mothers lock up your sons

ok i'm back on the market.

send photos and or measurements to raspberry sundae.

i feel like poo.

this is the sentence i hate more than anything: "you are such an amazing person. i want to have you in my life - more than anything i don't want to lose what you bring to my life".

i say, bullshit. if i'm such a fucking amazing person why the hell am i still single?

update

so the last i heard from him was noon thursday "i'll give you a call back this evening".

at five pm today, saturday, i called him. he asks "what's going on?" i respond "what's going on with you? i haven't heard from you in two days?" he mumbles something about having to take care of some stuff. i ask "so are you just not interested in hanging out with me anymore?" honest question, i thought. he responds "i'll call you back. i can't talk now." and hangs up on me.

you know, i try and act really tough and like i don't really care. i pretend like i'm all flash and independent and stuff, but i feel things really deeply. and this makes me sad, 'cause i really like the new boy.

but i guess maybe i'm single? i don't even know...

puzzled sundae

ok so here's what i don't get. i'm a decent looking girl. like, when i'm on your arm other men aren't so discreet about checking me out - that's good for a guy's ego. but i'm not a hooch - i know how to act like lady when we are out in public. the dirty-dirty is for at home. and believe you me, i can do the dirty-dirty when we get home.

plus, i'm smart. granted, i'm no rocket scientist like nk but i do alright, iq- wise.

also - i'm nice. not really a mean bone in my body. i'll take a lot of shit before i stand up and tell you to fuck off.

ok so knowing all of these things about me, answer me something: WHY THE FUCK DOESN'T MY BOYFRIEND WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME?

ok rant done.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

went to see motley crue last night. that was some crazy ass shit. i bet if you google "motley crue titty cam" you'll come up with some shots of the crowd.. pyrotechnics and a wicked wicked tech-style drum solo performed by the endowed-one tommy 'tbone' lee... i think the best part were all the 19 year old hoochie girls trying to out-hoochie the 45 year old hoochie women. talk about worlds colliding... also there were three people standing in front of us who knew every word, every rockstar pose, had every lick of costume down. worth the price of the admission alone, i swear to god.

looooong weekend

Everyone's watchin' to see what you will do
Everyone's lookin' at you, Oh
Everyone's wonderin' will you come out tonight
Everyone's tryin' to get it right, get it right

so this weekend i decided to take it for the team and work monday. however, this means that i get *today* off instead, which makes me happy happy happy. i'm crazy, i know, but i love being off while everyone else is slaving away - especially when there's not a cloud in the sky.

Everybody's workin' for the weekend
Everybody wants a new romance
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance, Oh

i'm gonna go dahn-tahn with my lil bro and check out the cool little indie record store i introduced him to about a year ago, maybe hit some used bookstores for some beach reading, then meet up with mike b for dinner on a patio and some pre MOTLEY CRUE cocktails. yes, that's right, i said motley crue. i feel like i'm thirteen again, yo. my so-called-hipster friends are giving me the sneaky eye right now, cause i'm actually pretty excited about the prospects. but man, i have a great sense of kitsch and what are aging eighties hair bands but the epitome of tacky-fun? and, truth be told, i'm hoping that tommy lee will get his gear out so i can see it in person.

You want a piece of my heart
you better start from the start
you wanna be in the show
c'mon baby let's go

there are few things that make me happier than sunshiney days filled with shopping, cocktails, and live music. if i could just count on capping off the evening with a little sumpin sumpin, well then you'd have to pinch me so i could see whether or not i'd died and gone to heaven. but i've not spoken to the new boy barely at all this week, and i think he's going away for the long weekend. i'm kind of tired of being at the low end of his interests, let me tell you. whateva - i have two sets of tentative plans for tomorrow, and will probably blow off both of 'em cause something better almost always turns up.

Everyone's lookin' to see if it was you
Everyone wants you to come through
Everyone's hopin' it'll all work out
Everyone's waiting to hold you out

german said he's gonna write something hawt the next time he guest posts - i keep refreshing my own blog to see whether or not he's done it yet. he also got a sweet sweet mention from the the king of the blogodome tony tone toni pierce. now that's some sweet action.

Everybody's workin' for the weekend
Everybody wants a new romance, hey yeah
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance, Oh

if only *i* could get a little tony pierce lovin', well then i'd know i've arrived cause he's the shizzle in my fanizzle to quote the snoop dee oh double gee. i'm not exactly sure what that means, but it sure sounds like a good thing, good golly. i've added a bunch of stuff to my sidebar - take a quick looky loo 'cause they're all fun reads and much more erudite than i.

You want a piece of my heart
you better start from the start
you wanna be in the show
c'mon baby let's go

i'm almost finished the harry potter, kidlets. i won't spoil it for you, i promise. k i'm outtie 'cause i can see sunshine just on the corner wearing a colourful peasant skirt and jangling a tambourine. she's calling my name and wants to know why i'm still in a nightie and glasses with a laptop in my lap when i could be outside feeling her kisses on my skin.

xo

Hey

You want a piece of my heart
you better start from the start
you wanna be in the show
c'mon baby let's go

boobs

seem to be a theme this week. perhaps this trend is in homage to my ass post. probably not, though. ken is evidently not a boob man. perhaps we should introduce him to the lovely pants.

today in brief....

In the two steps forward, one step back department, Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney vetoed a bill which allows women access to the 'morning after' pill. I wonder if soon he'll make all forms of birth control unavailable? I mean, if we are now considering it abortion when the sperm hasn't even had time to find the egg, how long can it be before preventing pregnancy is considered murdering a baby which may or may not have been created?

Yes I know this is the theory behind prohibiting birth control under strict Catholic doctrines, but come on now - this is 2005.

belly knots

i'm a worrier. dude - i get my worry on more frequently than an egg gets laid. i twist my stomach into knots, throw up whatever is in my belly, and pull my hair out strand by strand.

i'm like an ad campaign for obsessive compulsives: "OCD! Not Just for Handwashing Anymore!"

i'll get an idea in my head and work it over until i come up with the worst possible outcome, then get that thought planted in my brain where it takes root and grows up into full fledged paranoia.

yup, i worry.

this evening The Worry has to do with The New Boy. i called his mobile - a tinny voice told me that the line was temporarily unavailable. (commence jaw clenching, tummy roiling worry beads of sweat running through my system).

now, the new boy's phone is with Bell Mobility. he's had nothing but problems. frequently he gets phone messages four or five days after they were left. it's just something we've all learned to accept. rationally, i know it's a line thing, or something completely normal.

irrationally, i think to myself "he's changed his number so i couldn't call". this makes no sense because a)he's not really like that and b)we were speaking this afternoon making beachblanket bingo plans for tomorrow evening. it is, however, something that my Crazy Exboyfriend would do - you know, make plans with me then change his phone number. then call me two days later and get mad at me for being upset.

or, he'd just leave the bed in the middle of the night - saying he had to get some air - and disappear till the middle of the next day. again, he'd be mad at me for being upset.

or, he'd just stop accepting my phone calls for a few days, then call me and tell me that i was a dirty slut, based upon some imagined slight i'd visited upon him. he'd then proceed to verbally abuse me for a few moments, then hang up. he'd call back, repeat himself, i'd hang up. he'd call back - wash, rinse, repeat. then he'd show up at my house and tell me he loved me and he was sorry.

so anyway, i worry. and i get a little obsessive. i try not to, but sometimes it's hard.

and not hard in a good way.

hmphf.

today in brief....

vardan kushnir, the russian king of spam was found dead (allegedly beaten to death) in his moscow apartment. police are now interviewing millions of suspects.

gary mckinnon, a uk hacker who accessed us military computers via online windows based computers, is fighting extradition to the us. it'll be interesting to see whether or not the brits cave in to us demands - the states has never signed an extradition treaty with great britain, and, technically, the crimes were commited at mckinnon's home in the uk.

naturalkinds is feeling the weight of his tetris inadequacy.

creamo ciavarro has license plate envy.

german hearts emilio.

and i'm bored at work (again)....

the ass post

I have no ass. Well, that’s not entirely true – everyone has an ass. it's the spot where your legs join your torso. what i mean to say is... I have a very small ass. Big boobs; no ass. And, if I’m being entirely honest, here, my boobs aren’t that big. It’s just that, in comparison to the rest of my body, they look much larger than they are. And I think they’re kind of round, too, which adds to the illusion.

But I digress.

This isn’t a post about boobs, this is a post about The Ass. That’s right, The Ass – not my ass, not your ass, but THE ass… the booty. As in, my body too bootylicious; as in shake your rump; as in you can do it put your back into it – I can do it put your ass into it – put your back into it put your ass into it.

This post is inspired by a conversation I had with nk the other day. (it's true - if i enjoy your blog there is a good chance that i will harrass you, via inflamatory commenting, until you give me some other way of contacting you. then i will talk your ear off until sated - sexually or otherwise. anyhoo.) so nk and i were chatting and we got on the topic (somehow the topic always comes back to sex with me) of ass love - that is to say, the love *for* the ass and the love *of* the ass.

see, i'm a big fan of ass love in all its incarnations. i really do enjoy a good butt on a man or on a woman. a friend of mine has the perfect applebum - i can't help but stare at it fairly regularly. i'd like to touch it. her boyfriend would like to watch me touch it. i think she's a little afraid that one day, when i've been drinking ('cause we all *know* how i get when i've been drinking) i WILL touch it. and come on now - let's not kid - someday i probably will. just desserts for the night that her bf sprayed half a can of aerosol whipping cream into my butt crack.

i've got very few inhibitions when it comes to my body (other than letting people touch my feet or look at my belly). if we are intimate, i'm a-ok with you touching me where ever you feel like. and i will encourage you to play with my ass.there are a lot of nerve endings there - and it has the added lustre of being just a little bit more... naughty than other spots.

incidentally, when you google 'ass' a surprising number of reference to George W Bush come up.


on point, raspberry, on point. (got distracted by looking for fun bum pictures). *phew* - is it hot in here? there are thousands of nerve endings in the anus - particularly around the opening. sure it can hurt, if done improperly, but when practiced safely it's a grand day out. or in. or whichever. i especially like it when i'm standing beside a man in public and he discreetly slips his hand under my skirt and lets his fingers run up the curve of my ass - just on the inside. not porno style, but just enough to give me a shiver. beats any other form of pda's by a long shot, i gotta say. i recognize that anal sex is the new bisexuality - everyone's trying it, or talking about it, or whatever. you can google and come up with all sorts of helpful websites where people are only too willing to teach you how to properly stoke that fire. makes for an interesting read, regardless.

huh. damn i wish i wasn't irritated with the New Boy. i need to make a booty call.

help!

ok i need a distraction.. something to get me outside my head. here is my request to you...

can you comment with your top three favourite blog/website reads? i'm a) curious and b) desparate for amusement....

thanks!
xoxo
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
nk is right. this rocks:

fuck you for leaving me slumped over like a sad teary pile of emo jello. fuck you for being so great in bed and making half my life a secret and tinting all my favorite books and movies and cds with your memory and burning your cute fucking facial expressions into my retinae and being such a cocksure bucket of charm and probably more of an asshole than i am willing to admit right now.

i have a date with my stereo and my shower head.

blue mondae

ok so i've taken some heat from someone i care about for the wordings of my last post. she felt that i was disrespectful towards women because of the what i said. i regret making her uncomfortable. however, this is also a person who should know that i don't care what size you are - good people (not just women, but all people) come in all shapes and sizes. unfortunately, so do bad people, or not so nice people, or bitchy people.

here's the back story to why i feel so crappy today. saturday, the new boy was very vocal about his intentions to bail on our plans for the evening, cause he decided (after making the plans with me) that what we were going to do would suck. (he ultimately decided to come with, but still - after listening to him plot his escape for most of the afternoon, i was disheartened at best). then, two other friends who were supposed to come out (i spoke to them and they were getting dressed) just didn't show up. no call, no nothing. then, after we got to our destination, my other friend just took off - stepped away for a few minutes, then called me half an hour later to say that he was just going home.

then i got to go to the pub and be completely disrespected by this woman. the new boy didn't even notice, but had the fucking balls to just believe that i was being a bitch.

then tonight.

where am i going with this? nowhere i guess. i'm sorry if i've offended you. it wasn't my intent. this is my space and the bulk of words that are placed upon this page are random thoughts and rants and other crap. some of it is true - some of it is just train of thought babble - me stringing words together cause they flow or cause that's the anger or joy or lust i'm feeling at the moment.

so again - sorry if i offended you. not my intention. you can't take me seriously - i'm just a stupid bitch who's wasting her life going from one meaningless relationship to another. why would you even listen?

(sorry i haven't written the ass post yet, nk - i promise i'll get to it, ok?)

so very hot out

i always forget about the weirdness of some women - especially single women who are, shall we say, advancing in their years.

we were out last night in a group made up mostly of friends of The New Boy. in this group were about 6 women, all told, and four men, though one of the men left fairly early on so we'll discount him. the collection of people was, therefore, comprised of a married couple, the new boy, the new boy's roommate, four woman over the age of 35, and me. three of the four women were of average attractiveness and slightly above average size (not fat, but probably size 11-12s? (i can hear the women of middle america screaming now: "11 *IS* average!!! - fuck you i'm a 4-6 depending. put down the goddamned cookie and get off the couch. 11 isn't average unless you are a highschool linebacker playing on the boys team and need to bulk up). one was of slightly more than average attractiveness, but had a decent body - rather slender, even. these four women had all known each other for some time, though with the exception of two who were roommates, didn't have super regular contact.

then there was me - the new, unmarried, cute girl. not saying i'm the best looking chick in the world, but i can hold my own in most crowds.

so the one woman from the group (the thin one) was clearly used to playing the role of the hot chick. she was the best looking of the four, and you could tell that she wasn't ready to relinquish that status. over the course of the evening, she engaged The New Boy in fairly intense conversation, which is fine, but cut me off rather rudely not once but three times when i attempted to participate. now, was she so threatened by me that she had to dominate conversation with my boyfriend as a way of feeling more sexually attractive or powerful than i? i didn't feel threatened by her in the sense that i was worried about the boy - i always know who he's coming home with - but i wouldn't have put it past her to hit on him if they'd stepped outside for a smoke together, or had a moment alone. you know when you just get that vibe from some people?

so anyway, it made for a weird night. i was quite content to sit and chat with the married couple - great great people - but i must say that i was disconcerted by being completely shut down by this woman.

*update* - just spoke with The New Boy. when i got quiet last night after the middle aged hippie was so rude, he just assumed i was being a bitch, didn't actually thing anything was wrong. how great is that?

fridae

it's 9.30-ish on a friday night. i'm lying in my bed with pigtails in, wearing a pair of baby blue shorty shorts and a matching camisole. i've got a big ol' glass of 50/50 raspberry vodka & pellegrino limonata over ice. i'm getting myself drunk with the intent of taking advantage of myself later. five bucks says i don't call myself until the next time i'm looking for a little girl on girl self love. but you know, i always call... eventually... 'cause dammit i'm good. i know just how much pressure to apply where - how fast to go - how slow - when to just pull my hands away (i like to be teased) - when to play with my nipples and how hard i like them squeezed...

but i digress.

i've been warned that i may receive a booty call a little later on. depending on how much vodka i drink, i may accept. i'm a real tart when i drink, see, but god knows whether or not i'll be in any state to drive. everyone i know has gone to see the black eyed oh-please tonight. catchy enough folks, but seriously the only real reason for going would be to hit on fergie. r-a-A-W-w-r. my colleague asked me today why chicks dig fergie (i guess his wife's a fan). my theory (and everyone knows i rule, so i must be correct) is that she's feminine - girly, even - but doesn't give the impression that she's a princess. same as gwen stefani. she's hot and she's totally girly, but you know she can still roll with the boys - get dirty, hang out, drink beer, and talk shit with the best of 'em. (i'm taking a page from german's book with the images. you know, just 'cause with women this hot it'd be a damn shame to not shine a light, know what i'm saying?) that's kind of what i aspire to. let's not kid - i'm a girly girl. i have french manicured toes right now (i did 'em myself, fyi. i *hate* it when people touch my feet (The New Boy could touch my feet right off the bat. wierd.)) my hair is in PIGTAILS, for chrissake, and i smell like mango body butter - i'm a GIRL..... mmm me and fergie and gwen in a bed. how fun would *that* be? wow.

(hey sweetie... how're you feeling tonight? can i refresh your drink? mmm you look like you have really soft lips. can i kiss them... just, you know, to see? - whoa down there baby. take your time. we got all night. no need to rush into anything. i know what you're looking for, and i guarantee you'll get more than you bargained for. you gotta play the game though. it's way more fun that way)

where was i? oh ya - a few years ago, i re-embraced the fact that i'm a girl. see, when you are doing women's studies & stuff, it's easy to get caught up in the 'no makeup natural woman' feminist thing. that doesn't have to be the case though, i figure. i mean, part of being a feminist should mean that if i want to show off my tah-tahs and wear heels and shimmery green eyeshadow if i feel like it, goshfukkit. of course, i could be wrong. i just don't really give a shit.

and that's the other side of it, i guess - i don't give a shit if people talk 'cause i dress like a girl. i'm feminine but i can TOTALLY hang with the boys - i always have, and i probably always will. ooo my tits are slipping out of my top. i'm so wanton sometimes. who'm i kidding? it's like they have a mind of their own, i swear. they just want to be played with. The New Boy doesn't play *nearly* enough attention to my tits. we'll have to talk about that. they feel a little neglected. (it's ok babies - i'll take care of you soon. you know i will...)
ok i'm giving myself the eye - i need a new drink and some serious attention, or i'm not going to get anywhere with myself tonight. forgive me, guys, but a girl's gotta get some, you know?

drunk on your love

or rather, still drunk on the bottle of wine that mischieviously disguised itself as dinner last night... or rather, i was when i got to work today.

'what did you do to me last night?' he asked. what are you talking about? i didn't do anything. 'but how did you get me so turned on? i was *loaded*. it shouldn't have worked at all.' i smile my mona lisa smile and shrug. he can't here that through the phone though. 'i wish you were here right now.' why's that? 'because i'm hard as a rock and i want to stay in bed fucking you all morning - how's that for an honest answer?' i like that kind of honesty...

today in brief....

naturalkinds is gonna post some homemade porn.

ben allbright and creamo ciavarro have been listed on a website dedicated to blogger hotties.

newly thought he was growing up, but clearly it was a momentary lapse.

and german is still all about me....

guest blogger deux

so i wrote about how i love to love the lovely dave grohl over at german's place. take a look if you are morbidly curious....

this morning...

i woke up fully clothed at my desk. fortunately i managed to colour coordinate. i guess that's the good thing about wearing a dress - not much to match up. i betcha my panties are inside out though.

my as of yet unmet soulmate figures that mornings are the best time for dancing. this makes me long for the days when i was teaching / taking classes and didn't have to be anywhere till ten am. ample time for waking up, yoga, and dancing in the sunshine peeking through the living room window.

now of course i'm at my desk before 7am. fuck. how did i make that particular wrong turn in life? i think i need to work from 10-2 monday to friday, with every other friday off (but i'll stockpile these during the winter so that in the summer i can have every sunny friday off. (and some mondays)).

or, someone could just pay my rent and buy me shoes in exchange for me doing all the cooking, the laundry, and all the sex you could ask for. (as long as it's interesting sex - i'd rather go to work for seven am than have dull boring uninspired sex)

takers? lol didn't think so....

just about right

_{(from the onion)}



that's about right....

four hours sleep and counting

mutherfuckers broke into my car again last night. this is the second time in six months - again, not much taken, just general mayhem. which is to say, after two break-ins i'm down approx. 65 cents and a set of keys that open the door to my ... heart? hah! not likely. no key such as that exists. no - keys to an apartment i no longer visit. i always take my faceplate and my cds into the house with me when i stay downtown for the night, so i've not lost my copy of barry manilow's greatest hits or my emerson tape deck. *phew*

i wish they'd just man up and steal the g-darned thing. i'm getting kind of bored with the one i have and would like to begin the frustrating and seemingly interminable process of finding new wheels.

crap i'm tired and cranky today. someone say something that'll make me smile.... other than that, go see chad ciavarro. he's taking shit for being sophmoric. and tony pierce is getting name-called for blogging without being relevant (whatever the fuck that means). and my fiance wants to be distracted from paper writing.

in the morning

the street sounds are too much to leave the windows open all night, so we just set the fan to warp speed and throw off the quilt. he opens his eyes just after i do; looks over as though surprised to find me there. i push the hair back out of my eyes and throw off the white cotton sheet, sitting up sleepily. he reaches out and grabs me, pulls me backwards on top of him so that i'm lying on my back and his arms are wrapped around, left hand on my right breast, right hand on my left. i can feel his body waking up - body temperature rising, growing hard underneath me. he bites the curve of my collarbone... 'where do you think you're going?'... squeezed my nipples not quite hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let me know i won't be getting up for a while. he slides one of his hands down my body, running his nails over my hipbones giving me goosebumps. the cool air from the fan kisses my skin - hot already from sleep, getting warmer from the touch of his hands.

they say it better than i...

"What are you holding out for?
What's always in the way?
Why so damn absent-minded?
Why so scared of romance?

This modern love breaks me
This modern love wastes me

Do you wanna come over and kill some time?
Tell me facts, tell me facts, tell me facts
Tell me facts
Throw your arms around me"

stop the fucking presses!

the constantines are opening up for the foo fighters on august 5!

goshfukkit i'm so happy i could, well, i could do pretty much about anything right now... not only do i get to see them again asap, but they're going to get some seriously decent exposure to a bunch of lucky lucky people who may not have heard them. i'm delighted. really i am.

hot

i'm lying on my bed all sweaty in a bikini and the laptop on my, well, lap isn't doing much to help matters. ah well fucking who cares. the sun's finally out and it's hot and i love every second of it. i am the world's hugest candidate for skin cancer becauce i spent half of my childhood lobster red. i'm irish, yo, and pale as milk with freckles and dark blonde hair. i don't tan i just go from white to pink and in between. but i can't stay out of the sun 'cause i'm a leo the ra-goddess golden queen of the serengetti (which rhymes with spaghetti but probably isn't spelled the same) and it makes me feel like i'm at peace with the world.

on friday night i met up with The New Boy and his buddies for a drink after a work function. they were dEEp into the partying, if you get my drift, so it was kind of wierd to be the only non-fuckEd up person in the group, for a change. when we got back to his place he pretty much passed out cold asap. we spent most of the next morning in bed fucking, though, with the fan on and the curtains drawn, then got up when the clouds parted and went and sat on a patio for brunch. he couldn't figure out why he felt so crappy the next day. i pointed out that he was probably a little dehydrated, as he'd been drinking whiskey instead of water. 'why would you let me do that?' he asked. 'cause i'm your girlfriend not your mom. why would i stop you, as long as i'm keeping an eye on you and know you aren't in any danger?' 'sometimes maybe you should act like my mom.' 'but then you wouldn't want to have sex with me and that would be a Very Bad Thing.' 'good point'.

his friend sat down beside me at one point and told me how much NB likes me, but that he's having trouble trusting women 'cause of "what happened". he then proceeded to tell me what why the marriage ended, and that i should just be really supportive and understanding for the next couple of weeks. this isn't information that NB chose to share with me (he's intensely private), so i am not sure what to do with it. it's nice to know that he's spoken about me, to his friends, though, and i guess highly enough that this one felt like he should share with me. freaks me out, a little, though. ah well - we'll see, i guess.

*blush*

**EDIT*** please link to his eminence don ciavarro here. the love is not gone - it just can't spell. one of the side effects you know **EDIT***

ok i admit it. now and again, i develop crushes (for lack of a better word) on my fellow bloggers. as i've explained before, i am susceptible to losing myself in imaginary worlds of words. that is, i rarely get crazy over movie or television stars, but writers (fictional or lyrical (hi, dave! call me!)) or even (weirdly often moreso) people who only exist in words? man i'm lost.

so i regularly develop crushes on people who write blogs. one of my first was mr. newly. we've since then become friends - he even celebrated the new year in whistler with mike b, the divine ms. u and i.

i think my second was don ciavarro. he's got just the right amount of bitter flavouring his writing. i think he's foresaken me for another woman though.

now i get these crushes for a variety of reasons. firstly, you have to stimulate me intellectually. the way to my heart (and when i say heart i mean... you know) is to make my brain spin - be super smart. i'm always learning - no man (or woman) who can't teach me something will share my bed or my world, or even hold my interest, for very long.

your sense of 'self' also has to shine through your writing. i'm not deluded - i am, perhaps more than anyone, aware that what is portrayed here is a seriously filtered representation of any personality, but it's not hard to divine the true essence of a person through the words and images they show to the world.

and that sense of self has to have a bit of a darkness to it. i'm not interested in someone who's shiny happy - either they're lying to themselves, lying to the world, or are vaguely psychopathic. i like passion - and passion isn't always pink and sparkly.

finally - you have to be funny. if you can't make me laugh i'll just keep walking. or typing. or whatever.

so anyway, i currently have three crushes. right now, all are men, but that's not always the case. they are, in no particular order:

• jake bronstein - he writes with skill and wit. he's really hot. he posts pictures of his penis. 'nuff said.
  
• german - he gets really passionate about music (which ranks a close second to books in my world). also funny. more importantly, he's managed to do this while living in alberta. must be quite the man....
  
• naturalkinds - now this person i'm very intrigued by. he reminds me of someone; i remind him of someone. he lives in the academic world which i abandoned, but which calls to me almost every waking moment (the stephen greenblatt quotation which completely and accurately reflects my critical stance on art, history and literature is pinned up by my computer monitor here at work to remind me of who i really am). he writes with raw honesty - be it personal or intellectual. and he does make me giggle.
  

with the exception of jake bronstein, i have no idea what these people look like - how old they are - *who* they are. which makes it kind of fun - i can invent them in my head and (should i ever meet them or see a photo) see how close i come to the truth.

anyhoo... there's not much point to this post. it was just something i was considering last night when i couldn't sleep and was lying there pondering where things are going (or not going) with The New Boy. it's not as though i don't look for these things in real life, too - it's just that, face to face, i need more than intellectual stimulation. i also need that instant chemical reaction to drive the blood pounding through my ears and my body and my brain and my heart.

yawn

so my general ennui is always lurking in the shadows of my happiness. i can't help but feel just a little... dissatisfied. i don't know if this is a good thing or a bad - dissatisfaction keeps me striving for better, right? but at the same time i should be able to accept things for what they are and find quiet joy within.

i know the source of my unease - the new boy talks about the end as though it is inevitable. he has no specific date - just the knowledge that it will happen. this makes no sense to me - why waste time getting to know someone if you basically have no sense of ... not a future, per se, but at least a possibility of a future? you may as well just rub up against a stranger in the dark. at least that way you still get the adrenaline rush of *new*, of *different*, of *adventure*. i think. if i want to FUCK i'll fuck. i'll hook up with n2, or with the porn star, or with carlot boy. i would just like to have something more. for a little while, anyway.

i can't decide what bothers me more - the fact that he just assumes i'm like all the other girls he's ever dated, or that it bothers me that he assumes i'm just like all the other girls he's ever dated. i mean, who gives a fuck? i rule - if he can't figure that out then that's his problem, right?

well, such is the theory, anyway.

anyhoo - anybody want to come to vancouver and hook up with a little blonde who likes alliteration and between-the-covers games; who gets super turned on by slight touches to the lower back and the base of the neck; who has a sex drive that is, quite frankly, alarming at times; who gets super horny whenever she drinks; who is a little afraid of relationships but is trying really hard to stop that fear from poisoning her interaction with people; who just wants to be the most beautiful girl in the world for *some*body?

guest blogger

oh it's my turn to play. go see german

I know her only as raspberry

I'm German. I run Fook The People. I'm guest blogging. Here we go:

About my name:
It's Spanish ok? It's pronounced Herman. I work in retail so I get a lot of people calling me German like the language. It used to piss me off, but I let it go since it's only natural that people call me german. I'm more relaxed in my later years. Right now we have a techie who's real name is Herman, but people still think of me as the original Herman. Then I feel my ego inflate.


About music in general:
People need to start to listen to Canadian music right now. Me and raspberry and a whole lot of canadian bloggers such as raymi, ciavarro, fil, and the rest, know that the shit is good. Bands like The Arcade Fire you know, but do you know The Constantines? Broken Social Scene? Apostle Of Hustle? K-Os? Sam Roberts? The Dears? Metric? Feist? The Floor? Wolf Eyes? Wolf Parade? What about Death From Above 1979? They're fucking amazing. Why are you still standing there? Start up Limewire and get at it. Anyways, what's cool in my music world now:
- New Young Pony Club
- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
- Tsar (damn that Tony)
- Art Brut
- old Eric B and Rakim
- Spoon

About Vancouver:
We're so different, it's not even funny. Your "winter" is more like a bad summer day. You get all the bands, all of them, that I want to see. Last two times I went there for Radiohead and John Mayer (don't ask), the White Stripes and the Yeah yeah yeah's were playing afterwards. Fuck that shit man! I hate that! I understand we're hick central, but man, I'm just jealous. I hate vancouver because I love it. Expect for the whole Provincial Sales tax, that's like so not cool.


About sex:
This site is sex filled. I think it's why it's so popular. So I'm going to add in:
- Yes I love butts. I really don't care if there's not much in the front, but a nice firm ass is well worth it.
- I haven't done this in a while, but haveing sex in a car outside is amazing. I dunno why, but seeing those pictures of those people getting busted made me want to try that again. Public display of sexual affection is great.
- The female pussy fart is fascinating. Actually that whole section is facinating.
- Breasts are also fascinating. That's why we stare at them. We can't control ourselves. It's like a fucking magnet to eyes.

About raspberry:
Here's a jarring thing I've noticed about raspberry. It's that I call her raspberry. I know more about what type of music she listens to, how her son can make the best mix tape it would make Zach Braff jealous, how she likes kisses with some teeth involved, and more about her sex life than I think problaby her own mother. But, what's her first name? So...what is it raspberry? Why so private?

Enjoy the rest of the blog.

we now return to our regularly scheduled program

dude i just saw an ad for the new dukes of hazzard movie with jessica simpson, johnny knoxville and stifler. i know it's a train wreck. *you* know it's a train wreck. am i still going to see it? hell ya.

friday nights, after we went shopping with my folks, we used to get to stay up till ten o'clock ten o'clock to watch the dukes on tv. they were on starting at 9 and there was HELL to pay from my sister and i if we weren't home in time.

the day they changed the time slot from nine to eight was a turning point in my childhood - nothing was ever the same again, really. loss of innocence and all that crapola.

seriously, though, i'm always interested to think about the kinds of things that stand out as monumental in retrospect. they're almost always things that are inconsequential as they happen - like the time shift for the dukes. up till then, it was a big deal for us to stay up till ten pm to watch the end of our program. when they made the change, we found that we could still stay up till ten, but there wasn't really anything to watch so we didn't want to. that's huge - to be a kid and be *able* to stay up, but kind of go to bed voluntarily.

then, of course, was the day a few years ago when i discovered the dukes in syndication on some cable channel - probably the nashville network or some such - and made the mistake of watching it. was *nowhere* near as cool as i remember. sort of depressing, really.

anyway, i'll probably go see the dukes. i'll probably laugh a bit (stifler cracks me up - see previous comments about how laughing really hard makes me, well, feel fuzzy in my fun bits). but, generally, it'll suck - despite the monumental coolness of willie nelson as uncle jesse. 'cause dammit that's just way cool.

Not seen in these parts

So, the big guest post. By me.

This will give this blog and its readers something not seen in an age.

Proper capitalization.

The easiest thing to do when you are a guest blogger, I would imagine, would be to blog about being a guest blogger.

Done. Now, let's move along.

I want to ask you folks a question.

Let's say you see a greasy, sweaty guy walking towards you. If you need help imagining this scenario, just think of me.

He's so gross, you think "ripe". Your paths are going to cross, you're about to enter his trail of odour.

Or so you assume.

Does curiosity ever overtake you? How bad could this person actually stink? Do you ever inhale super deeply, with your eyes closed, just to see?

I do.

I wonder if other people do that. When there is something that looks stinky, do they inhale harder, just to see.

It's like sticking your tongue on a 9-volt battery. Just to see. (By the way, doesn't just the thought of the 9-volt battery bring back that tingly metal taste in your mouth? Yum, I feel like having electricity for lunch.)



Now that I've gone public with this, I expect people to be sniffing after me as I wander the city.

Enjoy the scent.

I sure enjoyed making it.

yesterday

so yesterday, ciavarro asked me to procreate with him. i don't take those types of requests lightly - i give each one (and let me tell you i get them at least fortnightly - people see how cute i am, pay witness to the genetic wonder of athleticism, intelligence and beauty that is the kiddo - and just want to BREED with me. *ahem* anyway). i've asked for a photographic presentation of his family tree, preferably in powerpoint, several years worth of tax returns, his last set of university transcrips, and some naked webcam images of himself.

a girl can't be too careful you know.

no i'm kidding. seriously - you know me. if you want to make the beast with two backs you just have to buy me dinner, keep my glass full of red wine and make me laugh so hard i get tears in my eyes. then you have to kiss me.. just.. right. it's all about that first kiss. how much pressure... how much tongue.. using the right amount of teeth on my bottom lip... wrapping your fingers in my hair at the back of my head and giving a little tug.. and (most importantly) NOT making smerpy noises. i hate the noises. little moans of pleasure are perfect. smacky smacky noises are a wonder killer for sure.

so the jury's still out on whether or not there will be little raspberry ciavarros running around. i have, in the meantime, invited him to guest blog. kind of the same, but different.

lazy saturdae

so after another fun filled tubercular evening, i finally fell asleep sometime around six and slept straight through till nine thirty. the new boy went off to smoke cigars, drink beer and play poker last night, so i don't imagine i'll be hearing from him anytime soon.

which is ok.

or is it?

yeah, it is. i feel crappy, my space is a mess, and i need some alone time.

anyhoooooo... since i was feeling so crappy yesterday morning i stayed home from work to sleep the am hours away. got up around noon-ish, showered and dressed and drove into town to watch scary movies at the boy's flat. i'm lying on his couch in my thong and a tshirt, and he's lying behind me. i love the fact that we are still at the point where we just make out pretty much all the time. like, as soon as i tucked my ass up against his pelvis, i could feel him react. and that's the way it ALWAYS happens.

(as an aside, the crazy exboyfriend and i were together for three years and had that effect on each other the whole time. it's sad when two people have a six month or year long honeymoon period then things start to be less exciting - i have way too much sex drive for that to wash. basically, if i'm not fucking you i'm fucking someone else. sad but true.)

so where was i going with all this? huh. can't remember. needless to say, i missed a significant chunk of the movie, but that's ok. i'd way rather fuck (or in this case, not fuck but give him a very good time) than watch tv, you know?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

i've been lying here doing the next blog next blog thing. this is interesting to me 'cause it's kind of like random voyeurism - like wandering down a city street after dark and looking in people's living room windows to see what they're doing, what they're watching, who they're with. most of the stuff out there is crap. now in saying this, please understand that i fully support everyone's right to publish their own crap. but you have to also respect the fact that i'm not gonna read it. also, in saying this please understand that i'm not placing myself above anyone - i can keep up with the best of 'em in the inane drivel departments (see above paragraphs on couch session). what i'm trying to say here is (as she makes lassooing motions with her arm to try and corral her own point) sometimes you come across some interesting stuff - this morning i found naturalkinds. seems to be a newly started personal type blog, but i like the quality of his writing. sort of reminds me of the now-defunct greg the boyfriend. so i think i'll add him to the sidebar and see how it shapes up.

the cool thing about reading good writing is that it makes me want to write better. i've taken some of tony pierce's rules for blogging to heart. some of them, of course, i ignore 'cause that's the kind of girl i am. but i have been trying to write more... creatively. so that's where some of the weird crap has come from lately - hope you don't mind. personally, my favourite thing that i've written recently was the bit about the sex at the church. but that's just me.

fun!

i'll be your huckleberry

the consumption is back. me & val kilmer are playing cards on the deck of a riverboat, handkerchiefs at the ready, voluptuous showgirls with feather boas standing by to fill our glasses with whiskey and collect our winnings from the table.

once, we found ourselves at odds with some of the locals. you know how it is - big fish in small ponds figure they get to make all the waves. we showed them - took their money, made out with their women, and shot up the place before riding off into the sunset. good times.

me & doc, we got a special relationship. sure there are moments of jealousy- like when we both cast our eye on the same dolly at the bar, or when we find a particularly nice mother of pearl pistol grip, or it comes down to the last shot in the bottle. but then we just look at each other, give that special smile we share, grab the dancer girl and take her upstairs. cause what's more fun that two gunslingers and a girl in a bed? two girls in bed with a gunslinger.

hump day

tony pierce say:

maybe thats when people should get hitched and breed, when they dont give a fuck any more.

the new boy say that eventually he'll make me sad. he say that i'm just so *good* that everything about me is *good* and how did i get tangled up with him. the new boy say that eventually it will end - it always does - that eventually i'll get mad and will yell and it will be over and he hates the thought of the day that he disappoints me.

maybe my problem is that i still give a fuck.

top ten

songs you will never hear at my (hypothetical) wedding

10. i like that old time rock'n'roll - bob seger? pete seeger? who cares
9. girls just want to have fun - cyndi lauper
8. i will always love you - oh whitney. what have you done?
7. ymca - the village people
6. la bamba - los lobos
5. anything country, except johnny cash. he's not really wedding-friendly, though, is he?
4. who let the dogs out - does it really matter? any version of this song, performed by any artist, is off limits.
3. i knew the bride when she used to rock and roll. - she still does. fucker.
2. your mama don't dance and your daddy don't etc etc...

and the number one song ne'er to be played is...

that fucking chicken song.

there are so many more... so many more...... sorry if i've offended anyone who is deeply touched by the schlock and cheese of the songs previous.

back

weddings do funny things to me. wait - i need coffee before i can write this.

k better. the world is a better place when viewed from over your first cup of coffee in the morning.

anyhoo... weddings do funny things to me. it wasn't till about five years ago that i even thought i *wanted* to get married. then, when i was backpacking, i came to the realization that i wanted to have someone to spend the rest of my life with. unfortunately, i was dating the crazy exboyfriend at the time. fortunately, we *didn't* get married. so on saturday, i'm sitting at the wedding of people i don't really know - have met the bride once before - and thinking to myself that it's still really something i want to do. the problem which poses itself, at this point, is how the fuck does THAT happen? kids, i'm kind of old, and i don't really want more children. sort of puts me out of the market, you know? alrighting then. bummer out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

in other worlds, we saw some crazy ass shit on the drive this weekend.

1. a single bed bounced out of the back of a truck going down the #1 and narrowly missed hitting the car in the lane next to us. the car swerved and stopped, the bed kept on bouncing to freedom.

2. at one point, it was raining so hard we were driving through at least three inches of standing water flooding the highway.

3. we saw two very very narrowly avoided head on collisions nearly caused by people driving like assholes and trying to pass when there was not anywhere near enough room. we are talking barely averted 10 car pile ups in which we would have been involved.

4. a dog (lab/german shepard sized) ran out into the highway and was cut in half by the semi driving right in front of us. cut. in. half. *shudders*

5. i think there was other stuff - i'll try and remember it...

edit -

6. i saw some guy throw a lit firecracker out of his car window in front of another car on a bridge just outside of hope. fortunately, the other car could brake and avoid - a swerve would have meant hitting us or going into the guardrail.

also - i finally introduced The New Boy to mike b....

only hippes make fun of people with daily jobs

ok i'm out for a few days. not like i've been super present for the last week. which is *not* to say that there haven't been things to talk about. oh there have. oh my oh my there have.

this weekend is mike b's birthday as well - i remembered about thirty seconds ago and am not sure how i'm going to navigate that what with the going away this weekend and the not having a gifty etc etc. it's not that i'm a bad friend, it's just that i lost my little book with the dates of all my friends and i've been a little distracted this last while. so ya, i guess i'm a bad friend.

in case you are curious - no i'm not a hippy. though i do have a bit of granola in my sushi, i hate the stink of patchouli, don't own birkenstocks nor a peasant skirt, wash my well-styled hair with frightening regularity and paint my toenails.

i did, however, always picture myself being employed in a way which allowed me to structure my own hours and take the summers off - whch is to say, i figured i'd be working in academia. you know - wearing tweed, smoking a pipe, and pompously expounding on the comparative merits of proust and racine. but whatever - spreadsheets are fun too, right?