jeudi, avril 28

But you do have to carry it with you to Toronto

Things I have to do this morning:
1) carefully examine contents of suitcase to figure out what I packed whilst hammered on cheap (yet entirely drinkable) red wine.

Yeah that's mostly it. Oh I should prob eat something, too, because last night's dinner consisted of triscuits, hummus, and lousiana hot sauce and my belly is now yelling at me. Yay bachelorette me. (Why does blogger recognize bachelorhood but not bachelorette? Sexist.)

Told the artist via text last night that I might miss him a little while I was away but he didn't here it from me. What? I told you I was drunk.

Then I proceeded to send him seminaked (and not so semi) photos so that he'd miss me too. He said he missed me already.

mercredi, avril 27

Can't carry it with you if you want to survive

So tomorrow I head to Canadia-eh for the little brother's wedding. Which is crazy. I mean, it was one thing when the sister got married, but in my head my little brother is still wearing short pants and staging elaborate WWF battles (the wrestlers, not the animals - it used to be WWF, y'all) in our family room. Probably whilst making machine gun noises.

He did that.

Just talked on the phone to The artist (he of Monday night's sleepover). I have such mixed feelings about this guy - like I think I really like him but at the same time he scares the living crap out of me b/c I can't figure out if he's actually into me.

Which is, of course, kind of ridiculous b/c sometimes he is so very *clearly* into me.

I know it's just my brain caught up in the crashbangboom chemistry of lust and excitement of liking someone new. Or at least part of me knows.

Part of me just wants him to throw me down and fuck me 'til I can't think anymore.

OK lots of parts of me want that.

I guess we'll see what's up after the weekend, anyway. He's promised to send me semi-naked pictures while I'm away. *fingers crossed*

mardi, avril 26

I'm dying here

OMG I'm watching game 7 of the 'hawks  / 'nucks series and I may die from the stomach ache. Seriously - if it weren't for Crawford the game would have been over 20 (hockey) minutes ago.

"You are wearing *way* to many clothes," he says. "So take them off me,"  I reply. "OK, let's start here."

I woke up wrapped in his arms over and over again all night long. I might like this one a little. 

dimanche, avril 24

when i raise my trigger finger

All you fuckers hit the deck.

Man what a weird night last night ended up being. I don't even know how to begin to describe it really, but it did end with a (former) friend punching the couchsurfer in the face with a pint glass.

No real way for a friendship to come back after that. I mean, the couchsurfer has his flaws, but he is my friend and I love him, and he's held me while I was deep in the jungle of my own head and all I could think of was throwing myself off an overpass. Don't care what he said to piss her off - you don't hit your friend's friend in the face with a glass just 'cause they aren't your cup of tea. Fucked up, dude.

It's actually been an all-around weird day. I barely got out of bed, arising for dinner and the hockey game, and that was basically it. Don't talk about the game, please, I can't take it right now.

For some reason I decided it'd be a good idea to go through my archives reading and ended up watching my relationship with the architect unfold. I kinda relived all the good times and the excitement and now I'm feeling super blue. His new girlfriend is visiting this weekend, so he's not around. Plus, you know, his new girlfriend.

That combined with the clusterfuck of yesterday evening just leaves me feeling a bit anti-social. I'm not sure how to cope. Well you know, other than throwing myself off the aforementioned overpass.

I wish I could remember how to write. I need to practice more.

lundi, avril 4

28 hours later

So date four turned into 28 hours, countless bars, a crazy bicycle ride through the 'hoods, and at least 76% of his friends walking in on us having sex just to say hi.

I shudder to think how many near strangers have now seen my ass.

You know, more than before.  It's not as though half the world hasn't seen my ass, it's just usually it's through the comfort of a computer screen.

Sidenote - possible indication that I might be maturing.. I have this kinda sexy shot of the line of my spine, my ass is in the air, black thong. I keep uploading it and thinking about posting it and then deleting it. A few years ago I would have posted it and taken three more by now.

Postive step or am I losing my nerve? You be the judge.

samedi, avril 2

one life to live, but we're doing it wrong

Some Saturdays you wake up curled up with a fuzzy lunchbox of a cat instead of a cute boy and that's ok, except you look at your bloggity and wonder wtf happened to the rest of the week? How did we rocketship from last Saturday morning to this Saturday morning and what did we do inbetween besides eat sleep drink work go through the motions? Is there anything that happened that could be considered an anecdote worthy of your obituary?

(I mean, besides eating your weight in meat at Korean BBQ on Thursday & dying from beef-clogged arteries.)

I'm reviewing the week in facebook and I've got friends who are doing more or less than I, but what kind of standard for judgement is that? Shouldn't this be the only measure? If I can wake up on Saturday morning, either with or without a cat, either with or without a cute boy, and say to myself- "what did I do this week that makes me glad to be alive?"