shine on you crazy diamond

that's what my horoscope told me to do today so dammit i'm gonna.

kids it's friday. friday's are supposed to be FOF (fuck off fridays) but i'm looking at my whiteboard and realizing i'll be lucky to get out of here on time, never mind a half hour early like i'd been planning. i have a date with dave grohl, you see, and need to make myself pretty.

had a real date last night, with car lot boy. the whole time i was with TNB he still called now and again so when he rang on wednesday to say 'hey let's patio drink tomorrow at the usual place' i said hella yes. he showed up straight from work driving his escalade fully bling'd out in a boss pinstripe - fit right in with me wearing my little white sundress & shades but what the hell he picked the time & place.

speaking of TNB i was talking with him before bed last night, drunk on vodka-sodas from the patio, and mentioned my date with dave grohl. he had a full three minutes of being pissed off at me for telling him i was going out with some 'fuckface' before he realized wtf i was talking about. he was all set (he told me) to say that he had a date with three (countem) total sluts for this evening as well. then he realized that i was going out to see the love of my life and that dave and i had a prior understanding so he had to pretty much just shut up. i couldn't stop laughing. good thing i had sort of evaded the "so what did you get up to this evening" question, huh?

german tagged me to pick my ten favourite (right now) songs and explain why. i'll try and get to it today, but am thinking it might not be till later in the weekend - my sister comes home tonight (yay! sister!) and the divine ms u is taking me out for girl-time tomorrow so time's gonna be tight. i do have a three day weekend, though, so i'll get to it i promise.

oh also, before i forget, ken & ariel have posted a link to the stupidest tattoos known to mankind. is yours there? are you afraid to look? fess up - what's the stupidest tattoo you've ever seen? i, for one, once met a man who had V-I-N-C-E on his right hand and N-E-I-L on his left.....

can't sleep

i wanna know who the fuck hit me upside the head with the emo stick.

i can't sleep and i'm all swirly in my head - it's hot and it's got my thinkin all fevered and turbulent. somebody slow this merry go round down down down i can't see the world is running together in a blur of trees and sand and sky and cars going by.

even the fountain outside holds no peace for me this night. i can see you all running up ahead - you are all running away and i just can't keep up. you're leaving me behind. i'm being left behind. i dread the ringing of my phone but at the same time i crave it crave it need to know that i'm not invisible that i hear that you remember i'm here.

do you ever wonder if you've become ephemeral? do you worry that you've lost substance - have become grace a whisper kiss of wind upon the tips of the bamboo? do you secretly hope that it's true?

PUZZLEDFRUSTRATEDPUZZLED

(ten minutes freewriting, no pause, no edits)

two more phone calls last night - he called (i was shopping with lil bro); i returned call, chatted for a few min but he was watching movie; he called back at 10pm, talked about how sweet and positive i am, said goodnight sweetie sleeptight.

i thought that i forgot the password to my bloggity blog blog last night. my home computer had taken ill with some sort of video card issue and it was a few weeks before she was up and about again. in the meantime, she forgot my neatly remembered passwords. so i couldn't get in. so i had to get blogger to send me the passwords, but i couldn't access my gmail account (for the same reason) then i remembered my gmail password so it was all good but i'd lost my train of thought so i went to bed to read instead.

it's so nice here people have been seriously slacking off at the office - the clock's chimed quarter past and no-one is here yet, whereas usually there are people all over the place by now. it's good though 'cause i don't turn the lights on, just sit in the dark with the sun shining in the windows and slowly wake up. i know i thought about calling in saying i didn't feel well (cause i don't really, i'm PFP and it's making my belly sore) but i have stuff to do so maybe tomorrow if i'm still feeling buhjiggity.

i like my job lots but it's been quiet and i get bored and then i THINK THINK THINK and that's generally bad for me. even my horoscope today told me to just run on autopilot and let my instincts lead me where they may. so that's what i'll do. today my instincts are telling me to take my boss on a walk at lunch and maybe sneak out a little early and play as much highhat as i can 'cause that bitch is crack and i got my brother hooked and he played for four hours straight last night. i also think it'd make a super sweet drinking game and so i think i'll bust it out on saturday when my sister is home and we are hanging out at her place maybe having a bbq and getting drunk talking about being PFP and she's kicking my ass for giving a shit and telling me about this guy her and her bf have all picked out for me. he's scots, though, so i'm not sure how that will work. i'm ok with guys in skirts but i gotta get me some s-e-x a little more regularly than once a month, know what i mean?

(time)

figures

so since we've had the 'talk' i've heard from The New Boy (aka nancy boy) almost as much as i did all of last week. like, he called me at 10.30 last night just to say goodnight, and to wish me a good day for today.

this is me making a puzzled frustrated face.

oh by the way? it's four days 'til the foo fighters, at which time Mr. Dave Grohl will profess his undying love for me, and all New Boy confusion will be a moot point. i'm also on vacation countdown (10 days, 7 of which are work days) - not like i'm going anywhere, i just don't have to get out of my bikini for a week (well, except to bathe)(and wash the bikini)(mind you, if i bathed while *wearing* the bikini, i could kill two birds with one stone - wicked) and that's A-OK with me, ya know?

i've read so much over the last week that my contacts feel as thought they are composed of razor wire and i keep losing focus on my computer screen. how's that for fun stuff? too bad too bad the books are all trash - i lose myself in mystery novels when i need to escape from my life for a while. well, and i did read HP in less than 48 hours. but whatever. i'll be wearing super thick coke bottle lenses before my 35th birthday for sure. sexy, i know. how do you resist me?

fyi

it's two weeks TWO WEEKS until my birthday.

TWO WEEKS.

mondae

so here i am in my office chair doing penance for taking friday off. though, truth be told, i came out like a house on fire in the weather department. today - meh. friday? hot & loverly.

the kiddo and i went to see wedding crashers last night. it was funny crap - talk to german about it 'cause he rules, and i can only remember the overall flavour of the film but he's got specific moments woven into a larger tapestry of what is cool about vince vaughn.

so the younger N called me out of the blue last night to see if i wanted to go downtown. i was just coming out of the movies with the kiddo, though, and wasn't really up for it. also 'cause my favourite way to be self destructive is to throw myself into random sexual encounters when i'm feeling vulnerable, which then makes me feel kind of crappy about myself. and god knows that when N² calls, it's a booty call, yo.

the divine ms u is supposed to be here with me today, answering the phone and drinking coffee and playing around with the office equipment, but she's running late and so i'm here by myself. well, i think there is a security guard, somewhere, but i've seen neither hide nor hair. which is, come to think of it, a tad creepy.


in the news:

- some caterpillars have been discovered to change their diet when they become infected with a parasite. scientists are shocked and thrilled with this discovery of organisms changing their diets and lifestyles to facilitate health and wellness. such a novel concept, let me tell you. shocking, really.
plus...
- i'm totally addicted to highhat. yay for the CBC - coming through for me in my time of need...

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.

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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
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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?

happy birthday, canada

we watched some crazy man verbally assault people, this evening, as we carried our iced teas down the drive in the sunshine. he wore red and black, wide brimmed hat shading his eyes from the evening glare - you know how the sun hits *that point* in the sky when there's really no escaping it, when the sun visors can't help no matter how tall you are.

"i hate fucking canadians!" he said as he lurched back and forth. "fuck canada!" i stared back at him, feeling the boy's arm tighten beneath my hand. "don't," i said. "don't provoke it."

the man in the red shirt lurched onto the bus through the back door. the bus doors remained open - we could hear him lambasting the driver before he lurched back down the stairs. "i'm calling 911." the boy said. "he's going to hurt someone."

fucking canadians indeed.


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

i'm going home for the weekend, kids. have fun with the barbeques and the fireworks and the jazz fests and the ball tournaments and all the other good ways you celebrate this birthday of all birthdays....

friday night

in the absence of a patio we sat in the sunporch, resting on antique wooden dining chairs too refined for the quality of language and victuals. our feet were up on the sill, windows open. he leaned slightly out, watching the breeze catch his cigarette smoke and wisp it away. i balanced the plate of take out pasta on my lap, beer in hand, and speculated upon the fiscal circumstances of the man pulling up for pizza across the street. i gestured extravagantly, narrowly avoiding losing both my beer and my dinner to the tiled floor. he looked at me amused - brow furrowed in the way it sometimes does. i can tell that he's not sure how to take me - not sure how to tell when i'm seriously empassioned and when i'm just playing for the crowds. after all, the world is just a stage, and we had the front row seat.

i am

feeling irritated with my friends. kind of all of them, in general, but not for reasons that are individual. like everyone has good reasons for doing the stuff that they've done which irks me, and in a one on one situation i'd be able to deal with the crap. it's just that a bunch of things have happened in the last week and so when you lump all the things together i get irritated. it's like there's an ill wind blowing, or something in the air, or one of those other pithy cliches.

foo fighters presales are today. i asked the new boy if he wanted to go, but he's not interested. this is good, cause i'll be free to lurk at the back door and try to steal the chance to profess my undying love for mr dave grohl. i sure am ok with that, and clearly in that he's declined to accompany me. home free, as they say.

anyhoo.. i'm supposed to be at work. i'd best get back to it.

from spirit fingers via maktaaq...

i'm a posting machine, aren't i?

an exerpt:

PARIS - Joy turned to tragedy in the early hours of the morning when Tom Cruise accidentally snapped his Katie Holme's neck while in the throes of passion. The pair of lovebirds had just announced their engagement at a packed press conference when Tom manfully grabbed Katie's hair. He then pulled her head into a clinch to prepare for a macho show of affection. However the brute force of his loving left arm against Katie's throat was too much pressure for her neck vertebrae to bear.

Shocked onlookers said that Tom was unable to hear the lethal snap of his fiancee's bones over his maniacal laughter as he described what a magnificent, extraodinary and unbelievable woman Katie was. Even as her body went limp, he continued to whisper into his lover's ear "are you OK?" and "darling, smile for the cameras". It was only after the Batman Begins star failed to respond to the words "if you don't wake up now Dakota (Fanning) is more than happy to take your place" when Tom knew that something was wrong.

the rune say

Thurisaz
The Gate
The God Thor
________________________________________________________________________

Thurisaz

Thurisaz indicates the presence of new options opening before you. However, it is advised to stop in front of the gate before crossing it, to look at the road that led you up to here.

This Rune points toward the need of not acting yet, but to examine past experiences and circumstances before continuing towards success. It is not a moment to make decisions, but rather to strengthen your ability to wait.

Review your past closely. Observe it, bless it, and let go of everything you need to let go of. Then cross the door.

deep water

didn't go out with number two. clearly. it's fucking twelve-fifteen and i'm here writing to you. how sweet.

'have to move really slow. deep water' he said. you mean you are deep water? or i'm in deep water. is that the same as being in hot water? 'no, i'm deep water. have to move really slow. you're like a little creek.' oh you think so? i ask. i don't think you have any idea. 'oh i know. i'm good at figuring people out.' shit, well since you've got me sorted, maybe you can explain me to me. 'sure, i'll explain you. someday.'

oh sweetie you have no idea. look at you making the same mistake everyone makes - taking what you see on the surface to be the sum of who i am. do you know how long it takes to get below? do you have any idea? i never thought you, of all people, would underestimate me. i think that hurts more than anything. interesting, though. it maybe gives me the little piece of contempt i need - the little piece of contempt i usually find beneath the blankets of another man's bed.

update

new boy called from away... we tiptoed gingerly around for a few minutes then fell back into easy conversation. he's going to call back when he's drunk and it's dark. it's so much easier to talk about stuff when it's dark, isn't it?

will i go out with the other this evening? not sure - i just screened him. he'll call back. he always does...

in other news - my papa has returned from ireland, just in time for dad's day. he came bearing football jerseys for the new boy and the kiddo, and a boxing club sweatshirt for me (established 1972 - a good year, i must say). yay, dad!

do it

go read tony pierce. i found him via mblog. he's fucking brilliant.

i'm gonna be dropping the f-bomb all day, so if you are easily offended by bad language fuck right off.

stink

what, nobody knows how to fix my computer? fine. thanks. bleh.

what happened to swizzalish? anyone know? she's just... gone. so strange...

so i was supposed to go hang with The New Boy last night. i spoke with him in the afternoon, and said that i'd head home to change then come straight downtown. which i did. and hung around killing time without being able to get a hold of him for two hours. mike b rescued me from my tedium and we went to grab a bite. new boy finally called - he bailed on our plans. i called bullshit on his 'nothing is wrong' and said (you know, since i was a block and a half from his house and had wasted half an evening waiting for him) i'd come talk to him when i was done eating. decided against eating and for drinking. did that. went to the new boy's place. stood outside with him so he could smoke to figure out what the fuck. he said he'd had a bad day, and wanted to hang with his buddies and have some space. i'm supposed to relax - everything is good with us. he just wants to be, basically around everybody he knows except me, 'cause he doesn't want to be around me when he's in the space he's in. but i'm not supposed to take it seriously. it's not supposed to hurt.

fucker.

so i came home. made a date to see someone i went out with once or twice way back in like.. march or something. april maybe - back at the start of this shit with the new boy when there was still r- and i hadn't said 'i'm not seeing anyone else'. i'll let him pick me up, buy me dinner, get me drunk, and maybe let him fuck me. maybe not. if i do i'll be able to step back from the new boy - regain some fucking strength, some fucking emotional distance.

i can't decide if i'm freaking out 'cause i have so much fucking back story and 'cause i like him and i DON'T KNOW HOW HE FEELS and it scares the shit out of me. i told him that - he told me not to be afraid. i've heard that before. he thinks it's nothing to be upset about, and maybe he's right. the other option, though, is that i just don't give a shit. would he prefer that? no, he says, but he'd accept that as who i am. what does that mean?

ah fuck it. i'm not going to give a shit. i'm going to get my hair cut and go back to seeing other people and just let him drift away. or i'm going to try, rather. i've never been much of a master over my own emotions.

hands... shaking... withdrawl... setting.. in

ok my computer is fucked. when i turn it on, it doesn't boot, and the monitor goes straight into the power save mode.

somebody out there must be a smarty pants - help me pretty pretty please?

dilemma

so the porn star wants me to have a threesome with him and one of his buddies. he sent me a photo - they're of a similar size and body shape, which leads me to believe they may be similarly endowed (*fans self*). they're both good looking men. the temptation is... there.

so what to do about The New Boy? The New Boy who i just talked to for a half an hour. The New Boy who wants to take me for for a drink, and for dinner, and maybe to the movies tomorrow night 'cause i'm feeling a little neglected in that boyfriend/girlfriend one on one sort of attention. The New Boy who is very sweet and who scares me to my core 'cause i actually really like him?

how does he stack up when i close my eyes and think of being between two men who outweigh me by probably close to 80lbs each; who tower over me; TWO of them? together? at the same time? mouths, hands, arms... all that stuff.

see, this is my problem with having a boyfriend. am i willing to give up the chance to *DO* shit like this, because i told someone that i wasn't going to see other people anymore?

oooooo purity test...

My Purity Report - Compared to Others
Category	- Lower - - Low - --- Average --- - High - - Higher -
Sexual:	99%
Homosexual:	99%
Nerdiness:	27%
Healthiness:	43%
Financial:	56%
Criminal:	93%
Drug Use:	99%
Grossness:	70%
Report By NerdTests.com. Click Here to get your purity scores!

whatdja get, huh?

wonder

what china would make of us here at the sundae sanatorium?

upon consulting the runes after an evening of bad dreams about The New Boy

The Wyrd
Destiny / The Unknowable
The White Rune
________________________________________________________________________

This is the Rune of absolute trust. In its symbolism, the White Rune represents real hope: a present full of possibilities. Both pregnant and empty, it keeps within it the force of an undiluted potential. All your fertile dreams and your highest well-being are contained in its whiteness. It often requires an act of courage equal to jumping into the void with empty hands.

The Wyrd reminds you that the past obstacles could well become the doors that open towards new beginnings. The Void is the end, the Void is the beginning.
________________________________________________________________________

chocolate croissant

i've gotten into the bad habit of picking up a chocolate croissant and a coffee from the 'bucks down the way from The New Boy's place when i leave in the mornings. at first, i tried to tell myself that it was hangover prevention. however, this morning, being no hangover to ward off, i used the "wow these must be fresh - the shop JUST opened" justification. i can feel my gut grow even as we speak - sadly, my ass remains un-plump.

goshfukkit i need an adventure. The New Boy is off surfing with 'the boys' for the weekend. i look forward to laundry and a market day with my mama. how did i become so dull so quickly? i recall the heady days of fucking in a churchyard in the pouring rain. that was, what, six weeks ago? no.. longer now i think.

hold up here, it's not all that bad - yesterday morning i arrived home at 5.35am, covered in olive oil and sweat - still half drunk on red wine and sex - hopped into the shower and went to work. last night i went to the beach to eat sushi and drink beer. crawled into bed. arms wrapped tightly around me.. slow kisses on the lips, the cheek, the eyes. the neck. whisper in my ear - "baby did you come lots last night?" oh yes. "kiss me. take me all in. make me come with your mouth".

---

(colleague says to me "what's up with rori?" not sure, i reply. he's 'making things work' with his g.f. i only hear from him when things are rocky or he's bored with the sex. "well you wouldn't fuck him anymore anyway, would you? because of The New Boy?" no, i respond. of course not. but that's not really the truth, is it? would i fuck him again? i don't know.... that's the true answer)

x-treme lite

so i'm doing the 'drive of shame' home at 6.45-ish this morning (after having stopped at 'bucks for a grande americano, natch) and find myself travelling behind a trailer with 'X-TREME LITE' plastered across the back of it.

normally i would have applied my clicker and left such nonsense safely behind, where it could not pollute my brainwaves with it's '90s marketing faux edginess, but (being still half asleep) i followed for a while and stared blankly in disbelief.

X-TREME LITE? what does that even MEAN? it's like white water kayaking, but in a swimming pool? rock-climbing, but on an elementary school jungle gym? surfing, but on the internet?

hmphf.

bad joke alert

courtesy of popbitch...

Q: What did the German watch repairer say to his
watch that would only go 'tick, tick, tick'?


A: Ve have vays of making you tock.

help, please

ok so here's the thing. i have this strong sense of foreboding in my belly - like my spidey senses are all telling me that there's something *not right* with me and the new boy.

however, for all intents and purposes, things seem to be fine. we all know my propensity for Le Grand Freak Out. so am i just freaking out? are things just so good that i'm projecting my fears and insecurities onto the situation as a sick way of self-destruction? or are things actually not good?

yesterday when i left his house i called and asked if everything was ok. "of course," he replied. he had just seemed a little off. "relax - everything's fine. don't freak out," he told me.

relax. everything is fine. don't freak out.

except my gut's pretty good. is it my gut? or is it my fucked up head, trying to make a pre-emptive split? you know, the classic 'bust out before you get busted out' move?

advice, please.

tfgif

all i can say is thank fucking christ it's finally friday. this has been a long crappy week - on par with the long crappy weeks i was having at the end of last summer. there's no rhyme nor reason to it, really. i've got the utes a bit, and work has been less than satisfying, but seriously - i had a long weekend last weekend, i got lots of sun, i saw my sister (yay! sister!), The New Boy is grand... i've just felt like crapola.

so hopefully this weekend will bring... a change. a new weather system. a new something 'cause i don't think i can take much more.....

day two

still bitchy. mind you, to quote a co-worker, i'm positively effervescent compared to yesterday...

had a loverly chat with the half-corked New Boy last night... we are going on a quest for loons one of these weekends... since we both grew up in the north, part of what we remember most about summers as kids is being out at the lake listening to loons cry all night long... just the thought of it makes me homesick.

bleh. cheer up sundae.

all aboard the ss grumpasaurus

ever have one of those days when absolutely everybody grates on your nerves? like for the smallest, stupidest things? and even though you acknowledge the fact that you are an irrational grump, but somehow, it's really everybody else's fault?

i'm having one of those days.

top ten

... strangest places to be sunburned.

10 - top of the feet
9 - behind the ear
8 - hair's partline
7 - armpit
6 - behind the knees
5 - inner thigh
4 - bottoms of the feet
3 - eyelids
2 - under the chin
1 - inside your belly button

guess which ones i managed to accomplish this weekend?

touch the heaven

ok i found heaven. it's a hammock in a backyard in victoria, clothed only by 30degree sunshine and a bikini, good novel beside me, beer cooler within arm's reach and the most perfect view of half naked cute boys doing manual labour. i didn't ever want to wake up.....

happy birthday ralph waldo

"I hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity and consistency. Let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward... Let us affront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment of the times, and hurl in the face of custom, and trade, and office, the fact which is the upshot of all history that there is a great responsible thinker and actor moving wherever moves a man."

or woman, i would add.

thank god for maktaaq. without her i'd figure i was talking to myself out here.... well,, actually, i am. but i never really listen to myself....

baby you can call me al

went to mark farina last night with the divine ms. u... ran into the everylovely swizzalish and her crew of fun kids... i spent every single everloving moment of both dj heather's and mark farina's sets front and centre on the floor, hands up loving every single bass pulsing moment. the two of us crawled into bed with The New Boy round about five am... he was the luckiest kid on the block for sure, except that he couldn't lie between us 'cause we "vibratEd with EnErgy" and it was a little too much for him... (mind you the two of us together are probably a little much for anyone...)

i started off in a boy's tshirt and a thong.. after about an hour he reached down and said "baby i NEED you to take this off" and pulled the shirt up over my head. he tugged at my panties sort of wistfully, prompting ms. u to sleepily remind us of our "company manners"... this morning he said "why can't i wake up everyday to have bras all over my floor and two girls in my bed?" why, indeed....

geyser

i'm bubbling over with a nervous anxiety for which there is no real source. ran away to mike b - curled up in his arms and tried to talk talk talk it away but to no avail. i simply poured food over it in the hopes that i could pack it down, pack it down.

i looked at you across the table last night - i looked at you and thought to myself this could be somebody. you could be somebody. (of course you're somebody, why wouldn't you be? you are somebody with a past and a present and a future and my place in those places is.. ephemeral at best. you're somebody and i'm somebody and the real question is can we be somebody together?)

you see, i'm very empathetic. i can pick up on people's moods like a divining rod zeros in on butterfly tears. but i don't know how, you see, i've never been taught what to do with that information - how to detach your feelings from my feelings and realize that sometimes people shine dark purple for reasons that are their own and have nothing to do with me. ("can i tell you the secret of life?" she asked... "of course". "it's not all about you")

so this morning i came home and got in the shower and started to think - my brain started running down that same old trail thinking about how i only really like the ones that are no good and so what does that say about you when i like you this much? then it got all tangled up in my head and my heart started to pound and hands shaking and breathing shallow and i ran to mike to calm me down, talk me down.

- "can you tell me why you like him?"
- "no.. i just do. i just feel very comfortable when i'm with him. it just feels right. and he makes me laugh".
- "maybe if you don't know then you don't really."
- "maybe. i just don't know what to do."
- "maybe you don't have to do anything at all."

mmmmmmvodka

Vodka


?? Which Alcoholic Drink Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

from maktaaq

I will be crushed by a giant duck!



How will you die? Take the Exotic Cause of Death Test

hmph.

so my crazy exboyfriend checked in today for his 'every couple of months' call. he can't get past my high-tech security system (i.e. the kiddo), so i haven't actually spoken to him in over a year.

today when he called, the kiddo finally had enough - he was all set to give him a piece of his mind, when my dad also picked up the phone. so the kiddo hung up. i noticed that, on a little yellow sticky note on the upstairs counter, there is a phone number. so i'm trying to avoid it. my world is a better place without him in it, but still i feel the call of the phone number....

random confession #608

dear indie band bass player.

you know who you are, writhing on the stage in your acid wash denim vest. how i long to clasp the zipper tab and slowly slowly ease it away from its nesting place right under your chin, silkily revealing your complimentary tshirt from the etobicoke corporate challenge memorial ball tournament (circa 1987).

i see you there, flipping your straw yellow mowhawk with youthful arrogance and know you sense the connection between us. sure you've been drinking stella sort of constantly since you hit the stage, and, in actual fact, had to play several songs lying on your back with your bass cradled against your belly because you were weaving too dramatically to keep up with the rest of the rhythm section. sure your proclivity for absent-mindedly spitting on the guy standing directly in front of is a little off-putting. sure you quit school to go on the road at 16 and haven't looked back, counting on your older, wiser lead vocalist mentor to come up with the deep and brooding lyrics that make the chicks wild. i'm ok with all of that. i'm really ok.

you can tell that i'm not like the other girls. i decided to leave my cardigan at home, tonight, and opted for a plain tshirt that doesn't advertise a band - yours or any other. i don't buy into the usual hipster scene, and i can tell that you yearn to be free of it as well.

together we'll make our own scene. we'll rent a studio loft-esque basement suite just off main street and cruise the thrift shops looking for vintage vinyl and eclectic furnishings. we'll host festive social gatherings at which the cream of the cutting edge urban underground music scene gather to inspire us and each other. we'll get a dog which we'll take with us everywhere, and eventually have a baby to clothe in ironicaly captioned tshirts which proclaim our coolness as parents. eventually, you'll quit the band and go on to manage a record store, or a used book store, or maybe even a coffee shop. you won't mind that i make 20 or 30 thousand a year more than you do, and neither do i 'cause really, really, our love for each other is what it's all about.

so, mr. indie band bass player, when you leave the stage tonight and wander through the crowd checking out the girls in their cardigans and weezer tshirts, look back - back here by the sound booth. i'll be waiting.

love, raspberry sundae.

i forgot what i was supposed to say

sometimes my head gets the better of me and i get all swirly inside and i can't rescue the reason from the emotion and your words (or lack thereof) hit me like pin pricks of razor wire deep across my midriff.

i just look at you blankly and try to detach disconnect free myself from the hazy sweeping in from the marshland of memory and dream. i forget who i am, just for a minute. forget that i'm above all this and you can't reach me here. you can probably see the shutters in my eyes closing like a steel apron drawn down on a shop window at the end of the trading day, but do you realize that they are all for you?

holy grail

for me, the holy grail of summer wear is not the bikini. pish posh i say to the bikini. i have one of those. besides - you can buy them in two pieces, so the fact that i have hips built for a boy but boobs built for two can be accomodated.

no, each summer i go on a quest for the perfect white t-shirt. you know the one - soft and worn like the one you used to steal from your boyfriends drawer.. it cupped your breasts with mermaid fingers and slid across your belly, but never clung no never clung. it's the kind of tshirt that men pray to catch you washing the car in - thin like cirrus clouds dancing in the summer sky. i didn't find one at all last year - i usually start about this time of year and then search frantically for a while and eventually give up. if i haven't found one by mid-july when the fall clothes hit the shelves i forlornly hang up my flip flops. i always figured that if i did find one, i'd buy about four so that i could have a summer of respite for the next year or so.

i started this year's search kind of abstractly last weekend - i sort of ruffled the merchandise at a few locations, not really intending to buy (good thing 'cause i didn't see much). i began my quest in earnest on wednesday. i think that, since then, i've tried on probably 15 different white tshirts.

then, today, i found it. the perfect white tshirt. it's not too long, not too short. it is made out of the thinnest, softest cotton i've felt in, well, forever. it is scooped low to show off the collarbones, and hugs my girls like a lover.

so what's the downside, raspb'y? well dammit, this thing costs $60. that's right, SIXTY dollars. for a white tshirt. huh. the shitty thing is that, unless i can find one today or tomorrow, i'm going back to buy it sunday. somebody help me.

the chad

so over at padlock's house he's playing an "imitate all the folks in the blogroll" game. i'm curious to see if the chad will attempt a 'raspberry whining about men', a 'raspberry got laid', a 'lit-geek raspberry' or a 'proud mama' raspberry. personally i'm rootin' for the 'raspberry got laid'. i'm dying to see his interpretation....

*blush*

"the cool thing about you is that you are a total geek... but you are so fucking *HOT*!"

rob gordon

i'm sitting here wearing a hoody that belongs to a guy i used to fuck, making mixed cds to listen to this summer when i drive too fast down the highway, weaving in and out of sunshowers and big rigs, sipping mountain dew slurpees and eating corn dogs.

i'm sitting here wearing a hoody that used to belong to a guy i fuck, listening to dave grohl pound the drums and wondering if anything could ever feel this real forever - if anything could ever be this good again.

i'm sitting here wearing a hoody wishing i were running running running in the rain, feet slapping hard pavement, mud splashing up my ankles, headphones pounding in my ears, listening to mixed cds i made while thinking about a guy who fucked me and drove too fast down the highway, weaving in and out of rainstorms and sunshine, eating corn dogs and sipping mountain dew slurpees.