so relaxed

i had such a relaxing day today. i woke, as to be expected, at 8am. it was a little too cold to go swimming, so i dicked around on my computer and IMd a friend of mine until about noon. then i took a nap until 2pm. i loafed around and watched some tv and seriously thought about cleaning, but didn't. i just paid my cable bill...so all of these fun activites can continue...and now i'm about to make dinner. good times. whee!!

keys and business of breaking up

today i had to ask for my key back from my ex. truth be told, i forgot he had it. i don't know what made me think of it. i didn't like asking it. i don't know why i feel bad about the situatuion. i certainly don't feel too bad for him...since he caused it...but it still sucks that it happened and we're still dealing with the fallout. i just hate this.

i'm generally not one to hand out keys to men i date. fuck that shit. i'm entirely too private and, quite frankly, guarded to give any man that much access to me. i gave it to him because i trusted him. i was also new in town, far from home, and alone. i first gave it to him when i had a cat and was out of town a lot. so, i'd have him check on the cat and water my plants. since then, i've given the cat away to my mom...he needed lots of attention and i didn't like him waking me up by licking my face at 4am...and all of my plants have died. i've never taken care of a plant in a place that has freezing temperatures more than half the year. i also live in a basement apt. i dig it, but it's a little lacking in the light department and sunlight is sort of important to the health of a plant. so, that's primarily why i gave him the key. also, so if i ever lost mine or locked them in my car, i could call him and let me in to get my spare. for all of his shortcomings with my heart and in the context of a relationship, he certainly is the guy to call when you need someone dependable who functions.

the key was the last link. we have nothing let between us...well, there's that uncomfortable, kill-me-now silence, but that's to be expected. it was sort of weird calling him, though. the conversation was about, literally, 4 seconds and it was conducted entirely in an emotionless, flat tone. it really sucked. i hate being like that to people. certainly i can have a chill to me that would make the arctic jealous, but i hate doing it. when i was talking to him, i didn't feel anything. so, it's official, i'm shut down when it comes to him. even times when i want to be hurt or something, i end up just walking away. my pain has morphed into anger, but even that's subsiding. now it's just a lack of interest. i don't want anyone in my life who could ever treat me the callous way he did. so.

it's sad to not only watch, but to feel genuine caring and love turn into numbness. it's sad to objectively see what we've become. it's sad to know that i will never let him back in and that he is out of my life. it's sad to know that as soon as i move from here, i will probably never see him again. it's just sad that someone who was so important to me, and who i trusted so much, is now so distant. it's necessary, for my own protection, and i don't want him or want to be with him, but it still makes me sad that this is the end to our story.

fiesta in my mouth and other fucked up things

i was watching tv last night and i saw a really disturbing commercial. it was for Starbursts, i think. this guy was talking to his friend about how good the new flavor was and he said, "it was like having a fiesta in my mouth." the next scene is a shot of the inside of his mouth and a Mariachi band playing on his teeth. all of a sudden the teeth start to close. water starts rushing in and the band members are jumping off his teeth and onto his tongue. they're trying to fight against the stream and one of the Mariachi guys gets washed down the guys' throat. the last shot is of his friend, who was trying to hold onto him, standing there screaming "no."

it was really fucked up. the other one that's really nasty is a Gatorade commerical. the voiceover is talking about how, when you exert a lot of energy and sweat a lot, you lose lots of liquids in your body. as he's talking they show this soccer player running in to steal the ball, and as he slides he crumbles into these chunks and scatters all over the ground. the next one is a female runner. she's running a marathon and takes a step and crumbles. this goes on for the rest of the commerical.

i realize they're trying to say that your body is drying out and that makes it for fraile, but it's just nasty. the thing that makes it so gross is that when each person falls, it's not like they turn to ash in a Wile E. Coyote way. they seriously fall apart. so, with the runner, as her legs are breaking apart, you see the look of shock on her face and the flailing of her arms as she tries to brace herself for the fall. it's sick, man. fucking nasty.

i think the first time i ever saw a really disturbing commerical like that was this M&M one. this guy was eating a bunch of M&Ms and, i think the red one, comes up to him and was, basically like, "how you like it if we did it to you?" then there was a shot of the big, talking M&M reaching inside a bowl of a bunch of the dudes, screaming. it was just twisted.

i'm all for originality in advertising, but i don't like the personification of food. i don't like my food talking or dancing. there are just some images that are disturbing. i think it might be because i have an extremely active imagination, so i'll be eating something, remember the commerical, imagine it's actually happening, and totally freak myself out. i suppose that's the main reason i don't like food that comes in its original form. i don't like fish...well, i just don't like fish in general, except salmon, swordfish, and tuna...especially not when it comes on a platter just missing its eyes. same for lobster. i'm certain these dishes are scrumptious, but seeing the animal in its original form just grosses me out. chicken wings and legs don't, as much, but when the wing is connected to the breast or the leg to the thigh, i hesitate.

what can i say? i'm a weird girl. it's part of my charm...i hope.

talking and swimming

i've not been very talkative lately. at work, i'm relatively normal, but once i get home, i don't want to talk to anybody. i feel bad because i should call people, but i just can't pick up the phone and start that conversation. i need to call my dad. i'm less concerned with him, though. if there's one person in the whole world who knows me, it's him. plus, he's a big fan of unplugging his phone when he doesn't want to be bothered, so he can relate. i'm just sort of blah.

the fact that god hates me and has cursed me to wake up between 7-8am regardless of my work schedule doesn't help. i didn't have to be at work until 11am, but there i was, fucking awake at 7. i decided that i'd go for a morning swim. i got my swimsuit on and walked out the door and realized it was raining. i paused, then decided i didn't care. then i stopped again and debated coldness of water and a whole host of other things, but decided i still didn't care and drove out to the lake. it was so nice. i hate getting up early, but there is something so peaceful about swimming in the morning in silence. there were two ladies there and we had a good time. there's a comradery between people who do retarded things like that. it takes a certain type of person to find the joy and the pleasure in swimming in the rain. doing the backstroke while the rain hits my face was phenomenal.

so this morning was fine, but i think i've just been getting up so early and, being the night owl i've always been, staying up so late i'm just worn out. i've gone out of town every weekend of the past month or so..and i'm doing it again this weekend. the thing is that i need to get out of here. at least this kind of tired is from exhaustion from having fun. the tiredness before was from depression.

when i wake up in the morning, it takes me about an hour to really liven up. certain exceptions are when my mother calls or on road trips. those times i can wake myself right up and be fine. without external influences, it takes me about an hour to want to talk. that's how i feel now, but all of the time. i don't know. i'll probably get some sleep on thurs. i'd better do something, b/c i'm seeing my girls this weekend and i gotta wake the fuck up.

my fridge

i go through these waves that are reflected in my refridgerator. i fluctuate between my mom and my dad. sometimes i'm my mom. i have fresh foods and leftovers from the many different days i cooked dinner. i have shit to make sandwhiches to take to work and healthy, yet delicious, treats to snack on. lots of water and juices going on.

i am currently not on that wave. i am defintely going by way of my father right now. i have ice cream and popsicles in the freezer. i do have vegetarian sausages, but they're always there. the fridge is the worst, though. right before i left for NYC i got rid of all old food and shit. i was going to be gone for 4 days and i wasn't looking forward to random, unidentifiable smells coming out of my kitchen. after i cleaned it out, i had some orange juice, hot dogs, cheese and sour cream...oh, and a door full of condiments, a la Fight Club...how embarrassing. i went shopping today, but came out with three boxes of cereal, milk, yogurt, and apples. oh, yea, and more cheese, Kool-Aid and pudding.

i am definitely living the bachelorette life, right now. if only i liked beer, i'd have a fridge full of Coronas or something. i've just been so tired. besides, who the hell wants to cook over heat when the humidity is sucking the air directly from your lungs? for dinner i ended up eating sushi. i don't even like sushi. i had three...no, wait, four...california rolls and a klondike bar for dinner. i'm wack and i'm wrong for it. i'm eating like my dad. next thing you know, i'll be laying in front of the tv watching a basketball game eating mixed nuts, drinking iced tea and pepsi mixed, with the phone unplugged from the wall.

endurance test

speaking of my ex...

life has gotten a lot happier, not to mention simpler, since i go out of town a lot and changed my schedule at work. now, i only have to see him a couple of days a week and not damn near every day. i think it's clear that i don't like him. i tried to seperate things and tell myself and i like him as a person, but just not the things he does. i can't really say that. i just don't like him. there's no way we can ever be friends again, and, quite frankly, i can't wait to leave this place and him behind.

his realtionship with his girlfriend doesn't bother me. well, it does, but not in that i'm-so-jealous way. it's just a constant reminder of how fucked up he was to me and how, in the end, i was the one who was hurt the most. his actual girlfriend, though, is no one of consequence. actually, they seemed to be perfect for each other. they're on the same level. plus, he needs to be needed and to save someone and she seems like she needs to be saved. i told him a long time ago that the reason we would never work out is because i don't need him. i liked him and i wanted him, but i didn't need him. the only men i need are my father and brother. i'm just not that kind of girl. i used to be, but i'm not now.

i want to be with someone who wants to be with me, not feel obligated to be. i also want him to know that he is wanted. at no time should my man feel like the only reason i call him is to fix my garbage disposal or something. if my cable is fucked up, i'll call Comcast. i enjoy having a man who can fix things, but that should never be the focus of the relationship. i think in the natural course of a relationship you grow to need someone, but that's different. that's emotional (and, if you live together, financial) and that's completely acceptable. it was the strangest, and ultimately, the saddest thing, because if i wanted him to come over to hang out and watch a movie he was always busy. if, in the course of the same conversation, i mentioned my computer was fucked up, he'd come over as soon as i came home from work. i started to come under the impression that he didn't really like me, but he swore he did. i don't know. i'm just not built like that. i need a reciprocative realtionship and that means him knowing how to take.

but i digress. anyway, i don't talk to him anymore. cursory things, fine, but never a conversation. i don't want to know what's going on in his life and he lost the right to have any sort of access to mine. the whole thing still stresses me out and he makes me feel ugly and bad about myself. what he did and the way he hurt me was so profound that i'm having a hard time recovering. i, however, never let him see me sweat. fuck him. lately i've been seeing him around more and the bastard is becoming an endurance test for me. he's testing my resolve, my composure, and, most of all, my patience. i've become the queen of deep breaths and rolling shit off my back.

i know he doesn't do this shit on purpose, but i don't actually care about his motives. the sight of him is causing me to lay down another layer of brick around me. he is my endurance test: to stay happy and shamelessly, optimistically me; to remember my worth and that i didn't deserve what he did to me; and to let that which does not matter truly slide.

really? enough!

so, the neverending saga of the dude upstairs.

what the fuck am i supposed to do with that? i know he likes me. he's made it abundantly clear. he, however, was a little too shady, a little too early for me to seriously entertain the thought of a relationship with this man. he's fine, i'll give him that, but i also don't think he likes me as much as he says. i think, being a fine, tall black man in the land of plentiful white, college women, he's sort of used to having any girl he wants. i think, at this point, it's less about me, as a person, and more about me as an unattainable object. i understand that, certainly. my oldest brothers' friend is like that. he's liked me since i was 12, but he just can't have me...well, back when he was single. even he was smart enough to let it go. this guy upstairs, man, it's ridiculous. i appreciate the attention, it's definitely flattering, but dude, let it go. the last time i was alone with him he took me to dinner. after dinner, he dropped me off and tried to kiss me. i dodged, not one, not two, but four attempts at a kiss.

a couple of weeks ago, he gave me his phone number again. i don't know why he'd think that i'd call him now. i've been out of town a lot this past month and today he was helping me bring in my groceries and mentioned that i hadn't called him. seriously, i think i just need to get a boyfriend. there's this guy that's a possibility, but i haven't known him very long, but at this point, i'm not sure that even matters. i hate lying to people, but i'm getting to the point that i'm just going to tell dude i have a boyfriend. get this mutherfucker off my damn back. ugh.

what can i say, i'm picky. you can't come at me sideways. there's no future in your frontin', because i'm smarter than that. i know i'm not all that and a bag of chips, but i have standards and i refuse to compromise. plus, the last guy i dated seemed to be a nice, genuine guy and that bastard turned out to be a world-class asshole and the fucker is still causing me problems. so, fuck that shit. i'm not letting anyone close without a fucking trial by fire. besides, dude is hitting sleazy-man status and that's never a good look.

punks jump up to get beat down.

In Honor of Harry Potter

(This is a guest blog)

... here are some titles J.K. Rowling might have chosen:

- Harry Potter and the Jail-Bait Witch
- Harry Potter and the Metrosexutroll
- Harry Potter and Ron Have A Tender Awakening
- Harry Potter and the Half-Baked Plan
- Harry Potter and the Cool, Refreshing Pepsi
- Harry Potter and the Choice Hermoine Has To Make That Harry Will Totally Support Either Way
- Harry Potter vs. The Wolf-Man
- Harry Potter and the Neverending Saga of Doom
- Harry Potter and the Mysterious Rash
- Harry Potter On The Moon
- Harry Potter and his New Contacts
- Harry Potter and the Fallback Technical School
- Harry Potter and the Jesus Juice
- Harry Potter and Frank Sinatra Save Christmas
- Harry Potter and the Smoking Dursley Corpses
- Harry Potter and the Don't Ask Don't Tell Policy

nyc driving and my mama

one day i'm going to write a book...actually, a series of books...about my travels. the book, or maybe the chapter, if it's a book of essays, on driving in NYC is going to be titled: Always Merge At A 45 Degree Angle. seriously, anything less than 45 degrees and no one takes you seriously. 30 degrees, forget it. think of it like the jungle...or dealing with my Uncle Darryl...the only sure way to survive is through a show of force. you have want that lane. own it. be it. take that lane. i always keep in mind that just about everybody's car is nicer than mine, so they have way more to lose than my 2002 silver neon. come to think of it, i should merge more often, just for the fuck of it, and maybe get a new car out of it. the concept of nice, respectful driving needs to be left somewhere in New Haven. once you hit 95, game over.

i left MA around 11:30am. i got to my brother's in Queens at 3:45pm. that's crazy talk. what made the timing so lame is that for a good portion of time i was burning down the highway doing 85. there's no reason it should've taken me so long. i hit so much fucking traffic. i hit traffic right as i taxied onto the highway in MA. i hit traffic merging onto 95. somewhere near Stamford two trusck got into an accident, but since there's no shoulder, they had to stay in the middle lane and we all had to go around them. then i hit your run of the mill slow pockets. i realize i'm going to NYC, so traffic is to be expected, but this was out of control. i averaged 10mi./hr on the Triboro Bridge. it was insane. it sort of reminded me why, even though it sucks big gorilla balls to get up that early, i leave NYC at 4am. i've also decided that unless i'm visiting multiple people or shopping i'm taking the train in from New Haven from now on. this was some ol' bullshit.

on the plus side, as i'm writing this, my mom is in the kitchen cooking dinner and signing along to her Avenue Q soundtrack. so it was worth it. fighting my way through mid-day NYC traffic is certainly worth -increasingly rarer- moments of home.

as my mom walks by, she lightly brushes my head and says:

"who loves you?"
"my mama!"
"you got that right."

peter cetera

i have Peter Cetera's Glory of Love in my head. is that a form of mental illness or nostalgia?

what a self-destructive asshole

that about sums it up.

i was talking to a friend of mine. we were discussing the differences between women and men and the role of victim. she was dead on. she said that women openly own their victimhood. in true prima donna form, women complain how the world is against them. all of these horrible things keep happening to them. very openly, almost proudly, accepting their role as a victim.

men are a little different. maybe it's because of their testosterone levels, maybe it's their socialization as being strong and in control, men don't do the role of victim well. this, for once, is where men get way more complicated than women.

i should also, before i begin, factor in the puritanical air up here. that has a lot to do with...everything. there is such an overwhelming sense of punishment, of repentance, of suffering for ones deeds. everyone feels guilt and shame, but it's almost like people up here get off on it. they get off on the weight of the world on their shoulders. they love being the tragic hero. somehow, i guess, feeling the full force of the weight of their guilt or shame is a burden they're proud to carry. it's like the more you bear, the more it matters, and the more you're validated.

now then, back to men. their version of victimhood is not one that they can proudly proclaim like women. it needs to be inflicted. the drive to repent is a powerful force, but rival only to the need to suffer. so, they repent through their suffering, but you're never sure which one is driving the machine because they are also getting off on their suffering. generally, suffering and self-gratification cannot co-exist. somehow, up here, it's morphed into this weird, fucking freaky bastard of a reality.

knowing all of that, we come to this guy. i'm angry with him, no fucking doubt about that. i could easily not talk to him for the rest of my life and cut him off. he's a good person, but he's committed, just about, my limit of infractions i can withstand and still have you in my life. anyway, in the interest in civility, i've started talking to him again. he was on silence for about 2 or 3 weeks...which is no easy feat, let me tell you, when i see him all of the fucking time. anyway, just yesterday, i started cursorily talking to him. today, i asked him a question relating directly to the main infraction he's made and his response was really fucked up. i don't know if he thought he was being funny. perhaps, he thought since i spoke to him again that things were back on track and we could joke about it. i don't know, he seemed like he was just being a dick. he was being intentionally obtuse and rude. he smiled the whole time, but it was slightly twisted. i don't know what the fuck he thought he was doing.

that bothered me...well, it still is..and i was wondering why he would've behaved like that? especially, since he, at least did, fell badly about everything and the pain he's caused me. it seemed counterintuitive to be flip with someone who is finally talking to you and is asking you a question about a still very sore subject. it seemed like a truly stupid move. then, i talked to my friend and she and i were discussing victimhood. he certainly gets off on being the victim. he likes having that sort of moral indignation, since he prides himself on being an upstanding guy. that, though, is the off-off Broadway act to his play. i think what it really is is that he knows he fucked up and feels he should suffer more for it. perhaps me talking to him was, in his eyes, letting him off the hook too early. so, he decided to make an extraordinarily stupid move and push me away.

here is where it gets sad. as much as people know me up here, no one knows me. i can hold a grudge so long it staggers the senses. i think he's confusing my attempt at civility for forgiveness. the two are certainly not one in the same. i will probably never forgive him. i don't forgive easily, which is why i try to give people ample opportunities to correct their mistakes with me. once it's a done deal and i've shut down, there's nothing left to do. time can pass, and i may forget things, but i rarely forgive. i have no time for insincerity and no place in my life for treachery. the few people that are in my life are there because, above all, they are loyal.

perhaps i'm most annoyed at me. i keep giving him chances to do...something other than fuck up and all that keeps happening is that i keep getting hurt. i tried to be understanding. i got hurt. i tried to be his friend again. i got fucking slaughtered. i tried to be civil and he did it a-fucking-gain. i don't want to write him off. i don't want to hate him. i don't want what is coming. i'm fucking shutting down. i don't want to hurt his feelings, but i'm done. i've tried all i can do. it's just sad, because there will come a time when he tries to be friends with me again, and i'm going to have to shut him down... for my own fucking protection.

in all of this, i've tried to hold on to the fact that he's a good person and is just on a dumb-ass-choices rampage. i've been trying to be mindful and aware that he's hurting in all of this too. i try to remember that at one time he genuinely cared for me. i hate to get dorky, but like they said in Batman Begins:

"it's not who you are, but what you do that defines you."

VA

i have a friend. her name is VA. she's damn funny. she wrote this thing on Friendster that was hysterical. it was one of those things that you immediately want to write something equally as funny to her. i, however, buckle under creative stress. more importantly, it was so funny it needed no response. i just wanted to bask in the humor of it all.

i've come to realize in my stay here in MA., she's the only person that is not better friends with me than i am them. most other people here i'm friends with enough...enough to hang out...enough to get drunk...enough to eat dinner. she's the only one i actively seek company from. then she goes and moves. whooooorrrrrreeeeee!!!!! on the plus side, i can now spew my abandonment venom from a really comfortable chair. so, there's that.

i'm just a girl in the world

i'm a complicated girl. anyone who knows me can attest to that. i can be damn near impossible to read, but sometimes things are written right on my face. what can i say? i like to keep things interesting. the number one internal conflict i have...well, maybe number 6...is country v. city girl.

i once told a friend of mine that i wanted to move to NYC. he was from brooklyn and told me that i'd never survive. i was sort of offended. i'm a well travelled girl, and i'm not done yet. sure, i'm from Missouri. sure, i'm from the suburbs and lived a comfortable life with my acre of back yard and a cow pasture up the street. so what if my elementary school was called Two Mile Prairie...because there was actual prairies surrounding it...and the school mascot was a groundhog. our principal would bring his horses at the end of every year and we'd have a country western bbq on the schools extensive grounds. i've lived a good life, but i've certainly gotten out there and seen some shit. i have one of the most insane cases of wanderlust known to man.

so, when my friend said that i thought, "what? i've lived outside of the US twice, both for 6 months, one of those times i was alone. i backpacked for two weeks around Turkey, Italy and Greece alone. i've been all over the US. i've moved more times than i can count, to new towns, with new people, knowing no one there when i moved. i think i can handle fucking NYC." about a year or two later i realized he was right, sort of. it's not that i couldn't handle NYC, i just wouldn't want to. i have these moments where the country girl in me comes screaming out. she never screams louder than when i'm in the city. i need space. i need quiet. ideally, i'd like to live in a house on my family's property in upstate NY. the nearest town is 5 miles away and has a population of 200. the only problem with that plan is my friends. secluded in the mountains, walking through the woods and listening to nature is all well and good, but anyone who's spent a fri. night with me knows that this girls loves to laugh and loves her liquor. but i digress. so, i understood that NYC is just too much. i feel real country mouse there and the constant congestion of people and buildings and cars would be too much for me to take. that is why i decided that my next move will be to New Haven. one of my closest friends lives there, there are lots of parks and greenery to soothe my midwestern heart, and i'm a 2 hour train ride from the city.

which brings me to the point of this blog. i went to go see Batman Begins with my brother last night. i didn't want to drive, because driving in NYC, while exciting in that base jumping sort of way, is fun, but is only really worth the stress if you're shopping or going to be there for a few days. a night is not nearly worth all of the construction on 95. so, i figured my girl lives in New Haven. she can drop me off and pick me up and i'll leave my car at her house. cool. enter crazy country girl. in all of my travels, i've never ridden a train before alone. i did in Italy, but i was fully aware i had no idea where i was going and all of my shit with me, so it was an adventure. this time, i was on a bit of a schedule and, as much as i can figure lots of travel things out on my own, NYC is a beast i'm not nearly ready to tackle.

so, my girl drops me off and i'm all kinds of confused. before i get into that, i think it's important to know how deep the country mouse had run. in my backpack, i packed some cheez-its, an apple, and bottle of water in case i got hungry. Erica laughed at me like i had it in a handkerchief slung over my shoulder on a stick. i was also very confused. i didn't know where the tracks were. i didn't know...anything. i was so out of sorts, i asked her to come with me to the platform to make sure i got there o.k. she laughed at me the entire time. the thing is that in most areas of my life i'm either completely apathetic, or very decisive. i'm not a girl with lots of grey area and i'm not wishy-washy. the number on thing that throws me is menus. i don't know why, they just do. the train is now my number two. i tried to remember that millions of people far dumber than i have taken the train into Grand Central, so, really, how hard could it be? that didn't work. after Erica told me three times that i was at the right train, i was still so uncertain that she walked me up, like a child, to the conductor and confirmed it with him. she was getting a kick out this.

even if i don't know where i'm going, exactly, i can usually fake it. once i got into the middle of Grand Central Station i came to a complete hault. i was so overwhelmed it was ridiculous. so many corridors and people and noises. it was crazy talk. so, i stood there. took a look around and didn't move until i was certain where i was going. i made it to my brother's office o.k. it was just so silly. of course, once i did it, it was no big deal and there was no reason for me to be freaking out like i did, but whatever.

those moments don't happen very often. i was able to navigate the streets of Istanbul to find the boat that would take my to the Asian part of the city, but i had problems with the Metro North train to NYC. what can i say? i'm a mystery.

poor Katie

poor Katie. she's dreamed all of her life, as young girls are wont to do, about marrying Tom Cruise. now she's dating him and marriage look imminent, unfortunately...he's out of his fucking mind. it's like being in high school and the hottest senior... who you've secretly been lusting after, taking the scenic route to your class just to pass by his class, because you know he always sits in the front... asks you out. you go to dinner and have a great time. next date's a movie and he tenderly holds your hand. a week later, you're finally alone and he tells you all of things you want to hear. he's a great kisser and loves running his fingers, ever so gently, down the back of your neck just to watch your body rise. you're making out and clothes are coming off and then it happens. you tactilely discover the bastard has genital warts. ugh. oh, the humanity. it's just not a good look.

what was Katie supposed to do? say no? he's Tom Cruise for fucks sake. apparently, what she did was fucking convert to scientology.

i think, if i was her, the creepiest thing would be how overly enthusiatic he is about her. i love attention as much as the next person. i also dig a certain amount of zeal from the man i'm with. i don't know. jumping around on couches in jubilation is a little weird to me. i think a lot of it might be that i like my men composed. private excitement is fine. for instance, one time i was coming home from school and i called Shawn when i landed in St. Louis. getting back to my hometown take 1.5 hours. seriously, dude called me, at least, 10 times seeing where i was and telling me to hurry up to him. that is definitely sweet. he's excited to see me. he shows it...in an appropriate manner. it would just freak me out if every time i saw my boyfriend he cheered. it would be sweet at first, but i'm certain within a few weeks, i would utter the words, "calm down." i'm damn cute and have my merits, but, seriously, every time? i would start to wonder, "why is he so excited? did he think i wouldn't come back? why would he think that? why would i not want to see him? oh, shit, maybe because he's out of his scientology loving mind. that's why."

(i'm hoping this works) here's the link that started my tirade. the look of Toms' face is just disturbing. he's like, "YEAH! wooo-hooo! i love this woman! i love scientology! i'm crazy man Jack and i'm fucking off my meds. fuck you, Dr. Adolf!"

http://tv.msn.com/tv/article.aspx?news=193788&GT1=6657

wow

wow. color me genuinely shocked. i was certain that white people would want an answer for O.J. well, i guess that just goes to show you what a mutherfucker money is. man. Michael Jackson acquitted on all 10 charges. i was certain that he'd get caught out there for, at least, one.

i didn't follow the trial as much as some...say the people outside of the courthouse with signs and confetti...but i popped in now and then. i know that a lot of the prosecutions' witnesses were really sketch. i mean, story changing and becoming more explicit to drive up the price to the Inquirer kind of sketch. i also know that the primary witness' mother was no prize. fucking using money people gave her for his cancer treatment to get her legs waxed and shit. and why not? their medical insurance covered the meds and shit. so, that was not a good look for the D.A.

i guess this really goes to show that the burden of proof really is on the prosecution. imagine that. a case that holds up the most hollowed tenet of law which is "innocent until proven guilty." a lot of people were criticizing the defense for cutting their case short and shit. the truth is that the defense doesn't need a case. really, all the defense has to do is poke significant holes in the prosecutions case. well, the prosecution managed that all on their own. one analyst on CNN said that, "these kinds of cases were not ones that the defense wins. they're the cases the prosecution loses." which is so true.

hey, personally, i don't know. it was all shady and certainly skeezy. dude's just mentally off that it could be possible. i was at the point to where i almost hope he was found guilty just so he could get some help. then again, his "help" would probably be to have all of his teeth knocked out with the first 7 hours in prison, gang-raped, and dead within 48 hours. my brother said, "let's just call this what it is, a death sentence. if he's found guilty, and sent to prison, he's fucking dead."

i suppose in the end, Michael really had two things going for him. he was rich, and money can buy anything...even a verdict. more importantly, he's, essentially, a white woman. there's nothing prized more in America than a white woman.

well, done you, Michael. just make sure to not let your roots show. keep your makeup tight and your kitchen clean.

oh for fux sake

it's 90 degrees with 50% humidity. the barometer is at 29.71 in and falling and i can't find my fucking swimsuit. i just bought it last night. i have no idea where that bastard is. all i want to do right now is find it and go swimming. balls.

sorry, Niefy

yea, i was just looking at my last blog and have to apologize. Sorry, Niefy. i know you're my brother. i know you love me and accept me for who i am. i also know that that was probably some shit you'd rather not have known. my apologies.

don't sweat the technique, playboy.

next time

i think the next time i have a boyfriend i want to try something. i was driving home from working and thinking about shots. yes, shots of liquor. i was thinking of interesting ways of doing them. it was confirmed yesterday, while on the phone with my friend, that i enjoy sexually risky and risque things. so, the next guy i date i want to go to a bar and have him put a shot glass full of liquor between his legs. i'll bend down and get it with my mouth only and take the shot. no hands at all. then, i'll nestle a shot glass in my cleavage and he can go for it there.

i think that'd be good, slightly exhibitionistic, foreplay.

i suppose the real trick would be to find someone who'd be game.

mr. and mrs. smith

i just got back from seeing Mr. and Mrs. Smith. my God, domestic violence has never been so funny. i laughed so much. oh, man. it basically has everything i require in a movie: lots of gun play and action, hot actors, and silliness. i don't know if people know this about me, but i'm a little on the silly side. so, it was very funny. much like Constantine, probably not a great movie, but certainly entertaining.

i went with my friend, VA, and it's balls because she's moving in, like, three days. who am i going to hang out with now? whoooooore! however, if it had to come to an end, i'm really glad it was on a high note. few things are worse than having one last hurrah and it be lame.

my mom actually went to go see it and she liked it. i imagine it's because she, like most married people, would probably like to kill their spouses...or at least get in a few good shots.

john legend

i just bought the new John Legend album. it's so fucking dope. the beats are so tight and fucking smooth as hell. for all of Kanye's temper tantrums, the man has skillz, and, obviously, his soul is spoken for. i was talking to Massandje about it and she said it was really soulful. i agreed. "soulful" is such an overused and highly misapplied word, but, in this case, it's spot on.she also described it as hypnotic. i told her it's the kind of music you get high to, turn it up, and just get in a zone. head hung low, bobbing from side to side, unaware of anything but the beat.

we're working on a way to see him in concert in Jersey next weekend. she'd seen him in concert once and said it was amazing. as she put it, "he can sing his high-yellow ass off." indeed.

yea, work that shit out

"you cockjuggling thunder cunt." that's just...staggering to the mind. and hilarious.

(courtesy of the graffiti in the men's bathroom at Packard's)

craziness

well, let's see. i met him at 6pm...ok, ok. 6:10pm. chilled out. ate a bit. people showed up. the festivities began.

Packards:
two glasses of water
a couple of sips of his beer
one strawberry daiquiri

on to Hugo's:
burbon and ginger ale
sip of something he had
shot of tequila
lemon drop shot (which equaled three huge gulps of vodka, licking the sugar off of my hand, and sucking on a lemon)
cosmopolitian
screaming nazi shot (Jagermeister and a splash of cinnamon schnapps)

then a glass of water.

what a good fucking night. it was a friend of mine's birthday party and a bunch of us got together to celebrate. so much fucking fun. seriously drunk fun. the best was that there was one guy who was down for anything. we just kept buying drinks and knocking them back. by the time we got to the Jagermeister, we both had established that we were really fucked up and this shot may actually kill us. we decided to lighten ours up with some cinnamon schnapps...brilliant. i told him that if he lived, my mother's phone number was in his cell phone. four shots of Jager all around and our Screaming Nazi's. you know you're in for it when you order a shot and the bartender lets out an audibly emphatic, "yeah!" oh, yeah, trouble. i have to admit that they were delicious. after we took the shot, we looked at each other and agreed that that was one tasty shot. every once in awhile i come up with a good idea for something to drink. we still have to go back to the Tunnel Bar and get a Pink Jollyrancher martini.

it was really fun hanging out with everybody. this is my second time hanging out with this guy and not a bad time, yet. it's just really good to get back into things. hanging out with people and having a good time. i spent so much time of the last year stressing over my ex and this situation that i haven't even been up for fun. then i decided to truly and thoroughly let it and him go. man, i haven't feel this free in a very long time. up until a point, i had no problems being consumed with all things him. lately, it hasn't been good for me and it's just oppressive. so, i let it all go and am moving on.

i showed up in a nice shirt and a little makeup. dude made fun of me and kept calling me "shirt" all night. secretly, he dug it. fucker. as i was getting ready to leave, we were out on the street and he kept threating to fight me. it's because i always give him two for flinching. he's always tried to hit me back, but time and place has prevented a good fight. tonight presented a perfect opportunity. so, we're out on the street, and he was a whole lot more fucked up than i was. so, i kept getting in a series of these crazy face shots. the bad thing was that they weren't even hard, they were just solid. you could tell he was getting frustrated, but he was really too fucked up to do anything about it. ah, good fun.

i got home around 1:30am. it's a little after two and, really, i could keep going. i think i just have a serious party reservoir. we were going to work out some karaoke, but we couldn't find a place that was open that didn't have a cover charge. next time. there will be a next time.

this guy is applied for a job out of state, and i know this selfish, but i don't want him to leave. obviously, i'll be happy if he gets the job. it'd be perfect for him. however, for me, i really enjoy hanging out with him and it would suck balls for him to leave now. it's been a long time since i was really comfortable and able to just chill out, with no hope or agenda, with someone.

it's been a good night. friends... liquor...laughter...singing...silliness...what's not to love?

really?

i was having a conversation with someone and we were discussing people who feel compelled to share the most inane or innocuous things with us. people who are not really good friends with you who call you up to read you a movie review or something. that's my friend. granted we've been friends for a very long time. she works as a receptionist at a clinic, so she just sits there all day in front of a computer. i don't even know where she finds these things to send me, but almost every email message i get from her is a forward. i really don't like forwards. she used to send me really smutty things, but that is not my humor. she would send dirty jokes...bad dirty jokes... and series of pictures that, whether by chance or intention, would say things like,"balls," or "clit." yea, not so much. i told her if she kept doing it that i'd block her. so, i blocked her.

she's stopped with the smut and has moved onto jokes, anecdotes, friend surveys, emotional blackmail pleas ( my kid has leukemia and everytime you forward this email 10 cents will go to his hospital bill) and lists. the woman loves lists. 5 reasons for this, 10 ways to know that. she's all about them. in all fairness, she did stop the smut, and she is bored at work a lot. here is her latest one. seriously, this thing took up space in my inbox. let's be a little more judicious with your forwarding choices in the future please, folks.

15 Things to do at Wal-Mart while your spouse/partner is taking their sweettime:

1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in peoples carts when theyaren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
3. Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the restrooms.
4. Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone, 'Code 3' inhousewares......and see what happens.
5. Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on lay away.
6. Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
7. Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'llinvite them in if they bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask 'Why can'tyou people just leave me alone?'
9. Look right into the security camera, use it as a mirror and pick yournose.
10. While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if heknows where the anti-depressants are.
11. Dart around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the theme from"Mission Impossible."
12. In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look" using differentsize funnels.
13.Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!""PICK ME!"
14. When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetalposition and scream "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"

And last but not least ... THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE.....

15. Go into a fitting room, shut the door and wait a while and then yell loudly "There is no toilet paper in here!"

can anyone tell me which part hurt my feelings the most? yup, the separation, capitalization, and bolding of her "favorite" one. yeesh.

"My soul was weary/ but now it's replenished/
Content because that part/ of my life is finished"

i just broke my own heart tonight. it was necessary. honestly, it was partially because i had such a good night, that i found it necessary to expunge anything that didn't give me equal or greater joy. it definitely pained me to do, but, hopefully, everything will work itself out. i felt sad sending it, but i feel lighter. i feel easier. i feel optimistic. i feel a big, still quite drunk, smile coming on.

good night

it's been a really good night. i haven't had one of those in a very long time. well done you.

dictionary

i wish there was a dictionary i could type in the definition and it give me the word. sometimes, i'm writing and the perfect word is right on the tip of my tongue, but i can't get it. i know what i want to say in 10 words, but i'm having trouble getting to that one word that would encapsulate the 10. i use dictionary.com and sometimes the thesaurus helps, but i need something like 10-to-1.com or perfectword.com. i don't know. i'd make the website if only i could fucking come up the perfect word. dammit. i'm going to start hanging vocab words around my apartment.