i am running on empty.
i have done 0 hours of family reconn, small talk and general "oh yes i care about you and your boring life" for about two years (one lunch with my grandma on the last visit home barely counts since i did all the talking) for years and i didnt miss it.
and i am out.
i just want to sleep for days and be left alone.
actually, i want to lay on the couch and not have the phone ring or people come over or anyone expect me to do or be or say or go anything or anywhere.
i wish i was my brother.
i should be better than this. i hope it is just pms and i can blame my body and stop thinking i am a horrible person.
28 December 2005
19 December 2005
social resurrection
tis the season to be outrageous.
so in case jennie, my social publicist, has not told everyone i know, yes i am back in the game.
as i was endearingly dressed as lucy from narnia saturday morning (full on pleated skirt, plaited hair, mary janes, mink coat, dagger and vial of holy water - good lord i can make a costume) for the holiday shoppers, a certain scot appeared in my shop wondering if i was free for lunch, as we had tentatively arranged.
de-lucy-ed and sans mink, i am whisked away to a cafe (well within sight of my colleagues, some of whom i know to have a crush on him). and it was surprisingly good. my faith in the dating system (i guess it counts since he paid and i glowed after) is renewed.
of course the fact we can talk about the merits of the mtv mentality, the meaning of fandom and the death of book alongside the glory of peter parker, gay catholicism and theoretical sex with a goat in the span of an hour doesn't so much validate the idea a date can be sane than it reaffirms my utter dorkdom (but geek chicks are hot, or so i heard).
but fuck it.
i had a nice time, he emailed first, and i have caved and bought the magazine he is in (may it never be said i don't fall into petty girl-dom despite my best efforts).
so in case jennie, my social publicist, has not told everyone i know, yes i am back in the game.
as i was endearingly dressed as lucy from narnia saturday morning (full on pleated skirt, plaited hair, mary janes, mink coat, dagger and vial of holy water - good lord i can make a costume) for the holiday shoppers, a certain scot appeared in my shop wondering if i was free for lunch, as we had tentatively arranged.
de-lucy-ed and sans mink, i am whisked away to a cafe (well within sight of my colleagues, some of whom i know to have a crush on him). and it was surprisingly good. my faith in the dating system (i guess it counts since he paid and i glowed after) is renewed.
of course the fact we can talk about the merits of the mtv mentality, the meaning of fandom and the death of book alongside the glory of peter parker, gay catholicism and theoretical sex with a goat in the span of an hour doesn't so much validate the idea a date can be sane than it reaffirms my utter dorkdom (but geek chicks are hot, or so i heard).
but fuck it.
i had a nice time, he emailed first, and i have caved and bought the magazine he is in (may it never be said i don't fall into petty girl-dom despite my best efforts).
15 December 2005
hello from before
i know.
i haven't written in a while. chill the fuck out.
but with my mom living on the sofa in my bedroom there was little room to embelish in the vixen's exploits (even with a mad ceilidh with a swede on graduation day) in the past month.
to be fair though, she bought me a flatscreen tv and a dvd player in recompense, besides, i needed the time away to prove my pious devotion to a trying a normal life.
today though, i am back in the game.
remember that hot young author? this one.
yeah well, he wrote me. he is on the list of scotland's top 100, along with the new Dr. Who and the guy who wrote Alan Partridge (probably brit references well and decently out of the scope of anyone not tied to this island).
and after some slight flirtation (don't blame me, he asked why his description included the alien term "jailbait" - and no, this one isn't a minor, i checked - so sue me for explaining piquishly?) we have tentative plans tomorrow.
i expect nothing, but think i might shave my legs just in case.
i haven't written in a while. chill the fuck out.
but with my mom living on the sofa in my bedroom there was little room to embelish in the vixen's exploits (even with a mad ceilidh with a swede on graduation day) in the past month.
to be fair though, she bought me a flatscreen tv and a dvd player in recompense, besides, i needed the time away to prove my pious devotion to a trying a normal life.
today though, i am back in the game.
remember that hot young author? this one.
yeah well, he wrote me. he is on the list of scotland's top 100, along with the new Dr. Who and the guy who wrote Alan Partridge (probably brit references well and decently out of the scope of anyone not tied to this island).
and after some slight flirtation (don't blame me, he asked why his description included the alien term "jailbait" - and no, this one isn't a minor, i checked - so sue me for explaining piquishly?) we have tentative plans tomorrow.
i expect nothing, but think i might shave my legs just in case.
05 December 2005
the various unbelievable things: the unrated edition
for the pg version see my link on the right.
for the additions see below:
1- that fucker stole my wallet. i hate london. punk ass cunts stealing my shit from right underneath me! no amount of elgin marbles and king tut can fix that fact it is a dirty city of fuck-face conmen and wenches.
2 - of course it could have been worse. my one of a kind lulu guiness bag was recovered. and give me a break for name dropping - mom showed up to my office in a full length mink and pearls for fucks sake. my parents live on another planet. still, i really miss my phone. and my movie card. and my drivers licence. and my free drinks card for the pub. and the 200 pounds mom owed me. so in total: london sucks major ass no matter how fucking brilliant an empire it used to control.
3 - i know i am swearing a lot. i may have survived my mother finding my condoms, being open about dad's new hormone stuff (trust me, really you dont want to know), but somehow i still find it difficult to swear in front of the bitch.
4 - mom is lovely but more than a fornight in the same bedroom is driving me up the wall. its not the mess or the noise, but the libido (if you are surpirsed you do not deserve to read further). i wondered what the deal was until under the pretense of a "nap" yesterday i went back to the hotel and relieved myself of various forms of stress in the tried and true method. nothing is better than a couple of orgasms, a pint, and a long walk in the countryside.
for the additions see below:
1- that fucker stole my wallet. i hate london. punk ass cunts stealing my shit from right underneath me! no amount of elgin marbles and king tut can fix that fact it is a dirty city of fuck-face conmen and wenches.
2 - of course it could have been worse. my one of a kind lulu guiness bag was recovered. and give me a break for name dropping - mom showed up to my office in a full length mink and pearls for fucks sake. my parents live on another planet. still, i really miss my phone. and my movie card. and my drivers licence. and my free drinks card for the pub. and the 200 pounds mom owed me. so in total: london sucks major ass no matter how fucking brilliant an empire it used to control.
3 - i know i am swearing a lot. i may have survived my mother finding my condoms, being open about dad's new hormone stuff (trust me, really you dont want to know), but somehow i still find it difficult to swear in front of the bitch.
4 - mom is lovely but more than a fornight in the same bedroom is driving me up the wall. its not the mess or the noise, but the libido (if you are surpirsed you do not deserve to read further). i wondered what the deal was until under the pretense of a "nap" yesterday i went back to the hotel and relieved myself of various forms of stress in the tried and true method. nothing is better than a couple of orgasms, a pint, and a long walk in the countryside.
16 November 2005
step 4b -
i don't have the heart to write step 5 yet. mostly because i am obviously not fully recovered, but also because i don't have a good title.
anyway, that doesn't mean i didn't come up with a killer coping mechanism today.
in college i invented a game, the o game. to pass time in ann arbor after looking at the same tired student faces everyday, i decided to guess exactly what face this person would have on at climax.
there were your general versions of ectasy and its aftermath, but there were also fun favourites like the jocks who screamed "mommy", convulsion carols, and the cryers ("oh that was so beautiful todd..."). I highly recommed this game in any overpopulated location.
but, as the third anniversary of the game has rolled around, i have realized it's possible alternative use.
should you ever desire to fuck a stranger in a back alley, consider his mug added to the grotesque menagerie already emblazened on your brain from experience rather than creative thinking. it's not a collection anyone would like to see multiply, and will certainly stop you from going at it like rabbits by sheer revulsion.
anyway, that doesn't mean i didn't come up with a killer coping mechanism today.
in college i invented a game, the o game. to pass time in ann arbor after looking at the same tired student faces everyday, i decided to guess exactly what face this person would have on at climax.
there were your general versions of ectasy and its aftermath, but there were also fun favourites like the jocks who screamed "mommy", convulsion carols, and the cryers ("oh that was so beautiful todd..."). I highly recommed this game in any overpopulated location.
but, as the third anniversary of the game has rolled around, i have realized it's possible alternative use.
should you ever desire to fuck a stranger in a back alley, consider his mug added to the grotesque menagerie already emblazened on your brain from experience rather than creative thinking. it's not a collection anyone would like to see multiply, and will certainly stop you from going at it like rabbits by sheer revulsion.
14 November 2005
nymphette the 5 step programme - step 4 : magic fingers
remind yourself you don't need a man, or woman, or vibrating latex mammalian-shaped substitute by locking yourself in with some killer tunes, a cliche candle or two, and fingers so dexterous carpaltunnel is imminent at this rate. turns out i didn't play the violin for nothing.
ps - funniest shit ever. i love my brother: oedipus the douchebag
ps - funniest shit ever. i love my brother: oedipus the douchebag
10 November 2005
nymphette, the 5 step programme - step 3: misplaced idolotry
may your sentiments deny that which your selfcontrol can't. this may be seen as backtracking, but knowing your limits and setting your standards higher than is possible to attain curbs otherwise disasterous inclinations.
a girly night of drinks and debating the finer points of harry potter's theology (snape must be good for the sake of christianity) and jonathan strange and mr. norell (who we still think the servant may have done it all along) - yes this counts as girl talk amongst those of uis with simple lives and shared past partners which one should never mention in good company - segued into an evening with neil gaiman.
a long time hero, a minor fantasy in the dark mysterious artsy way most of us have fallen for, and much too unattainable in his cult. but as he read in his posh southern english accent in an overly dramatic leather jacket and specifically-mussy hair i was equally enthralled and repulsed at the deliberation behind such an image.
any possible lustful thoughts still lingering in my general person were dashed like waves on Dover when the Q&A turned to a level of gothgeekdom i had heretofore only read about. when Mr. Earplugs- and-Skull-branded-Leather countered Ms. velvet-cape-and-untrimmed-locks (which were less flowing than she imagined) with a "but Sandman #50 was well before the first Gulf War much less the bombing of Baghdad..." I lost all faith in humanity much less any glimmer of hope for sex.
perhaps step three should be "surround thyself with repulsive freaks to ban any interest in intimacy from thy thoughts".
a girly night of drinks and debating the finer points of harry potter's theology (snape must be good for the sake of christianity) and jonathan strange and mr. norell (who we still think the servant may have done it all along) - yes this counts as girl talk amongst those of uis with simple lives and shared past partners which one should never mention in good company - segued into an evening with neil gaiman.
a long time hero, a minor fantasy in the dark mysterious artsy way most of us have fallen for, and much too unattainable in his cult. but as he read in his posh southern english accent in an overly dramatic leather jacket and specifically-mussy hair i was equally enthralled and repulsed at the deliberation behind such an image.
any possible lustful thoughts still lingering in my general person were dashed like waves on Dover when the Q&A turned to a level of gothgeekdom i had heretofore only read about. when Mr. Earplugs- and-Skull-branded-Leather countered Ms. velvet-cape-and-untrimmed-locks (which were less flowing than she imagined) with a "but Sandman #50 was well before the first Gulf War much less the bombing of Baghdad..." I lost all faith in humanity much less any glimmer of hope for sex.
perhaps step three should be "surround thyself with repulsive freaks to ban any interest in intimacy from thy thoughts".
07 November 2005
nymphette the 5 step programme, step 2: harmless encounters
so the job is good. hard and weird and so busy, but really good (i think). i got my first free book today, which is a damn fine start.
also, i walked home in the companionable but not entirely devoid-of-flirting company of inexplicably good guy from work ("good guy" in the michael bluth sense. oh jason bateman. insert shudder of pleasure.), who although not a looker or available, is a good bit of banter and general distraction.
it is nice to have work friends.
also, i walked home in the companionable but not entirely devoid-of-flirting company of inexplicably good guy from work ("good guy" in the michael bluth sense. oh jason bateman. insert shudder of pleasure.), who although not a looker or available, is a good bit of banter and general distraction.
it is nice to have work friends.
06 November 2005
nymphette, the 5 step programme - step 1: deny temptation
so i have significantly chilled out since writing the below (i love the phrase "writing the above" though it so rarely makes sense in a world where no one writes on scrolls anymore, so i've darwined it into blogger compatible prose).
this is in no small part to my awarding myself brownie points for not sleeping with stranger-friend of phil's. there is nothing more tempting that a cute no-strings attached backpacker showing up at your party. but i was still feeling a little dirty and am atoning through nominal piety.
it didn't help i was holding a bottle of holy water at the time (long fabulous story) and jack mentioned i might melt or burst forth into flames of damnation at any minute from coming in contact with something blessed. turns out he was wrong (we tested by spraying me with it), but still.
plus sarah the gossip queen was of course grilling me for details about lee (of course he told people) and her friend phil who apparantly fancies me something dreadful after her last party
audience aside: i know it sounds like this is griping as a facade for showing off a la "oh it is so tiring to be adored" Helen of Troy (you really must read Atwood's Penelopiad) but it isn't. sadly, i am still in the pubescent mindset "why would anyone be interested? what is wrong with them?" mentality and have no way of processing such things other than writing them down hoping there is something i've missed. i'd say the "data does not compute" but even i am not that dorky all the time.
...so i was less than inclined to continue with my recent indescretions until at least we all couldn't vividly recall my last few.
besides, he was canadian. someday i'll tell you about my canuck curse.
anyway, yeah. so my party was good. i was good which is even better, and i start my job tomorrow. holy fuck.
this is in no small part to my awarding myself brownie points for not sleeping with stranger-friend of phil's. there is nothing more tempting that a cute no-strings attached backpacker showing up at your party. but i was still feeling a little dirty and am atoning through nominal piety.
it didn't help i was holding a bottle of holy water at the time (long fabulous story) and jack mentioned i might melt or burst forth into flames of damnation at any minute from coming in contact with something blessed. turns out he was wrong (we tested by spraying me with it), but still.
plus sarah the gossip queen was of course grilling me for details about lee (of course he told people) and her friend phil who apparantly fancies me something dreadful after her last party
audience aside: i know it sounds like this is griping as a facade for showing off a la "oh it is so tiring to be adored" Helen of Troy (you really must read Atwood's Penelopiad) but it isn't. sadly, i am still in the pubescent mindset "why would anyone be interested? what is wrong with them?" mentality and have no way of processing such things other than writing them down hoping there is something i've missed. i'd say the "data does not compute" but even i am not that dorky all the time.
...so i was less than inclined to continue with my recent indescretions until at least we all couldn't vividly recall my last few.
besides, he was canadian. someday i'll tell you about my canuck curse.
anyway, yeah. so my party was good. i was good which is even better, and i start my job tomorrow. holy fuck.
04 November 2005
this got long. and explict. this is me. and i am sorry.
so now when i get online, i have to decide where my ramblings will be posted - general censorship and audience restrictions make it feel like i have multiple personalities sometimes.
anyway, this wins because the name is most fitting.
i've gone and done it again.
as i have been telling chris (we have of late been having long involved emails about the meaning of love and intimacy generally concerning the numbers game and our sex lives or lack there of), i am still (perhaps desperately) clinging to the idea of forever and meaningful and an all round prince charming who gives great head.
but this desire and deep seated belief in the possibility of special and sacred does not incline me to spend the rest of my life waiting for it sexually frustrated and lonely.
here in lies the dilema.
so, in my misguided and unplanned coping scheme, i generally do not foray into socio-physical encounters as i generally feel i can hold out for better and figure something good is on the way. but every once in a while i snap and then for a brief period would shag anything that moves since the rest of my 'self' and moral high ground are overpowered by blood lust and insatiable hormones. it's kind of like that volcano of emotions of puberty. back then i would scream and cry and fall asleep and now i get myself some play, then drop them like a hot potato. neither is recommended if you want to look sane.
this scenario, while not flattering or all together healthy for my reputation or emotional CV, keeps me balanced. cathardic almost.
but so anyway, my point was, unexpectedly, i've gone and done it again.
last night met up with jack and some of his work friends - real guys, who drink beer and have girlfriends and all that. and little irish lee was totally hitting on sonja all night. seriously, they were talking about victiorian literature and i had to interupt a dickensian-austenite debate to buy the next round. well, when she went home i made a point to chat to him, field the territory, feel it out and invite him to my party in one of my matchmaking attempts (the likes of which i have not attempted since probably back when we went to lock-ins and those after school 6th grade non-commital "dance" things).
and i totally pulled a kylie.
drunk little lee forgot all about sonja and tried to feel me up under the table. apparantly i didnt know how amazing my tits look in the top i was wearing and he pretty much lost all sense of decency after another round.
and me being me, i wasn't going to turn down a little play so i let him walk me home (if by walk you mean make out on a park bench and get fingered in an alley).
but me also being me, i made it very clear i wanted nothing from him, i was not going to sleep with him, in all likelihood i would pretend this never happened and was perfectly happy to go our seperate ways and he was allowed to pursue sonja in a gentleman-like fashion and i wouldnt feel put upon or used. in fact i pretty much wasnt interested, but if he was giving handjobs for free i wasnt going to say no.
as i write this i cant help but feel a little dirty - the major downside of this sexual coping technique.
what was i thinking? have i no shame? or worse, no standards? i wasnt even interested and he was totally into sonja. i have no problem apparantly making short work of my reputation and personal boundaries, but when other people are involved it feels like betrayal.
somewhere i blinked and crossed a line and who the fuck have i become?
i still don't hold much stock in the fact i hooked up with a stranger. i never have. maybe a bit embarassed at the public space portion, but like i've never been that before. but i guess i never really considered the implications of all this shit for other people.
he text me three times today. three. is this going to be a thing, because i really didn't want anything. i still dont. i really thought we could just be mates. i am such a man.
and now what kind of weirdness have i made for sonja? if she likes him do i tell her? is it my job? my business? my fault? what was i thinking? i am emotionally retarded to be having 90210 dilemas at my age. why couldnt i have fucked my best friends boyfriend in high school or college like a normal whore and got all this shit out of the way? there should be deadlines for these kinds of mistakes.
or jack for that matter. they are work friends. like he wants his watercooler conversation this morning to be about my lack of decency. like i need him to hear that shit about me from virtual strangers. i don't even know the kid for christ sake, why did it have to be someone who'll share trophy stories at the pub with my best friend? why did it not occur to me this is socially awkward before i copped a feel?
sometimes i really need to think with something other than my box. and sadly, i have no idea how. it's like call of the wild or some shit. i have no self control. its shameless. animalistic. raw. and rude.
is there a drug to make me sane? do i want to give up my fleeting but satisfying encounters to be normal? how many times must i brush with disaster before i realize sometimes people are more important than my libido?
this is what catholic school and an extended and late puberty does to you. enforced asexuality means a decade of overcompensation at least.
yours,
hoplessly whorish
anyway, this wins because the name is most fitting.
i've gone and done it again.
as i have been telling chris (we have of late been having long involved emails about the meaning of love and intimacy generally concerning the numbers game and our sex lives or lack there of), i am still (perhaps desperately) clinging to the idea of forever and meaningful and an all round prince charming who gives great head.
but this desire and deep seated belief in the possibility of special and sacred does not incline me to spend the rest of my life waiting for it sexually frustrated and lonely.
here in lies the dilema.
so, in my misguided and unplanned coping scheme, i generally do not foray into socio-physical encounters as i generally feel i can hold out for better and figure something good is on the way. but every once in a while i snap and then for a brief period would shag anything that moves since the rest of my 'self' and moral high ground are overpowered by blood lust and insatiable hormones. it's kind of like that volcano of emotions of puberty. back then i would scream and cry and fall asleep and now i get myself some play, then drop them like a hot potato. neither is recommended if you want to look sane.
this scenario, while not flattering or all together healthy for my reputation or emotional CV, keeps me balanced. cathardic almost.
but so anyway, my point was, unexpectedly, i've gone and done it again.
last night met up with jack and some of his work friends - real guys, who drink beer and have girlfriends and all that. and little irish lee was totally hitting on sonja all night. seriously, they were talking about victiorian literature and i had to interupt a dickensian-austenite debate to buy the next round. well, when she went home i made a point to chat to him, field the territory, feel it out and invite him to my party in one of my matchmaking attempts (the likes of which i have not attempted since probably back when we went to lock-ins and those after school 6th grade non-commital "dance" things).
and i totally pulled a kylie.
drunk little lee forgot all about sonja and tried to feel me up under the table. apparantly i didnt know how amazing my tits look in the top i was wearing and he pretty much lost all sense of decency after another round.
and me being me, i wasn't going to turn down a little play so i let him walk me home (if by walk you mean make out on a park bench and get fingered in an alley).
but me also being me, i made it very clear i wanted nothing from him, i was not going to sleep with him, in all likelihood i would pretend this never happened and was perfectly happy to go our seperate ways and he was allowed to pursue sonja in a gentleman-like fashion and i wouldnt feel put upon or used. in fact i pretty much wasnt interested, but if he was giving handjobs for free i wasnt going to say no.
as i write this i cant help but feel a little dirty - the major downside of this sexual coping technique.
what was i thinking? have i no shame? or worse, no standards? i wasnt even interested and he was totally into sonja. i have no problem apparantly making short work of my reputation and personal boundaries, but when other people are involved it feels like betrayal.
somewhere i blinked and crossed a line and who the fuck have i become?
i still don't hold much stock in the fact i hooked up with a stranger. i never have. maybe a bit embarassed at the public space portion, but like i've never been that before. but i guess i never really considered the implications of all this shit for other people.
he text me three times today. three. is this going to be a thing, because i really didn't want anything. i still dont. i really thought we could just be mates. i am such a man.
and now what kind of weirdness have i made for sonja? if she likes him do i tell her? is it my job? my business? my fault? what was i thinking? i am emotionally retarded to be having 90210 dilemas at my age. why couldnt i have fucked my best friends boyfriend in high school or college like a normal whore and got all this shit out of the way? there should be deadlines for these kinds of mistakes.
or jack for that matter. they are work friends. like he wants his watercooler conversation this morning to be about my lack of decency. like i need him to hear that shit about me from virtual strangers. i don't even know the kid for christ sake, why did it have to be someone who'll share trophy stories at the pub with my best friend? why did it not occur to me this is socially awkward before i copped a feel?
sometimes i really need to think with something other than my box. and sadly, i have no idea how. it's like call of the wild or some shit. i have no self control. its shameless. animalistic. raw. and rude.
is there a drug to make me sane? do i want to give up my fleeting but satisfying encounters to be normal? how many times must i brush with disaster before i realize sometimes people are more important than my libido?
this is what catholic school and an extended and late puberty does to you. enforced asexuality means a decade of overcompensation at least.
yours,
hoplessly whorish
29 October 2005
good things about today:
1. jennie mailed me her signature halloween ghost cookies, individually saran-wrapped to keep from staleness.
2. living in the burbs means i can walk home (reading Atwood mind you) behind a dad and 6-year old pink fairy princess skipping through the leaves
3. working on saturday mornings means i walk through the meadows during little league football games as the sun rises over arthurs seat and the shallows of mist disapate.
4. i make a mean peanut thai
4a. even if said thai must be made with marked down meager turkey rather than satisfying succulent chicken breasts. at least i am old enough now i do things like notice my protein intake.
1. jennie mailed me her signature halloween ghost cookies, individually saran-wrapped to keep from staleness.
2. living in the burbs means i can walk home (reading Atwood mind you) behind a dad and 6-year old pink fairy princess skipping through the leaves
3. working on saturday mornings means i walk through the meadows during little league football games as the sun rises over arthurs seat and the shallows of mist disapate.
4. i make a mean peanut thai
4a. even if said thai must be made with marked down meager turkey rather than satisfying succulent chicken breasts. at least i am old enough now i do things like notice my protein intake.
27 October 2005
fuck you and your eve-bashing bullshit man
i almost fainted behind the till today.
tuesday it was funny to everyonei was getting hot flashes and we all debated whether it was pregnancy or menopause.
wednesday i wondered at my lethargy and desire to eat a wheat wrap (the other ingredients consisting solely of honey.)
and somehow it still baffled me to no end when thursday afternoon rolled around i turned white as a sheet, broke into a cold sweat, and my eyes began to blur so much so i wimpered in public and almost threw up on a customer as my innards had an all out WWE match in my abdomen.
i should know my cycle better than this by now. i should not be surprised by crippling pain and dizzy spells that could kill someone with an inner ear problem.
but somehow it always surprises me i can stand at work looking normal to the outside world and be slowly dying inside - truly believing a knife to my kidney would at least release some of the pressure and blood blockage.
this is hell.
if there was a god and i wasn't already on not-speaking terms with it, this pms shit would be a deal breaker.
at least my broken debilitated self on the staff lounge sofa got an endearing hand from the cute guy. let it never be said my hormones are hindered by biological handicap even under humiliating duress.
tuesday it was funny to everyonei was getting hot flashes and we all debated whether it was pregnancy or menopause.
wednesday i wondered at my lethargy and desire to eat a wheat wrap (the other ingredients consisting solely of honey.)
and somehow it still baffled me to no end when thursday afternoon rolled around i turned white as a sheet, broke into a cold sweat, and my eyes began to blur so much so i wimpered in public and almost threw up on a customer as my innards had an all out WWE match in my abdomen.
i should know my cycle better than this by now. i should not be surprised by crippling pain and dizzy spells that could kill someone with an inner ear problem.
but somehow it always surprises me i can stand at work looking normal to the outside world and be slowly dying inside - truly believing a knife to my kidney would at least release some of the pressure and blood blockage.
this is hell.
if there was a god and i wasn't already on not-speaking terms with it, this pms shit would be a deal breaker.
at least my broken debilitated self on the staff lounge sofa got an endearing hand from the cute guy. let it never be said my hormones are hindered by biological handicap even under humiliating duress.
26 October 2005
my god.
i have totally just instigated an email flirtation with a hot young scottish author.
i know this is pre-emptive ( i am a bit drunk considering it's 9pm, happy hour does that to the best of us), but i met him a couple weeks ago at one of his readings, sent a promising but cautious email to his website today about his next reading, and totally got two emails back today offering a coffee date in flirtatious reply within an hour.
may it never be said my whorish ways don't pay off.
well, let's not put the tail before the head if i may be so bold. still, promising is good. not a sure thing, but good.
i have totally just instigated an email flirtation with a hot young scottish author.
i know this is pre-emptive ( i am a bit drunk considering it's 9pm, happy hour does that to the best of us), but i met him a couple weeks ago at one of his readings, sent a promising but cautious email to his website today about his next reading, and totally got two emails back today offering a coffee date in flirtatious reply within an hour.
may it never be said my whorish ways don't pay off.
well, let's not put the tail before the head if i may be so bold. still, promising is good. not a sure thing, but good.
25 October 2005
a league of my own
i have to be honest, i don't really like the all american past time.
i didn't like playing right field in doubleheaders. i didnt like peeling off my pads and seeing dust soaked like tanlines into my skin. i didnt like being told what i was doing wrong by an overweight middle-aged guy who stood in the shade the whole time as if he knew what it was like.
as a viewing sport, it is the sheer novelty of minor league games such as a big wheel race after the 3rd and more junk food than is good for you that make it a tolerable social outing.
i am glad to be in a country where the national sport is acknowledged to be ridiculous and at least the outfits are better. a Ned in a white varsity sweater is far better than kneesocks and ballcap Jimbo's the world over.
but all this dirty pessimism of course doesn't negate the greatness of a unifying cause and the rush of singing the national anthem 5,000 voices strong.
i just don't see the need to watch it on television. especially at dawn on a tuesday. baseball is of course, not shown on any of the 4 BBC channels, even if it is the astros first world series. which means my only option is to watch a live cast on the MLB website at phils house (avid Jays fan that he is, he's subscribed to the whole season. freak.) - which is 1:05 am on Grenwich Mean Time.
suffice to say, i don't think my love of the game outweighs my love of sleep even with hot dogs and beer thrown in.
well, ask me again at the football post-season.
i didn't like playing right field in doubleheaders. i didnt like peeling off my pads and seeing dust soaked like tanlines into my skin. i didnt like being told what i was doing wrong by an overweight middle-aged guy who stood in the shade the whole time as if he knew what it was like.
as a viewing sport, it is the sheer novelty of minor league games such as a big wheel race after the 3rd and more junk food than is good for you that make it a tolerable social outing.
i am glad to be in a country where the national sport is acknowledged to be ridiculous and at least the outfits are better. a Ned in a white varsity sweater is far better than kneesocks and ballcap Jimbo's the world over.
but all this dirty pessimism of course doesn't negate the greatness of a unifying cause and the rush of singing the national anthem 5,000 voices strong.
i just don't see the need to watch it on television. especially at dawn on a tuesday. baseball is of course, not shown on any of the 4 BBC channels, even if it is the astros first world series. which means my only option is to watch a live cast on the MLB website at phils house (avid Jays fan that he is, he's subscribed to the whole season. freak.) - which is 1:05 am on Grenwich Mean Time.
suffice to say, i don't think my love of the game outweighs my love of sleep even with hot dogs and beer thrown in.
well, ask me again at the football post-season.
23 October 2005
dampened spirits
I read once Lansing came a close second to Seattle for cloudiest city in America. This was the odd sort of trivia that comes up in barchats and although not a point of pride, at least I knew something about my hometown if not the population size or name of my senator.
But after much research, I've found every po-dunk town in Scotland is far and away grayer and wetter.
Now it feels like Lansing won the runner-up honorable mention ribbon at the Rain Olympics. Will we never be rid of the" gimpy kid of capitals" image?
But after much research, I've found every po-dunk town in Scotland is far and away grayer and wetter.
Now it feels like Lansing won the runner-up honorable mention ribbon at the Rain Olympics. Will we never be rid of the" gimpy kid of capitals" image?
22 October 2005
i got nothing.
i am without a costume.
every year i do this - granted, usually i have another week to procrastinate. as a kid i would cry and then pull something random out of my closet as my parents threatened to leave for the candy pilaging without me. but now there isnt even a sugar high and the promise of bartering more seriously undertaken (sometimes for days) than any monopoly railroad trade.
and as much as i'd like to complete the "maurice" third along with my cohorts "the space cowboy", "the gangster of love" and our hanger-on "joker", i don't feel up to the amount of banter maintence such a choice requires.
why can't it just be another weekend of "buy two get one free" screw-top wine?
every year i do this - granted, usually i have another week to procrastinate. as a kid i would cry and then pull something random out of my closet as my parents threatened to leave for the candy pilaging without me. but now there isnt even a sugar high and the promise of bartering more seriously undertaken (sometimes for days) than any monopoly railroad trade.
and as much as i'd like to complete the "maurice" third along with my cohorts "the space cowboy", "the gangster of love" and our hanger-on "joker", i don't feel up to the amount of banter maintence such a choice requires.
why can't it just be another weekend of "buy two get one free" screw-top wine?
20 October 2005
yo bitch
so due to the lameness of Blogspot, I was required to start this account just for the priviledge of posting on my friends blogs. who said the internet was a freespeech zone?
anyway, yeah.
i doubt i will post in here since i already have 3 d-x accounts and i feel dirty just typing this.... though i must admit the thrill of host-cheating is intoxicating, Hollywood was right.
Maybe I'll become a serial blogger. Maybe Blogspot will become as necessary as breathing and secret trysts will be arranged on anonymous servers and in strange internet cafes. But d-x might find out. Blogspot will threaten to tell, jealous of sharing my inestimably clever rants. Eventually I'll shoot Blogspot in the bathtub, a final end to a sordid affair.
I never should have let this happen. You owe me Rutledge.
anyway, yeah.
i doubt i will post in here since i already have 3 d-x accounts and i feel dirty just typing this.... though i must admit the thrill of host-cheating is intoxicating, Hollywood was right.
Maybe I'll become a serial blogger. Maybe Blogspot will become as necessary as breathing and secret trysts will be arranged on anonymous servers and in strange internet cafes. But d-x might find out. Blogspot will threaten to tell, jealous of sharing my inestimably clever rants. Eventually I'll shoot Blogspot in the bathtub, a final end to a sordid affair.
I never should have let this happen. You owe me Rutledge.
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