I have this fantasy where i'm one of those smoky, sultry babes that has a witty double entendre to reply to every remark, no matter how mundane or inconsequential. In my fantasy, a routine remark on the weather can turn into a steamy make-out session in seconds, because my words are so saucy and seductive that i create an atmosphere of constant eroticism and irresistible sensuality.
In reality, the responses that usually occur to me are less "sexy and witty" and more "awkward and slightly horrifying". Fortunately for me, i manage to keep the vast majority of these remarks in my head. Fortunately for you, i have compiled them here.
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
John: "I'm updating my webpages."
Me: "I'm updating my vagina."
What? No. That's not sexy. That's not even a thing.
John: "I just like to manhandle you sometimes."
Me: "I like to handle your man. Your little man. Your penis."
Stop. Just stop talking. If you have to explain it this much even to yourself, it's not sexy.
Showing posts with label classy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classy. Show all posts
Monday, January 19, 2015
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
more sketchy things i have done
I went to a slightly grimy Massachusetts sports bar with some friends. The bouncer was checking IDs at the door, and was giving us a hard time. I don't know if he was just in a bad mood or if he was genuinely suspicious of us, but he looked at my Maryland ID, and then glared at me, and then took his time deliberating. The next time that he peered at me in dim light of the streetlamp, i stared him down. He apologized and handed me my ID, and let us in without another word.
One time, i placed an order from Athena's Home Novelties for some body chocolate FOR A FRIEND. And when my order arrived, it was accompanied by a whole box of things that someone else had ordered and that had mistakenly been shipped to me. There was tingly lube, massage oil, a "Good Head" lollipop, a starter bondage kit, two bullet vibrators, and other assorted goodies. It took me a few days to decide whether or not it was worthwhile to let the company know of the mistake.
One time, i placed an order from Athena's Home Novelties for some body chocolate FOR A FRIEND. And when my order arrived, it was accompanied by a whole box of things that someone else had ordered and that had mistakenly been shipped to me. There was tingly lube, massage oil, a "Good Head" lollipop, a starter bondage kit, two bullet vibrators, and other assorted goodies. It took me a few days to decide whether or not it was worthwhile to let the company know of the mistake.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
I'm not a theologian, but i do like almond butter.
I love peanut butter. I mean, i have a soul, so obviously i love peanut butter. I went through a chunky phase in elementary/middle school, but somewhere around 7th or 8th grade, i switched to creamy and never looked back. Bizarrely, i don't like peanuts. Meaning i no longer enjoy chunky peanut butter at all, or Snickers bars, or a number of other peanutty treats. But peanut butter? Bring it on.
Lately, i've been making my own almond butter. This is weird for several reasons.
First of all, my tiny food processor isn't capable of turning almonds into the perfectly creamy butter that you find in a jar of Jif. It's pretty smooth and spreadable, but it's also sort of grainy. Not exactly like chunky peanut butter, more like grainy mustard. Now, i like almonds, so it's not really an issue per se, but it's definitely less delicious than i'd like it to be, which is why i haven't made peanut butter yet.
Second, i had never in my life tried almond butter until i made it. So it's not like i was buying up huge jars of the stuff and needed to save money. I honestly don't even remember why i decided to make it. I feel like i may have seen a recipe on one of the cooking blogs i read and thought, "I can do that!", but who even knows. Actually, the more i think about it the more certain i am that i just decided to make it. Welcome to my kitchen.
Third, i am now having so much fun making it that i'm trying to find more ways to eat it so i have an excuse to make more. I have eaten more almond butter in the past month than i have peanut butter in the past year. It's full of protein and light on sugar, salt, and preservatives, but it's also kind of fatty, especially since i add a tiny bit of coconut oil to help smooth it out (this also makes it infinitely more delicious). So i'm not sure if this new obsession is a good idea.
Fourth, despite the half jar of coconut honey almond butter and the full jar of cider spiced walnut/sunflower seed/pecan/almond butter currently in my fridge, i keep thinking of new combinations to try. Chocolate coconut walnut! Cinnamon pecan! Pumpkin spiced almond! I've even thought about savory ones, like coconut curry or roasted garlic with tahini. MAKE ALL THE FLAVORS! It's all i can do to rein in my enthusiasm. It helps that i recently got a roku player, so now i can watch Netflix IN MY BED. Suddenly, the idea of standing upright in the kitchen and watching Netflix on my laptop seems terrible. What is this, 2007? Next you're going to tell me i have to Google things on my laptop or tablet instead of my phone. No. If God wanted me to stand up and do things, or watch internet shows on a computer, He would not have invented roku. Which He clearly did, because it is very good. But my almond butter is very good, too. Like, spiritual gift-good. So i'm conflicted.
Who knew snack food could trigger a spiritual crisis? I'm going to have to meditate on this for a while. Excuse me while i eat home made chocolate ice cream and binge-watch The Office. Religiously.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
sticks and stones
I'm a poet. For a long time, i preferred the word "crap" to the word "shit" because i liked the sound of it better. It's like a slap: heavy and solid, it registers your frustration and disapproval firmly. "Shit", on the other hand, with its hissing sibilant and thin vowels, sounds like something a crotchety spinster aunt would whisper-scream at you in her fancy parlor. It's annoying and a little scary, but it can be ignored. But "crap"? Crap WILL be heard.
I'm a feminist. It infuriates me that so many swear words are feminine. I mean, we have "dick" and "cock", which are almost more comedic nonsense words than profanity these days. You can call your friend a dick in between bursts of laughter. And you can maybe do the same with "bitch", if the person is a very good friend. But "cunt"? No way. "Pussy" is a little tricky; if you're calling a person a pussy, it can be in a mean bullying way or in a joking fun way, teasing or harassing them for being a wimp, but if you're talking about getting pussy it almost always sounds gross (unless you read a lot of feminist, queer-friendly blogs, like i do. Those bitches can pull it off).
"Cunt", though. That's pretty much the worst one, right? "Fuck" is almost punctuation anymore, like the "like" of earlier decades. My first encounter with the word "fuck" was when i was two or three and i saw it spray-painted on the side of a building. I was with one of my older cousins, and i asked him what it meant. He told me that it was the king of all cuss words, and that i should never repeat it again, especially not to my mom. So i naturally went to my mom and asked her what it meant. Her definition was not much more satisfying, but she was certainly careful to make sure that i knew that it was the very worst word anyone could ever say and that i should never say it again. I heard it a lot more over the years, and saw it again and again in various places. I even began using it, daringly, when i was in college.
My first encounter with the word "cunt" was when i was about fifteen and caught part of a stand-up competition on Comedy Central. A female comic was talking about how someone had called her something rude, maybe "bitch" or "prude" or something; i can't recall. She said that they had clearly meant it to wound, but that she had barely registered the insult at all. "Maybe because I've been called **** so many times, I didn't even notice," she said. Comedy Central bleeped out the word so thoroughly that i couldn't even guess what it was. There were some startled noises from the audience, and some nervous laughter, and the comedian looked upset and uncomfortable. In an interview later, she said that she should have known better than to use the "C-word". I asked my mom what the "C-word" was and she flat-out refused to tell me. I ran into it again a few years later in a book and figured it out for myself.
In college, i had a friend who could out-cuss a Marine. She would say things like "the fuck-word" instead of "the f-word". If you tried to edit her for TV, she would barely be speaking in full sentences anymore. I have never heard her use the word "cunt". We did have a conversation once in which she referred to it as "the C-word", and explained that she hated it and refused to use it. In fact, i know lots of people (mostly women, but some men) who refuse to use that word.
This terrible word, too terrible to even be spray-painted on a building, too terrible to mention when choosing the "king of all cuss words", to terrible to speak aloud? This word means "vagina". So does "pussy", for that matter. And "bitch" just means female dog. "Dick" and "cock" mean penis.
A penis is, at worst, hilarious. A vagina is, at best, weak and cowardly and maybe a little gross. Maybe not even human.
I am a poet. I love the word "bitch". It has a heavy slap, like "crap", but it also has a slightly stabby quality. I love the word "pussy". I like the sputter of the "p", the derision of the "u", the slithery needles of the double "s". "Cunt" is deep and guttural and visceral, like "drunk" and "ugly" and "thrust". I love to say these words. I like to feel them in my mouth, to hear them in the air. I like the way they look on the page, the shapes they make with their black on white.
I am a feminist. I hate the words "bitch", "cunt", and "pussy". More and more, when i find myself irritated with someone (a bad driver, a terrible roommate, a character in Virtual Villagers), i find myself using the word "asshole". Everyone has one of those, so i'm more comfortable using it to express negative feelings. But i don't like that so much negativity is attached to the female body, and i don't like to promote that negativity on my own lips. Vaginas have just as much potential for comedy as penises. Penises can be every bit as weak and gross as vaginas. And both are capable of all kinds of ecstasy and beauty in the right context.
But "pussy" is really fun to say.
I'm a feminist. It infuriates me that so many swear words are feminine. I mean, we have "dick" and "cock", which are almost more comedic nonsense words than profanity these days. You can call your friend a dick in between bursts of laughter. And you can maybe do the same with "bitch", if the person is a very good friend. But "cunt"? No way. "Pussy" is a little tricky; if you're calling a person a pussy, it can be in a mean bullying way or in a joking fun way, teasing or harassing them for being a wimp, but if you're talking about getting pussy it almost always sounds gross (unless you read a lot of feminist, queer-friendly blogs, like i do. Those bitches can pull it off).
"Cunt", though. That's pretty much the worst one, right? "Fuck" is almost punctuation anymore, like the "like" of earlier decades. My first encounter with the word "fuck" was when i was two or three and i saw it spray-painted on the side of a building. I was with one of my older cousins, and i asked him what it meant. He told me that it was the king of all cuss words, and that i should never repeat it again, especially not to my mom. So i naturally went to my mom and asked her what it meant. Her definition was not much more satisfying, but she was certainly careful to make sure that i knew that it was the very worst word anyone could ever say and that i should never say it again. I heard it a lot more over the years, and saw it again and again in various places. I even began using it, daringly, when i was in college.
My first encounter with the word "cunt" was when i was about fifteen and caught part of a stand-up competition on Comedy Central. A female comic was talking about how someone had called her something rude, maybe "bitch" or "prude" or something; i can't recall. She said that they had clearly meant it to wound, but that she had barely registered the insult at all. "Maybe because I've been called **** so many times, I didn't even notice," she said. Comedy Central bleeped out the word so thoroughly that i couldn't even guess what it was. There were some startled noises from the audience, and some nervous laughter, and the comedian looked upset and uncomfortable. In an interview later, she said that she should have known better than to use the "C-word". I asked my mom what the "C-word" was and she flat-out refused to tell me. I ran into it again a few years later in a book and figured it out for myself.
In college, i had a friend who could out-cuss a Marine. She would say things like "the fuck-word" instead of "the f-word". If you tried to edit her for TV, she would barely be speaking in full sentences anymore. I have never heard her use the word "cunt". We did have a conversation once in which she referred to it as "the C-word", and explained that she hated it and refused to use it. In fact, i know lots of people (mostly women, but some men) who refuse to use that word.
This terrible word, too terrible to even be spray-painted on a building, too terrible to mention when choosing the "king of all cuss words", to terrible to speak aloud? This word means "vagina". So does "pussy", for that matter. And "bitch" just means female dog. "Dick" and "cock" mean penis.
A penis is, at worst, hilarious. A vagina is, at best, weak and cowardly and maybe a little gross. Maybe not even human.
I am a poet. I love the word "bitch". It has a heavy slap, like "crap", but it also has a slightly stabby quality. I love the word "pussy". I like the sputter of the "p", the derision of the "u", the slithery needles of the double "s". "Cunt" is deep and guttural and visceral, like "drunk" and "ugly" and "thrust". I love to say these words. I like to feel them in my mouth, to hear them in the air. I like the way they look on the page, the shapes they make with their black on white.
I am a feminist. I hate the words "bitch", "cunt", and "pussy". More and more, when i find myself irritated with someone (a bad driver, a terrible roommate, a character in Virtual Villagers), i find myself using the word "asshole". Everyone has one of those, so i'm more comfortable using it to express negative feelings. But i don't like that so much negativity is attached to the female body, and i don't like to promote that negativity on my own lips. Vaginas have just as much potential for comedy as penises. Penises can be every bit as weak and gross as vaginas. And both are capable of all kinds of ecstasy and beauty in the right context.
But "pussy" is really fun to say.
Monday, July 1, 2013
i'm too sleepy to think of a title
1. "For a long time, I've puzzled over those two lines from that bikini post that everyone's been talking about. Is it really that simple? I just . . . save some extra cash from baby-sitting? Are we living in the adult world? With adult women who pay bills and work jobs and have to feed themselves and pay back student loans?
'It's just a little extra cash' has me scratching my head. If there's anything that solidifies modesty culture as the domain of the suburban, middle class, white, evangelical church, it's this 'it's just a little extra cash' attitude."
This one hit me hard. First of all, i'm a "curvy" (fat) double D. I have big, full breasts and round hips and my gay boyfriend recently told me that my ass was amazing. I have a lot of skin to cover up, is what i'm saying. I have hundreds of camisoles and tank tops, because if i don't layer them under my shirts and dresses, i show too much cleavage and/or midriff. I have tights and leggings to cover my legs under skirts. I wear the longer-cut shorts from Old Navy to keep my thighs in check. I spend a lot of money on clothes, and on modesty clothes (like tank tops and leggings), and i have a whole complicated system for figuring out what i can wear to work, vs. what i can wear to church, vs. what i can wear on a date, vs. what i can wear at my boyfriend's parents' house, etc. It's a lot of time, and a lot of money, and a lot of fabric. Packing for a weekend is an ordeal. Packing for longer than that requires medication (which i can't afford, so i buy $7 bottle of chocolate flavored wine and call it a day). So now we're talking extra baggage fees, carrying heavy suitcases on the train, buying a larger suitcase in the first place, and so forth. And that's just packing. I haven't even touched on clothing storage in my own house. In other words, it's not just a little extra cash to buy the more modest bathing suit. It's a little more cash for every garment you ever own, plus extra cash to find places to put all of those garments.
Second, a little more cash for me right now is the difference between eating fresh veggies, pasta, chicken, fruit, yogurt, oatmeal, salmon, eggs, mushrooms, salads, and drinking water and coffee (and yes, the occasional $7 bottle of chocolate flavored wine) for three healthy, satisfying meals a day, and eating rice and beans twice a day. Notice i'm not talking about preparing gourmet feasts of veal steak and oysters and toasted Brie and ordering sushi and pizza every weekend. I'm talking about eating real, healthy food that i prepare myself. I've lived on rice and beans before. I'm not eager to go back to that. It's only a couple of extra dollars for this one bathing suit, and only a couple of extra dollars per tank top to layer under your clothes, and only a couple of extra dollars per cardigan to layer over them, and only a couple of extra dollars for the longer shorts, and then suddenly your bank account has nine dollars and seventy-three cents left in it and you haven't bought groceries yet. I have lived (and am living) this reality. Modesty is sometimes purchased at the expense of physical health.
2. "Figuring out my stance on homosexuality felt like a life and death decision. When I described the intensity of my concern to other Christians, most would say, "but, why? You don't even have a gay family member." This response was very confusing to me. Isn't the whole point of Christianity that we are all family? . . .
And while we're at it . . . that still, small voice suggests to me often that He'd appreciate if Christians picked up a couple more issues other than homosexuality and abortion to address. You know, maybe a couple He actually mentioned . . . like care for the poor and sick and lonely and hungry and imprisoned and widowed and orphaned and recently immigrated. Maybe we should all be required to pick an issue that requires US to change and not OTHERS to change. I think that'd be good."
3. Shame has no place in the Kingdom of Heaven. Let's not get into the habit now.
4. Yup, this is pretty much Jesus.
'It's just a little extra cash' has me scratching my head. If there's anything that solidifies modesty culture as the domain of the suburban, middle class, white, evangelical church, it's this 'it's just a little extra cash' attitude."
This one hit me hard. First of all, i'm a "curvy" (fat) double D. I have big, full breasts and round hips and my gay boyfriend recently told me that my ass was amazing. I have a lot of skin to cover up, is what i'm saying. I have hundreds of camisoles and tank tops, because if i don't layer them under my shirts and dresses, i show too much cleavage and/or midriff. I have tights and leggings to cover my legs under skirts. I wear the longer-cut shorts from Old Navy to keep my thighs in check. I spend a lot of money on clothes, and on modesty clothes (like tank tops and leggings), and i have a whole complicated system for figuring out what i can wear to work, vs. what i can wear to church, vs. what i can wear on a date, vs. what i can wear at my boyfriend's parents' house, etc. It's a lot of time, and a lot of money, and a lot of fabric. Packing for a weekend is an ordeal. Packing for longer than that requires medication (which i can't afford, so i buy $7 bottle of chocolate flavored wine and call it a day). So now we're talking extra baggage fees, carrying heavy suitcases on the train, buying a larger suitcase in the first place, and so forth. And that's just packing. I haven't even touched on clothing storage in my own house. In other words, it's not just a little extra cash to buy the more modest bathing suit. It's a little more cash for every garment you ever own, plus extra cash to find places to put all of those garments.
Second, a little more cash for me right now is the difference between eating fresh veggies, pasta, chicken, fruit, yogurt, oatmeal, salmon, eggs, mushrooms, salads, and drinking water and coffee (and yes, the occasional $7 bottle of chocolate flavored wine) for three healthy, satisfying meals a day, and eating rice and beans twice a day. Notice i'm not talking about preparing gourmet feasts of veal steak and oysters and toasted Brie and ordering sushi and pizza every weekend. I'm talking about eating real, healthy food that i prepare myself. I've lived on rice and beans before. I'm not eager to go back to that. It's only a couple of extra dollars for this one bathing suit, and only a couple of extra dollars per tank top to layer under your clothes, and only a couple of extra dollars per cardigan to layer over them, and only a couple of extra dollars for the longer shorts, and then suddenly your bank account has nine dollars and seventy-three cents left in it and you haven't bought groceries yet. I have lived (and am living) this reality. Modesty is sometimes purchased at the expense of physical health.
2. "Figuring out my stance on homosexuality felt like a life and death decision. When I described the intensity of my concern to other Christians, most would say, "but, why? You don't even have a gay family member." This response was very confusing to me. Isn't the whole point of Christianity that we are all family? . . .
And while we're at it . . . that still, small voice suggests to me often that He'd appreciate if Christians picked up a couple more issues other than homosexuality and abortion to address. You know, maybe a couple He actually mentioned . . . like care for the poor and sick and lonely and hungry and imprisoned and widowed and orphaned and recently immigrated. Maybe we should all be required to pick an issue that requires US to change and not OTHERS to change. I think that'd be good."
3. Shame has no place in the Kingdom of Heaven. Let's not get into the habit now.
4. Yup, this is pretty much Jesus.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Lady Problems
So i have a list for this year. I have a list of "responsible adult get my life started" things that i need to do in order to feel like a responsible adult and to start living the life i want to have. They range from the simple and obvious (change my official residence from Maryland to Massachusetts) to the slightly more complex but completely necessary (find some doctors that accept out-of-state insurance and start scheduling check-ups for the first time since 2009) to the specific and expensive (register to take teaching licensure exams).
These items have been on my to-do list since graduating from college in May 2011. Some of them have been postponed because i couldn't afford to do them, some because they were important but not urgent, and some because i forgot. But it's getting more and more important that i figure this shit out. For one thing, i can't do my student teaching until i take and pass my exams, and i can't graduate until i do my student teaching, and i can't get a teaching job and leave my current job until i graduate. So i kinda need to take those exams. And lately i've been having some weird circulation issues that may or may not be indicative of something more serious, so i should probably get some check-ups and whatnot.
Anyway. Tomorrow, i am taking some personal time in the morning to visit the RMV and become a Massachusetts resident. I'm excited -- i like living in Massachusetts, and i've known for about five years now that this day would come eventually, and having that Massachusetts ID will make it a lot easier to get alcohol, but i am NOT enthusiastic about spending time in the RMV (or the DMV, or the MVA, if you live in other parts of the country. Whatever you call it, i think we can all agree that it sucks). But i'll bring a book, and by the time i leave that will be one more thing crossed off of my list. Next item: get my cat fixed. And then get back on birth control.
These items have been on my to-do list since graduating from college in May 2011. Some of them have been postponed because i couldn't afford to do them, some because they were important but not urgent, and some because i forgot. But it's getting more and more important that i figure this shit out. For one thing, i can't do my student teaching until i take and pass my exams, and i can't graduate until i do my student teaching, and i can't get a teaching job and leave my current job until i graduate. So i kinda need to take those exams. And lately i've been having some weird circulation issues that may or may not be indicative of something more serious, so i should probably get some check-ups and whatnot.
Anyway. Tomorrow, i am taking some personal time in the morning to visit the RMV and become a Massachusetts resident. I'm excited -- i like living in Massachusetts, and i've known for about five years now that this day would come eventually, and having that Massachusetts ID will make it a lot easier to get alcohol, but i am NOT enthusiastic about spending time in the RMV (or the DMV, or the MVA, if you live in other parts of the country. Whatever you call it, i think we can all agree that it sucks). But i'll bring a book, and by the time i leave that will be one more thing crossed off of my list. Next item: get my cat fixed. And then get back on birth control.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
shopping 12/10
- half and half
- Degree clinical strength deodorant (2 pack)
- Frank's Red Hot wing sauce
- white bra
- nude bra
- grey bra
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
shopping 11/27
- silver, green, & red gift bags & tissue paper
- cat carrier
- pregnancy test
- milk
- half and half
- sugar
- brown sugar
- laundry detergent
Saturday, November 17, 2012
oh hey
So. Um.
Posting has been a little erratic lately. I do know that. Sorry.
All i can really say is that i've been so busy actually doing things that i have no time to write about them. I'll give you guys a quick synopsis of the past month and a half, and then we'll call it even, k?
So, in October, one of my best friends married her best friend, and i was a bridesmaid. So Boyfriend and i took a train, which arrived in Philly at 4:30 am, and then we waited for the rental car place to open. Then when it did, they apparently required a deposit (which they had not told us when we made the reservation and which he has never had to pay before when he has rented a car), and since he didn't have enough money in his account to cover the whole thing, his card was declined. So he made some angry phone calls, and i pulled out my iPad and transferred some money from my savings account and paid for the rental car. Then we went out to the parking lot, and our car was blocked in by three other cars. We called the office to ask them to move it, and then sat there for twenty minutes waiting. Finally, someone came out and walked around the three cars blocking us, looking confused, until Boyfriend got out and said, "Hey, can you move one of these cars so we can get out?" The guy looked more confused. Apparently, the office had told him to move a car, but not which car or why they needed it moved. Another ten minutes went by before we could leave. We slept at the hotel for a few hours, and then went to set up the church/rehearse/have the rehearsal dinner. Then the other bridesmaids and i stayed at the bride's parents' house. Then the wedding, and then the reception, and then Boyfriend and i went back to our hotel and passed out, exhausted. We checked out early the next morning, because our train left at 7:30. The rental car place wasn't open, and the gate to get into the rental lot wouldn't open, so we had to leave the car in the regular parking garage. A few hours later, when we were on the train, we got a rude phone call from the office, demanding to know where the car was. The story ends with Boyfriend writing an angry letter to the rental company.
The following weekend, we went to see Ingrid Michaelson on her acoustic tour with Katie Herzig. It was honestly one of the best shows i have ever seen. Both ladies were enormously talented, obviously, but they were also both very laid back and friendly and chatty. The whole thing felt like sitting in coffee shop, watching your friend perform. It was really lovely. Boyfriend and i had an amazing hotel room, and we spent some time cuddling, and antiquing, and exploring, and doing other things. On our way back home, we stopped at a state liquor store (we were in New Hampshire), and stocked up.
Then there was a hurricane. I was making myself dinner and drinking a rum and coke, when my roommates invited me to hang out. So i grabbed a bottle of wine and went downstairs, where we played Cards Against Humanity and i drank nearly the whole bottle of wine on my own. Then we took a break, and i went upstairs and got my special Black Velvet Toasted Caramel whiskey. We mixed it with apple cider and the rest of the evening is kind of a blur. I know i ate some pizza at one point. The next day, i took a sick day. Partly because i wanted to do laundry and never take any sick time and was out of vacation and personal time, and partly because i was too hung over to go into work.
Then i was proofreading and editing a paper for a guy in an MBA program. English was not his first language, and business is not my thing, so it was a lot of work. But it's the kind of work i love, so it was awesome.
Then Boyfriend and i had some serious discussions, and then i wrote him a whole bunch of love letters. Like, pen to paper, envelope, send through snail mail love letters that our grandchildren will read over one day. I know. How cute are we?
And then we organized our Thanksgiving trip down to Maryland to see my family and eat pie.
And finally, i and one of my downstairs neighbors have started an informal writing workshop group. So far, it's just the two of us, but we're hoping to expand soon. So i was revising old things, and realizing that everything i write should just be a sonnet and i should stop pretending that it isn't, and that i've missed this, and then i sent him two poems and he sent me a one-act play and we will meet this weekend to workshop them.
Oh! And i've also started going to the gym 3ish times a week. I do mountain climbing on the treadmill to a 90's pop music playlist, except for when i forget my iPod, in which case i watch Frasier instead. And then i drink a lot of water and eat some almonds or cashews and then go home and order a calzone or some Chinese food and eat it all in one sitting while watching The Office. It feels so great to be healthy.
Posting has been a little erratic lately. I do know that. Sorry.
All i can really say is that i've been so busy actually doing things that i have no time to write about them. I'll give you guys a quick synopsis of the past month and a half, and then we'll call it even, k?
So, in October, one of my best friends married her best friend, and i was a bridesmaid. So Boyfriend and i took a train, which arrived in Philly at 4:30 am, and then we waited for the rental car place to open. Then when it did, they apparently required a deposit (which they had not told us when we made the reservation and which he has never had to pay before when he has rented a car), and since he didn't have enough money in his account to cover the whole thing, his card was declined. So he made some angry phone calls, and i pulled out my iPad and transferred some money from my savings account and paid for the rental car. Then we went out to the parking lot, and our car was blocked in by three other cars. We called the office to ask them to move it, and then sat there for twenty minutes waiting. Finally, someone came out and walked around the three cars blocking us, looking confused, until Boyfriend got out and said, "Hey, can you move one of these cars so we can get out?" The guy looked more confused. Apparently, the office had told him to move a car, but not which car or why they needed it moved. Another ten minutes went by before we could leave. We slept at the hotel for a few hours, and then went to set up the church/rehearse/have the rehearsal dinner. Then the other bridesmaids and i stayed at the bride's parents' house. Then the wedding, and then the reception, and then Boyfriend and i went back to our hotel and passed out, exhausted. We checked out early the next morning, because our train left at 7:30. The rental car place wasn't open, and the gate to get into the rental lot wouldn't open, so we had to leave the car in the regular parking garage. A few hours later, when we were on the train, we got a rude phone call from the office, demanding to know where the car was. The story ends with Boyfriend writing an angry letter to the rental company.
The following weekend, we went to see Ingrid Michaelson on her acoustic tour with Katie Herzig. It was honestly one of the best shows i have ever seen. Both ladies were enormously talented, obviously, but they were also both very laid back and friendly and chatty. The whole thing felt like sitting in coffee shop, watching your friend perform. It was really lovely. Boyfriend and i had an amazing hotel room, and we spent some time cuddling, and antiquing, and exploring, and doing other things. On our way back home, we stopped at a state liquor store (we were in New Hampshire), and stocked up.
Then there was a hurricane. I was making myself dinner and drinking a rum and coke, when my roommates invited me to hang out. So i grabbed a bottle of wine and went downstairs, where we played Cards Against Humanity and i drank nearly the whole bottle of wine on my own. Then we took a break, and i went upstairs and got my special Black Velvet Toasted Caramel whiskey. We mixed it with apple cider and the rest of the evening is kind of a blur. I know i ate some pizza at one point. The next day, i took a sick day. Partly because i wanted to do laundry and never take any sick time and was out of vacation and personal time, and partly because i was too hung over to go into work.
Then i was proofreading and editing a paper for a guy in an MBA program. English was not his first language, and business is not my thing, so it was a lot of work. But it's the kind of work i love, so it was awesome.
Then Boyfriend and i had some serious discussions, and then i wrote him a whole bunch of love letters. Like, pen to paper, envelope, send through snail mail love letters that our grandchildren will read over one day. I know. How cute are we?
And then we organized our Thanksgiving trip down to Maryland to see my family and eat pie.
And finally, i and one of my downstairs neighbors have started an informal writing workshop group. So far, it's just the two of us, but we're hoping to expand soon. So i was revising old things, and realizing that everything i write should just be a sonnet and i should stop pretending that it isn't, and that i've missed this, and then i sent him two poems and he sent me a one-act play and we will meet this weekend to workshop them.
Oh! And i've also started going to the gym 3ish times a week. I do mountain climbing on the treadmill to a 90's pop music playlist, except for when i forget my iPod, in which case i watch Frasier instead. And then i drink a lot of water and eat some almonds or cashews and then go home and order a calzone or some Chinese food and eat it all in one sitting while watching The Office. It feels so great to be healthy.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Reason #15 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend
I live with all girls. I have three roommates, and they are all female. So who the hell bought fucking single ply toilet paper?!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Why I Can't Go Out In Public 2
Or maybe i just shouldn't go to Fuji anymore. Clearly, i get in a lot of trouble at that restaurant.
Clarissa and i were having lunch there a few weeks ago, as a combination farewell date/sushi eating lesson. I hadn't been sleeping and, if i remember correctly, hadn't had my coffee that day. Consequently, i was a little out of it.
As we chatted and i sipped my soda, i glanced at the glass and noticed something white in the ice cubes. I very smoothly and surreptitiously fished it out as Clarissa was telling me a story, and unfolded it. It was the wrapper from my chopsticks.
I stared at it for a moment, until Clarissa noticed i wasn't listening anymore and looked to see what had distracted me.
"Did you just take that out of your drink?" she asked.
"Yeah," i said, still bemused.
"Do you want to get a new drink?"
Here's the thing about Fuji: the soda comes in a can. They bring you a can and a glass of ice with a straw. So it would have been difficult for them to miss it a folded chopstick wrapper shoved into the ice cubes. Then again, i missed it and it was my soda. But still, where did thelighter fluid chopstick wrapper come from? (Arrested Development? Anybody?)
I thought about all of this for a moment. I also tried to remember what i had done with my wrapper when i removed it from my chopsticks.
"Um, no," i said at last. "It's just a wrapper, and i've already been drinking from it, so i can't imagine that i'll suffer any ill effects. Plus, i'm not really a hundred percent certain that i didn't put it in there myself and just forget."
Clarissa stared at me wordlessly for a minute.
"I'm really tired," i explained. "I do weird things sometimes when i'm tired."
But you know what, Clarissa? It's not even that weird. People do things like that all the time: leave their car keys in the freezer, put the empty cereal box back on the shelf, forget their child at WalMart, whatever. Sometimes you get distracted and do something that seems logical at the time and only strikes you as odd in hindsight. So stop judging.
And by the way, totally still alive. So it was fine. And i ate at Fuji today and spilled nothing and found no weird things in my drink. So, progress?
Clarissa and i were having lunch there a few weeks ago, as a combination farewell date/sushi eating lesson. I hadn't been sleeping and, if i remember correctly, hadn't had my coffee that day. Consequently, i was a little out of it.
 |
| This thing, but less crumpled and more folded. And more soaked in Coke. |
I stared at it for a moment, until Clarissa noticed i wasn't listening anymore and looked to see what had distracted me.
"Did you just take that out of your drink?" she asked.
"Yeah," i said, still bemused.
"Do you want to get a new drink?"
Here's the thing about Fuji: the soda comes in a can. They bring you a can and a glass of ice with a straw. So it would have been difficult for them to miss it a folded chopstick wrapper shoved into the ice cubes. Then again, i missed it and it was my soda. But still, where did the
I thought about all of this for a moment. I also tried to remember what i had done with my wrapper when i removed it from my chopsticks.
"Um, no," i said at last. "It's just a wrapper, and i've already been drinking from it, so i can't imagine that i'll suffer any ill effects. Plus, i'm not really a hundred percent certain that i didn't put it in there myself and just forget."
Clarissa stared at me wordlessly for a minute.
"I'm really tired," i explained. "I do weird things sometimes when i'm tired."
But you know what, Clarissa? It's not even that weird. People do things like that all the time: leave their car keys in the freezer, put the empty cereal box back on the shelf, forget their child at WalMart, whatever. Sometimes you get distracted and do something that seems logical at the time and only strikes you as odd in hindsight. So stop judging.
And by the way, totally still alive. So it was fine. And i ate at Fuji today and spilled nothing and found no weird things in my drink. So, progress?
Monday, July 16, 2012
playing house, part two
When someone bought the lot with the mountain on it, the dirt was carted away somewhere. There was a smaller mountain further down the street where we played, but it wasn't the same. One day, when i was eight or nine, i was at the smaller mountain and i made a strange discovery. There was a cedar log -- really almost a whole tree -- abandoned in the dirt. There were no large trees for miles around, and this was not fresh. The branches and roots had been stripped away long since, and the trunk was weathered and dry. It had not been there before, but it had appeared that day, quite inexplicably. I decided that i needed to have it, and i dragged it all the way back to our house, a good two or three blocks.
We had a dirt pile in our back yard (you know, until i wrote this all out, i had no idea how many large piles of dirt were integral parts of my childhood. I really was Tom Sawyer.), left over from when we had put in our pool. It was an above-ground pool, but it was necessary to dig out a small foundation to protect it from tornadoes and windstorms and vigorous swimming. Anyway, with the disappearance of the mountain, the dirt pile in the back yard became more important to us. Though it was nowhere near as large as the dirt pile down the street, it was a lot closer.
I brought the tree to this pile and set it up in the "house" i had carved into one side. Pieces of the aforementioned playhouse were sometimes integrated into this particular house. My mom hated the dirt pile and often wanted us to move the dirt to the garden, where it could be spread around and used and stop being an eyesore next to the deck. But we loved it and couldn't stand the thought of losing our favorite outside play space.
Somewhere around this same time, my grandparents had a rotting tree in their back yard. Afraid of it falling and breaking the swingset or the shed or the house, or even falling into the neighbor's yard, my grandfather cut it down preemptively. It was a big job and took some time to complete. Step one was piling the branches and logs into a huge stack, easily as tall as a house. While step two was formulating, i began examining the beaver dam-like pile in the yard and discovered that the branches had naturally formed a hollow space in the center. With some judicious rearranging of sticks and wriggling of my childish frame, i managed to crawl inside.
This was my house for what felt like weeks, but was probably no more than ten days. One day, i went to my grandparents' house to discover that my grandfather had fed all of the wood into a mulcher. My home was dissolved. There were other log homes from other fallen trees, but there was never another beaver dam.
Yesterday, my boyfriend asked me to tell him a story. I was bored at work and he was bored at home and we were on Facebook chat, and i started telling him stories about all of my childhood "houses". When i told him about my beaver dam and how sad i was at its loss, he said, "That's because it wasn't our house. If you still had your house there today, we wouldn't be able to live together. You would have had a happy little life by yourself in the beaver dam-esque abode, and never have come to Quincy to meet me . . . and we would never have loved each other."
"I would always love you," i replied. "I just wouldn't know that it was you."
I've been waiting a long time for him.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
playing house, part one
 |
| Like this, but slightly different colors. And slightly less creepy children. |
We would place some pieces on their sides, arranging them in a rough rectangle, and imagining the walls and ceiling between the gaps. I seem to recall that we had each claimed one storage space in the house; it had cupboards or drawers or something in the "kitchen" that we used to hide our favorite stones and our collections of the colored glass we used as currency. My childhood was so Tom Sawyer-esque.
We lived in a very new development. We were pretty much the only house for miles for the first few years. Even once people started moving in, there were no houses in our immediate vicinity. They were all a few blocks away.
Each time a new house was built, the dirt from the foundation was dumped into a pile across the street from our house. Before long, the pile was over twenty feet high. It was our mountain, and my siblings and cousins and i played on it nearly every day. We mounted expeditions to the peak, we played hide-and-seek in the foothills, we searched for special rocks and sticks and flowers, we claimed different sections as our own property, we dared each other to leap from the summit, we sledded down the steep side and almost into the road. It was more than our house -- it was our country, and we worked the land together.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
well okay then
This weekend, John and i went to Bethesda to visit my brother. My aunt brought us a copy of our hometown newspaper, which featured a front-page story about my brother going home for the first time and seeing friends and family.
This story was just above one about a bee colony being moved.
The bee colony story beat out the article about bomb threats to local schools and my gynecologist running for congress. The bomb threat story had a typo in the name of the town.
This is the same town where there was once a fifteen minute traffic delay because a cow got onto the bridge.
You can't make this shit up.
This story was just above one about a bee colony being moved.
The bee colony story beat out the article about bomb threats to local schools and my gynecologist running for congress. The bomb threat story had a typo in the name of the town.
This is the same town where there was once a fifteen minute traffic delay because a cow got onto the bridge.
You can't make this shit up.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Reason #6 Why I Should Live With My Boyfriend
Pammer just asked me if cats can masturbate.
"I really don't know that much about cat sexuality," i told her.
She continued to try to have a totally serious conversation with me about cat masturbation.
"I really don't know that much about cat sexuality," i told her.
She continued to try to have a totally serious conversation with me about cat masturbation.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Hector Elizondo
I am a regular reader of The Bloggess, who is way better at everything in life than most people will ever be at anything, and who owns a giant metal chicken named Beyonce. I once sent my boyfriend a link to the story where Jenny first procured Beyonce, because i thought it was a funny example of the kind of thing that would happen in our household one day. He immediately responded that i was never allowed to have a giant metal chicken. It escalated into a Facebook debate involving two of our other friends. This fight, by the way? Happened on the weekend we were celebrating my birthday. And Christmas. (Rude, John. Rude.)
And THEN!!! Jenny bought another, less giant metal chicken, and offered it up as a prize in this post. Obviously, the chicken in question was named Hector Elizondo, but some other people disagreed with me and i did not win it, despite the flawless argument in my comment to Jenny:
My boyfriend and i had a fight on my birthday about whether or not i was allowed to have a Beyonce of my very own. If i win this one, it’s free, which means that it’s like a gift, which means that i HAVE to keep it. Because it would be rude not to. But maybe he’ll make me keep it in the attic and only bring it out when Jenny visits. But Jenny will probably NEVER visit, John, because we live in Massachusetts and she lives in Texas and we have never met! So it’s just going to be in the attic all the time? What’s the point of that?! I can’t believe how he tries to suppress my decorating instincts. Rude. I am so mad at him right now!
Anyway, once i had entered the contest, i waited until John and i were snuggling in bed one night to spring the ultimate bargaining chip: i would wear a wedding dress on our wedding day if he would let me have a giant metal chicken.
Let me give you some background: when i was fifteen or sixteen, a friend of mine got married. I was a bridesmaid. The stress and politics and bullshit involved in a wedding seemed unthinkably absurd to me. American wedding culture makes this "the bride's day", which makes me viscerally angry; the whole point of a wedding is that TWO people are in a RELATIONSHIP. I don't like to be the center of attention, and i especially don't want to be the center of attention on a day that is supposed to be about me and my HUSBAND. Furthermore, i hate planning, and big events, and spending unnecessary money, and pretty much everything about weddings. Don't get me wrong: i like marriage, and want to be married one day, and i am that girl that has been dreaming about big fancy beautiful weddings since i was three. But so much of the crap that goes along with weddings is just that: crap.
The solution seemed obvious: a near-elopement, where the only people invited are the ones who are so important to your lives, both as individuals and as a couple, that you couldn’t imagine your wedding day without them. Have a casual ceremony in someone’s back yard. Don't announce the date before-hand. Wear t-shirts and jeans. Carry a bouquet of wildflowers harvested from the side of the road. Have an open-house reception after the honeymoon for all the people who weren't invited.
I’m totally serious about the t-shirt and jeans thing, by the way. I imagined myself in a white t-shirt (to keep up the “bridal” appearance), blue jeans (something blue) my mother’s pearls (something borrowed), and white Old Navy flip-flops (brand new, of course). Agelseb insisted that i had to wear a veil, so i considered something simple and no more than elbow-length. Or maybe just fresh flowers in my hair and screw her.
But John was not happy with this. He really wanted me to wear a wedding gown.
What he doesn’t know (or won't until he reads this) is that i had already decided to wear a dress. I stumbled across THE dress one day, totally by accident, and knew instantly that i would be married in that gown. But i continued to tease John with casual dress ideas.
“Maybe i’ll wear the dress i wore on our first date. That was white.”
“Yeah, but it was also kind of . . . short. And tight.”
“Yeah. Sexy! You loved it, remember? You thought i looked totally hot.”
“Yeah, but for your wedding, you don’t really want to be . . . hot. You're supposed to be more elegant and -- you can still be casual! -- but it's more about, like, purity and love. Not just sexiness.”
“Well, i have that white sundress, too. It's longer and not so tight. Maybe i’ll just wear that.”
But Hector Elizondo proved John's undoing. In an attempt to butter John up to the inevitability of me one day owning a metal chicken of a yet-to-be-determined size, i promised him that i would wear a wedding dress if he would allow me to have a metal chicken. He agreed, and then became very proud of himself for having made a deal that did not require him to display said metal chicken (just as i had predicted he would). Little did he know that he had actually lost the battle, since i had already found THE dress and planned to buy it without telling him.
Now all i need is Hector Elizondo and my victory will be complete! And the thing that sweetens the victory? John is so determined for me to wear a wedding dress that he is now committed to helping me find a metal chicken, just so that i will be "forced" to hold up my end of the deal, which i was already going to anyway. Basically, i manipulated my boyfriend into doing something that i wanted in exchange for a promise that i would do something else i wanted to do.
This is going to be the best marriage ever.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Writing Retreat, Day 1
C and I had decided to buy supplies for the weekend. We therefore stopped at a liquor store before hitting the road in earnest. She had to get cash first, so i entered the store alone.
I was planning to buy wine, so the display of wine glasses just inside the door caught my attention immediately. I haggled with myself for a minute.
"Look! Only $4.99 for four wine glasses! That's such a great deal!"
"But how will you fit them in your suitcase?"
"I'll make room somehow."
"But you have so many wine glasses at home. You don't really need any more."
"But those are all Pammer's. I'll need my own when i move out."
"That's true, but . . . "
I grabbed the glasses before i could say anything else to change my mind and i set off to pick out some wine. C came in and saw me holding the glasses. I explained my conflict and that i as trying to decide if it would be worthwhile to buy them.
"Bear in mind that i have, like, 47 wine glasses at home," i told her.
"It's not worth it," she said.
The wine glasses went back and I bought two bottles of wine for just under twelve dollars total. Don't judge me.
I was planning to buy wine, so the display of wine glasses just inside the door caught my attention immediately. I haggled with myself for a minute.
"Look! Only $4.99 for four wine glasses! That's such a great deal!"
"But how will you fit them in your suitcase?"
"I'll make room somehow."
"But you have so many wine glasses at home. You don't really need any more."
"But those are all Pammer's. I'll need my own when i move out."
"That's true, but . . . "
I grabbed the glasses before i could say anything else to change my mind and i set off to pick out some wine. C came in and saw me holding the glasses. I explained my conflict and that i as trying to decide if it would be worthwhile to buy them.
"Bear in mind that i have, like, 47 wine glasses at home," i told her.
"It's not worth it," she said.
The wine glasses went back and I bought two bottles of wine for just under twelve dollars total. Don't judge me.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
sketchy things i have done
Camping
Once, when i was really little (like 4 or 5), my family went camping. Our particular campsite was a little removed from the bathrooms, which were on the other side of a little creek. One day, i needed to go to the bathroom. No one else needed to, so i decided to go alone.
Have i mentioned that i have a really terrible sense of direction?
Several hours later, i was wandering on the OTHER SIDE OF THE CAMPGROUND, crying and alone, and with (i was little, okay?) dampened drawers. A lady in a car stopped and asked if she could help me. I got in her car, and she took me to the bathroom. When i got out, my mom was there.
Tattoo
When i decided to get my second tattoo, one of my downstairs neighbors recommended a friend of his. My roommates and i drove to a slightly ghetto neighborhood and met the guy at his house. He explained that, while he was fully licensed to tattoo, his parlor was temporarily closed for a board of health violation. Apparently, the piercing guy was under investigation for performing a procedure he was not licensed for. According to my roommate's friend, the piercing guy was fully licensed, but the bitch at the board of health had it in for them. So he took us into the back room of his house, where i laid on the couch to be tattooed.
Turned out fine, by the way.
Bacchanal
When i was in Spain in 2007, i was invited to a "bacchanal". I was excited to see reenactments of Greek mythology, and was slightly disappointed to learn that, instead, it was just an insane party on the outskirts of town in an abandoned warehouse. (Man, i'm a nerd.) However, the warehouse was sort of decorated inside with fake grapevines, and i'm pretty sure Bacchus would have been thrilled to attend this shindig. I was going with two girls i had met the day before, the cousins of the woman i was staying with. They spoke very little English, and i spoke very little Spanish. Also, i couldn't remember their names. I think one of them was Laura? No, that was their friend.
We stopped on our way to buy two huge bottles of rum and two 2-liter bottles of Coke.
Throughout the evening, we drank all of what we had, bought some beers, and also shared whiskey and coke with strangers. My companions smoked some weed and offered it to me. (I declined.) Laura also did a few lines of coke in a van. She spent much of the rest of the evening (actually, by then it was early morning) asking me in broken English if i was mad at her for doing hard drugs.
At around 7:30 am, we got a cab back to their apartment and slept for a few hours.
Senior Week
When i was twelve, my cousin Lynne (thirteen at the time) was about to move to Utah. So our grandmother took us, along with Agelseb (12) and our friend Renee (13), to the beach. It was senior week, so the whole town was crowded with drunk and/or high teenagers hooking up on every available flat surface. Most of them were at least eighteen (or sixteen, with fake IDs), but several were older. And then there was us.
Our grandmother let us go out at night alone, as long as we didn't wander out of sight of the hotel. Lots of drunk/high boys tried to pick us up, but Agelseb's shrill declarations that we were twelve kept us (relatively) safe from harassment. We were just lucky that we didn't encounter anyone drunk and/or sketchy enough to risk jailbait.
Agelseb nearly gave our addresses and names to some guys with a video camera, though.
Theo
One time, i hooked up with a friend of mine while another friend slept on the floor next to the bed we were using. Yeah, that was gross.
Barnes and Noble
One time, my sister was visiting me at college. My boyfriend-at-the-time and i took her to B&N, because she and i both had Christmas gift cards to spend. Since none of us had a car, and the bus didn't go where we needed it to, we walked. About three and a half miles. In the dark. Next to and across three-lane highways. Without a map.
Redneck Roller Coaster
When i was seventeen, my friends Agelseb and "Fay" and i decided to have an adventure. The back roads are long and winding, and when you go around them fast it is VERY DANGEROUS. And really really fun.
But we were the good kids, so we always drove safely on those roads.
But Fay was about to start college, and i was about to go to Europe, and when i got back Agelseb and i would be starting college, and we figured that this was our last chance to do something young and reckless. In retrospect, we were wrong (but almost right, since we almost died). As i have since discovered, life is full of chances for dumb adventures.
We were driving far too fast around a bend when Fay lost control of the car. We were skidding toward someone's living room window when she yanked the wheel and sent us skidding toward the ditch and trees. Suddenly, we were safely on the road and the car was still. We still don't know how we survived. I still haven't told my parents.
Once, when i was really little (like 4 or 5), my family went camping. Our particular campsite was a little removed from the bathrooms, which were on the other side of a little creek. One day, i needed to go to the bathroom. No one else needed to, so i decided to go alone.
Have i mentioned that i have a really terrible sense of direction?
Several hours later, i was wandering on the OTHER SIDE OF THE CAMPGROUND, crying and alone, and with (i was little, okay?) dampened drawers. A lady in a car stopped and asked if she could help me. I got in her car, and she took me to the bathroom. When i got out, my mom was there.
Tattoo
When i decided to get my second tattoo, one of my downstairs neighbors recommended a friend of his. My roommates and i drove to a slightly ghetto neighborhood and met the guy at his house. He explained that, while he was fully licensed to tattoo, his parlor was temporarily closed for a board of health violation. Apparently, the piercing guy was under investigation for performing a procedure he was not licensed for. According to my roommate's friend, the piercing guy was fully licensed, but the bitch at the board of health had it in for them. So he took us into the back room of his house, where i laid on the couch to be tattooed.
Turned out fine, by the way.
Bacchanal
When i was in Spain in 2007, i was invited to a "bacchanal". I was excited to see reenactments of Greek mythology, and was slightly disappointed to learn that, instead, it was just an insane party on the outskirts of town in an abandoned warehouse. (Man, i'm a nerd.) However, the warehouse was sort of decorated inside with fake grapevines, and i'm pretty sure Bacchus would have been thrilled to attend this shindig. I was going with two girls i had met the day before, the cousins of the woman i was staying with. They spoke very little English, and i spoke very little Spanish. Also, i couldn't remember their names. I think one of them was Laura? No, that was their friend.
We stopped on our way to buy two huge bottles of rum and two 2-liter bottles of Coke.
Throughout the evening, we drank all of what we had, bought some beers, and also shared whiskey and coke with strangers. My companions smoked some weed and offered it to me. (I declined.) Laura also did a few lines of coke in a van. She spent much of the rest of the evening (actually, by then it was early morning) asking me in broken English if i was mad at her for doing hard drugs.
At around 7:30 am, we got a cab back to their apartment and slept for a few hours.
Senior Week
When i was twelve, my cousin Lynne (thirteen at the time) was about to move to Utah. So our grandmother took us, along with Agelseb (12) and our friend Renee (13), to the beach. It was senior week, so the whole town was crowded with drunk and/or high teenagers hooking up on every available flat surface. Most of them were at least eighteen (or sixteen, with fake IDs), but several were older. And then there was us.
Our grandmother let us go out at night alone, as long as we didn't wander out of sight of the hotel. Lots of drunk/high boys tried to pick us up, but Agelseb's shrill declarations that we were twelve kept us (relatively) safe from harassment. We were just lucky that we didn't encounter anyone drunk and/or sketchy enough to risk jailbait.
Agelseb nearly gave our addresses and names to some guys with a video camera, though.
Theo
One time, i hooked up with a friend of mine while another friend slept on the floor next to the bed we were using. Yeah, that was gross.
Barnes and Noble
One time, my sister was visiting me at college. My boyfriend-at-the-time and i took her to B&N, because she and i both had Christmas gift cards to spend. Since none of us had a car, and the bus didn't go where we needed it to, we walked. About three and a half miles. In the dark. Next to and across three-lane highways. Without a map.
Redneck Roller Coaster
When i was seventeen, my friends Agelseb and "Fay" and i decided to have an adventure. The back roads are long and winding, and when you go around them fast it is VERY DANGEROUS. And really really fun.
But we were the good kids, so we always drove safely on those roads.
But Fay was about to start college, and i was about to go to Europe, and when i got back Agelseb and i would be starting college, and we figured that this was our last chance to do something young and reckless. In retrospect, we were wrong (but almost right, since we almost died). As i have since discovered, life is full of chances for dumb adventures.
We were driving far too fast around a bend when Fay lost control of the car. We were skidding toward someone's living room window when she yanked the wheel and sent us skidding toward the ditch and trees. Suddenly, we were safely on the road and the car was still. We still don't know how we survived. I still haven't told my parents.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
winning
It was Saturday night, and my living room was one sip of wine away from a lesbian orgy.
One of my roommates used to sell sex toys from a company called Athena's. Although she is no longer an active representative (or "Goddess", as Athena's calls them), she still had lots of connections within the company. She and my other roommate decided to host a ladies-only party this weekend.
If you've never been to a sex toy party, think of it like a Tupperware party, but with fewer casseroles and more glitter and lube. It started out slow, with things like "Body Dew" (an oil that you mist onto your skin after showering to give yourself a healthy glow) and exfoliating scrubs. Our goddess for the evening, Juliet, demonstrated each product. For some, she chose a volunteer (usually me, since i was sitting next to her), and for some she simply passed around the sample and let everyone try it for themselves.
After the more innocuous beauty products, we moved on to pheromone-infused colognes and something called "Nipple Nibblers". This is a chapstick-like product applied -- you guessed it -- to the nipples. It is supposed to make them perky and produce a either a cool or warm tingling sensation. The exact effects differ from person to person. It is also flavored, for . . . well, for nibbling. For the Nipple Nibblers, Juliet passed the jar around and had each of us apply a small amount to our nipples. In the living room. With everyone else.
This was the last part of the evening with any pretensions to delicacy and innocence. Other tester products were given to girls to take into the bathroom, from whence they returned wreathed in smiles and sat back down awkwardly. And then we got to the toys. Let's just say that i no longer have any questions about anal sex or the different varieties of female orgasm and leave it at that.
At the end of the demonstration, we retired to the kitchen for penis cake and more wine, while girls went one by one into the living room to do their ordering privately. As hostesses, we were entitled to a discount rate based on the amount our friends had spent. Like commission-based store credit. Since one of my roommates was still entitled to her Athena's discount and i was not really in the market for anything, the whole credit went to one lucky roomie.
We're planning a co-ed (or Jack and Jill, to use the Athena's parlance) party for February. Right before Valentine's day. So that couples can . . . I can't think of any more polite euphemisms. It's so couples can get sexy with one another and singles can get sexy alone. Carissa, you are totally invited.
One of my roommates used to sell sex toys from a company called Athena's. Although she is no longer an active representative (or "Goddess", as Athena's calls them), she still had lots of connections within the company. She and my other roommate decided to host a ladies-only party this weekend.
If you've never been to a sex toy party, think of it like a Tupperware party, but with fewer casseroles and more glitter and lube. It started out slow, with things like "Body Dew" (an oil that you mist onto your skin after showering to give yourself a healthy glow) and exfoliating scrubs. Our goddess for the evening, Juliet, demonstrated each product. For some, she chose a volunteer (usually me, since i was sitting next to her), and for some she simply passed around the sample and let everyone try it for themselves.
After the more innocuous beauty products, we moved on to pheromone-infused colognes and something called "Nipple Nibblers". This is a chapstick-like product applied -- you guessed it -- to the nipples. It is supposed to make them perky and produce a either a cool or warm tingling sensation. The exact effects differ from person to person. It is also flavored, for . . . well, for nibbling. For the Nipple Nibblers, Juliet passed the jar around and had each of us apply a small amount to our nipples. In the living room. With everyone else.
This was the last part of the evening with any pretensions to delicacy and innocence. Other tester products were given to girls to take into the bathroom, from whence they returned wreathed in smiles and sat back down awkwardly. And then we got to the toys. Let's just say that i no longer have any questions about anal sex or the different varieties of female orgasm and leave it at that.
At the end of the demonstration, we retired to the kitchen for penis cake and more wine, while girls went one by one into the living room to do their ordering privately. As hostesses, we were entitled to a discount rate based on the amount our friends had spent. Like commission-based store credit. Since one of my roommates was still entitled to her Athena's discount and i was not really in the market for anything, the whole credit went to one lucky roomie.
We're planning a co-ed (or Jack and Jill, to use the Athena's parlance) party for February. Right before Valentine's day. So that couples can . . . I can't think of any more polite euphemisms. It's so couples can get sexy with one another and singles can get sexy alone. Carissa, you are totally invited.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
classy as shit 2
Today, i was eating a LeanPocket for lunch. Yeah, i know. Back to LeanPockets. Anyway, i was standing outside and talking to a friend, and when i took a bite, a huge glob of cheesy chicken goodness fell out on my sweater.
I looked at my friend, looked at my sweater, and proceeded to eat the LeanPocket filling off of my cardigan.
I looked at my friend, looked at my sweater, and proceeded to eat the LeanPocket filling off of my cardigan.
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