Someday soon and sooner than I want, my son will be grown up and going away to college or the military or will be a bum. Even though at 33 I am not old, my good child-bearing years are slipping away and the older Nate gets, the less likely I am to start all over again. I also have no viable prospects for a spouse and I don’t really feel like wasting away waiting on grandchildren I hope are slow in coming.
So, what will I do when Nate leaves the nest? Well, here’s a few things I had in mind:
1. I could become a TEFL teacher, that is Teaching English as a Foreign Language. I always wanted to be a teacher and this would just encompass my love of travel and teaching all in one.
2. I could finally sit down and finish those novels and screenplays I’ve been writing for the past year. Maybe I’ll finish one before then but it would be nice to be able to sit in the evenings and write… all night if I want.
3. I could become a forensic anthropologist or a medical examiner. Although forensics is a hobby of mine, I wouldn’t mind at least taking some courses to see if its something I’d like to do as a second career.
4. I could become a photo-journalist. As a child, I always wanted to work for Life magazine. The college I graduated from offers journalism classes and I thought of taking some night courses to get another degree.
5. I could become a mountaineer, as in, giving guided tours in the Cascades and on Denali. I’m not much interested in risking my life on K2 or Everest but a life on the mountain wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Hey, maybe I can incorporate all of those things into one. I’ll move to Russia, right across the Bering Strait where I’ll teach English during the day, work in forensics during the summer, take a boat to Alaska every weekend and do tours and naturally, write, write, write and take photographs. LOL!!! …. damn, that doesn’t sound too bad.
I wrote this last night and put in my other post instead but did spend time looking up my alma mater’s class listings and realized by the classes and course descriptions that I could get away with a degree in Communications emphasis on photography and journalism in 58 hours, if they accept all my previous courses. Which they should, after all, I got them there!
Some of the classes looked downright interesting like: Photography I and II, Advanced Photography, Animation Production, Broadcast Announcing, Scriptwriting for Film, Theatre Studies, Journalism and Copy Editing/Makeup. Some of the classes look to be a downright snoozefest, like: Regulations of American Broadcasting (more legalese shite), Introduction to Mass Communications (anything intro in college normally bores the hair off my arms) and I’m not too crazy about Television Production and Direction.
I can do this with only 56 hours but I would only need Radio and Television Broadcasting to get the emphasis in Journalism to go along with the Photography. Why not? Only one small, itsy, bitsy problem… less than half of the classes I need are offered in the evening. None of the photography classes are offered. How horrible could that be???? My boss loves me, but I’m not sure he loves me that much. They also only offer 2 hour 45 minute classes, twice a week. Maybe he could handle an hour class three times a week but that’s a lot of time to spend away from my desk and still expect to have a job.
This all of course hinges on whether or not I get a big fat bonus in November or December. College courses are not in the budget. Its a little over $700 for 6 hours plus the ID card, parking and then books and of course, a camera and film etc., time off work, and a babysitter for Nate.
Its simple. I get a big fat bonus to pay for my first three semesters. I ask for a camera of my choice for Christmas plus film etc. and nothing else. Nate’s dad is underworked so he can take the child and as for the time off work, I’ll work it out. In five years, I’ll have another degree and Nate will be 13 years old. That is of course assuming I don’t marry a much better off dude who will let me attend college full-time whilst spitting out another child or two. Yeah, fat chance.
The best news is, with my already hefty college classes, I may qualify as a junior and get the better pickings of classes and times. Ahhh.. tis sweet to be older at times. Class of 2010, here I come!!
So, you guys know I’ve been sick. For a while, I had no idea what was wrong with me. I thought it was just a really bad cold. Naturally, I did not want to pass this ailment along to my nephews, their cousins, or my brand new niece so I diligently packaged up J2’s birthday gift and Annie’s birth gift (which included a swank pair of hand-knitted booties) and shipped them up to my brother and his bitch via my parents last weekend. For J2, I got him a card and got some cool Army stickers I’m sure he would love, as my brother is in the Army National Guard and slipped in ten bucks, which is about what I would have spent on a gift anyway.
So, my brother and his bitch have been married six years. SIX YEARS! When I get their sweet, loving thank-you card in the mail, my name, my real name, the name that my brother has known me by for 33 years is spelled WRONG!! Furthermore, my loving brother, didn’t even sign the fucking thank-you card. What’s worse is… she spelled my name wrong on it TWICE!!
Now, there are several variations of the spelling of my name. I assure you I have had the same spelling for 33 years, damn, almost 34!!! And definitely the entire time that my brother’s bitch has been in my family.
Now I, being a bitch, and not just a bitch, but THE BITCH, have contemplated how to right this error. Perhaps I could conveniently write her a letter letting her know that no thanks is necessary and then proceed to spell all of their names wrong as I inquire as to the state of their union as either they are dI-vorcing or she has finally sapped what little strength my brother had left in his balls since he was either not present nor had the strength to sign the damn card nor the balls or brains to correct her spelling.
Perhaps to some this is not such a big thing. To me, its just another pitiful show as to how meaningless I am to them. It might be “just a name” but by God and Goddess, its my name. If I can remember how to spell AZ’s long ass Polish name, surely she could remember something so simple as I-N-A-N-N-A. I’m surprised she got my last name right. Maybe I’ll address the letter to my brother instead… something along the lines of Big “Little Bitch” Brother… and put her maiden name on the end. Bad things are sure to follow… bwhahahahahahahahaha.
Marvin was a guy I went to school with. He and I met in 3rd grade after our schools were consolidated. Marvin was a short thin guy who would always remain short and thin. The last time I saw him he might have been 1/2 an inch taller than me and I’m 5’3″ 1/2.
From the moment we started school together we were always stuck in the same class. We were TAG kids. TAG being Talented and Gifted. Marvin was in regular TAG and I was in Science and Math TAG, having missed regular TAG by one point. It was a joke more than anything. Marvin always bitched that the TAG teacher should at least be as smart as the kids their trying to teach. He had little patience for idiocy.
Marvin and I competed in everything. Sometimes we competed against each other and sometimes we TAG kids would gang up against a teacher. Marvin and I both played trumpet in the band and naturally we had to share the solo since we competed so hard against each other, we were both worthy of the position. I’ll not forget the time during marching band that we continued to play and march even as the band director started yelling at us to stop. Marvin and I both turned with disgusted looks on our faces because we had both been playing and marching well. Turns out one of the majorettes had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Marvin looked at me and said, “why the hell did he stop us for? We don’t need her? She needs us!” That was just his attitude.
Marvin’s family was very poor. I can remember his jeans being three inches too short and patched. Unfortunately his brother, who was also in the band with us, was a lot bigger guy so I guess Marvin getting hand-me-downs was out of the question.
If I could pick one word to describe Marvin, I would say… ambitious. He always had ambition. He always wanted to be better. He never took his brains for granted, like I did. Whatever he wanted, he normally got because he was smart and he had drive to get it. A lot of times, he drug me right along with him. I can’t say that I ever felt that Marvin really liked me but when it came down to it, I was one of the more “normal” TAG kids and he knew when he got me going I was a worthy opponent. I can’t say that Marvin was smarter than I was, nor I smarter than him. We each had our strengths and our faults and they normally balanced out. He made me think a lot.
Marvin always knew, I think, in the back of his mind, that college or military was the only way out of the coalfields. I knew he wouldn’t join the military and I think he saw me as a barrier to scholarships and accolades that could propel him into college. I gave all that up when I went to Germany my senior year. I gave up Govenor’s Honor Academy and few other things and a lot of chances for scholarships. I really didn’t need them like he did. My family was prepared to send me to college and could afford it.
Marvin and I did go to the same local college. He majored in Chemical Technology. Although our college was small, the science program was supported by the local chemical factories and was one of the best in the state. He worked as a co-op student at what was then Rhone Poulenc. He carried a 3.9 grade point average. I can tell you right now, that 10th of a point probably irritated the shit out of him. That’s the way he was.
As you’ve probably guessed, this story doesn’t end so well. In April of 1993, a month before graduation, Marvin was coming home from work and, they believe, fell asleep at the wheel and hit a loaded coal truck head-on. Its one of those things that still makes me so angry I want to cry.
He’s one of five or six students from my class that have died since graduating from high school. His is the one that hurt me the worst. I’ve been to wakes and funerals for old people, babies, teenagers, young adults, and a murder victim. None of the people at those wakes and funerals had the impact on me that Marvin’s family did. I have never seen a family more devastated than his. His wife was so drugged, they practically had to carry her in the church. His brother practically ran down the aisle of the church into my arms, sobbing about “our over-achiever.” Marvin carried his family on his slim shoulders.
Marvin’s birthday is a week after mine. I think of him every year. I think about his son and wonder if he looks like Marvin. He did in his baby pictures but that was 11 years ago. I visit his grave when I go to the cemetary. My grandparents are buried the same place he is. Most of our classmates who have died, if not all, are also buried there. I’m not sure what brought Marvin to mind this morning. Sometimes he pops up in my mind and I relive some our funnier moments, when we could just be ourselves without trying to one up each other.
I always revisit his death though. My mind still shouts, “NO! NO! Not Marvin, not Marvin. Not our over-achiever.” Rhone Poulenc established a scholarship in his name. I’ll never think its enough.
1. I only learned my German family’s phone number in German. If I have to recite it in English it takes forever. It is 14 numbers long.
2. I was in labor for 20 hours and pushed for an hour and a half when I had Nate. He weighed 8 lbs. 14 oz. I weighed 4 lbs. 15 oz.
3. As a child, they discovered I did not have a permanent tooth under one of my baby teeth. My brother didn’t either. We inherited this trait from my mother.
4. I was born on the cusp of Scorpio and Sagittarius on 11/21. I have mostly Scorpio traits though.
5. I was a month premature. My due date was Christmas.
6. My birthday will never be on Thanksgiving. The closest it gets is the 22nd.
7. There are four people in my office born in November. I am the only Scorpio.
8. My German father, my German sister Claudia’s second son, Justin, and Nate’s dad are also Scorpios.
9. Nate, Claudia and my other German sister, Marion, and Claudia’s first son, Andrew, are Cancers. Nate and Andrew were born one year and one day apart.
10. Both my real mom and my German mom are Libras.
11. I was on the phone with my sister Claudia when I went into labor with Nate.
12. My first real pet was a rabbit. Her name was Sheena. I got her when I was eight and she died when I was sixteen. She was a cross between a Rhode Island Red and a Logan Giant. She weighed 15 lbs. at her heaviest.
13. I used to squirt my neighbor’s white, cross-eyed cat with a waterhose when he tried to sneak over the fence to eat Sheena.
14. I stepped on a black snake in our garden when I was five.
15. I mowed grass for money as a kid. One time I hit a yellow jacket nest. My dad and I went up to my neighbor’s property at sunset, poured gasoline in the hole and lit it on fire.
16. One of my bedroom windows opened onto the roof and I used to climb out there in the winter and watch the stars even though I’m afraid of heights.
17. I once climbed into a 30 foot tree stand with my ex-boyfriend. Once I got up there, I was frozen by fear and it took him climbing down behind me, or rather, over top of me for me to get out of it. The other hunters we talked to that evening all shook their heads and told me how much they hated that tree stand themselves.
18. I have shot two deer, a buck and a doe. I have shot two squirrels. I have never shot at an animal and missed. I have never had to shoot an animal twice because I screwed up the first shot. I shot the buck through the spine and into his skull under the left ear as he turned to look at me and bunched up his hindquarters to jump at 75 yards in deep woods. I shot the doe through the heart at 15 yards.
19. I shot the buck after jumping off the back of a four-wheeler.
20. I shot the doe after hunting all day in windy, single digit temperatures.
21. I technically missed the first shot with the doe because I hadn’t reloaded the gun after coming back into the woods. The clip had not engaged and therefore I had no bullet in the chamber. The other deer ran and she was stupid enough to stand there while I loaded it properly, so she died and I ate her.
22. I like hunting in the snow because it is beautiful.
23. I don’t kill a lot of deer because I can’t sit still in the woods. I have to walk around a lot. And I like to track and take pictures.
24. I only kill as much as I and my friends can eat. I give the squirrels to my parents because I can’t stand the smell of squirrel cooking.
25. I can cook deer meat so good, you would never know it was deer meat.
26. Nate loves deer meat.
27. I like to go on the river and fish at night for catfish.
28. One night as we were fishing, they let the dam out and I broke three lines just getting away from the river.
29. The most difficult trail I’ve ever hiked was Potato Knob Trail in Webster County, West Virginia. It is a 15 mile ball-breaker that my friend Joe and I did in 100 degree temperatures and 90% humidity over rocks, deadfall, brambles and along sheer cliffs. We rested at a natural waterfall and on the hike back, we had sex on the trail. Had we not, I never would have made it.
30. Joe is a former Marine and said I did much better than all of the guys he trained with. Right up to the point where I developed heat exhaustion. I made it though. He said its the only time I’ve ever asked him to turn the radio down. I miss Joe.
31. Sex with Joe on the trail was the hottest, stickiest, sweatiest sex I’ve ever had. Did I mention how much I miss him?
32. I was the first person Joe ever rode a roller-coaster with.
33. I’m going to Cedar Point, September 18th. I hope I run into Joe there. Damn those blackout dates.
34. I speak sign language fluently. One of my best friends is deaf. Her brother-in-law is also deaf and legally blind. We speak to him using the Helen Keller method.
35. She has been deaf since she was three so she speaks pretty good. She reads lips exceptionally well. She knows all the gossip because people tell her things and think she doesn’t understand.
36. She had a Cochlear implant but she only wears the hearing aid for special occasions. Most of the time she turns it off because the noise gives her a headache.
37. I am hypoglycemic. If I don’t eat, I get 10 feet tall, bullet-proof and bitchy.
38. T-Bird brought me a chicken sandwhich, fries and a Diet Coke from Wendy’s after I had Nate. I told her if she didn’t I was going to kill someone.
39. My favorite food while pregnant was crunchy peanut butter on whole wheat toast with strawberry jam and plain strawberries. I would sit at my desk at work and eat two quarts of strawberries.
40. When I got pregnant with Nate, my waist was 29 inches. Two days before I had him, it was 56, now, its 32. I am the same weight now as I was when I got pregnant, 125. I don’t think this is fair.
I’m not sure what I mean by that. I use that phrase when I want to talk about my life. Otherwise, I don’t belong to a union of any sort. Unless we bloggers would like to start one, like the Bloggers Union 69 or something. We could ask for better benefits or a raise, although it wouldn’t do us much good. I don’t have a significant other, so that sort of union is out of it too. Anyway, here’s the state of my union.
1. I had a post ready earlier until Nate bumped the computer and erased it. Instead of attempting to recreate it, I took a four hour nap. Maybe it was five. I’ve been feeling rather shitty.
2. When I take my antibiotics I get light-headed and woozy. I can’t believe I’m catching a buzz from antibiotics.
3. The side effects have kicked in full force. I am now scarfing yogurt. Luckily, I can fund breast cancer research while doing so.
4. I don’t understand why birth control pills do not work while on antibiotics. Oh, they still do, it just “decreases the effectiveness.” Kinda like playing Russian Roulette. The only Russian Roulette I’d like to play is nude with Mikhail Baryishnikov. I know I didn’t spell that right, but you get the picture.
5. Since I started taking Lexapro, I have had the sugar munchies. Sugar and starch, starch and sugar. Normally, I gain a lot of weight when I eat too much of those things. Surprisingly, I haven’t. I looked in the buggy at the store and realized I had bought nothing but pasta and sugar. I don’t care.
6. Between the antibiotics and all the sugar, I’m setting myself up for a raging yeast infection. (Sorry guys, know you all hate to hear about that stuff.) This is why I’m scarfing yogurt among other reasons.
7. I think it a conspiracy among pharmaceutical and yogurt companies and washcloth manufacturers. After all, the best part of a yeast infection is having sex with a washcloth.
8. I know, TMI.
9. Probably the above companies are owned by a super-conglomerate. If you ask the Republicans… its owned by the Heinz Corporation. If you ask the Democrats… its owned by the Carlyle Group. Ask the average American and its owned by Martha Stewart. She probably received a call in the middle of the afternoon from her broker informing her I had a sinus infection and would be on antibiotics so she bought more stock. Damn insider trading.
10. My box of Puffs has Sponge-Bob, Patrick and Squigward on it. This makes me happy.
11. I think Puffs is in on the conspiracy too.
12. While at the store I bought an emery board and new nail polish. I gave myself a manicure and painted my nails. They are now a very nice shade of Revlon Blackberry.
13. They don’t look good enough to eat nor do they resemble blackberries, more like blackberry juice, which isn’t black at all.
14. People tend to hate the fact that I have naturally straight, hard nails, with pink bases and white nails. People really hate me when I paint them and they ask where I got them done. I give them my home address and said it cost about $.10 considering how long the polish and emery board will last.
15. Yes, I am shamelessly bragging. Just to make you feel better, my toenails don’t look nearly as good.
16. There are nine full-time employees at my law firm and one part-time. Six of those employees are female, on Monday, we lose a man and pick up another woman. She is the daughter of another employee. This will mean only the lawyers are male and all the support staff are female. (Diabolical laugh)
17. I don’t know why I told you that. It just seemed like the thing to say.
18. I am eating Kraft Pasta Pronto Shells with Creamy Herb Sauce. I’m not going to eat it all. I’m saving some for you guys.
19. Along with Snick and Michael, I believe peanut butter should be a food group. I think they’re part of the conspiracy too. The peanut butter people, not Snick and Michael.
20. I have very tough skin. Not the kind where ineffective put-downs bounce off me like rubber balls. The kind where I have to warn people who take my blood before the needle bounces off. When my cats try to jump on me they sometimes end up hanging from my skin. My skin on my legs is not nearly as tough.
21. I do not swell up and itch from mosquito bites. Nate does.
22. I swell up and itch from poison ivy. Nate does not.
23. I thought of actually getting married the other night and got sick to my stomach. I’m assuming if I find the right guy, that feeling will go away.
24. Maybe I just thought of the wrong guy to marry.
25. I’m afraid my strong independent streak will keep me from being a good spouse.
26. The next time some chica in the toilet at the club asks if I’m 5-0, I’m going to tell her yes, and if they don’t stop doing drugs in the bathroom I’m going to bust them all. I will be standing very close to the door when I say that.
27. Everytime I see sleazy guys hanging out in a drug zone I wonder if they are narcs.
28. Nate was looking for my pink emery board in the drawer and found my vibrator. Very fuzzy dust bunnies hopped away when he pulled it out and I convinced him he didn’t want to know what was inside the package that looked like a giant Lifesaver.
29. I have never used a vibrator during sex but I would like to. 99.9% of the guys I’ve dated weren’t kinky enough to try it.
30. My ideal man would have to be adventurous in the bedroom. At least adventurous enough to not always do it in the bedroom.
That’s the state of my union. There’s more but my buzz is kicking in. Good night bloggers.
I have a sinus infection. I know this because I have a lot of junk in my head that has nothing to do with my scrambled brains.
It has not gotten better in a week.
My left cheekbone and TM joint are so sore I feel like I’ve been slugged with a ballbat. Okay, maybe not that bad.
I’m having trouble opening my mouth, which some folks are probably thankful for.
They gave me a 10-day Augmentin XR pack.
1000 mg tablets, two tablets, twice a day.
These pills are huge.
They are 3/4 of an inch long and a little over 1/4 of an inch thick. I measured.
I measured because I do stuff like that.
Nanny cannot be naughty.
Not that I had hopes of being naughty.
This is how I got pregnant with Nate.
Nanny was naughty too soon after antibiotics.
I will not have sex for 60 days.
Not with a condom.
Not with foam.
Not with gel.
I have not been on antibiotics since I got pregnant with Nate.
Whoever said lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same spot lied.
All it takes is one + one.
I feel like an airline.
I now have blackout dates.
October 25th is go date.
Ironic — I got pregnant with Nate in October.
Nanny will not be naughty.
Nanny will be a very, very good girl.
Part I: A LITTLE DITTY
I’m too sexy for my blog
too sexy for my crogs
Johnny, Jack, Daz
I’m too sexy for my bra
too sexy for the law
too sexy to work this job.
And I’m too sexy for my cats
Too sexy for my brat
Too sexy for my un-der-wear
I am sexy like the Leese
and sexy like the Fleece
and sexy like the Va-der-grrrl WHAP!
I’m too sexy for the Seek
and he’s too sexy for the meek
We’re too sexxx-y
I’m too sexy for my coffee
as sexy as the Slothy
I’m too sexxx-y
Part II – JUDGE SPARKS RULES!!
This an actual Order written by The Honorable Sam Sparks, United States District Judge: (for the record, this is legal for me to place this here since this is an open case and is a matter of public record… I wish all judges were like Judge Sparks) I could not get this damn thing to look right…
In The United States District Court
For The Western District of Texas
KLEIN-BECKER, LLC, and BASIC RESEARCH, LLC,
vs. Case No.: A-03-CA-871-SS
WILLIAM STANLEY and BODYWORX.COM,
BE IT REMEMBERED, on the 21st day of July, 2004 and the Court took time to make its daily review of the above-captioned case, and thereafter, enters the following:
When the undersigned accepted the appointment from the President of the United States of the position now held, he was ready to face the daily practice of law in federal courts with presumably competent lawyers. No one warned the undersigned that in many instances his responsibility would be the same as a person who supervised kindergarten. Frankly, the undersigned would guess the lawyers in this case did not attend kindergarten as they never learned how to get along well with others. Notwithstanding the history of filings and antagonistic motions full of personal insults and requiring multiple discovery hearings, earning the disgust of the Court, the lawyers continue ad infinitum. On July 20, 2004, the Court’s schedule was interrupted by an emergency motion so the parties’ deposition, which began on July 20, would and could proceed until 6:30 in the evening. No intelligent discussion of the issue was accomplished prior to the filing and service of the motion, even though the lawyers were in the same room. Over a telephone conference, the lawyers, of course, had inconsistent statements as to support their positions. On July 20, 2004, the Court entered an order allowing the plaintiffs/counter-defendants until July 23, 2004 (two days from today) to answer a counterclaim. Yet, on July 21, 2004, Bodyworx.com, Inc.’s lawyers filed a motion for reconsideration of that Court order arguing the pleadings should have been filed by July 19, 2004.
The Court simply wants to scream to these lawyers, “Get a life” or “Do you not have any other cases?” or “When is the last time you registered for anger management classes?”
Neither the world’s problems nor this case will be determined by an answer to a counterclaim which is four days late, even with the approval of the presiding judge.
If the lawyers in this case do not change, immediately, their manner of practice and start conducting themselves as competent to practice in the federal court, the Court will contemplate and may enter an order requiring the parties to obtain new counsel.
In the event it is not clear from the above discussion, the Motion for Reconsideration is DENIED.
SIGNED this the 21st day of July, 2004.
UNITED STATES DISTRICT JUDGE
JUDGE SPARKS FOR PRESIDENT!!!!
PART III – THE ALLEY
I step into the alley to smoke and notice a dude kinda leaned over… er up against our dumpster to the left. I keep moving to the right and across the alley to my “spot.” I realize the dude is taking a piss… on our dumpster. His piss is flooding the alley. A few thousand things come to mind to say… none seem quite right. He zips it up, comes staggering by me and says,
“Yeah, uh, sorry ’bout that.” I raised my cigarette and he almost falls face-first. I wish he had fallen face-first, right in his own piss. I guess that wasn’t too funny.
And what do ya know? I got nothing to say. I always say that and come up with something.
My boss sent me home a whole five minutes early today. I guess he got tired of listening to me cough. Otherwise, I think he’s getting ready to fire the office manager and wanted to clear the building before the walk of shame. Or, I’ll go back tomorrow and things will be the same as they were when I left.
Our office manager, I love him to death, great guy, horrible manager. Not that we need much direction but he had a serious dereliction of duty resulting in all our dental insurance being cancelled… just when the boss and his daughter had $3000.00 worth of work done. Ouch. Not that the OM hasn’t had serious derelictions of duty before… just thought he would get the picture.
And what the fuck is up with my friend Bragger? Look, okay, I made a mistake last year of fucking this guy. That’s right, I admit it, I fucked him. We had sex. Sex. Fucking. Not making love or any of that… fucking. His ex-girlfriend had just left him after five years and he needed to feel lovable again and frankly, I was just horny. Now, we had hit it before so I knew he was good in the sack, he’s just otherwise irritating as fuck. I told Michael (that’s blogger Mike) that I would rather knaw my own arm off as to do him again.
Why? One, because he won’t leave me the fuck alone. Two, because he won’t shut up digging for compliments about how great it was last time. Three, because in the middle of the deed last time he wanted me to watch a home-made porn of him and his ex-girlfriend. I know his ex-girlfriend. I didn’t think that was cool. Yeah, I had purposefully gotten toasted and high, it takes that much to deal with him. I shouldn’t have done it but he just did it basically to get back at his Exx. Okay.
So, this is how I am… even if I know and they know its just a “knock boots” situation, I still treat them with respect, even when things get deliciously dirrrrty. Flat out, some of the things that happened before we hit the sack disrespected me, not in a huge there-is-no-way-I’m-doing-you-now way but in a way that I took note. The wanna-watch-a-porn-with-my-ex-girlfriend just did it for me. He disrespected her big time. He ended up taking her back, which I knew he would, and she ended up using his ass again, like I knew she would and now she’s left him again, like I knew she would, and now he won’t leave me alone.
I don’t mind chatting with him online but he always goes back to what happened last year. Wanting props for how good we were together. Dude, I was drunk and stoned. Yeah, it was good but then again, what do I know? I was drunk and stoned. It felt good and then it felt good to get the fuck away from you. I knew when I got out of your car that I would not be there again. I used to do stupid stuff like that but… I have changed since then. Its just not worth it to me anymore to get a lay and then have to deal with that shit.
I’ve told him repeatedly, DO NOT COME TO MY HOUSE WITHOUT CALLING FIRST. What does he do? You guessed it… shows up unannounced. I’m rude. I don’t let him in the house. He can stand outside. The time before that I ripped him a new asshole in front of one of his friends, that’s how mad I was. It probably doesn’t help that when I see his number I only answer about one out of a million times.
Don’t get me wrong… Bragger is a good guy. He would probably give me the shirt off of his back if I asked for it. It just irritates him that I never ask for it. He’s the kind of guy who needs a woman who needs him, which I do not. He’s the kind of guy who wants to take care of you, which means, he wants to smother the fuck out of you. Not my thing. He feels like a bad sweat on a humid day, when you’re hair won’t dry out and you’re sure your skin will rot.
And, hence his name, Bragger brags a lot. If you make money, he makes more… you had a hard day, his was harder… if you’re sick, he’s sicker or been sicker… you lost weight, he’s lost more. It detracts like hell from his good qualities. You get so sick of him you really can’t see them unless you know him a long time. Even then, after seven years, I’m still not down with it. I still can’t stand it.
Bragger is the kind of guy who tries to convince you that you need him. The harder he tries with me the more turned off I get. He’s always telling me that I’m too independent and I need to let someone in… just so long as that someone is him. Fuck that. I would kill him. I told him, “No amount of sex, hot sex, wonderful glorious sex, will make up for the fact that we simply do not have compatable personalities. I WOULD KILL YOU.” If my eyes roll back in my head in the worst way possible online, do you really think I could deal with seeing him in the flesh four or five times a week??? YIKES!!
This is the reason I’d like to know where UPS man is going… I don’t think I could handle two of them. I guess this may speak highly for my sex skills, right up to the part where he mentioned the porn of him and his Exx. Dude, get a clue! I don’t care who you fantasize about, Lord knows, I wasn’t probably thinking about you but keep you’re fucking trap shut. It didn’t hurt my feelings, I KNOW how good I am in bed… but I’m not wasting it on you, furthermore, I really like my arms.
1. A bumper sticker that said, “Keep Music Evil.”
2. A picture of Karl Urban on Sloth’s blog that she said looked a lot like Dastard.
3. Two bike cops, one who I saw in my side mirror as he pulled me over for an expired inspection sticker.
As for keeping music evil… Okay!!
I love elves. Legolas, Elrond, Haldir… its something about the hair in braids, the young faces, sleeping on their feet, keen eyesight and hearing. Not to mention what Orlando Bloom, Hugo Weaving and Craig Parker can do for braids and bows, the arrow kind, not the kind you wear in braids. Mmmmm… and who can forget Legolas drawing his bow in 1/2 a second to defend Gimli… swooon. Or Haldir marching into Helms Deep. Yes!! The calvary is here and ohhhh, the calvary looks GOOD!! (Although I have to say my absolute favorite part of the trilogy is when Strider/Aragorn is in the Prancing Pony when he’s smoking his pipe and it lights up his eyes… OH. MY. GOD!)
However, the Riders of Rohan were not bad either and what Karl Urban did for fluffy helmets and chain mail… hee hee… gotta love it. I especially love the part where he pushes Grima against the stones and gets in his face… oh, me! Me! Get in my face… I’ll smooch ya!! And of course to think that Dastard looks anything like him just makes my crog worse (crog = blog + crush). But not to worry Leese, I haven’t decided to change teams yet… that is until I see Dastard in a fluffy helmet and chain mail, then I might change my mind.
Now, the bike cops… mmmm…. it was well worth it to have that sexy, muscular, blue-eyed hunk ask for my driver’s license and practically get directions to my house. Meooooow… My main reason to break the law is to have sexy cops pull me over. Those in the town next to mine are delightfully delicious. I was with T-Bird’s mom when she got pulled over and I had to wipe my mouth. Oh, he was hot, hot, hot.
You might think after what I described two posts back that I would be afraid or just not like cops too well. I didn’t for a long while. Then I had to do my internship with a police department and actually ride around in a car with them for 9-16 hours. That’s how I met Nate’s dad. I realize that not all cops are bad seeds. I don’t stay on my guard with them any more than I do other men I do and don’t know. I listen to my gut and remove myself from situations now that make me feel the least little bit uncomfortable, cops or not. Half the guys I graduated with are now cops and I know quite a few from this area. And they’re all hunks, except for a few who need a serious diet.
So, if I have to get pulled over, then bike cops and State Troopers looking for drugs are the way to go. I’m not carrying drugs so I don’t mind looking at those State Troopers in their drug gear, the black, tight-fitting, multi-pocketed ones that show off their asses a hell of a lot better than polyester ever did. And when Jack talked about pressing that Sig Sauer into that druggies neck… wow! As long as he’s pressing his lips into my neck and not a gun… hell yeah.
This is always a rough time for me, when the moon moves through Scorpio and then through Sagittarius as I was born on the cusp and have to endure such heightened emotions, especially sexual ones. I almost did the Bald UPS guy in his truck today. Awww hell, we didn’t even kiss, what am I talking about (although I did think about it… really hard). He did insinuate I was a cocktease though.
Excuuuuse me?? Cocktease? Buddy, you don’t know what cocktease is until you’ve been in MY mouth. Plus, I always finish what I start and if I don’t plan on finishing it then I don’t start it. We’re supposed to have lunch again next week before he goes out of town for some golf trip. I plan on being upfront about where I see this going. I hope he gives me an honest answer about what he wants. Honestly, I can see myself laying him but not having a full blown relationship. Is that bad of me?
While we were talking today he something about being sweet, he seemed to think I should be sweeter… hmmm… anyway, I had the overwhelming feeling he was discussing a different kind of sweet and would love to dine at my Y. Matter of fact, I got a visual and he glanced at my groin.
Sigh… so much to dream about tonight. Tolkien elves and horselords… Dastard… cops and handcuffs… the UPS guy. Just call me the Tolkienesque Blogger Crogger Brown Badge Bunny. I love men (and I love everything about ’em… the way they look… the way they smell… the way they feel…)
First, sorry to all bloggers if I have missed your comments on my earlier posts. Yahoo/Blogger normally lets me know but for some reason… pffffffffffffft!!!! Also to the folks who posted comments on my photoblog, I had no idea, and now its really too late to comment on your comments. Will look at my photoblog more. Speaking of my photoblog, I did post some pics of my friend Troy who lives in the Boston area and is a single guy. As I told Fleece, when I get to Boston in November I’m sure he’ll see more of it in the three days I’ll be there than he has in the past year. Beatdown with a bowl of clam chowdah, which I plan on consuming at an alarming rate while I am there. I may just decide that’s all I need and live off of it. If its better than the best of the muck we have here, I will be a very happy Inanna.
Okay, this is crazy… I’m getting hits from 1:00 p.m. today. Maybe Yahoo/Blogger is constipated and will begin pinging me with e-mails like… oh we don’t want to go there. The following is something I wrote right after I started reading other people’s blogs. I was quite disheartened at the time and I felt like I was being the most idealist person in the world to believe that one man would want to spend his life with me and have sex with no other woman BUT ME for the rest of his life. I still believe it is possible. Let’s see what you guys think.
Marriage, Love & Infidelity
I’m bummed out because I read an online diary of a man last night who is cheating on his wife. Not having an affair, which would constitute emotional involvement, but merely meeting women once or twice, having a few go arounds and then moving on. Now he believes that biologically men are geared to spread their seed and that marriage and monogamy are inconsistent with that biology. He sites reports that upwards of 70% of men and 50% or so of women who are married have cheated or are cheating on their spouses. He doesn’t mention that women are biologically geared toward propagating and procreating with those she deems to be the stronger, better genetic form as to insure the strength and survival of the offspring.
Okay, biology, hormones, etc. I get that. But that’s mere biology and applicable practically to every biological creature. Does the peacock not shake his tail feathers as testament to the female of his grace, beauty, honor and strength. Does the swan cob not rise from the water and beat his wings before the pen? But wait, swans are monogamous. Hmmmm….biology again?
Biological anomaly aside, what is supposed to separate humans from other species is free will, correct? Logic? The ability to reason? What?
I am reminded again of two things in my quest of understanding. The Clintons and Plato. I chuckled myself. I will put forth pure conjecture based on the readings I have done first of the excerpts from Bill Clinton’s mother’s book and Hilary Clinton’s book and then I’ll get to Plato.
I believe that intellectually and accordingly, emotionally, Bill loves Hilary as much as he can love a woman. May not be what society wants it to be, may not be exactly what Hilary wants, but it is so. In Virginia Kelley’s book, she makes no bones about the fact that when Bill brought Hilary home to meet her that she was shocked by her plainness, not to mention, Hilary was not warm and fuzzy. Bill reprimanded his mother and brother with words something like “I need someone I can talk to.” In other words, he sought his intellectual equal regardless of her unflattering looks. That in itself is a type of love and part of the big picture of love. At least in my book.
Plato speaks of spiritual loveliness in the Symposium and how one may find it even in the “husk of an unlovely body, he will find it beautiful enough to fall in love with and to cherish…” Perhaps in Bill’s case the spiritual loveliness to him is Hilary’s intelligence and passion for her beliefs. Conjecture on my part, pure conjecture. However, Bill stopped on the Ladder of Love at about that point. Plato goes on to describe those having followed the path of Love find that love is not beauty nor does it take physical form of any type, basically it is infinity without form. Deep stuff which I’m still studying and will probably never figure out, if I was ever meant to.
So, Bill loves Hilary, loves her deeply, finds her intellectually stimulating, a partner in politics, in life, in combined pursuits. Ahhhh… but Bill is also biological. Meaning, he needs sex. I hate to think that Hilary is a bore in the bedroom but truthfully, I think so. Not that this is any of anyone’s business. Frankly, I think Hilary and Bill have or may have had a tacit agreement, – do your thing, but be discreet. Oops. I think their marriage goes far beyond a business arrangement of intellectual minds and there is genuine affection and love between them.
So back to the cheating spouse on the internet. Some excerpts from his diary:
So was out last nite with the significant other (“SFO”) at some hot and trendy establishments. She looked good no doubt…but so did almost every other chick dressed in hot pants, halter tops or skin tight hip-hugging jeans. …The institution of marriage is also not an issue of dispute.
Marriage has many benefits and joys unrelated to sex and physical intimacy. The concept of strict monogamy in marriage, however, is another issue. This concept is a social construct re-inforced (sic) with certain religious dogma that is counter to social nature. Once again, in every aspect of our lives we are encouraged to diversify, meet new people, obtain new relationships and foster interaction, except that we must sleep with only one for our entire lives. Why?
I have to agree with his assessment of the dogma and religious mores associated with fidelity and infidelity. We’ve already established that biologically speaking, with a few exceptions, that we perhaps are not meant to sleep with just one person our entire lives. As evidenced by the first paragraph and by other entries, he truly believes that there are just too many good looking women to just sleep with one. Yet took a vow to forsake all others. Religious dogma? Societal pressure? Had there been no Bible and we were all taught to love freely without repercussions, would anyone remain faithful? Or would we all chase the next chick in tight jeans or the guy with the washboard stomach?
For all people the answer may be yes or no. Personally, I believe there are people out there like me for whom sexually the idea of continually chasing a new piece of ass once or twice a week would be boring and unstimulating. This does not make us better than the person who does, it simply makes us different. Perhaps others may believe that the cheating spouse may have the best of both worlds, the spouse at home, the piece on the side and for right now, he’s getting away with it. But I do not understand the compulsion of this.
Even though I know women who are just like that, determined not to be tied down by the bonds of matrimony so that they may flit and float from one to another, even though their ex-spouse gave them permission to do so, even with members of the same sex.
It is no wonder that I feel freakish in this world today as I believe that love is a set of ladders, moving from the physical beauty, to the beauty of the soul, to the beauty of shared knowledge and intellect and further to a beauty which has no form and is infinite. Marriage is not the ideal, neither the beginning, nor the end, but as Khalil Gibran states in The Prophet:
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.
And in reading that, one is moved by the fluidity and grace of Gibran’s words but in the context of this topic, does it perhaps mean too, when the pillars of the temple stand apart, that the oak and the cypress cannot grow in each other’s shadow, to let the wind flow between you… can this not be interpreted as a call to not hold too tightly to that which you love, as it will surely begin to suffocate and as it suffocates it struggles and strays? It seeks the new song and dance, a new lute, a new loaf to bite off of? Can this be interpreted to allow each partner their own, even in the context of infidelity? Although I do not believe that to be Gibran’s intent, I certainly saw the poem with new eyes in regard to the question of marriage, love and infidelity. Just an interpretation of the musings of a Greek philosopher, a Lebanese poet and a 21st Century Idealist.