Ok, it's been a while, but I haven't felt the overwhelming urge to put forth the effort to write an actually really real post. (This is what it takes for me people, an urge.) But.. I am sitting here alone, for the first time in a while (hi Art!), drinking a glass of wine, and my favoritest Buzzin (hi Blanco!) in apparantly "offline". So here goes the posting...
I have been so ungodly sick for the past, oh, I don't know, month, that I literally wanted to die. Every spare second I've had has been me hiding under a blanket on my couch telling the Princess to "Go away. Mommy doesn't feel good. Leave me alone." My poor kid. Apparantly I am within the realm of the superflu and as soon as it laid its snarling claws on me I was a goner. Everyone I know has this fuckin flu. And it doesn't go away. Like for an entire month. Everyone, mind you, except my dear child. How is it possible that I have been inches from taking my own life due to the pain, oh my god the fucking pain, and the little one has been as chipper as a fucking Disney cartoon? I mean, the last thing I want is for my kid to be sick. Seriously, that's the worst thing in the world next to a colonic, but what the fuck? Are you telling me that I'm not contageous? That my smothering her with kisses everyday is by no means a way to get her as sick as I am? Thank God for small favors, and a great immune system for her apparantly, but wow. This superflu, as I have dubbed it, reaches far and wide and is completely ruthless. And I blame the fucking freaks that come into my work after having called in sick to their work but, "had to get their hair done." What in God's name makes you think that it's ok to call in sick, SO YOU DON'T GET EVERYONE YOU WORK WITH SICK, but come into my salon and breathe your nasty diseased germs all over us? Are hairstylists immune to germs? Because I really was not aware that they are a breed of superhumans that can ward off any and all illnesses just because you needed fucking highlights. Ugh. And yes, please, I love it when you cough on your money right before you hand it over.
Ok, so to re-cap, I was sick. But I'm better now!! I feeling so much better that I've declared this week to be MY WEEK TO SPRING CLEAN! So what if it's negative nine hundred and fifty eight degrees out? I'm in the mood to organize (ok, so when am I not?) and it's almost spring...almost...Tomorrow I start with the kitchen. Woo hoo!! Can you feel the excitement?
This is where I should go into a lovely rant about Dusty and "oh how I hate thee" but I really don't have the energy. I've wasted too much energy on that man (if you can call him that) already. *sigh*
But there's Art!! I like Art. He's neat. And fabulous in bed, btw. That motherfucker has a bag full of tricks, and so far I've liked them all. One of the main reasons I stayed sick for as long as I did was partly due to him. I have this thing where I like sex. No, I love it. I have a problem with loving it too much, like where it effects my health. And Art feeds into this addiction. I was engaging in said activity when I should have been doing nothing but moaning in pain and deleriously poking my eyes out. He actually convinced me that the endorphines produced during sex were good for me... and I desparately wanted to believe him... so I did. Regret is for pussies. The only problem I have with Art, at the time being, is that I think he's ready, after a mere 3 months, to do the whole "I love you" thing. I'm not down with the whole "I love you" thing right now. It's not that I don't love him, well, I'm pretty sure I don't just yet (but I'm not ruling it out!), but I don't want to say I do and completely regret it later...like I did with the last boyfriend. It's way more complicated than it sounds because I'm a fucktard, but you understand. Right? Ugh. I know he' s at the point in his life where he's ready to commit and have a family and blah blah blah, but I don't know that I want to get that serious. Especially so quick. I have a tendency to fall way too fast and it always bites me in the ass. Like I've said before, I'm trying to be cautious on this one because I really do like him and can see a potential future with him, if I don't fuck it up in the meantime. At least I'll always have my cats.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Part 1
So ok, there's a new boy. My cousin, the lovely Blanco, has asked me why I don't mention him...like ever....even though we've been dating for three months...
I have this very ridiculous fear that if I do actually talk about him, it will jinx our relationship right down into the very snowy ground. I know it's unfounded and downright stupid but I really kind of like him and would be sorely dissappointed if he turns out to be like every other relationship I've ever been in. You know, the ones that make me fall hard and fast, and when I come up for air a few months later I simply realize that I can't stand him and was only in it for the sex. But it's different with, um, Art. I shall call him Art.
Art is unlike anyone I've ever been with it he way that he's almost insanely normal. He's not in a band nor has any musical or artistic talent whatsoever. He's gentle and kind and everythingIcouldeverhopefor FUCKING NORMAL!! You see why I have the whole superstition think going on?
I didn't want to go out with Art. I didn't want to go out with anyone. I simply didn't realize I was being blindsided into two dates, yes TWO, that I didn't even realize were dates. I met him through a friend at work who conveniently invited both him and I to meet up for a few drinks. I had never met him before and had no clue I was being set up, so needless to say, I was my complete and utter self on those two nights.
The first night I walked into the bar to meet my friend, Meow, and saw her sitting at the bar. As I walked towards her I noticed the guy to her right was pointing at me with a ridiculously confused look on his face. Meow was facing the other way so she didn't see me. He sat there with his mouth open, pointing, arm outstretched, directly at me. I smile, put my arm around Meow and told him that, "I'm just here to hit on her so you can close your mouth now." Meow turned around and introduced us. He, still mouth agape, looks at his finger and flexes it. "Wow, I was kind of freaking out, I thought I had a magic finger that attracted beautiful women." Yeah, sweet right? Then later in the night he proceeded to tell me I look, "Just like Kathy Griffen!!" So I gave him the finger and told him to fuck off. Can you feel the love? I could barely contain all the attraction. Pfft.
The following weekend I was in a mood. A really bad mood. I decided that I wanted to go out and get completely and utterly FUBAR'd. Oh and I so did. I met up with Meow and Art at a nearby poolhall and proceeded to get shitfaced while throwing darts. We ventured over to another bar and more drinking ensued. I danced, I drank, it was a blast. As Meow is dropping me off at home I decided (because I was fucking hammered) that I hadn't had quite enough to drink. "Do you guys want to come in for a drink? I have wine!! Woo hoo, wine!!!" It sounded like a great idea at the time... Meow had to go pick up her boyfriend, but Art was still thristy so he came in. And I spilled wine all over myself. Because he touched my leg. At that point it had never even occurred to me to think of him as a actual guy - he was simply a friend of Meow's and very unthreatening. I was all into having a good time and forgetting about anything real life related, so it never occurred to me that I was VERY attracted to Art. So, he continued to rub my leg as we started watching a movie ... and he promptly passed out.
Apparantly, Art had a bit too much to drink as well, so I went through the normal nighttime motions, brushing my teeth, taking out my contacts, blah blah. When drunk me realized I still had a guy sleeping on my couch, sitting up, mind you, I thought it was just mean to leave him all uncomfortable, so I woke him up and asked him if he wanted to come to bed with me. He said he'd be a good boy and we climbed in. He put his arm around me, held me tight, and we were both fast asleep.
Now, the weirdest thing is that I cannot sleep next to anyone, especially not close. In every realtionship I've ever been in I always end up on the couch. I'm a very light sleeper and any noise or movement or touch irritates the crap out of me. And yet, I was able to sleep basically inside of Art. Granted, I was drunk and probably passed the fuck out, but still...
The next morning I woke up to a monkey clanging cymbals in my head. I wanted to throw up and the utter ickyness was definately present. I so did not want to get out of bed so I was estatic when Dusty called and said he'd be keeping the Princess until later that night. We proceeded to do absolutely nothing that day. I didn't get out of bed to even pee until after 7pm. Art and I stayed in and cuddled all day. And that's all we did, we didn't even kiss, but were just so comfortable together that we went from talking about any and everything to falling in and out of sleep in eachothers arms. As crappy as I felt, I really did not want him to leave.
Ok, it's so past my bedtime, so this story is to be continued tomorrow...
I have this very ridiculous fear that if I do actually talk about him, it will jinx our relationship right down into the very snowy ground. I know it's unfounded and downright stupid but I really kind of like him and would be sorely dissappointed if he turns out to be like every other relationship I've ever been in. You know, the ones that make me fall hard and fast, and when I come up for air a few months later I simply realize that I can't stand him and was only in it for the sex. But it's different with, um, Art. I shall call him Art.
Art is unlike anyone I've ever been with it he way that he's almost insanely normal. He's not in a band nor has any musical or artistic talent whatsoever. He's gentle and kind and everythingIcouldeverhopefor FUCKING NORMAL!! You see why I have the whole superstition think going on?
I didn't want to go out with Art. I didn't want to go out with anyone. I simply didn't realize I was being blindsided into two dates, yes TWO, that I didn't even realize were dates. I met him through a friend at work who conveniently invited both him and I to meet up for a few drinks. I had never met him before and had no clue I was being set up, so needless to say, I was my complete and utter self on those two nights.
The first night I walked into the bar to meet my friend, Meow, and saw her sitting at the bar. As I walked towards her I noticed the guy to her right was pointing at me with a ridiculously confused look on his face. Meow was facing the other way so she didn't see me. He sat there with his mouth open, pointing, arm outstretched, directly at me. I smile, put my arm around Meow and told him that, "I'm just here to hit on her so you can close your mouth now." Meow turned around and introduced us. He, still mouth agape, looks at his finger and flexes it. "Wow, I was kind of freaking out, I thought I had a magic finger that attracted beautiful women." Yeah, sweet right? Then later in the night he proceeded to tell me I look, "Just like Kathy Griffen!!" So I gave him the finger and told him to fuck off. Can you feel the love? I could barely contain all the attraction. Pfft.
The following weekend I was in a mood. A really bad mood. I decided that I wanted to go out and get completely and utterly FUBAR'd. Oh and I so did. I met up with Meow and Art at a nearby poolhall and proceeded to get shitfaced while throwing darts. We ventured over to another bar and more drinking ensued. I danced, I drank, it was a blast. As Meow is dropping me off at home I decided (because I was fucking hammered) that I hadn't had quite enough to drink. "Do you guys want to come in for a drink? I have wine!! Woo hoo, wine!!!" It sounded like a great idea at the time... Meow had to go pick up her boyfriend, but Art was still thristy so he came in. And I spilled wine all over myself. Because he touched my leg. At that point it had never even occurred to me to think of him as a actual guy - he was simply a friend of Meow's and very unthreatening. I was all into having a good time and forgetting about anything real life related, so it never occurred to me that I was VERY attracted to Art. So, he continued to rub my leg as we started watching a movie ... and he promptly passed out.
Apparantly, Art had a bit too much to drink as well, so I went through the normal nighttime motions, brushing my teeth, taking out my contacts, blah blah. When drunk me realized I still had a guy sleeping on my couch, sitting up, mind you, I thought it was just mean to leave him all uncomfortable, so I woke him up and asked him if he wanted to come to bed with me. He said he'd be a good boy and we climbed in. He put his arm around me, held me tight, and we were both fast asleep.
Now, the weirdest thing is that I cannot sleep next to anyone, especially not close. In every realtionship I've ever been in I always end up on the couch. I'm a very light sleeper and any noise or movement or touch irritates the crap out of me. And yet, I was able to sleep basically inside of Art. Granted, I was drunk and probably passed the fuck out, but still...
The next morning I woke up to a monkey clanging cymbals in my head. I wanted to throw up and the utter ickyness was definately present. I so did not want to get out of bed so I was estatic when Dusty called and said he'd be keeping the Princess until later that night. We proceeded to do absolutely nothing that day. I didn't get out of bed to even pee until after 7pm. Art and I stayed in and cuddled all day. And that's all we did, we didn't even kiss, but were just so comfortable together that we went from talking about any and everything to falling in and out of sleep in eachothers arms. As crappy as I felt, I really did not want him to leave.
Ok, it's so past my bedtime, so this story is to be continued tomorrow...
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Why I find it very hard to date
3 years ago I was engaged to be married and had just had a baby, yeah life was grand. My fiance turned into a raging coke-head, so me and the little one split. A year later I finally got up the nerve (and energy) to start dating again. Bad idea. I dated someone for a year and realized I really kind of hated him and kicked his ass out too. Then another year goes by...I vowed to never date again. At that point I was happy just being with my little girl and turning into a 27 year old cat lady. In August I moved into a new house and *suprise* I have a hott neighbor. We hung out a few times very casually and he was clear about my past and everything I had been through, and where I was on the dating thing…or at least I thought. I eventually asked him to go to the bar with me and a few friends from work, and we had a decent time. He was pouring it on thick by the end of the night, but I was ready to just go home and pass out. We drove together and this is what happened after the bar:
He pulls into our subdivision and continues to pass our street.
Me: “Hey! Where are you going? You just passed our street.”
Him: “Shhh. It’s ok.”
Me: “Um, no….it’s not. I really have to pee and you just passed two houses that I know have bathrooms.”
Him: Laughing, “Shhh.” Grabs and pats my arm while trying to hold my hand. “What, you don’t trust me? I want to stop somewhere. We’re almost there.”
Me: “Um…” Getting freaked out.
He pulls in front of a house in the back of our sub and jumps out telling me he’ll be right back. WTF? Ok, I have an idea what he's got in mind and I'm so not excited about it. Granted, it’s 3am and I HAVE TO PEE!! I’m sitting there for about 10 minutes, staring longingly at the shrubs next to the house and someone comes out to take out the trash. I take this opportunity to literally JUMP out of the truck and ask if I can come in and use their bathroom. He stars at me blankly and then gestures me inside and points to the bathroom (not speaking because he doesn’t speak English).
As I go towards the bathroom my neighbor comes out with another guy. Great, just a little too farmiliar for me. I pee. I come out and am immediately offerred a beer. No, gracias, I say. I'm handed a beer. Neighbor guy is getting touchy and I’m moving away as carefully as I can on the couch. I’m surrounded by 5 Mexicans who don’t speak English but keep yammering on in Spanish about my ass. Little did they know I know Spanish. One of the guys is on the phone getting overly excited about “picking it up” a few blocks away. I sip my beer and try to look dumb. Then the guy looks at my neighbor and says, “Ok, but you have to go pick it up *here*”. Neighbor looks at me, rubs my back, grabs my hand and says, “That’s cool right, Baby?”
Me: Shaking my head. "You're kidding right?"
Him: "It's not far. It'll only take a few minutes."
Me: “No, not cool! Take me home. I want to go home NOW. AHORA!!!! Take me the fuck home, YOU ASSHOLE. I am not going on a drug run with you! TAKE ME HOME!!!!!!”
Him: *cringing*
He still calls me periodically to see if I'm still mad at him, I've not answered once. The only thing that sucks is that he lives directly accross the street so it's a bit akward when we're both outside at the same time. I just want my cd back.
He pulls into our subdivision and continues to pass our street.
Me: “Hey! Where are you going? You just passed our street.”
Him: “Shhh. It’s ok.”
Me: “Um, no….it’s not. I really have to pee and you just passed two houses that I know have bathrooms.”
Him: Laughing, “Shhh.” Grabs and pats my arm while trying to hold my hand. “What, you don’t trust me? I want to stop somewhere. We’re almost there.”
Me: “Um…” Getting freaked out.
He pulls in front of a house in the back of our sub and jumps out telling me he’ll be right back. WTF? Ok, I have an idea what he's got in mind and I'm so not excited about it. Granted, it’s 3am and I HAVE TO PEE!! I’m sitting there for about 10 minutes, staring longingly at the shrubs next to the house and someone comes out to take out the trash. I take this opportunity to literally JUMP out of the truck and ask if I can come in and use their bathroom. He stars at me blankly and then gestures me inside and points to the bathroom (not speaking because he doesn’t speak English).
As I go towards the bathroom my neighbor comes out with another guy. Great, just a little too farmiliar for me. I pee. I come out and am immediately offerred a beer. No, gracias, I say. I'm handed a beer. Neighbor guy is getting touchy and I’m moving away as carefully as I can on the couch. I’m surrounded by 5 Mexicans who don’t speak English but keep yammering on in Spanish about my ass. Little did they know I know Spanish. One of the guys is on the phone getting overly excited about “picking it up” a few blocks away. I sip my beer and try to look dumb. Then the guy looks at my neighbor and says, “Ok, but you have to go pick it up *here*”. Neighbor looks at me, rubs my back, grabs my hand and says, “That’s cool right, Baby?”
Me: Shaking my head. "You're kidding right?"
Him: "It's not far. It'll only take a few minutes."
Me: “No, not cool! Take me home. I want to go home NOW. AHORA!!!! Take me the fuck home, YOU ASSHOLE. I am not going on a drug run with you! TAKE ME HOME!!!!!!”
Him: *cringing*
He still calls me periodically to see if I'm still mad at him, I've not answered once. The only thing that sucks is that he lives directly accross the street so it's a bit akward when we're both outside at the same time. I just want my cd back.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I honestly wonder about some people.
The girl whose boyfriend treats them like shit yet she's constantly crying over him.
They girl whose only focus is getting married, and it really doesn't matter at this point to whom.
The girl who keeps making her hair bigger and bigger every day to "hide her secrets".
The ex who "has things to do" so he can't keep his daughter for 2 more hours.
The grandmother who won't be babysitting on Friday because, as of today (Wednesday), it's supposed to snow on Friday.
The girl who doesn't understand the term "personal space".
The girl who has two kids and acts like she has twenty.
The mother of three that sends out the perfect family Christmas card.
The cat that pees on the bathmat even though he has fresh litter in his box.
The Princess who dumps entire boxes of cereal over her head and rolls around in it on the living room carpet while mommy gets ready for work.
The brother who continuously tells his girlfriend, "I was going to ask you to marry me this one day, but..."
Anyone who leaves cryptic voicemail messages.
The guy who tries way too fucking hard to get you to like him even though you already do.
They girl whose only focus is getting married, and it really doesn't matter at this point to whom.
The girl who keeps making her hair bigger and bigger every day to "hide her secrets".
The ex who "has things to do" so he can't keep his daughter for 2 more hours.
The grandmother who won't be babysitting on Friday because, as of today (Wednesday), it's supposed to snow on Friday.
The girl who doesn't understand the term "personal space".
The girl who has two kids and acts like she has twenty.
The mother of three that sends out the perfect family Christmas card.
The cat that pees on the bathmat even though he has fresh litter in his box.
The Princess who dumps entire boxes of cereal over her head and rolls around in it on the living room carpet while mommy gets ready for work.
The brother who continuously tells his girlfriend, "I was going to ask you to marry me this one day, but..."
Anyone who leaves cryptic voicemail messages.
The guy who tries way too fucking hard to get you to like him even though you already do.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Let the naughtiness begin!
First off, this blog is not about that kind of naughty so move along if that's what you'd hoped for.
Let's see here...some background...
I'm a single mother of a georgeous and very energized 3 1/2 year old little girl. Her father and I ended our 7 year relationship when she was one, and although we remain friendly (what choice do we really have?) , I'm trying desparately to start over and cut him out emotionally. So far, I've only had a few relapses where I think I might want to try again, but I usually come to my senses as soon as I speak to him. Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, just a horrible fiance. I'm sure I'll delve more into the our destructive realtionship in the future.
I have the best job in the world managing a hair salon, and I love every minute of it.
I recently bought a new house and car and I'm finally getting on my feet financially. Go me.
I don't go out much anymore but I adore drinking like you would a second child. I used to blog about 4 years ago but gave up due to lack of funds for the internet - yes, i was that poor. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things soon.
For now, call me Naughty, my daughter Princess and my ex Dusty. I will explain it all later.
Let's see here...some background...
I'm a single mother of a georgeous and very energized 3 1/2 year old little girl. Her father and I ended our 7 year relationship when she was one, and although we remain friendly (what choice do we really have?) , I'm trying desparately to start over and cut him out emotionally. So far, I've only had a few relapses where I think I might want to try again, but I usually come to my senses as soon as I speak to him. Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, just a horrible fiance. I'm sure I'll delve more into the our destructive realtionship in the future.
I have the best job in the world managing a hair salon, and I love every minute of it.
I recently bought a new house and car and I'm finally getting on my feet financially. Go me.
I don't go out much anymore but I adore drinking like you would a second child. I used to blog about 4 years ago but gave up due to lack of funds for the internet - yes, i was that poor. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things soon.
For now, call me Naughty, my daughter Princess and my ex Dusty. I will explain it all later.
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