
and turns quickly into the story of how some dude he converted on his mission died of a drug overdose.
The problem?
It was dripping with Mormon-talk.
Like, no explanations of stuff for readers who MIGHT NOT BE LDS, dumbass!
So that annoyed me, but most of all I just found I couldn't stomach it.
It literally had my hands shaking and my heart racing.
I was agitated be the subject matter and really got kind of worked up.
So, I just left my little feedback as something like "There were some grammar issues in the first few paragraphs, but I couldn't reach much further because the church stuff really upsets me. I really am sorry. We all agreed we didn't have to read things that offend us, right? Peace to you"
bleh.
So THEN.
I take a deep breath, answer an email or two, and head back in for the third and final piece for the week.
This one is about how the guy found his testimony of the church.
holy fucking christ!!!!
So, I didn't make it far into that one either, before I was freaking out.
I actually tried really hard to read both of them, by the way.
I'm really not much of a drama queen, despite what it may seem on here (I don't know if I give that impression or not, frankly, but I like to clarify that)
but I really just couldn't do it.
I was disappointed in myself, but I couldn't do it.
I started to leave him a similar comment, but just felt silly.
So instead I emailed the professor, telling him that I really did try to do the assignment, and briefely explained why I didn't, and apologized.
He emailed me back saying since I've participated so well before it's no big deal, and sort of hinting to just try and do my best at ignoring the subject matter...he's not from Utah. he doesn't really get it, I think.
I wish I could explain better...
I don't honestly think the religion brain washes.
In fact, I think they're all in it with the best of intentions (most of them, i should say).
but the problem is, when you're raised in it, it is like being brain washed.
It seeps into every part of a person's identity and can be very hard to detach from--
depending on your level of devotion and the age at which you leave, etc.
I believed in it very firmly, until I was probably 22 or so...
yes, I still believed it was "true" even while I was fucking every long-haired hippie boy I could find (ok, there were only 3 of those, but daaaaaaaaaaamn they were my favorite flavor!! uh...not pachouli, not hemp, just long-haired boy flavor, ok???)
anyway, the point is, even though I was a "sinner", it took me a long time to really let go of it because it was so deeply rooted in me.
It's just weird, that's all.
Had a really great discussion over the weekend (on my trip) about religion and spirituality and stuff...
For a loooong time I have been drawn to Buddhism, but I have been a little timid about getting in there and trying it.
Maybe some day.
Ok.
enough about all that.
The last half of this week has been full of rather gloomy posts for me,
so I think it's time to shake it up.
Besides, it's 11/11!!!!
A special day, for the beauty of the numbers.
So...
Maybe I'll tell you about the dream I'm going to have when I'm done here.
Maybe I'll plan it all out now, so that when I go upstairs and lie on my crisp, clean sheets, it'll come back to me clearly, like a memory, yet still new.
Maybe I'll imagine something so far outside my world, that it couldn't even be me in the starring role, but somehow it will feel right in my head.
This "I" who feels more glamorous, yet slutty, and smiles like a woman with no past at all--
a woman who has materialized out of the thinnest, most gossamer of air--will take her own breath away...are you ready? I am.
(WARNING: THIS TURNED OUT MORE GRAPHICALLY THAN INTENDED)
I walk through the room with my eyes on the bartender, never noticing the sluggish way in which all eyes adhere to me--some on the curve of my ass, some pacing my walk, and others searching my face for something to allow them in. I order my pitcher of beer, and head to the pool tables.
Soon my girl friends show up and we talk and play and drink, until someone finally asks to play our table. We shrug and rack up for doubles with the two hairy, smelly guys. We lose on purpose and make our way to the far side of the bar, where a band is getting ready to play. We talk to everyone we see, making friends as we wander through the crowd. Before long a guy joins the group we're in--bursts upon us, actually. He says something crude yet playful and I toss it right back. (ok, this woman has some things in common with me...) He has the look of a rugged teddy bear; something about the twinkle in his eye and the neatly trimmed beard. He flashes a camera phone at us, a picture of his nudity. No, that's putting it too mildly--it's a close-up of his cock. I grab the phone and lick the small screen, immediately wiping it on my shirt and apologizing for being so presumptuous. The sparkle in his eyes told me he didn't mind at all. We drift along on the current of the room and lose him for a while. The band starts playing and we dance some, but then I see him, across the room, talking to another guy. I leave my friends and walk up to him, quietly standing so near to him that we're almost touching, until he pauses in his conversation and meets my glowing eyes. "I want to see it again." My heart races and I smile shyly. He wrinkles his brow with that same twinkle in his eye, and says, "My cock?" as if making me beg for it. My eyes grow larger, my smile too, and I nod deeply and slowly. He fumbles with his phone, using my proximity (or the inadvertent brushing of my breasts) as his excuse. He hands me the phone and I bite my lip, drinking it in. The pure sexual energy of this man and his comfort with his own body has captivated me. I quietly "ooh" and "aah", and then he makes his own request...for me to take his phone and procure some pictures of my own. I shrug a casual, "Why not?" and head for the ladies' room. He follows me, slipping into the stall behind me, and asking quietly if he can take the picture. My body is on fire, adrenaline pounding through it, while my head remains fogged by beer, and immune to my usual caution. I slide my tight jeans to the floor and offer him a clear view, sliding my fingers into my growing wetness. I offer him my fingers, which he sucks, awe-struck, then looking at me for approval, slides his own fingers deep into my wet folds, drawing out a low moan. I move against his big, rough hand, tipping my head back. He unzips his pants and there it is, so familiar to me already and I dive for it, greedily taking its semi-hardness into my mouth and tasting the hot, smooth skin as it changes from semi to sooo ready. He pushes me gently away, and bends me over against the wall, sliding his thickness into me so quickly and deeply that I have no time to protest, even if I had wanted to. He only thrusts a few times before pulling out and turning me around. He is finishing already, and I bend to lick as much of his saltiness up as I can before it escapes me and lands in the jarringly mundane toilet. I lick my lips and grin at him, while he shakes his head in pure wonder and amazement, smiling back, whispering words of courting, though it's long past time for such things. I walk out ahead of him and grab my girls, to go. I glance back over my shoulder and smile once more, neither of us ever having gotten the other's name. The baseness of this encounter does not even occur to me until the drive home when I giggle the details to my friends, who all lament the fact that I'm able to have such adventures and they are not.
Daaaaaaamn that was dirty!!!!
I better go add a warning...
Happy weekend darlings.
also:
please don't really raise your hand
(or crack a beer)
if you're still at work.
M'kay?
Last night I stayed up until 1, waiting for hubby to get home from work
(it was planned)
and trying to get caught up on blogging so I could do some homework...
yeah, you heard me right:
I put blogging/emailing before homework.
shut up.
anyway, then he got home and tempted and teased and touched me into some steamy damn sex, which ended in a 3am bedtime.
Not so awesome.
At least I had crazy/fucked-up/cool dreams.
I know I dreamed about at least one of you bloggy folks,
but sadly it wasn't anything sexual.
Oh! except for...you...but that was before I fell asleep, and um, where was I??
(crap, I'm glad you can't see me blushing!)
I'll blame it on Orange, though, because we were discussing blog crushes right before I went upstairs.
So...she started it!!
hee...
and NO, I'm not telling.
I also tossed and turned a bit last night,
fretting that I might have made a big deal out of nothing.
My English class is reviewing each other's essay projects right now, on our discussion board.
I settled in last night to cross that off my list
(so I didn't ONLY blog last night...)
and read the first one, which was amazingly well written and sparkly.
Dude has a blog, so I tried googling him to no avail.
Bummer.
Anyway, the next one I pull up has shity grammar to begin with,
and turns quickly into the story of how some dude he converted on his mission died of a drug overdose.
The problem?
It was dripping with Mormon-talk.
Like, no explanations of stuff for readers who MIGHT NOT BE LDS, dumbass!
So that annoyed me, but most of all I just found I couldn't stomach it.
It literally had my hands shaking and my heart racing.
I was agitated be the subject matter and really got kind of worked up.
So, I just left my little feedback as something like "There were some grammar issues in the first few paragraphs, but I couldn't reach much further because the church stuff really upsets me. I really am sorry. We all agreed we didn't have to read things that offend us, right? Peace to you"
bleh.
So THEN.
I take a deep breath, answer an email or two, and head back in for the third and final piece for the week.
This one is about how the guy found his testimony of the church.
holy fucking christ!!!!
So, I didn't make it far into that one either, before I was freaking out.
I actually tried really hard to read both of them, by the way.
I'm really not much of a drama queen, despite what it may seem on here (I don't know if I give that impression or not, frankly, but I like to clarify that)
but I really just couldn't do it.
I was disappointed in myself, but I couldn't do it.
I started to leave him a similar comment, but just felt silly.
So instead I emailed the professor, telling him that I really did try to do the assignment, and briefely explained why I didn't, and apologized.
He emailed me back saying since I've participated so well before it's no big deal, and sort of hinting to just try and do my best at ignoring the subject matter...he's not from Utah. he doesn't really get it, I think.
I wish I could explain better...
I don't honestly think the religion brain washes.
In fact, I think they're all in it with the best of intentions (most of them, i should say).
but the problem is, when you're raised in it, it is like being brain washed.
It seeps into every part of a person's identity and can be very hard to detach from--
depending on your level of devotion and the age at which you leave, etc.
I believed in it very firmly, until I was probably 22 or so...
yes, I still believed it was "true" even while I was fucking every long-haired hippie boy I could find (ok, there were only 3 of those, but daaaaaaaaaaamn they were my favorite flavor!! uh...not pachouli, not hemp, just long-haired boy flavor, ok???)
anyway, the point is, even though I was a "sinner", it took me a long time to really let go of it because it was so deeply rooted in me.
It's just weird, that's all.
Had a really great discussion over the weekend (on my trip) about religion and spirituality and stuff...
For a loooong time I have been drawn to Buddhism, but I have been a little timid about getting in there and trying it.
Maybe some day.
Ok.
enough about all that.
The last half of this week has been full of rather gloomy posts for me,
so I think it's time to shake it up.
Besides, it's 11/11!!!!
A special day, for the beauty of the numbers.
So...
Maybe I'll tell you about the dream I'm going to have when I'm done here.
Maybe I'll plan it all out now, so that when I go upstairs and lie on my crisp, clean sheets, it'll come back to me clearly, like a memory, yet still new.
Maybe I'll imagine something so far outside my world, that it couldn't even be me in the starring role, but somehow it will feel right in my head.
This "I" who feels more glamorous, yet slutty, and smiles like a woman with no past at all--
a woman who has materialized out of the thinnest, most gossamer of air--will take her own breath away...are you ready? I am.
(WARNING: THIS TURNED OUT MORE GRAPHICALLY THAN INTENDED)
I walk through the room with my eyes on the bartender, never noticing the sluggish way in which all eyes adhere to me--some on the curve of my ass, some pacing my walk, and others searching my face for something to allow them in. I order my pitcher of beer, and head to the pool tables.
Soon my girl friends show up and we talk and play and drink, until someone finally asks to play our table. We shrug and rack up for doubles with the two hairy, smelly guys. We lose on purpose and make our way to the far side of the bar, where a band is getting ready to play. We talk to everyone we see, making friends as we wander through the crowd. Before long a guy joins the group we're in--bursts upon us, actually. He says something crude yet playful and I toss it right back. (ok, this woman has some things in common with me...) He has the look of a rugged teddy bear; something about the twinkle in his eye and the neatly trimmed beard. He flashes a camera phone at us, a picture of his nudity. No, that's putting it too mildly--it's a close-up of his cock. I grab the phone and lick the small screen, immediately wiping it on my shirt and apologizing for being so presumptuous. The sparkle in his eyes told me he didn't mind at all. We drift along on the current of the room and lose him for a while. The band starts playing and we dance some, but then I see him, across the room, talking to another guy. I leave my friends and walk up to him, quietly standing so near to him that we're almost touching, until he pauses in his conversation and meets my glowing eyes. "I want to see it again." My heart races and I smile shyly. He wrinkles his brow with that same twinkle in his eye, and says, "My cock?" as if making me beg for it. My eyes grow larger, my smile too, and I nod deeply and slowly. He fumbles with his phone, using my proximity (or the inadvertent brushing of my breasts) as his excuse. He hands me the phone and I bite my lip, drinking it in. The pure sexual energy of this man and his comfort with his own body has captivated me. I quietly "ooh" and "aah", and then he makes his own request...for me to take his phone and procure some pictures of my own. I shrug a casual, "Why not?" and head for the ladies' room. He follows me, slipping into the stall behind me, and asking quietly if he can take the picture. My body is on fire, adrenaline pounding through it, while my head remains fogged by beer, and immune to my usual caution. I slide my tight jeans to the floor and offer him a clear view, sliding my fingers into my growing wetness. I offer him my fingers, which he sucks, awe-struck, then looking at me for approval, slides his own fingers deep into my wet folds, drawing out a low moan. I move against his big, rough hand, tipping my head back. He unzips his pants and there it is, so familiar to me already and I dive for it, greedily taking its semi-hardness into my mouth and tasting the hot, smooth skin as it changes from semi to sooo ready. He pushes me gently away, and bends me over against the wall, sliding his thickness into me so quickly and deeply that I have no time to protest, even if I had wanted to. He only thrusts a few times before pulling out and turning me around. He is finishing already, and I bend to lick as much of his saltiness up as I can before it escapes me and lands in the jarringly mundane toilet. I lick my lips and grin at him, while he shakes his head in pure wonder and amazement, smiling back, whispering words of courting, though it's long past time for such things. I walk out ahead of him and grab my girls, to go. I glance back over my shoulder and smile once more, neither of us ever having gotten the other's name. The baseness of this encounter does not even occur to me until the drive home when I giggle the details to my friends, who all lament the fact that I'm able to have such adventures and they are not.
Daaaaaaamn that was dirty!!!!
I better go add a warning...
Happy weekend darlings.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
You can take my level of nudity and shove it!
No, really.
Go "half-nekkid" yourself.
Ya half-nekkid heads.
Ok, ok, so really, thanks for not pressuring me.
Didn't feel like it.
...felt like...
THAT.
instead, I should be blowing you kisses...
Go "half-nekkid" yourself.
Ya half-nekkid heads.
Ok, ok, so really, thanks for not pressuring me.
Didn't feel like it.
...felt like...
THAT.
instead, I should be blowing you kisses...
I need to post...
but how can I post when there is a child under my desk?
and how can I post when there is a child asking to sit on me and count to "twenty hundred"?
(fyi, I couldn't resist THAT, so I covered his little head and neck with kisses while he did it--payback, I guess!!!)
how can I fucking post when my head is so full of words that they aren't even in order any more?
they are smashed and crashed together.
full of dissonance and why the fuck is he putting my feet in a different place?
I think I'll have to threaten my husband with complete withdrawal of sex and cooking,
so that he will
get.
AROUND.
to it.
the kids need their own computers.
they had one, but it's a piece of shit.
hell, I would use it if it was hooked up.
I can't do it right now though.
Too much...stuff going on, I guess.
I'm having a party Saturday that I don't really want to have anymore.
I need to stop thinking that, and feign some mother fucking enthusiasm until I feel it.
anyway, husband has been way over scheduled this week, clients needing shit NOW, and a side job with a huge pay off coming to fruition...
when it does, I'm taking my Mom to Europe.
don't tell her...it's a surprise.
She's never been, and neither have I.
but she needs to.
Hopefully my sister will come, too.
I want earplugs.
oh, jesus...
I'm acting like a spoiled little shit headed brat.
I'm sorry.
I wasn't entirely clear when I bitched about this in my last post...
which reminds me:
SHUT THE FUCK UP, you whiney bitch.
(sorry, just a little self-reprimanding...)
anyway, the one time of my day I could change to make better use of is the hours from when the kids go to bed until I'm ready for sleep, which is roughly 5 hours.
Guess what I always do?
Sit in bed and watch tv with my husband.
don't get me wrong, I like tv.
but I'm so driven by my need to please him that I spend all of that time with him,
when he's already given me "permission" (because I asked for it, not because I required it...) to ignore him a couple of nights a week in favor of my dreams of writing...
so, I'm to blame.
I just have a hard time breaking habits.
and besides, it's too damn hard to purposely ignore someone you love.
blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
This fucking grey, fucking polluted, fucking WEATHER is completely dampening my spirits.
my history of rock n roll professor said he's writing a proposal for a book...
I'm so tempted to ask him if he wants some help.
I am so passionate about the subject, and I am fairly sure I'm a better writer than he is--he's an award-winning composer, but his grammar blows.
the notes are full of many examples of the following: "more thicker"....
he even says it that way in class sometimes!!!
so anyway, I think I could handle stringing together his research into much lovelier-flowing sentences.
aw, who am I kidding??
I'm all talk.
maybe, after we make Rice Krispie Treats...
I'll be back.
yeah, yaeh.
I've said that before.
I guess going to the gym would be a better use of my time...
trust me, I need it.
my SOUL needs it.
my heart...
this post is such a fucking downer!!!!
I promise you I'll put something better up before tomorrow.
because I hate the thought of this sitting here.
I am not a negative person, and I hate adding this to the universe.
whatever.
fuckit.
I used to feel original and itneresting.
today I feel used up and covered in dust.
I am going to slide into the saddle of this stupid cunt of a bad mood--
and ride it into the sunset I will hastily paint onto a far wall...
must go.
and how can I post when there is a child asking to sit on me and count to "twenty hundred"?
(fyi, I couldn't resist THAT, so I covered his little head and neck with kisses while he did it--payback, I guess!!!)
how can I fucking post when my head is so full of words that they aren't even in order any more?
they are smashed and crashed together.
full of dissonance and why the fuck is he putting my feet in a different place?
I think I'll have to threaten my husband with complete withdrawal of sex and cooking,
so that he will
get.
AROUND.
to it.
the kids need their own computers.
they had one, but it's a piece of shit.
hell, I would use it if it was hooked up.
I can't do it right now though.
Too much...stuff going on, I guess.
I'm having a party Saturday that I don't really want to have anymore.
I need to stop thinking that, and feign some mother fucking enthusiasm until I feel it.
anyway, husband has been way over scheduled this week, clients needing shit NOW, and a side job with a huge pay off coming to fruition...
when it does, I'm taking my Mom to Europe.
don't tell her...it's a surprise.
She's never been, and neither have I.
but she needs to.
Hopefully my sister will come, too.
I want earplugs.
oh, jesus...
I'm acting like a spoiled little shit headed brat.
I'm sorry.
I wasn't entirely clear when I bitched about this in my last post...
which reminds me:
SHUT THE FUCK UP, you whiney bitch.
(sorry, just a little self-reprimanding...)
anyway, the one time of my day I could change to make better use of is the hours from when the kids go to bed until I'm ready for sleep, which is roughly 5 hours.
Guess what I always do?
Sit in bed and watch tv with my husband.
don't get me wrong, I like tv.
but I'm so driven by my need to please him that I spend all of that time with him,
when he's already given me "permission" (because I asked for it, not because I required it...) to ignore him a couple of nights a week in favor of my dreams of writing...
so, I'm to blame.
I just have a hard time breaking habits.
and besides, it's too damn hard to purposely ignore someone you love.
blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
This fucking grey, fucking polluted, fucking WEATHER is completely dampening my spirits.
my history of rock n roll professor said he's writing a proposal for a book...
I'm so tempted to ask him if he wants some help.
I am so passionate about the subject, and I am fairly sure I'm a better writer than he is--he's an award-winning composer, but his grammar blows.
the notes are full of many examples of the following: "more thicker"....
he even says it that way in class sometimes!!!
so anyway, I think I could handle stringing together his research into much lovelier-flowing sentences.
aw, who am I kidding??
I'm all talk.
maybe, after we make Rice Krispie Treats...
I'll be back.
yeah, yaeh.
I've said that before.
I guess going to the gym would be a better use of my time...
trust me, I need it.
my SOUL needs it.
my heart...
this post is such a fucking downer!!!!
I promise you I'll put something better up before tomorrow.
because I hate the thought of this sitting here.
I am not a negative person, and I hate adding this to the universe.
whatever.
fuckit.
I used to feel original and itneresting.
today I feel used up and covered in dust.
I am going to slide into the saddle of this stupid cunt of a bad mood--
and ride it into the sunset I will hastily paint onto a far wall...
must go.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Crazy Chic On Board--Beware
I am fighting a cold.
But more than that,
I am fighting apathy.
Fighting to have some measure of control over my days and my use of this machine and…
That all sounds very dramatic.
I don’t mean it to.
I am warm inside, even though I have a rare-for-me headache.
I am just trying to figure out why my life seems so much more chaotic lately than it seems to have once been.
I’m pretty sure there was a time when I could breathe.
I’m pretty sure there was a time when…I had time to compose thoughts.
Maybe the problem is that I have more thoughts than time, now.
Or fewer thoughts than I used to…?
Nah, I’m going with the time thing.
I’m not sure where these mystery pockets of time came from to begin with,
Let alone where in the bloody hell they’ve gone.
But I do wish that I would choose myself over my husband sometimes.
That I would come down to cozy little office,
(which is fast becoming beautiful)
and write and read and dream.
It’s like I’ve lost touch with this machine…
And therefore lost touch with myself.
How odd.
I was thinking today of how he used to be so present in my days,
How thoughts of him and anticipation for his words would whisper through me,
Screech through me, wander through me.
It was as if he was always here, even though he never was.
But that was a long time ago.
And it’s comforting to know that he is still out there,
Being him.
And even more comforting to know that he is still out there,
While I am…me.
Take this as no statement whatsoever on my current life,
But that love was the greatest lesson I’ve known.
It was the most I’ve ever known of anything,
And the sharpest I’ve ever felt anything.
I should write a book about it some day, I suppose.
That way I can change the ending.
I need to go on a CD buying spree.
I seriously feel wronged by the universe,
Having missed out on some of the most intense, amazing music during the years when I should have
could have
would have
felt it running through my veins and been changed by it.
I don’t think a tantrum is in order, but possibly a sternly worded letter.
To whom, I haven’t the foggiest notion.
Madame Fate, perhaps.
Bitch keeps moving, no forwarding address.
Ah, well.
I’ll keep it handy, in case I should ever run into the power tripping twunt.
Anyway, I believe my point is:
I have discovered some great music since this class started,
And am disappointed that I have missed out on so many years of listening to said music.
The end.
So, I finally have a purdy desk and matching book case,
As I alluded to above.
I feel so…
Official.
I have hanging file sized drawers, so I can organize my shit.
And my book case is so big, I sorta feel like I need to start buying books by the dozen.
(And no, they’re not cheaper that way.)
I need to get my walls decorated.
Fuck that—
I need to get the inside of my god damn head decorated.
I really do not know what’s wrong with me lately.
I don’t feel very bloggy.
But at least that fucking Aleve finally kicked in.
Jesus Christ, headaches are stupid.
My kids have me addicted to this game…
Today I even found myself playing it when they were not around.
Scare.
Eeeee.
Maybe tomorrow will find me with some time alone with my new office.
Or maybe I should just give up on time alone.
Until the kids are old enough to want me to leave them alone…
Ok, now that thought just about breaks my heart.
They’re still my little smoochie bears right now…
Yes, I really call them that.
It’s only because of that need I have to say certain sounds, though.
“smoochie” really fills my mouth well.
(no sex jokes, please).
They let me hold them, and snuggle…I can’t believe that’s going to end some day.
They’re going to be teenagers…then full adults…oh, Christ, now I’m going to cry.
Life is fucking stupid.
I hate it.
Ok, who invited the PMS fairy?
She’s supposed to be out of town right now, according to my records.
Oh well.
I guess that’s just life—
and it IS fucking stupid, as we’ve just established.
I think I’m going to go get some writing done, before my mood actually turns sour.
But more than that,
I am fighting apathy.
Fighting to have some measure of control over my days and my use of this machine and…
That all sounds very dramatic.
I don’t mean it to.
I am warm inside, even though I have a rare-for-me headache.
I am just trying to figure out why my life seems so much more chaotic lately than it seems to have once been.
I’m pretty sure there was a time when I could breathe.
I’m pretty sure there was a time when…I had time to compose thoughts.
Maybe the problem is that I have more thoughts than time, now.
Or fewer thoughts than I used to…?
Nah, I’m going with the time thing.
I’m not sure where these mystery pockets of time came from to begin with,
Let alone where in the bloody hell they’ve gone.
But I do wish that I would choose myself over my husband sometimes.
That I would come down to cozy little office,
(which is fast becoming beautiful)
and write and read and dream.
It’s like I’ve lost touch with this machine…
And therefore lost touch with myself.
How odd.
I was thinking today of how he used to be so present in my days,
How thoughts of him and anticipation for his words would whisper through me,
Screech through me, wander through me.
It was as if he was always here, even though he never was.
But that was a long time ago.
And it’s comforting to know that he is still out there,
Being him.
And even more comforting to know that he is still out there,
While I am…me.
Take this as no statement whatsoever on my current life,
But that love was the greatest lesson I’ve known.
It was the most I’ve ever known of anything,
And the sharpest I’ve ever felt anything.
I should write a book about it some day, I suppose.
That way I can change the ending.
I need to go on a CD buying spree.
I seriously feel wronged by the universe,
Having missed out on some of the most intense, amazing music during the years when I should have
could have
would have
felt it running through my veins and been changed by it.
I don’t think a tantrum is in order, but possibly a sternly worded letter.
To whom, I haven’t the foggiest notion.
Madame Fate, perhaps.
Bitch keeps moving, no forwarding address.
Ah, well.
I’ll keep it handy, in case I should ever run into the power tripping twunt.
Anyway, I believe my point is:
I have discovered some great music since this class started,
And am disappointed that I have missed out on so many years of listening to said music.
The end.
So, I finally have a purdy desk and matching book case,
As I alluded to above.
I feel so…
Official.
I have hanging file sized drawers, so I can organize my shit.
And my book case is so big, I sorta feel like I need to start buying books by the dozen.
(And no, they’re not cheaper that way.)
I need to get my walls decorated.
Fuck that—
I need to get the inside of my god damn head decorated.
I really do not know what’s wrong with me lately.
I don’t feel very bloggy.
But at least that fucking Aleve finally kicked in.
Jesus Christ, headaches are stupid.
My kids have me addicted to this game…
Today I even found myself playing it when they were not around.
Scare.
Eeeee.
Maybe tomorrow will find me with some time alone with my new office.
Or maybe I should just give up on time alone.
Until the kids are old enough to want me to leave them alone…
Ok, now that thought just about breaks my heart.
They’re still my little smoochie bears right now…
Yes, I really call them that.
It’s only because of that need I have to say certain sounds, though.
“smoochie” really fills my mouth well.
(no sex jokes, please).
They let me hold them, and snuggle…I can’t believe that’s going to end some day.
They’re going to be teenagers…then full adults…oh, Christ, now I’m going to cry.
Life is fucking stupid.
I hate it.
Ok, who invited the PMS fairy?
She’s supposed to be out of town right now, according to my records.
Oh well.
I guess that’s just life—
and it IS fucking stupid, as we’ve just established.
I think I’m going to go get some writing done, before my mood actually turns sour.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Braless Tuesday
...and I think I might just do it.
it's a school day, so I haven't been braless many Tuesdays lately...
but I think I will.
mostly cuz I'm planning to wear a big sweatshirt anyway.
I am SO late right now, but I couldn't bear to leave you guys hanging.
or something.
My veil.
from my actual wedding.
from a photo session.
from my birthday last year.
I think it's rather artsy...
and now that I look again,
it appears very nude.
oh well.
too late.
time
for
schoooooooooooooool.............
it's a school day, so I haven't been braless many Tuesdays lately...
but I think I will.
mostly cuz I'm planning to wear a big sweatshirt anyway.
I am SO late right now, but I couldn't bear to leave you guys hanging.
or something.
My veil.
from my actual wedding.
from a photo session.
from my birthday last year.
I think it's rather artsy...
and now that I look again,
it appears very nude.
oh well.
too late.
time
for
schoooooooooooooool.............
Monday, November 07, 2005
Here's to you--
I think I could rate that weekend as one of the most relaxing,
Invigorating,
Refreshing,
And purely enjoyed of all the weekends I can remember.
There was such a comfortable connection between us all;
it was like we had all been best friends for years.
I needed that.
So, so badly.
We had some good food,
some disappointing food,
a nice hot tub soak,
a couple of short-but-inspiring hikes.
We even had our numerology done,
which was quite fun.
We did some shopping,
and lots of silly inside jokes were born.
We even named our group,
And began to plan future adventures.
It is good.
I have a busy week ahead, but I feel so refreshed that it doesn’t even faze me.
My head is clear, my heart is light.
I had forgotten that I need such strong ties to other women, as a way to settle into the earth, to quiet the fretting, fussing voices in my head.
I feel like I spent a whole week at a spa, going to therapy.
But it was 2 days—
And there were no massages, no pedicures, no facials, no 50 minute couch sessions.
Just smart, insightful, soulful women.
Ok, I think I’m finished with the cheese…
We laughed our asses off.
Did I mention that?
Yup.
Entirely gone.
6 people have been left with no asses, whatsoever.
And the one boy on the trip and I discovered that we have IDENTICAL taste in men.
We ogled them together and took bets on which of us would have a better chance at getting them.
Some cute old guy made my day, on our first hike—
Asked me to pose in a picture with him so he could mess with his wife.
She was at the bottom of the hike, and had decided not to join him, so he wanted to pretend he had “met someone”….uh…
It was a little odd, but flattering.
So then the case of the disappointing food:
We had heard marvelous things about this restaurant,
But the salads were wrong, and mine had a ROTTEN piece of lettuce in it,
And we never got bread, and our food was really no better than your run of the mill chain restaurant—some of it even worse.
We talked to the manager, and mostly resolved the issue, but we were still entirely unimpressed.
But then we went to a cute little mom & pop diner type place and had dessert (and much obnoxious laughter) and we all felt redeemed.
Also, I am officially participating in National Novel Writing Month, and will post an excerpt at some point.
I posted my rough draft Chant Poem, if you’re interested.
I need to spend more time reading poetry, as our blogger Poet Laureate suggested,
Because I think maybe I could get into this medium…
I’m going to go get busy on my list of chores, and see if I can find my edge again.
(read: see if I can get pissed off enough to write something entertaining)
Heh.
Missed you all like that zit I popped.
Invigorating,
Refreshing,
And purely enjoyed of all the weekends I can remember.
There was such a comfortable connection between us all;
it was like we had all been best friends for years.
I needed that.
So, so badly.
We had some good food,
some disappointing food,
a nice hot tub soak,
a couple of short-but-inspiring hikes.
We even had our numerology done,
which was quite fun.
We did some shopping,
and lots of silly inside jokes were born.
We even named our group,
And began to plan future adventures.
It is good.
I have a busy week ahead, but I feel so refreshed that it doesn’t even faze me.
My head is clear, my heart is light.
I had forgotten that I need such strong ties to other women, as a way to settle into the earth, to quiet the fretting, fussing voices in my head.
I feel like I spent a whole week at a spa, going to therapy.
But it was 2 days—
And there were no massages, no pedicures, no facials, no 50 minute couch sessions.
Just smart, insightful, soulful women.
Ok, I think I’m finished with the cheese…
We laughed our asses off.
Did I mention that?
Yup.
Entirely gone.
6 people have been left with no asses, whatsoever.
And the one boy on the trip and I discovered that we have IDENTICAL taste in men.
We ogled them together and took bets on which of us would have a better chance at getting them.
Some cute old guy made my day, on our first hike—
Asked me to pose in a picture with him so he could mess with his wife.
She was at the bottom of the hike, and had decided not to join him, so he wanted to pretend he had “met someone”….uh…
It was a little odd, but flattering.
So then the case of the disappointing food:
We had heard marvelous things about this restaurant,
But the salads were wrong, and mine had a ROTTEN piece of lettuce in it,
And we never got bread, and our food was really no better than your run of the mill chain restaurant—some of it even worse.
We talked to the manager, and mostly resolved the issue, but we were still entirely unimpressed.
But then we went to a cute little mom & pop diner type place and had dessert (and much obnoxious laughter) and we all felt redeemed.
Also, I am officially participating in National Novel Writing Month, and will post an excerpt at some point.
I posted my rough draft Chant Poem, if you’re interested.
I need to spend more time reading poetry, as our blogger Poet Laureate suggested,
Because I think maybe I could get into this medium…
I’m going to go get busy on my list of chores, and see if I can find my edge again.
(read: see if I can get pissed off enough to write something entertaining)
Heh.
Missed you all like that zit I popped.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
I'm home....
the trip was absolutely______
the friends are what I've been missing, needing.
real.
and good, and so many warm things.
my family handsome and happy when I returned.
my heart full of peace/joy/love--
what is this christmas??
I grin, half.
real post monday morning.
don't want to burst teh happy bubble surrounding me.
the friends are what I've been missing, needing.
real.
and good, and so many warm things.
my family handsome and happy when I returned.
my heart full of peace/joy/love--
what is this christmas??
I grin, half.
real post monday morning.
don't want to burst teh happy bubble surrounding me.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Friday
I was doing a little catching up over at Malone’s place.
That guy’s going to be famous.
Possibly posthumously, but that’s cool.
Anywho, his list of things to do reminded me that I am passively ignoring one of my important goals.
Probably because I’m more afraid to die than I was when I vowed I would do this thing.
Skydiving.
I'm going to dive before I turn 31, if I remember.
Deadlines are important for finishing pieces of writing, but otherwise they bore me.
They elude me.
They taunt me.
They fucking scrape their nails down a very long chalkboard...
and I think I just hit my stride for that god damn "chant poem" that I have due tomorrow.
What the bloody fucking hell is a CHANT POEM?
Ok, so my prof defined it for me, but fuck me sideways if I'd ever heard of it before.
My biggest fan is about to turn against me, I can feel it.
Essay section A, short sotry section A, poetry section, FFFFFFFFFF
And he’ll write it that many times because that's how bad it'll be.
like an F to the 43rd power.
or not.
And I was wrong about the poem,
But I will go work on it now.
I bought this beer the other night.
And I kept giggling and telling my husband that it was because he’s up Bitch Creek without a paddle…
It really would have been funnier if I wasn’t so bitchy that night.
Actually…
That’s precisely why it was funny!!
Sometimes I feel like the world has ears.
Because…
I will feel sad about something—
Hurt, left out, distanced.
And then I will turn away for a moment,
To wipe a tear (haahahaha, ok, let’s not get THAT dramatic)
And when I turn back, the scene has shifted just enough, so that I am a part of it all again.
So that I am swirled into the mixture of colors there.
I am so glad that life is ever-changing.
Hell, today alone I had 14 different moods.
And I’m still not even close to caught up on my emails or assignments….
For the moment those tasks undone are not plaguing my mind and raising my blood pressure.
But they will.
Soon.
Instead, I'll focus on tomorrow morning.
8 am, we're hitting the road, for points south.
and points red.
and points read...
and points drunk.
and It's going to be Marvelous.
I really wanted to make t-shirts for everyone who's going:
WHAT HAPPENS IN ZIONS STAYS IN ZIONS.
but, ya know.
not only the whole procrastination issue,
but I don't imagine I'll want to be kept from blogging about whatever grand adventures we have.
It is raining today
and I have spent more time in that rain, unprotected, than I can quite explain.
in and out and out and in and out
of wal-mart.
do I LIVE there???
Nope.
I'm just a slave to a great deal,
like everyone else in this state.
I hear an awful lot of noise upstairs.
yes, I'm 99% sure this means trouble.
It's a good thing I love my kids and fear prison.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
I do, however, wish that I was the master of my own schedule.
I wish I had anything resembling FREE time.
I think it will help a lot when the fantastic mr. fox that I married gets the boys their own computers.
because...
contrary to popular belief, I am not selfish.
so, the little fellers use my computer a LOT,
and then I get anxious because I didn't have a chance to reply to emails or
write a decent post,
or just sit and ruminate...
Anyway.
One of my dearest, best of the best friends has started an online business recently,
and I am going to be adding her button to my sidebar.
You should all go check her out.
We went to high school together, in Maine.
She moved to florida about 43 seconds after we graduated,
and has only been back in the home state for about a year...
She's one of my top 5 favorite people in the world,
so I know you all would love her, too.
go be supportive.
Thank you.
That guy’s going to be famous.
Possibly posthumously, but that’s cool.
Anywho, his list of things to do reminded me that I am passively ignoring one of my important goals.
Probably because I’m more afraid to die than I was when I vowed I would do this thing.
Skydiving.
I'm going to dive before I turn 31, if I remember.
Deadlines are important for finishing pieces of writing, but otherwise they bore me.
They elude me.
They taunt me.
They fucking scrape their nails down a very long chalkboard...
and I think I just hit my stride for that god damn "chant poem" that I have due tomorrow.
What the bloody fucking hell is a CHANT POEM?
Ok, so my prof defined it for me, but fuck me sideways if I'd ever heard of it before.
My biggest fan is about to turn against me, I can feel it.
Essay section A, short sotry section A, poetry section, FFFFFFFFFF
And he’ll write it that many times because that's how bad it'll be.
like an F to the 43rd power.
or not.
And I was wrong about the poem,
But I will go work on it now.
I bought this beer the other night.
And I kept giggling and telling my husband that it was because he’s up Bitch Creek without a paddle…
It really would have been funnier if I wasn’t so bitchy that night.
Actually…
That’s precisely why it was funny!!
Sometimes I feel like the world has ears.
Because…
I will feel sad about something—
Hurt, left out, distanced.
And then I will turn away for a moment,
To wipe a tear (haahahaha, ok, let’s not get THAT dramatic)
And when I turn back, the scene has shifted just enough, so that I am a part of it all again.
So that I am swirled into the mixture of colors there.
I am so glad that life is ever-changing.
Hell, today alone I had 14 different moods.
And I’m still not even close to caught up on my emails or assignments….
For the moment those tasks undone are not plaguing my mind and raising my blood pressure.
But they will.
Soon.
Instead, I'll focus on tomorrow morning.
8 am, we're hitting the road, for points south.
and points red.
and points read...
and points drunk.
and It's going to be Marvelous.
I really wanted to make t-shirts for everyone who's going:
WHAT HAPPENS IN ZIONS STAYS IN ZIONS.
but, ya know.
not only the whole procrastination issue,
but I don't imagine I'll want to be kept from blogging about whatever grand adventures we have.
It is raining today
and I have spent more time in that rain, unprotected, than I can quite explain.
in and out and out and in and out
of wal-mart.
do I LIVE there???
Nope.
I'm just a slave to a great deal,
like everyone else in this state.
I hear an awful lot of noise upstairs.
yes, I'm 99% sure this means trouble.
It's a good thing I love my kids and fear prison.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
I do, however, wish that I was the master of my own schedule.
I wish I had anything resembling FREE time.
I think it will help a lot when the fantastic mr. fox that I married gets the boys their own computers.
because...
contrary to popular belief, I am not selfish.
so, the little fellers use my computer a LOT,
and then I get anxious because I didn't have a chance to reply to emails or
write a decent post,
or just sit and ruminate...
Anyway.
One of my dearest, best of the best friends has started an online business recently,
and I am going to be adding her button to my sidebar.
You should all go check her out.
We went to high school together, in Maine.
She moved to florida about 43 seconds after we graduated,
and has only been back in the home state for about a year...
She's one of my top 5 favorite people in the world,
so I know you all would love her, too.
go be supportive.
Thank you.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Yup, it's still Thursday...
Nothing like wallowing around all afternoon,
Feeling as grey as this
(stupid motherfucking)
day….
And then
BAM!
Accomplishing two of the dreaded tasks.
Schedule cleaning ladies and carpet cleaners.
Fuck yes.
Suddenly the grey day is slightly less so.
For some reason making the gorgeous-for-the-tongue
Homemadey
Guacamole,
And marinating the sumptuous (???) chicken
Didn’t boost my spirits.
Nor did getting my ass perfunctorily kicked by aforementioned trainer.
(aforementioned, as in, “on other days”…)
somehow the ‘roid rage of my peanut-allergic child,
who is recovering from somehow ingesting one the other day,
is overshadowing it all.
And I wont’ even mentioned the conversation I had with my Dad,
Where he told me about a new procedure that makes nose jobs simple—
Which he didn’t think I would need unless I lost weight.
?????
love that guy.
I didn’t even get hurt feelings over it because I “get” him so well.
He really means well.
Jackass.
And yes, you read that right:
Somehow my dearest little love found a peanut in a kit kat.
Or, rather, he is now allergic to just the mreere presence of a peanut in the same fucking
Factory where his non-peanuty candy is made.
Fucked, he is.
Poor little smooshy bear…
And his brother apparently is as addicted to this bloody machine as I am.
More later.
Oh, trust me, there’ll be more.
Feeling as grey as this
(stupid motherfucking)
day….
And then
BAM!
Accomplishing two of the dreaded tasks.
Schedule cleaning ladies and carpet cleaners.
Fuck yes.
Suddenly the grey day is slightly less so.
For some reason making the gorgeous-for-the-tongue
Homemadey
Guacamole,
And marinating the sumptuous (???) chicken
Didn’t boost my spirits.
Nor did getting my ass perfunctorily kicked by aforementioned trainer.
(aforementioned, as in, “on other days”…)
somehow the ‘roid rage of my peanut-allergic child,
who is recovering from somehow ingesting one the other day,
is overshadowing it all.
And I wont’ even mentioned the conversation I had with my Dad,
Where he told me about a new procedure that makes nose jobs simple—
Which he didn’t think I would need unless I lost weight.
?????
love that guy.
I didn’t even get hurt feelings over it because I “get” him so well.
He really means well.
Jackass.
And yes, you read that right:
Somehow my dearest little love found a peanut in a kit kat.
Or, rather, he is now allergic to just the mreere presence of a peanut in the same fucking
Factory where his non-peanuty candy is made.
Fucked, he is.
Poor little smooshy bear…
And his brother apparently is as addicted to this bloody machine as I am.
More later.
Oh, trust me, there’ll be more.
because it's Thursday
and I'm not half naked, but I wish I were--
yes, I'm a total cheater.
running late.
will post words later.
have a nice day.
(or not).
yes, I'm a total cheater.
running late.
will post words later.
have a nice day.
(or not).
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Can't find a better mouse--
or at least a working mouse.
or a mouse in the right place at the right time--
yesterday at the corn maze, we watched one get run over by the tractor giving us a ride on the cow train--twice.
then today in class, I saw one dart out from under the stage and smoothly,
lightly--
bounce up the aisle.
twice.
fucking mice.
AND.
my mouse sucked, so hubby gave me the wireless one he keeps in his laptop bag for fun.
it has begun misbehaving, although I think it miiiight just be a case of low batteries.
whatever.
I have a list of things to do that is growing by the second.
exponentially and chaotically.
but I like lists, so it's ok.
for now.
until I feel swamped, and then we're done for.
trust me, you're in this with me.
I need to make a phone call.
******
...well, that was a rush.
just dialed, and listened to the first long, slow ring.
then my heart started beating faster,
my mind raced just a little.
wondering...
will she answer?
should I be shy?
eh, I hate talking to strangers.
strangers who are soon to be friends.
I guess I had the build up--
hearing about someone before you meet them often leads to disapppointment.
I'm overthinking.
I THINK I'll stop...
or a mouse in the right place at the right time--
yesterday at the corn maze, we watched one get run over by the tractor giving us a ride on the cow train--twice.
then today in class, I saw one dart out from under the stage and smoothly,
lightly--
bounce up the aisle.
twice.
fucking mice.
AND.
my mouse sucked, so hubby gave me the wireless one he keeps in his laptop bag for fun.
it has begun misbehaving, although I think it miiiight just be a case of low batteries.
whatever.
I have a list of things to do that is growing by the second.
exponentially and chaotically.
but I like lists, so it's ok.
for now.
until I feel swamped, and then we're done for.
trust me, you're in this with me.
I need to make a phone call.
******
...well, that was a rush.
just dialed, and listened to the first long, slow ring.
then my heart started beating faster,
my mind raced just a little.
wondering...
will she answer?
should I be shy?
eh, I hate talking to strangers.
strangers who are soon to be friends.
I guess I had the build up--
hearing about someone before you meet them often leads to disapppointment.
I'm overthinking.
I THINK I'll stop...
Braless Tuesday (again)
Sheesh.
I can't believe it's Tuesday, AGAIN.
It seems like we have one EVERY DAMN week!!
I get to go on a magical mystery tour/slumber party girls' weekend thingy in a few days!!!
I got the final head count today, and I'm RARING to go.
Such a dynamic, amazing group of women.
THANK THE LORD I have finally found some women I can relate to!!!!
I hope to show the softer side of the Brazen Hussie W this weekend.
Half the guests only know the party side of me, see.
They'll be shocked to discover I can also be subdued and sweet.
(as would most of YOU, I imagine...)
Anywho.
OH!!!!
I thought I bombed my test last week, but I got a B.
I can live with that!
I get comments occasionally,
which lead me to wonder...
if the authors have even read my blog.
but that's ok.
they're welcome, too.
Will y'all help me to remember not to leave my 6-15 page short story for the last-fucking-minute??
call me dumbass a few times each,and maybe it'll sink in...
I might just post the un-cropped version for HNT.
And it might just be because I'm lazy.
But you'll never know.
Or maybe you will.
Whatever.
I have some stuff up on my Creative Writing Homework site, if you're into that sorta thing.
("just kidding. Unless you are, cuz I got 'em...")
happy day, suckers--
I can't believe it's Tuesday, AGAIN.
It seems like we have one EVERY DAMN week!!
I get to go on a magical mystery tour/slumber party girls' weekend thingy in a few days!!!
I got the final head count today, and I'm RARING to go.
Such a dynamic, amazing group of women.
THANK THE LORD I have finally found some women I can relate to!!!!
I hope to show the softer side of the Brazen Hussie W this weekend.
Half the guests only know the party side of me, see.
They'll be shocked to discover I can also be subdued and sweet.
(as would most of YOU, I imagine...)
Anywho.
OH!!!!
I thought I bombed my test last week, but I got a B.
I can live with that!
I get comments occasionally,
which lead me to wonder...
if the authors have even read my blog.
but that's ok.
they're welcome, too.
Will y'all help me to remember not to leave my 6-15 page short story for the last-fucking-minute??
call me dumbass a few times each,and maybe it'll sink in...
I might just post the un-cropped version for HNT.
And it might just be because I'm lazy.
But you'll never know.
Or maybe you will.
Whatever.
I have some stuff up on my Creative Writing Homework site, if you're into that sorta thing.
("just kidding. Unless you are, cuz I got 'em...")
happy day, suckers--
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