Laughing All The Way

Thursday, December 08, 2005

even the rain is sharp like today as you sh-sh-shock me sane

I can’t write what I am inclined to write, I don’t want to be found out to be the person I am. I don’t want to ruin the life of a very good friend. Even if I were circumspect about the entire incident there would be people who could put the sad pieces together. There are some truths that don’t need to be shared.

That’s the thing. I have always lived this way. Making these massive mistakes where I maximize carnage. Saying things that hurt. I seem to live, sustained by the hemp woven guilt noosed around my neck, to be cruel. The drive to hurt, so subtly covered and hidden by my dazzling smile, propels me forward into another poorly planned and brilliantly executed execution.

I plant my ass on a bar stool and my feet on a cross bar. Even as I wish I could be alone I put on the face that will draw them. An innate skill, displayed with ease, shown in a mirrored finish, deflecting the light. The approach only shows what’s already visible on the outer, and that is what people see in me, a reflection of themselves (as they are or as they wish to be is immaterial, they use me to feel something about themselves).

No I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want you to tell me about the most amazing night in your life. I don’t care about the time you pulled a man from a burning car. I don’t find you either fascinating or interesting even if I repeatedly tell you that I find you either fascinating or interesting (especially if I tell you: “You’re fassssscinating”).

It’s an act. I’m good at it. I’ve won awards for it. Please do not be fooled into thinking that just because you were interesting or fascinating (see above) that I ever want to see you again.

But I think to myself, as I sit there, and hear you stories, nod my head, enlargen my eyes at the appropiate points and feed into your belief that I care: “Please, stop sucking me dry.”

My mother once described the difference between my sister and myself in the following:

“Your sister has always been so smart and gifted, but it was something into which she put time and effort. Whereas she worked very hard to complete certain classes in high school, you just breezed through them. You made everything seem so effortless, because to you, these things were effortless. I can’t imagine what it is like for an older sister to have to look at her younger sister and know these things, but she does. You walk into a room and draw attention. There is just something about your personality that shines. When your sister was spending all that time working on being a good student and creating the persona of the responsible, stable person that she is today, you were focusing on the pieces of you that make you the person you are today, you were working on the shine.

She is the standard building block person who worked hard and has a very nice and stable life. You are equally as smart and gifted, but you didn’t let that define you, you didn’t want that to define you. You are defined by your personality. You are the outstanding to her standard, you are the capstone to her building block, you are the exciting to her stable. And that is why people are attracted to you, they want to be near the shine. You walk into a crowded room of strangers and leave with a room full of people who want to be your bestfriend. While you sister holds on to those new friends, you are more than willing to never see them again.”

But the shine is fake (all that glitters is not gold).

So Sally can wait, she knows it’s too late as we’re walking on by. Her soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger I hear you say.

Don’t look back in anger. Don’t look back in anger. Don’t look back in anger. At least not today.

(I knew I shouldn’t have slept with him, but I did, repeatedly.)

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

I’m just not cut out for normal

He thought from beyond cyber space I would be cold. My warmth surprised him.

He bowls. Every week. With his own personal bowling ball. Which he had detailed with its name.

He named his bowling ball.

And yet, this bowling thing, I can overlook.

I can overlook his procrastination, indecisiveness, the extensive travel for work, his ADD speech patterns (although the conversation can be hard to follow, the randomness of the topics always makes me laugh).

Because on the other side, when he lays next to me and tells me all those sweet nothings about me that I wish were really true, everything feels so right.

He wants me to stop dating the Other (“I’ll call you after my date.” “No. No more dating other people.”).

He talks in the future tense about we, us, our. We should live in Boston…our apartment…our children (that was me actually, yeah, I totally was like “our children” WTF, was I just talking about OUR children?).

For the first time, we, us, our isn’t overwhelming.

Oh and the sex is phenomenal.

But he’s gone now and I suspect the worst. (My call went to voicemail; he’s clearly ducking my calls. He didn’t call back already because he’s sitting back enjoying the game he played. He’s used me for sex and now he’s laughing all the way home.) As soon as I admit to liking him for all the right reasons, I convince myself that it was all just a game.

And then the phone rings.

(Pussy Willow proclaimed: “He’s so normal.”)

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Never Meant to Make Your Daughter Cry

I’m a little surprised that I am bored about hearing about my own problems. Perhaps I am not as self-centered as I previously suspected.

I hate evil women. Case in point: I was dating a boy. He and I were having a grand old time getting to know each other. His female roommate learning this decided that now was the time to tell him that the reason why she broke up with her boyfriend was because she dug the boy. Okay: She has known him for years and has been single for long enough to have the opportunity to share this with him. She decides that the perfect time, even though they have been living together for a while, is when he goes on a date and seems to be building a relationship with someone else. Oh yeah, her ex- is a co-worker of the boy. He says that he doesn’t know if he likes her like that, he never before looked at her in that way. I say bullshit. She’s shitty and fucked up if she thinks that she went about this in the right way. If he’s never thought about her in that way then I think he probably won’t.

Being of sound mind and body, when he said that he wasn’t sure that he knew what to do about all this, I said: “I guess we won’t be going on another date.”

I cannot be caught up in other people’s baby mama drama. Of course I am not wanting for a date, I just hate how fucked up she was to play it like that. I think he’s going to give it a few days and then turn around and try to come back. Unfortunately, this ship has sailed. Some Girl doesn’t do second best.

Carrie Patch has spoken thus: “Well, I can see why he would say you play your cards close to your chest. I mean, when I think about when we go out, you are open but I am really open. You definitely make people work to get to know you, they have to ask questions, but you are always willing to answer anything they ask. I just don’t think you can judge something like this against me. I’m the type of person that would tell a homeless guy that I have gonorrhea or something. Not that I have gonorrhea, but if I did, I would definitely unprovoked tell strangers about it.”

And that is why I love Carrie.

Big weekend in the city: Pussywillow will be here, I have to go to Rhode Island on Saturday, date with someone on Saturday night, and Sunday is the Patriots/Jets game, which I hope to see at the stadium.

Difference

He looked at me; I was casually seated on his couch. The couch would become my bed in a few hours, but for the time being, this was where we sat while he changed my world.

Me, being the blunt one that I am, flipped through the pages of a magazine meant to tell me what to do on a Wednesday night in London (if I were a gay man) and noticed: “Why the hell are there so many adverts for AIDS awareness?”

Looking back now, I can still see his eyes slide to my face and without taking a breath, he laughs: “It is world AIDS day, darling.”

Aghast I look up and oops my way back. The queen of backpedaling I mumble something about being a shallow American.

I never really had the chance to finish that half-assed apology because as I came up with the words to turn my brash insensitivity into a humorous moment, he continued: “You know I am positive, right?”

People talk about seconds seeming like a lifetime, split seconds that go on forever, and time standing still. For me, time slowed to an excruciatingly slow palpable dimension. In between the time I turned to him to ask about what he was positive and the words formulating in my mouth, I felt my heart skip. I realized he was POSITIVE.

I looked at him and looked back at the magazine. Finished flipping though as if nothing had changed. I asked him a few questions (how, when, who) but acted as if nothing had changed. Eventually we went to sleep, and the next morning as we went our separate ways in Covent Gardens I hugged and kissed him as if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed. I know that all things being equal (and nothing is equal now) he will die before me. No matter how healthy he is, no matter how low the viral count is, and with the knowledge that he only (ONLY!) has HIV and not AIDS, I know that he will die before me.

His proclamation of positivity changed my worldview. I no longer can live with an idea with an “us” and “them”. Now, because of him, my world is just us.

I see him as often as I can; he is still by far one of my closest friends. When I am in London, I stay with him, when he comes to Boston, we spend as much time together as his job allows. I know that whatever happens he and I will always be the fun loving duo looking to break some hearts, but that day, he broke my heart. He also made a difference, he still does.

Monday, October 31, 2005

Remember that time you accidentally bought crack instead of coke?

Me neither, I’m just saying, remember that time?

Seriously, two friends (we’ll call them Calamity and Jane- if you knew that you would know why that works) were not in their city of abode and decided they were in the mood for a little something. The walked down the street inquiring if there were any purveyors of the product they sought (“Got any blow?” “Got any blow?” “Got any blow?”). Eventually they came across a gentleman, heretofore known as Super Shady Guy, who claimed that he could supply Calamity and Jane with the goods they desired. At this point Calamity and Jane invited Super Shady Guy BACK TO THEIR HOTEL ROOM????

(It’s like a bad after school special)

So there they sit in a hotel room, in a foreign city, with Super Shady Guy. Super Shady Guy insisted that Jane take a hit off of a herbaceous cigarette to dispell the suspicion that Calamity and Jane were part of the law enforcement entity that detains and charges individuals with selling or possessing narcotic substances (I can’t even imagine who would think that those two were Narcs). The goods were produced and Calamity began negotiations, barely hesitating at the fact that the goods were removed from the oral orifice from Super Shady Guy (who stores drugs in their mouth?).

Moving on, Calamity and Jane seal the deal, at an apparently noticeable discount, and eventually get the Super Shady Guy to leave. Upon closer examination, the purchased goods were not the product desired. Seems they were not behaving in a manner typical to the product. Discovering that the product was crazy scary led to a ceremonial flushing. This was followed by a violent intestinal reaction to the herbaceous cigarette (hello crack laced weed).

Needless to say: Moral of the story, never buy before you sample. Don’t invite Super Shady Guys to your hotel room because they will steal all you money (Jane was all: “Can you believe they stole my money?” I was all like, “Um, yeah”). If it seems too cheap, it’s probably crack.

They were relating this story to me and I looked straight at Jane and said: “I’m blogging this.”

Internet, please welcome Calamity and Jane to my blog.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Predicated on a lie

Let’s be clear (clearer) than I’ve been. Clarity is good.

It was not about the sex. It was never about the sex. I have sex- I have had sex (quite a bit as a matter of fact).

Sure it’s humiliating and embarrassing to find out your worth, but that was my worth to another, not to myself.

The essence of the matter is that before there was sex, there was friendship (or a reasonable facsimile thereof). I shared things I’ve never told my older sister (yes, I do hold back some things, it’s better that way). I revealed pieces of what makes me me. Based on the premise that I had built a friendship, I divulged facts and figures (No, not that figure, if anyone asks, I say three. It’s a good number three.).

So this path, down which I travel with some interesting coconspirators, this explosive anger that seeped through my world, had nothing to do with sex-it had nothing to do with my heart- it was all about the ultimate mindfuck.

I’ve heard from my Foreign Affairs Bureau that sentiments expressed include a lack of surprise (“Of course he did that, I mean you were so far away, what did you expect some stranger to do?”). I have to say, this behavior has nothing to do with geography (as there are other survivors much closer to home).

I could just as easily meet someone downtown and have the same experience. Quite truthfully, I have (less dramatic, less blog show and tell, same sad story). Location and proximity have little correlation to honesty.

There has been concern expressed regarding my future forays into the dating world and my dealings with men. I will be just as likely to go on dates with them. I will be just as likely to fuck them on the first date (I’m very good at what I do). I will be far less likely to believe them.

And that is what pisses me off.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Happy birthday baby: the scorched earth post, nothing will grow here again.

Happy birthday baby: the scorched earth post, nothing will grow here again.
I am not vindictive (although my sister may disagree) but when I feel betrayed I use every weapon at my disposal to eviscerate the offending party. My weapons are my words. I plant them just so. They deliver a blow, they maximize the carnage, they cut deep, and they draw blood.

I do not revel in the devastation, but I require the emotional harmonizing that the verbal purge facilitates.

In the past I have always striven to the highest level of excellence when it come to protecting the names of the innocent. Unfortunately, the innocent is no longer such.

So regarding OOG, who we’ll now call SimplyGreg because that’s his name (this line was written by a fellow blogger)...that’s right, I fucked a blogger, it turns out that he’s a bit of a fucker. No, not that way. I mean literally fucking his way around the American Southwest.

Well, welcome to your birthday baby, I’ve got something sweet for you in this here post. I thought that the best way to honor you, on this, your day of birth, would be to show everyone all the pretty words you used (about me and your girlfriend). I really hope no one who knows you (and your girlfriend) reads this (no, I don’t). I hear that you and she are moving in together, that’s nice. Good luck with that, I think you may find it difficult to continue sleeping with other women (I know I was not the only one) when she lives with you.

And what better way to kick it off, than the first quote about your girlfriend:

Dated June 30:
Exhibit A

Dated July 15:
Exhibit B

Dated July 18:
Exhibit C

Dated July 18:
Exhibit D

Dated July 18: (This is me writing back to him)
Exhibit E

I also saved our IMs. I wonder if I knew that there would come a day…but before that, side note.

This here is another sign that I should have heeded. He still is active in his Internet dating site profiles, both of them. He told me that he just liked to get the occasional email from girls looking to meet him. He said he liked the ego boost. If you’re really nice, I’ll email you the screen names (act quick, I’m sure they’ll be gone soon). Oh, life is good.

On to the IMs:

Dated July 27:
Some girl says:
I just am wondering, are you telling your girlfriend that I am coming out? I know that we talk about having sex, but would be okay actually having sex with me with her wherever she is? And would you tell her? You said in an email that you weren’t sure if you could fall in love with her, but still, you must feel something for her, right?
simplygreg says:
How do I answer this without sounding like a complete asshole
Some girl says:
you don’t
simplygreg says:
No, she doesn’t know, and she won’t know. The reason why I am even letting us get here is because I feel something special and I wouldn’t feel any resolution unless I found out what you and I are all about. I am not requiring sex. If it is a problem or a hassle or will create pain or drama then I don’t want it. What I want is to find out who you are and see what we are together…
simplygreg says:
for just a brief amount of time. I do feel strongly for her and it may develop into something bigger. And I feel bad for the deception, but I also need to know what the story is for my own peace of mind.

This is an interesting tidbit: seems that simplysomeass started an affair with a married woman (why was I so blind) and his perspective on this was the only person responsible was the woman who was having the affair. To wit:

Dated July 28:
simplygreg says:
I don’t have any protection mechanism for my heart. It just has to learn to deal.
Some girl says:
but don’t you feel like if someone is married it’s not your place to be in their lives like that?
simplygreg says:
of course. but honestly, that is there issue, not mine. I know that sounds shitty and like a cop out, but I am not the morality police for anyones relationship.
simplygreg says:
Saying that, I never did it, nor would I ever. It’s not how I am wired.
Some girl says:
while you were married?
simplygreg says:
yeah, while I was married. I never cheated
Some girl says:
don’t take this the wrong way, but so what. you’re not suppose to cheat when you’re married.
simplygreg says:
that is what I am saying. I agree. But you asked me whether I should have made that determination for her.
Some girl says:
no, I was asking if you were going to make that determination for yourself
simplygreg says:
to not get involved with a married girl because she is married?
Some girl says:
right
simplygreg says:
i’m confused as to your question
simplygreg says:
from a moral standpoint or in order to protect myself because I know what the result will be?
Some girl says:
what’s to be confused about? turn it around, you were married, right?
Some girl says:
did she cheat on you?
simplygreg says:
no
Some girl says:
if she had, what would you have felt
simplygreg says:
awful
Some girl says:
right, now you are getting involved in someone else’s relationship because it’s what you want to do
Some girl says:
but a married in which you are not a part has nothing to do with what you want to do
simplygreg says:
and what she wants to do. and it is her relationship
simplygreg says:
not mine.
Some girl says:
and regardless what ever peace she has to make, recognize that your actions are affecting his life
simplygreg says:
I am not responsible for her conduct in her relationship
simplygreg says:
no, her actions are
Some girl says:
that’s a really selfish way of thinking
Some girl says:
your actions are just as responsible, and in the eyes of the law you are equally responsible for the outcome
Some girl says:
women are suing the other woman for loss of affect and winning
simplygreg says:
So it is my responsibility to remind a married woman who wants to fuck that she shouldn’t because it will hurt her husband?
Some girl says:
no, your responsibility is to remember that we’re all sharing this earth and we need to take care of each other, whether or not you want to fuck a married woman or not
simplygreg says:
true. I am not saying it was moral, or that I am even moral or that it was right. I am saying it was what it was. I harbor no guilt.
simplygreg says:
But I honestly think you are wrong in shifting the burden of responsibility to the person who has no commitment or obligation

I can look back and confidently say that I am holding absolutely no burden or feeling no guilt for what I’ve done, after all, I have no commitment or obligation.

Let’s continue on, shall we.

Dated July 29:
simplygreg says:
Let’s be clear. I have not developed a relationship with any other bloggers like I have with you. For some reason, there are a few that are flirting with me, but that’s where that ends. Some chicks just seem to like self-deprecating verbose men in desperate need of an editor. It is flattering, yes. But that’s it.

And here is where I start to whimper and need a drink, this is the beginning of the point where I want to throw something at him and scream liar.

What the hell is wrong with me?

And back to some emails (this is kind of fun and epic, please keep reading and help my catharsis move along). I posted this a while ago from September 28 (I can’t believe I just linked to myself).

Dated September 16:
Exhibit F

Dated September 27:
Exhibit G

There was more, so much more, but in the end, I can’t do it, I can’t post the rest.

I pulled out these pieces to complete my journey. I am sharing this with others because I know it will help at least one person be stronger. I am sharing this with my readers so I can finally stop having this shit in my life. I am sharing this with the Internet at large in an attempt to stand up and say that I matter and I deserved so much more than this.

I spent hours reading our minute, the boring details of our affair. The crux of this was twelve pages long and I hadn’t really gotten anywhere. I was spiraling downward with no way to stop. I can’t rehash something that no longer matters (I tried, I really did) but now, as I envelope myself in the words from this summer, I think: Three months ago I felt for this man, two months ago he broke my faith, one month ago I learned that he didn’t want anything to do with me (for the sake of his own comfort) and last night I learned that he’s a repeat offender.

So, I will not post the rest of the words he wrote me, I figure what is here is enough to satisfy me. I will not find pleasure in exposing him for what he is (failing as a human being is so difficult and he makes it look so easy) but I will call him by his name, he no longer has the right to anonymity. Innocence is by standing no longer.

Greg, simply, I hope you have a sweet birthday and have a chance to reflect on all the dirt with which you must live (if you need copies of the IMs or emails, let me know, I would be more than happy to share them).

Love and kisses,
Some Girl (I certainly am)

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

The Final Frontier

Gramcrackers read the blog. She and I were on an adventure in the city, taking care of some moving type things and we ended up at a place where they had the Internet. I thought I would jump on and check out what you people were doing (really I just checked for comments on my blog). My grams read over my should and snorted in the appropriate places.

One of my favorite things is to tell my grams I am going to google something. She loves repeating the word google. She knows what google is (mostly because they were all over the news when they went public) but doesn’t really understand the idea of google. She has a fear that if she logged into a computer she would bring down the power grid for the whole eastern seaboard.

So, back to reading over my shoulder. I finished and shut down, she made me re-open (“Go back, go back!”) and scroll (“Make it move up and down”) so she could read the comments. After which she turned to me and said: “Wow, that guy really has no idea. You might sacrifice your partner for something you wanted but you would never sacrifice for your partner.”(Um, thanks???)

I got an email response to my last post, I thought I would share it.

Seriously, I sat there for like a minute and then figured out that he, yes he, was referring to the title of my post. He’s not a pussy, he eats it.

This email comment came from my BROTHER-IN-LAW. Say it with me, Eeww.
By the way, I totally am in love with a blogger, I think I told her several times in the past five hours that I wanted to make out with her. If I didn’t know better I would think that I am at least curious (You know what they say: “Gay, bi- or just curious”). But I know better (do I ever) and it turns out I AM what I suck.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Am I a Pussy?

The follow conversation took place over several days (Why do people continue to email me? Don’t they know it’s just going to be blog fodder?).

I didn’t bother to fix spellings and there are points where the sentences end abruptly, such are the short comings of emails among friends. The lack of editing is tiresome but few people bother (I once worked for a man who only wrote in run-on sentences).

Enjoy!

CO wrote:

SG replied:

CO:

SG:

CO:

SG:

CO:

SG:

It’s funny how all roads lead to my dating life. Now I ask, in the “real world” what do you think: glad it’s not my car or hope everyone is okay?

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

An ode to Billie Jean.

Dear DQ-

We’ve been going back and forth in the comments, so I figured it was time to make it a post (seriously, epic comments are fun and all but not so much). I genuinely enjoy having people read my blog who are willing to engage in conversation and thought with me…

DQ’s point: “My point is that people that are single at the age of 39 are going to be jaded and world-weary in a way that not many people in their mid twenties are likely be able to relate to.”

SG’s counterpoint: Some people at the age of let’s say 26, not thinking of anyone specific mind you I just picked a random age, are jaded and world-wary in a way that not many people in their mid-twenties are able to relate.

DQ’s rebuttal: “You mentioned the post Sex and the city age which I think is an apt metaphor, because it seems to me that the notion of younger women dating older men is a very pre Sex and the city concept. It seems now that in the post Sex and the city era the notion of the older man dating the younger woman concept is an obsolescence.”

SG’s return: My mentioning of SATC was to refer to people of a certain age still being single and not because of “1) they’ve gone through a shitty marriage/relationship 2) they have never been interested in a relationship 3) no one has been interested in them. Any one of those options seems to point to the fact that they are going to either have baggage or be unstable.” My point was that being older and unattached is no more a sign of a lack of desire for a relationship than it is to suspect someone to be unstable.

I cannot begin to number the close friends, male and female, who have echoed the sentiments of the characters on the show. The attraction to older people does not apply only to my love life, but a majority of my friends have about 10 years on me, the few younger than that, are all approaching 30. A fair number of them are single and the outlook varies from “I’m content in my singlehood, if something came a long great, but I am not looking” to “I’m actively looking for my life partner.” The point being, the idea that they are disillusioned, uninterested, or uninteresting (that was kind of mean you know, right?) and thus single is completely inaccurate. The people I know that are single and over 30 are dynamic interesting people with hobbies, joys, friends, goals, life experiences and have lots to offer a partner. While some are not actively pursuing a relationship, it doesn’t mean they don’t want one or are burned out on coupledom. Those active on the search are not willing to settle for just anyone, they want someone who is a good match. Both groups are not disillusioned by past relationships. Sure there were some bad, but there were some good as well.

As for the idea that older men/younger women are falling out of style, I think that is wrong. What I think has happened is that while the older men/ younger women trend has remained the same, an alternate trend of older women and younger men has started. The last few episodes showed Carrie choosing between a much (much) older man (he had a grown daughter) and a regular older man while Samantha was dealing with her much younger man. I think that there is certainly an effort towards equality now when it comes to ideas about couples and age gaps; Nick Cage gets just as much crap for his child bride as Demi Moore got when she and the man-child Kutcher started dating.

DQ’s conclusion: “However this is just my perspective (and a guy’s perspective at that, so bound to be a little skewed), so please don’t take it as some kind of lecture or advice. Mainly I’m musing in a general sense. Like I said before: you know what you want, you want what you want, and there is nothing wrong with going after that.”

SG’s conclusion: Trust me, if I thought you were lecturing me I would have ended this a long time ago, Some Girl does not take lecturing well (Some Girl, however, does enjoy referring to herself in third person). Advice is what people give to each other in the interest of sharing knowledge and experience. Sure unsolicited advice can sometimes annoy (no, I am not being passive aggressive, I am not talking about you) but I find that people give advice to show they care.

You are right to say I want what I want. Just know, I understand that sometimes there is treachery lurking in my wants.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

He paid attention

I was reading something and I just remembered:

He said that I breathed differently when we were having sex. I realized he was right. It was like my lungs were making accommodations for him. I changed my breathing patterns for him. Sometimes I wish I weren’t so willing to be impressionable.

But I see the truth, now, from afar. I no longer have to work to breathe. I don’t have to fight for air.

Quite honestly, suffocation and love can be so hard to distinguish.

Monday, October 17, 2005

The second verse is different from the first.

There were many happenings this weekend causing me to say: “I’m blogging this.” So, to prevent me from becoming an even bigger liar than I already am (more on that later) I am now blogging this.

Friday night I stayed in to catch up on laundry and cleaning. I just needed a quiet night. Turns out I wasn’t the only one with plans for staying in as the upstairs neighbors needed a not so quiet (read: had jack rabbit sex for many hours) night. The funniest thing about this whole affair (besides the fact that when they finished I needed a cigarette too) was that the noise in earnest started just as my roommate came home. I am sure that she thought that the headboard pounding, bed-frame squeaking, hydraulic jack rhythm was all me. I kind of had a giggle about the situation, but wished I were the one getting so lucky. This is a new development from upstairs so I wasn’t too bothered.

Saturday morning was going to be my morning to sleep in but that was not to be as my roommate started vacuuming at 8:30. It’s like she’s trying to make me hate her even more (If you’re crazy and you know it clap your hands).

Saturday night I went to an Irish pub where there was some live music. About 12 of us met up for dinner and drinks and then the duo with fiddle and guitar came on for our listening pleasure. Pretty typical Irish pub music etc, etc. But the star of the evening was this 76-year-old woman who joined the band for a song while she accompanied them with her KAZOO. Yeah, she even had it on a rope around her neck. There was a moment when the singer was all: “Take it away Mrs. D” and she totally rocked out. She got down, she got funky, she showed us young’ins how to do it (whatever “it” was, I mean she was playing the Kazoo).

Sunday morning I was up and out supper early because the upstairs bunny rabbits were at it again at 8:00. I have never been so tired (and horny) in my entire life. They had a three-fer in 1.5 hours. They must be college kids. Considering that I was already awake, I got my shit together and headed out the see my Gramcrackers. She was her usual cantankerous self. She opened a puzzle (“broke the seal on the plastic bag, I did”) and got about 75% done to find that there were at least 40 pieces missing from the middle of the puzzles (“son of a bitch!”). She decided to remedy the situation by writing a note to the company (“I’m mailing this puzzle back to them in a bag, because I’m not paying for the postage that the box would require, and challenging them to make this puzzle their damn selves.”). She’s kind of an evil (cheap) genius.

If I know anything, the reward for all her evil (cheap) genius behavior will be a free puzzle from the company, which will be well received because then she’ll have something to do while she plots her next move against American corporations.

Sunday night was date number two with Video Man. He was perfectly nice (and the right kind of nice, the nice I want to date) and I hope to see him again, but I suspect that I won’t. I am attracted to him. I find him funny, smart, engaging, entertaining, and interesting. Yet, at the end of the date I get a rather chaste kiss. Not on the cheek, but still, there is almost no passion, desire, or lust in the kiss. It’s sad because just like I can tell when men want to fuck me, I can also tell when men don’t want to fuck me. Maybe I am reading this entirely wrong, this could be a reserved, shy type who takes his time, but still, I can normally tell. I mean besides the kiss there was very little contact between us, no hand holding, none of that touching when you like someone, he never does any of the things that generally indicate that someone finds someone (me) attractive.

The funny thing about the date was the fact that I drag him to a hotel lobby bar across the street from a music venue where a co-worker will be playing later in the evening. I thought that it would be convenient, so I find us a corner table where we can watch the traffic and we decide on food and drinks. I tell him I’ve been to the bar only a few times before and play down the number of times I’ve been there (it’s a bit of an odd place for a 26-year-old to be hang on a school night). No sooner do I finish saying all this, does the waitress come up and says, “Oh hey, welcome back.” She turns to my date and says, “This is her favorite table, she always sits here and gets the same drink. She always says that we make it better than anyone else in town, and considering she’s had it from at least three different bartenders…” At this point I just start laughing and when the waitress walks away he just looks at me and starts laughing. I was totally busted. It was like she was standing behind me taking notes on what I had just said and contradicted every word out of my mouth.

Great, second date and he thinks I am a big fat liar. It was so funny (not really) but just one of those things.

So I am waiting on date number three (if he asks). If I get the same good night kiss (and lack of contact) I am just going to suggest that we be friends, I will use the “It’s not you, it’s me” line and be done with it. I think that ultimately he and I will be good friends, if nothing else, as we have so many similarities and commonalities. Such is life. It’s just a shame to finally find the right kind of nice guy only to have him not feel something for me.

EDITED TO ADD: Recently had an email convo. with Video Man.

Of course I am going to include my response, and by the way, because you’ll be wondering, he’s 39 years old.

Which led to a comment from him about my fuckableness (so not a word, but work with me) and a comment from me about how kind it is that he noticed.

So this is Monday. I am leaving work exactly at 5 and going straight home to nap. I need to catch up on my sleep.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Welcome to Ether Day

I have been waiting for the paper work for my apartment to come I. I hate the credit/background check. I always worry that something will be uncovered and I will be denied. The thing is, there is nothing to be uncovered. Yet, I worry. Odd.

I had a date last night. Smart, funny, charming, cute and therefore named: Video Man (I never said the nicknames needed to make sense). He’s already emailed asking for a second dating, I already emailed back and suggested Sunday night. Potential and quiet optimism have met and joined forces here.

I’m kind of tired of the rain, if someone could work on that for me, I would really appreciate it.

I’ve pulled out the first series of jackets, the mid-weight trenches that signal autumn is here.

My hair is looking amazing, thank you Paul Mitchell. Yesterday morning I woke up to find no shampoo or conditioner. Normally I would use my roommates or something, but I feel guilty about that and I didn’t feel like digging through my travel kits. I figured I would buy some on the way home. Half way through the day I realized that I had just the right amount of grease in my hair that it was falling in the most perfect of ways but that my scalp was begging to be scratched thoroughly. Perfection and absolute grossness, what’s a girl to do?

I usually use a Neutrogena cleansing shampoo and the Paul M. Tea Tree Oil Conditioner; I made the (scary) decision to BUY DIFFERENT SHAMPOO. I need one that is less cleansing and leaves a little of the oil in my hair. After a thirty-minute attempt to read and smell every shampoo in the isle, I decide to go with the Paul M. Tea Tree Shampoo (shut up, I was scared). My enormous risk paid off and my hair is totally perfect, great body and clean. I washed and dried last night pre-date and it’s still looking perfect after being slept and rained on.

Now all I need is the secondary shampoo/conditioner for the switch out. You know how if you stay at a friend’s house and use their shampoo suddenly you have this crazy great hair and people are telling you how healthy and shiny your hair looks (maybe this is just me?)? I think that I heard somewhere that switching up shampoos keeps your hair from becoming resistant to the chemical composition of the shampoo. I like to have a secondary set, which up to this point has been System Biolage, but now with my first foray into a different shampoo/conditioner type, I think maybe it’s time for a second risk.

Any suggestions?

I have cut out soda and juice from my diet. In the morning and the afternoon I have a large hot water with lemon (I hate the taste of tea). I figure the water is good for me, the lemon is a diuretic and not drinking all those calories will help in my goal of not being fat.

People keep falling down. Last week, my work neighbor fell and rolled down a ramp at a commuter rail station,on Tuesday a girl walking next to me fell in front of the state house, and then some guy at work. People, it’s crazy out there.

I just had a 259-page report faxed to me (out of order) and I need to find three different charges with no way of logically finding them. This is going to take some time.

Think I will start by going for a snack. Snacks always make things better

Some Girl, out (take that Seacrest).

Sunday, October 09, 2005

What is it with me and Texas?

What is it with me and Texas?
I was checking my stats, there is someone in Austin who spends way too much time hanging out here. And then there are bunches of you from Houston (I love you, stay with me here). There is also Stafford, Addison, Corpus Christi, and Conroe. That’s just from the last five days (I really messed up my stats counter with the Blow Jobs ...oops). There are repeat visits, I get that, but there are multiple ISP numbers from most of those places (work and home?) In comparison to the other regions of the world, Texas is coming on strong. Are you wooing me Texas? Are you going to show up at my door with a gargantuan mum that covers my entire torso like a piece of body armor?

Maybe it’s time to make a move to Texas, I mean, I’ve had some interesting interactions with Texan men (they DO do it bigger in Texas…hahahaha). But wait, there are mean nasty hurricanes in Texas and I like living on the water. I may have to rethink my great Texan adventure.

Edited: 5:23 PM And now Dallas, welcome Dallas.

The ins and outs (of Anal Sex) as it were

The ins and outs (of Anal Sex) as it were
I have become (hot lesbian action) so exhausted at looking at apartments, I wish there was an apartment fairy that would come by and just grant you a wish: “The Perfect Apartment”.

I think I found one, (daisy chain) but I haven’t heard back from the people yet. I would be sharing with two people, both men, nice and friendly. Yesterday I sent them an email saying I like the apartment and asked about the lease and where/to whom should (Lindsay Lohan naked) I send the check. I haven’t heard back from them yet so I don’t know.

Of course I have a backup, but I wanted this place more.

The problem with me (girl on girl strap on action) is that once I assign something as the backup, I don’t want it anymore. It’s like I realize that this apartment (or person) is really just second best and I don’t (all female orgy) want second best. I want THE best.

So, I suppose if this (gay anal sex-we’re equal opportunity here) apartment falls through, I shall keep looking. Or waiting for the apartment fairy who I believe is second cousin to the fairy godmother and I think she ended up delivering a prince, so there’s hope.

PS: If you know of an apartment in the Boston Area that has a large bed room that doesn’t share a wall with any other bedroom, is less than a 10 minute walk to the T, is a 20 minute T ride to Downtown, has a closet that will almost fit all of my shoes, and is reasonably priced, let me know. Ta