Girl's Guide to Life, Love and Poker|
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Been a long time, been a long time, been a long, lonely, lonely, lonely time . . .
Ok, well not so lonely really. This is plumb crazy -- I have been with Russ a bit over two months and we have both met eachother's parents. Yikes. Not so sure his mom liked me much . . . I'm from NY, they're from the hills of VA. Too bad people come with parents . . . parents that visit on a fairly regular visit. This guy has me exhausted. We go out several times a week, I really like him, but between work, taking a FIVE hour class on tuesday nights (Yes FIVE hours -- it's not humane), and Russ, I'm worn out. Today, I stayed in, I did some work, but at least I was home. I stayed in pj's most of the day (only dressing to get an icecream cone at DQ). So I thought of my blog, least of my priorities, like buying clothes or howling at the moon. However, like buying clothes and howling at the moon, blogging is at once fun, cathartic, and theraputic. I missed you, very much. I miss me. I took myself out to lunch, alone, for old time's sake. Oh, Jeremy IMed me the other week, just to see how I was. I'm not the only one that misses me, but he lost out. And Russ treats me better than anyone every has, he's sweet. I'm a luck lady to have found the big guy.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
In the Words of a Woody Guthrie Song: "Sooooooooo Looooong, It's been Good to Know Ya!"
Ah, I've had awkwarder moments. The post-dating exchange of a book and a dvd could have been much worse. I knew he was a bit of a pussy. For a split-second I imagined some shocking, theatrical, goodbye, where he would be nasty or perhaps violent. I was not worth it to him; I don't think anyone would be. To care about someone takes energy; I could smell his laziness a mile away (yes, I'm speaking figuratively, he didn't smell bad, infact his scent used to drive me mad. Side note: I'm sooo glad that when I built up the courage to smell the book I loaned him that was drenched with him, it did absolutlely NOTHING for me. YES! Resiliency!). It's funny how fickle the heart can be. I've been busy of late, and I haven't taken care of my blog the way I should. I will try to do better by him. But for once in a long time, perhaps the first time, I'm being cared for. It's new and exciting; fresh and scary; fast yet developing in a natural way. I eagerly await the familiarity that is already blooming. Sommmmmammmmabitch, I sure do like Russ, and so do my friends. And I really like his glasses (I helped him pick them out). How about that?
Monday, April 05, 2004
One Flew the Co(u)-Op(e): Ode to Poppa Bird
My Dad. Yes, he would have gone through the roof if anyone else had hit the side of the garage door opening, tearing a chunk of molding, and badly denting the car. But as my mother has pointed out at least twice that I've heard, he didn't say a word because HE was the one to back out of the garage half-assed. Yes, Pops can be a tad hippocritical at times. But he's had shining moments of being a really cool father and just an overall wonderful person. So this blog's for you, Dad! Well, this entry anyway. I recounted the following story to my date the other evening: when I was young, about nine or ten, we lived on the top floor of a six-story building in Queens, N.Y. My parents bedroom overlooked a little park-like sitting area (NY-style: four park benches on a patch of asphalt surrounded by 10 foot tall chainlink fences). By day the old yentahs would chat about co-op politics, trade motza ball soup recipes, feed stray cats, etc. The little sitting area was like a town square of sorts. By night it was a teen makeout spot. What, you might ask does this have to do with dear ole dad? I'm getting there! Every once in a while I would here my Dad call in a half whisper from his darkened bedroom, "Ann! Get the eggs!" Excitedly, I would run to the fridge with my mother whinning to the bedroom to no avail, "Nooo, Steve." To Late. With a dozen granades in hand, my father and I would launch an attack on the unsuspecting love birds below. We would try to stifle our giggles: our victims must not locate our position! I remember peeking out of the open window to see two or three couples running and cursing with riverlets of runny yellow down their shoulders. Macho achned teen boys hurling four letter words at the brick facade of the building while wiping the goo out of their eyes. I miss those days, it's been a long time since I last egged someone; I do get urges every now and again though. Ah, Dad. Thanks for the memories.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
(heavy breathing) Luke, I am your girlfriend (heavy breathing)
Russ seems nice . . . teacher, BIG guy, upstanding community member (yeah, I know what you're thinking, "whatever that means" but he IS). He's spent a month in Europe but is the biggest down home boy you could imagine. He got his professional wrestler's liscence so he could help draw a crowd at a charity event held at the high school where he teaches! How cool is that!?! He's a lot of what I've always imagined myself wanting AND he's coming on strong -- IM'ing me at work during planning period and lunch breaks, phone calls nightly. It's scaring the shit out of me. But, I'm resolved to go with the flow! Wish me luck!!!! Oh, and I just know my friends will adore him . . . am I setting myself up for ultimate failure? Flow! Go with the flow. I need the equivelent of the force to guide me through the dating galaxy, something to help me vaporize the dark side of fear, doubt, and cynacism.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
So, I'm checkin' out blogger stats, and I see someone has checked out this blog after doing a google search for the phrase -- an I shit you not! -- "how big should a girl's hole be to have sex." HOLE! Our abyss, ladies! Our gaping chasm. Our throth trench, crotch crater, pussy pit, hussy hollow, and finally our vaginal void. Enough of the alliteration! I want to know what pre-pubescent boy looked this up. Here's a tip: if you call it a hole, it doesn't matter how big or small it is, you ain't gettin' in! I don't know how to feel. I smirk at the tought of some dewy innocent needing to traverse the internet to familiarize themselves with the dark, moist, feminine unknown. And yet, I'm mad as hell that what is soft, sensual, beautiful is reduced to a question of diameter and the word HOLE! But I never was a boy, so I suppose I should be understanding of such dillymamas for the youthful male of the species. Still, you'd never hear a girl say: fuck tube, muscle hammer, chew stick, nut pole, rim rod (need I go on?). I hate to be so blunt and crude. Please forgive me!
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Question of the Day:
If you had a music video made what would it be like?
Maybe it is the music video version of your life till now, or maybe just a creative expression of who you are, or maybe just, just maybe, it has little or no personal meaning, just something you would like to see. What would your music video be like?
I think I would want some sort of revolving room/camerawork (ala Insync) and someone with mirrored glasses. Yes, this so cliche! I know . . . Mine would be video on crack (not a reflection of the creator's lifestyle, mind you). I would have a driving-through-the-desert-with-a-bad-ass-hummer-with-40-inch-rims scene (ala Puffy and Biggy). I'd have hot men in booty shorts shakin' it like a salt shaker whilst fanning a poloroid, and I'd have a fallen angel crouched by a window (yes, in the middle of a desert!), and a janitor rhythmically plunging a mop into a bucket. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh -- I forgot about the kid toasting a barbie doll over a barbeque and Anthony Keidis (sp?) running shirtless. (My god, you can certainly tell when I grew up!). Ok, so I'm not original, but aren't I just another useless product of my Ge-Ge-Ge My Generation, babey. Oh, and I'd have a shamless plug for Pepsi in there too. Maybe you'd see a reflection of a can of Pepsi in someone's mirrored glasses.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Eeeeee . . .SIX DAYS LEFT!!!!!
In just a short six days, we, my lovely blog and I, will be celebrating our 1 month aniversary. How exciting! (We will be registered at Tiffany's if you were wondering.)
DAWN OF THE DEAD Value System??????????
Plot Summary from the IMDB: "A young female nurse named Anna is caught in the middle of the chaos as zombies begin taking over the world and attacking the living. She escapes into the streets and is rescued by a black police officer named Kenneth. Together they find shelter in a mall along with a group of other survivors. For a while everything is ok, but pretty soon they start running out of food, the power goes out, and the dead keep finding ways to break through their defenses. Realizing they're sitting ducks, they make a plan to head for an island by using two armored mall shuttle busses to get across the sea of zombies."
I find this interesting . . . when people are under attack, they run to where the can find comfort: a farm house (symbol of community, family), a church
(again community, family, religion) . . . now a mall providing safety? what does this say about our culture? Do we believe the fight of good and evil lies in the triumph of commerce over . . . the mindless, zombies?
In the last notable zombie flick -- 28 Days Later (loved it by the way) a man leaves a hospital, normally a place of care, comfort, and nurturance. The hospital is deserted, post zombie presumably. He enters a zombie filled church and is attacked by a zombie priest. After escaping the church, he joins others like himself . . . they have a lovely moment where they find true joy and sustanence in a supermarket -- eating only the most inorganic foods and those with the more amount of preservatives. He and a small band of non-zombies head to a military controled "safe zone" where they meet up with trully evil and malicious men (also non-zombies). Are we being told that everything which once could save is empty, useless and evil? That the only things that save are artificial, mass produced, consumer goods?
Or am I just reading too much into it?