Needles & Pins

One of those mornings I wake up thinking "shit, how did I manage to sleep on both of my arms for so long I've rendered them useless?" That sucks. Gotta wait for the less numb one to have enough life to shake out the other one. Then stumble to the bathroom and fight to get the stupid toothbrush out of the toothbrush holder that it's really too big for, you really gotta twist and pull it out of there - without realizing that I'm brushing my hand up against the business end of an uncovered razor that's also in the toothbrush holder. Oops, I'm bleeding. So then I stumble around blind without my contacts looking for the band-aids. Alright then, gooood mornin!

And I guess that I just don't know

I wonder what our new office will look like. It's an old house - I picture it being really dark and musty inside, with creaky floors and splintering wood and that weird smell hanging in the air like someone peed there long ago, but you can't tell if it was a human or a dog. Will there be a fridge and microwave? Do I dare eat at my desk? I need to know the quality of the facilities. It will just be me, the boss and our landlord dude. Yeah, sounds hot but not really. You know how it is. Old house + old plumbing + being the only girl = if anything goes wrong with the toilet, the immediate assumption will be "yup, she must've been flushin them feminine products, that's the problem right there" and I'll try to explain that I didn't but they won't believe me and I'll have to pull my pants down and prove it's not even that time of the month. Oh yes, I've seen this scenario played out before.

Something about being here these days makes me feel as if I'm pretty much on the verge of a super-freakout. I don't feel right when I'm here. I have rotten thoughts and have been known to cry at my desk more that once. And this is one of the best environments I've ever worked in. I can't quite pinpoint what it is. But I have a feeling that once it's gone, I will miss what we had here. I might not have as much freedom in the future to do what I do. Which is this. And that will make me sad.

The (infamous) First Time

He was a Dutch boy from out of town. Friend of a friend. Front teeth were crooked in an endearing little way that made me think he must've been a thumbsucker. He had a mohawk and it would usually be Punky Color'd bright blue or pink. He was the quiet bass player wearing the Operation Ivy T-shirt and drawing black and white checkers on stuff. He had thick fingers and liked Big Macs. His eyes were sparkly and devoid of concern. A thick, heavy chain around his neck was clasped with a padlock. At some point, he gave me a key to it. I'm only half-ashamed to tell you that I was the one who pursued him. I was seventeen.

There was this urgency to get *it* over with. I had NEEDS, people! Mrrowr! Gimme, gimme, GIMME! Oh but there was more to it than just being pent up with sexual frustration. Like most other milestones in life, I just wanted to do it like it was some rite of passage into coolness. I don't think he could've cared less whether or not he was the one to deflower me, but I was insistent. I was going to be home alone all weekend and this was the big chance.

I had already met his penis, so I wasn't intimidated by that aspect of it. The previous time he had been in my room had ended up in an exhausting 20 minute blowjob in which he laid there lifelessly except for a half-chub then finally said "hey, I think I gotta pee." So yeah, a whole lot of passion right there.

I didn't exactly expect fireworks. I kind of expected it to hurt, but then get better. It was... well, it was something. But not quite what I had expected. I was too nervous to get that turned on, but still thought that I would just be overcome by a feeling of closeness or well, something. Turns out I had just read way too much erotica over the years and got myself way too psyched up about it.

Back to the bedroom. We got naked. The 3-pack of condoms were produced. There wasn't much foreplay, it was more like "Ready? Ok, here goes." Turns out, it wasn't excruciating. Or moan-inspiring. It just was what it was. He slumped over me for a while, I dodged getting hit in the face by the swinging padlock around his neck, we got a little sweaty and it was done. He immediately pulled the condom off and set it on my nightstand. Classy.

We laid there with the lights out for a bit. Moonlight shining in. I thought about what we had done. I finally did it! Yay? It felt like something was missing. The following was probably the stupidest thing he could've said to me, but only because it was preceded by the stupidest thing that I could've said at the time.

Me: (hopefully) "I... love you"
uncomfortable silence, crickets chirping
Him: (exasperated sigh) "Well... you shouldn't"
turn so I can face away from him in pouty silence
Him: "Did you say there was some Dr. Pepper downstairs?"

Classic!

We stepped outside and smoked our respective cigarettes. It was late. We went back inside and he seemed to be gathering his things like he was going to leave. Again, it just didn't feel right that that was "it". I gave him a pleading look and pulled him by his chain back into bed. "One more time before you go?"

4 minutes later...

Yep, I guess that was it. Huh. I didn't even really break my cherry until my next, better-endowed boyfriend (bless his heart.) Too much info there? Was that mean? Well, fiddlesticks. I don't come out looking too great in this story either. I only had one more experience with the punk boy - in which he had just returned from a Gwar show and got fake blood all over my pillow. Then he disappeared for a while and ended up hooking up with that 15 year old girl that had always liked him but he had always pretended he didn't like her (and I wonder - did she have the other key to his lock? Because I kept mine.) So you know, the typical "first time" story.


Blogger challenge!
I think you should write about your first time, too. It would be cool. Just a suggestion. Not just because I've got a filthy mind, but because I'm curious and nosey! (Well unless it's one of those actually traumatic experiences that you don't want to relive.) Come on now, peeps. We're all friends here, right? Take a seat, have yourself a little drink and tell me all about it.

Tonight I think I'll walk alone I'll find my soul as I go home

** There's another new post below this one, you know. In case you want to read something a little lighter. **

Maybe I'd feel better if I got my hair cut. I'd probably feel better if I colored it too. It would probably help to get some new clothes so I don't look like this. Think I'd feel better if I wasn't drinking this awful slimfast. Maybe I'd just feel better if I wasn't me.

Sometimes I realize that I'm not as understanding as I set out to be. I have a hard time with jealousy and of course it's based on insecurity. I have a hard time believing that pretty girls get the blues. I have an especially hard time believing that rich and pretty girls get the blues. That they could possibly understand. They've always got lots of friends and things to do and showerings of compliments from cute boys and their drugs get paid for. No one minds a pretty girl with problems, even when she's nothing more. Then again, I think I was almost pretty for about 1.5 years but I didn't know it and I was miserable then too. So who am I to judge?

Maybe getting comfortable was the worst thing I ever did. Just accepted it, accepted myself and left it at that. You hate those kind of people. We just haven't found our place or a reason why. I tried to embrace this lifestyle and not only does it not look right on me, I think I'm failing miserably. I never try hard enough. I don't know what's worth fighting for. See that speeding car coming at me and instead of dodging it, just accept that it'll hit. Accept the fate without flinching. Another one weeded out. I'm not getting anything done. I'm so tired all the time.

Well, it is creamy

Can I tell you something dirty and maybe even ironic? Well, just avert your eyes if you don't want to read anything crude.

So, years ago there was a girl aquaintance of mine who was very open about what she did or didn't like sexually. One thing she said that stuck out in my mind was how much she loved spooge in her mouth - I mean, she really loved it and was very descriptive about the taste of it. Now while I'm no prude, I tend to get a little squeemish at times when um, certain body things are compared to food. So she goes on to tell me about how this one guy tasted like clam chowder (that can't be right), and one guy tasted more sweet n' salty, but her favorite was the guy who tasted like an alfredo sauce. (Alfredo sauce?!) She was like "no really, if I could bottle that up and put it on my pasta..."

So you can imagine how ridiculously funny it was (well, to me) when a few years later I saw her and a date at Olive Garden (chain Italianish restaurant) and all I could think about was whether she had a craving for some fettucine alfredo or if she'd already tasted some that night. Ba dum dum tssht.

Weekenders on our own

Notes from the weekend that certainly didn't make any headlines but will be noted here anyway:





- We rearranged our living room so it's got a good flow now. Not like we know about feng shui or anything, but it just seems to have a better feel to it now so uhh, we'll drink to that.

- I smelled good. If you want a lotion that has a soothing scent, a nice quality feel to it and is super-cheap - the Target brand lavender & chamomile baby nighttime lotion does the trick and it costs barely more than $1 - unheard of! Plus, it calms me when I'm fussy. Then again, if you have or have had a baby around maybe you're totally sick of that smell and think I'm fuckin crazy for suggesting it.

- We took a chance on a nearby diner for breakfast and were pretty happy with it. It was the kind of place that's almost extinct now: they have regulars that they call by name, the cooks ring the bell when an order is up, the waitresses were friendly but not in your face, and the food was cheap and done right. Wood paneling, all booths instead of tables - which is always fine by us, and you gotta pay in cash.

- Only got caught up with one more episode of Deadwood. It was on last night too so now we're 3 episodes behind (KC don't tell me what happens!) but I learned a new line that I'd love to put into use. If someone you dislike says "Mornin" you can respond with "Mornin - best time of day to go fuck yourself!" (Hmm, feels like blogger has been saying that to me all morning!)

- At one point in the midst of our yardwork, we came to each other both saying "look honey!" J's cupped hands revealed a teeny little toad (body about the size of a quarter) that just barely escaped the lawnmower. That was more interesting than the piece of petrified wood I found (I don't know why it was in one of the flower beds, but okay whatever.) So I went about my business, needed to water a few things. I put a scoop of Miracle Gro in the watering can and then went to fill it up as usual. Dropped the hose into the watering can before turning the water on and heard a flop and something skittering around in there. I looked inside, and it was another teeny toad - just for me! Musta been chillin up in the hose. So I dumped him out, but now the poor little guy had blue plant food chrystals all stuck to him, so I gave him a quick rinse and sent him on his way. Then later I thought maybe I shouldn't have rinsed that off. I could've ended up with a prize-winning miracle toad. Maybe he would've grown to the size of a cow and I could've named him Thunderclees. Damn.

Dolor de cabeza

Blargh. Something doesn't feel quite right today. Tummy troubles, hurty head, dark clouds moving in. Think I'd like to just snuggle up with the cat and my sweetie and catch up on some Deadwood episodes that we've missed. We'll see. My Fridays are known to be pretty low-key.

to accept the things I cannot change...

Sometimes someone needs you to step up to the plate. They need you to be strong and assertive and helpful and all the things you're not more than ever before. It should be your chance to shine. It might be, if you were the average normal good person. But instead of stepping up to the plate, you just stare at the plate. Just stare at it - frozen, numb, silent. Thinking about it. Hoping it will magically go away, solve itself. It just seems like too much and all turns into a pounding mess in your head. You just get those big baby tears in your eyes the way that's totally socially unacceptable to do at your age and try to will yourself to take a few shaky steps closer to that damn plate, all the while wanting to turn and run away.
By "you" of course I mean me. One of those stupid things.

Take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you

In lieu of a real post, I'm just going to throw out some topics for discussion:

• How the hell do you wear dress shoes in the summer and not end up with stanky feet? Is there any kind of anti-sweat material they could possibly use to line the shoes? They all feel gross and seem to induce the funk.
• It's corny, but I like the latest Fruit of the Loom commercial. Come on, even if you don't like the song you have to admit it's well done.
  
• The previews for that movie "Little Man" just look absolutely awful. Makes me want to coldcock somebody. I mean, a reviewer said that you'd be better off watching White Chicks if you want to enjoy the Wayans Bros. Better off, people. Do you understand how bad that must be?
  
• Every night when I go home things are okay, I relax. Every day I let my mind wander into a bad place, I pick apart everything I thought was okay and obsess over everything that's not.
• I had a dream that my boss and I slept with the same woman. Not at the same time, but still it was odd competing with my boss. I kinda think I had better macking skills.
  
• Sometimes the internets make me sad. It's a love/hate kind of thing.
• I love nothing better when I've got a good (drink) buzz going than to listen to some classic rock and hug on you.
  
• I went to highschool with this guy. It's weird to see him now and then on TV or in movies. Haven't had many brushes with celebs, so it's pretty cool - even though, like most people I went to highschool with - I'm pretty sure he would have no idea who I am (even though it was a small school).
  

Your own personal K-Fed

Ladies - can you look back at your dating history and say that there was a time that - just like Britney - you had your very own personal K-Fed? Come on, let's be "for reals" now. I know, it's embarrassing. But we were all young, dumb and full of... um, stuff back in day. We made mistakes. Slutty mistakes. No? Just me? Alright, then.

You know what I mean, though - the guy who embarrasses you in public, he could use some help in the smell department, your friends don't like him, your parents know you could do better, hell - most of the time you don't even like him. But damnit, he's got something about him - the greasy bastard. And he needs you, baby - well, sometimes. He's been known to demonstrate his rappin skillz that are gonna pay tha billz for you while you sit cringing on a smelly-ass couch with a smelly-ass dog slobbering on you... oh wait, that was probably just me. So anyway, you're all defensive of him to other people, like "But y'all just don't know him - he's got something special. He's just misunderstood. And I know deep down there's a good person in there... I mean, I think that's what that was." ¹

If I combine 2 of the guys from my past, I realize that I too had a glimpse of what it would be like with my very own K-Fed! Sure, neither of them danced ² , had muscles, or knocked me up (thank God) but for all intents and purposes - well, just shutup and listen to the story. One had the K-Fed kind of looks except, well - he was almost hot in his own way, I gotta say. Even with that big ol' tattoo on his forearm that the artist had messed up so the "hot naked chick" was more of a "hot naked cross-eyed chick that looked kinda pissed off". Okay but he had those faintly hispanic looks, combined with his homeboy clothes and puppydog eyes that just got my panties all in a tangle. Yeah, I don't know why. There I'd be, grinding myself against his sweaty abdomen, gripping those bronzed shoulders and whispering "Mmm, say something in Spanish to me baby" and he'd sigh and exclaim "Goddamnit, I told you - my dad's Greek, why does everyone think I'm Mexican?" Yeah, it was some hot times. Okay, not really. He was a good boy (not in general - but to me for that 2 weeks, at least), just well, not that bright. But neither was I, so there you go.

The other guy was a K-Fed in spirit more than looks - though I'm sure K's clothing and hair choices woulda been right up his alley. While he had nothing (job, car, pot to piss in), he always had big ideas about something ³ - I'll give him that. I wonder if he ever fulfilled his dreams of being a hustler? He sure had several years of dedicated practice. But yes, the spirit of K-Fed was strong in this one. I wonder if Britney would agree with me on this - nothing makes a girl feel special like being whispered the sweet nothings of "what the fuck you tryin to look all pretty for?" or "I stole this for you from this bitch I stayed with last night" or "Ey, how much money you got? Gimme 40 bucks and a ride downtown." Ahh, yes - bestill my trash-lovin heart.

Hmm, actually the real K-Fed isn't looking so bad right now. It should be noted that Kevin Federline is merely being used here as a scapegoat for cheap laughs - I have done no real in-depth research on the Spears/Federline coupling.


¹ - nope, turns out it was just a burrito
² - unless you wanna count "dancing" as in dancing around the subject of his probation
³ - but mostly nothing

Bees in my bonnet

The 10 things I hate list (as suggested at Gone Feral - please read her list, it's much funnier)

1. Dates & figs - blech! That tingling feeling behind my ears and the involuntary shuddering is nature's way of saying that these should never be passed off as a sweet treat, except maybe to a desperate fruitbat. Gross.
   
2. Playing "Find That Smell" - especially in the kitchen. Even if you win, you lose. Note: it was the potatoes.
   
3. Bitches who want to compete with you even though you're not trying to compete. Yes, you have an overly-inflated sense of self worth and something to prove - that's wonderful. Go away.
   
4. That people feel the need to push, push, PUSH their religious views &/or diet plans (which is worse?) on others. I understand that they found a lifestyle that works for them (or as they might say "the truth") and they think everyone should, it's just when they gotta be all up in your face about it - it's not cool. Agree to disagree.
   
5. How there's always someone at every job that has to remind the rest of us that she "doesn't even need this job" because her husband makes GOOD money.
   
6. Car problems. Nuff said.
   
7. When the damn blog template doesn't load right and the background images aren't there and the whole thing has just gone to shit for no reason. Grghh! That really burns my butter.
8. An empty inbox. Even when it's deserved due to my lazy ass.
   
9. Dueling alarm clocks. One on each side of the bed. Every weekday morning at 5 or 7 minute intervals. You'd think that we'd wise up and not both hit snooze(s) repeatedly for almost an hour, but well... we do. Even though we hate it.
10. Bugs - especially earwigs, the creepy bastards. Their name alone gives most people who've known these little fuckers a wicked case of the heebie-jeebies. Do they even have a fucking purpose?

Honorable mentions:

- "Hollaback Girl" - yeah, I said it. Everyone loved this ear-bleedin song but me.
- Guilt trips. The only kind of family trip you can count on.
- Water chestnuts - gak!
- Jewel. This may just get a post of it's own.

Rather than dishing out the taggings - why don't you crazy hatin kiddos just let me know if you make a shitlist of your own? Come on, let it out!

Right, you're bloody well right

Pissing me right off (not the official list):

1. that I can't say what I want
2. that if I do say what I want, I'll be considered "too sensitive" or "overreacting" and not a "team player"
3. that nothing I say seems to make a difference anyway
4. that I don't have the skillz to qualify for much else jobwise
5. I've only got a nasty imitation slim-fast (not even real slimfast) and overly salty pretzels for "lunch"
6. that my mom gave me crap even about eating pretzels, saying I "better watch those carbs!"
7. money issues
   
8. that you can practically see my bra through the gap between buttons on this shirt (the shirt is stretchy but my rack is bigger than it used to be)
   

Funny enough, I wrote this post (Wednesday) before I knew I had been tagged by Feral Mom to list 10 things I hate. Oh I'm sure I can manage to stir up and spew forth some more hatred - stay tuned! Woohoohahaha....

Don't look at me that way

Sometimes BossMan delights in his own crapulence and sexist bullshittery. Sometimes it is funny, most of the time I just cringe. Granted, he doesn't get my kind of humor either so we don't successfully joke around too often.

Last week, a friend of the woman in the other office came in and he passed her in the hall on the way to my office. He comes in, pointing in her direction and shaking his head. In a LOUD whisper he exclaims "Damn that bitch is UHH-GLEE!"

At the time I was taken a bit by surprise that he actually said that, so I just shook my head at him and gave him a sort of disapproving, "please shutup" kind of look.

Then later I thought - wait, maybe he's trying to BOND with me like I'm one of the guys. Damn, wish I could go back and do that over in the mindset of one of his guy friends. That would've really thrown him. I woulda been like "Sheeeit dude! I wouldn't even touch her with your dick!" All loud and stuff. But of course I didn't think of that til like 6 hours later.

Then he'd get embarrassed and tell me not to talk like that. Ha!

Son's Gonna Rise

• My brother and his girlfriend just welcomed a baby boy into this world. Now I have TWO nephews that I've never met... well, not yet. Meeting this one should be slightly easier than the other, considering this one lives 3 hours away instead of all the way across the world.

• The boss and his lady are expecting a baby, too. Lots of baby talk going on.

• Meanwhile, a mom I know is loaning her son the money for his share of his girlfriend's abortion. Everyone involved is mad and throwing the blame around. It was odd to hear her call PP and try to casually ask "Yeah, how much do your abortions cost?" kinda like "can I get a price check over here?" but I bet they are used to those calls and well, probably much worse.

• I've gotten to the point where I can imagine being pregnant someday and I can imagine having a sweet little baby in my arms. It's actually becoming more of a warm, hopeful feeling more than sheer terror. BUT the thing that scares me is that THEY GROW UP. And I just wouldn't want the kid to turn out like me. I guess that's what a lot of parents want, for their kids not to make the same mistakes they did. Then I'm worried that I'd either be overly sheltering or turn out with a spoiled brat and that I couldn't find the right balance. Or that I couldn't make a good life for my child, they'd resent me for it and we'd all be miserable. What if my maternal instincts didn't kick in and I was a horrible mother? What if my own faults and flaws rub off on the kid, scar them for life? How could I make my kid not as sensitive, nervous or depressed as his/her mother? Whose advice on parenting would I listen to? Or... or what if I can't even have kids at all by the time that it's time to try? Eeek!

Wit the seven, seven eleven...

Happy Buh-buh-buh Birfday, J!

I love you!

Gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack

I'm not in the mood.
Not in the mood for these harsh lights, for the mean humor, the incessant talking without listening. Just too tired and crabby to deal with it today. Biting my tongue.

Most likely we will have to move our office in the very near future. While I had a small amount of hope that we could be moving into something better, it's looking more like it will be much, much worse. I can understand my boss looking for a low price, but damn if he doesn't keep looking in the shittiest of areas. But what can I do? Sometimes you feel like you're only asked for your opinion by these control-freak types so they can feel better by reinforcing that your opinion doesn't really count. That everything you think of must completely suck and be absolutely without merit. Dude, I know it's not my money or my decision BUT I am the person who spends the most time at the office. I don't expect anything fancy - I just want to have somewhere to park and be in a reasonably safe place, that's all.

Over the fence

We've had our share of bunnies in the yard - but look what our neighbors get - baby buns! Apparently they've had bunny nests near their house every spring/summer for 5 consecutive years and the lil' bunners have always done alright (even though - I know, you're supposed to leave them alone). Their dog alerted them to it and seems to keep a protective watch over them. Maybe the mom-bunny and the dog have something worked out.

Awww.

Pistil-whipped

This flower says "hey you! come here! touch me! touch my junk! mmm, I know you want summa dis pollen, baby!"

Or you know, that's what I'd say. See, nature can be fun!

* Title is dedicated to Feral Mom with much respect and giggling.

Nothing fits

• I almost gave up my search for any kind of crop/capri pants given that they all clung to my womanly (or wide, if you wanna be a dick about it) hips in an unflattering manner or, considering my shortness - looked like I was just wearing some regular pants that slightly shrunk. Finally found a pair of capris that are acceptable. Gauchos are still out of the question.
  
• Manufacturers of women's clothing: I know there are standards for what you consider to be a certain size, aren't there? Wouldn't you think that making your clothing items a bit on the larger side instead of running small would make everyone happy? I don't feel like the size I am deserves the size that's on the label. Thanks for making me feel even fatter than I already do. Perhaps the A & F had a good idea - my cousin tells me she always buys their jeans because while she's normally a size 6, at their store she's a size 2. (Which really must be one of the few reasons people consider subjecting themselves to that place if they're not part of some teen girl squad.)
• Even Britney Spears' pregnant belly looks better than my non-pregnant one - at least on the Bazaar cover. That's sad.
• I wonder if I'll ever be pregnant. Not that I'm trying, I just wonder.
  
• I'm not feeling too good about myself lately. Bah.

The skunk over here will bring you luck

All this time, and I still don't have much for you. Ah, such is life. I even had an extended weekend and it just went by way too fast. Didn't get enough accomplished. We had company for most of it though. Cleaned up, grilled out, walked around, gamed on, slept in, ate out, laughed about, drank up, mulled over, settled down. You know how it goes.


* The title of this post comes from PaRappa the Rappa - a funny game (good for entertaining guests) that was beaten very quickly this weekend - leaving the music from it stuck in our heads ever since.