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....