Too bad I stopped using Microsoft Word to post;
then I would have had copies of each post.
Except for the audio.
If anyone out there who listened to it saved it or still has it in their cache, I would happily show you my boobies for a copy of it.
(Not NUDE--what kinda slut do you take me for??)
but seriously, I would appreciate it a thousand fold--
and maybe write a haiku for you, or a limerick.
Or even a sonnet.
yeah, who am I kidding??
Not a sonnet.
So I am officially dog sitting.
PLEASE do not let me forget she's here...
My best friend, J, has entrusted me with her "baby" and I hope I am for the challenge.
I've never ownd a dog, so I am a little nervous about all the dog stuff.
She gave me feeding/walking instructions, so I think I'll be fine.
I just realized that I might need to put a new disclaimer on the page here.
Something to the affect of: don't give me advice unless you know I'll like it.
It's really weird...cuz some people give great advice--or at least give it in a pleasant way, but some people make me want to hurt them.
It's not my fault.
I'm just emotionally unstable, ever since the accident.
It left scars as deep as canyons, and twice as wide.
Ok, maybe "accident" is a bit dramatic.
I stubbed my toe this morning and it hurt like HELL, ok??
Speaking of hell...
I really like that word.
It has such a smooth feeling in the mouth--
say it with me: Hell.
You could almost just breathe it out...hell.
And yet there is something so sharp about it, like 12 inch daggers in rows.
The more I say it, the more I feel it.
I feel the darkness, the fire.
I feel the despair and the torment.
What a powerful word it is.
But still, very beautiful.
I think I do need a secret blog.
Somewhere that I can whine as much as I want without feeling like I'm letting people down.
Somewhere that I can bare my soul without fear of judgment.
I think I used to do that here...
but I have a really bad memory.
I already have a URL, and I'm sure that makes some of you prickle with anxiety--
leaning forward in your seats, biting the inside of your cheek--
wondering what secrets I'll tell there,
what weaknesses I'll reveal.
Oh, I have them all.
Every weakness known to man is folded up tidily and shoved into the wallet of my heart.
I want everything and I want nothing.
I am spoiled and dissatisfied.
I cry too little and laugh too much.
I wonder...how much the rock of me has eroded through choices I've made.
(smirk at how "rock" makes me think of erotic...)
I love meeting new people.
Spending time talking and laughing.
I love how, the next day, they are still with me.
Fading away with each remembered joke, swimming around in me, without a timeline or a permanence.
I have been a cleaning fool this weekend...
probably because step son has been using my computer.
I'm such an addict.
AND my parents are arriving tonight.
The dog. Don't forget to feed and walk the dog.
17 days until France.
Kissing is all the foreplay I've ever needed.
Just one good, deep kiss and my panties leap right off and throw themselves on the floor.
Soft lips, against soft lips--
tongues doing their own intricate dance.
Wow...it's been so.
Since I've kissed like that.
It's stuff like this that I probably ought not to disclose on here.
But fuck it.
(did I just say, "butt fuck"???)
I'm taking back the blog.
I'm way too lazy to start a new one.
It's a KILLER name, though.
Like, a serial killer.
Or a cereal killer...
So this brings me back to the list of things I shouldn't whine about.
I get to have really great (mind-blowing, amazing, incredible, window-rattling, teeth-chattering) sex all the time.
Whenever I want.
Speaking of which!!!
Husband worked from 8 am saturday until 7 am sunday.
He is currently upstairs sleeping.
I have been cleaning and blah-blah ing all day, and now.
I think it might be time to go join him.
Like JOIN HIM- join him.
Like the way two links of a chain join, or two hands...
the way a penis and a woo-woo join.
I can't FUCKING believe I just called a pussy a woo-woo.
That makes me chortle
titter...ha TITter....Is that like "one who tits"?
a hitter is one who hits, and a sitter is one who sits...
(on your face).
Who slipped ObsezedWidSecks (TM) into my coffee???
Ok, so it's not in my coffee.
it's in my DNA.
It's cranked up a notch today.
Feed the dog.
Walk the dog.