Friday, November 11, 2005

Raise your hand if you're ready to crack your first beer of the weekend

wow, nice title.
please don't really raise your hand
(or crack a beer)
if you're still at work.

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 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!!
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.
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"
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.

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.

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.


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.

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