May
8
extreme ways
May 8, 2008 | 6 Comments
can I marry jason bourne please?
pleeeeeeeeaaaaase? it’s the only thing I want in life. that’s it. just let me be with him forever & ever, and I will shut up & leave everyone alone for the rest of time. seriously. I will. I promise.
okay how about a song of the day. ummm. signs by crystal method. it’s from the movie signs, one of my most favoritest.
I’m totally addicted to scramble. scramble is boggle on facebook. I’m so peggy hill when it comes to boggle. I keep challenging people to play me and no one will. well a few people do, but not enough. I love that effing game. I don’t have barely any friends on facebook. kind of like real life.
SIGH
crap vagina, no friends, intimacy issues, my computer tragedy at work…
but feel not sorry for me! thanks to a special lady friend I’m drowning my pain in ‘ceuts. thanks special lady friend!
May
7
becoming benjamin
May 7, 2008 | 4 Comments
Between a woman who was not any kind of mother before getting pregnant and the mother I have become, a lot has changed. Sure, all the “inside” nonsense, you know the “growing up” and the “finding a greater purpose” yes yes. but also the actual literal inside, literal in the actual LITERAL sense. my insides, my goods, my gooey goo.
I knew so very little before ry. but I knew some basic things were true, constant: 2+2=4. sun rises in east sets in west. up is up. down is down. etc.
Not anymore. So much has changed, and none more than my old beat box south of the border. Tell my vagina that 2+2=4 and she’ll respond, “Yes, wheat crackers would be lovely, please.”
She’s polite at least, I’ll give her that.
here’s the thing. I used to have sexy underwear, I swear. I did. I even wore them. And some of you got to see them, and some of you didn’t, but I wore them and they were there, being all secret underwear sexy, if only to me.
Except at period time, I had my “mense this” pairs, durable fuckers that could take the lickings (or should i say drippings) and keep on ticking. sexy underwear is sexy but it isn’t for non-sexy times, you know what I mean?
So I had my normal undies and my p.dot undies. Two distinct, specialized groups working together in synergized harmony to achieve a common goal–protect my girl bits from the big bad world.
Then I had Ry and I am still trying to figure out what the hell was unleashed upon the earth.
Because my vagina, the elusive enigmatic unpredictable little saucepot she is, suddenly turned into a complete fucking lunatic, waving her crazy arms and shouting her crazy thoughts and scaring the jebus out of me.
my p.dot undies, once reserved for a few days a month, has become my normal, every-single-goddamned-day of my life underwear. there is no more sexy. it’s gone gone gone. sexy abandoned me the minute his sperm was wiggling its way into my egg, and I didn’t even know it.
I need industrial strength fabric or else my cervix is going to plop right out.
and I’m always leaking something now, I couldn’t tell you what. this formerly lazy flower of mine is in constant production, always manufacturing, always sharing.
sigh. yet another fabulous joy to add to the many that motherhood has brought me.
and it isn’t old age, it’s all ry’s fault. Because it never happened before a giant baby came rip roaring his way into the world, and now it does. a to b to c. it’s simple arithmetic kids.
Is this my vagina’s way of getting back at me? For all the torture I’ve put her through?
that little bitch. I’ll show her. I’ll fucking show her. She can ruin every single pair of underwear I own but I’ll suffocate the shit out of her. I will. You hear me, v? I will do it. I will goddamned do it right now.
May
6
aarrrgghh
May 6, 2008 | 3 Comments
I hate IT departments that login into your system remotely to fix an email issue and then delete your Mac profile, which includes everything on your computer. all my files, all my emails, all my documents, my music, my photos, EVERYTHING has been deleted.
motherscratchers. dirty lousy motherscratchers.
CAN I EVER CATCH A BREAK?
I am going home now to drink heavily.
May
6
Regatta cphone pics
May 6, 2008 | Leave a Comment
the 2 boats we raced, american eagle & nefertiti.
May
6
More regatta pics from cphone
May 6, 2008 | Leave a Comment
we lost the race. It was still fun. Not as fun if we had won. Whatev.
May
6
How being fucked around with when you’re too young can really mess with your head
May 6, 2008 | Leave a Comment
I like and enjoy sex very much, but not with the same person. I hate it when it’s with the same person, it’s a slow slow t o r t u r e. could I type that word aannyy slower.
because when it’s with the same person it reminds me of another when. A when where there was just THAT and nothing else, no one else. it’s your memories that do it, those of a wet, ragged breath, when they should be bunnytail soft, all curves and sweetness. not these jutting pointy angles.
Cause the law in this land is that the sex is good only when you’re a slutty-whirl-a-twirl. everyone thinks you’re just a prude and an uptight bitch, brimming with low-self esteem. But really, you’re an uptight bitch because you can’t be that other person, you know, the one who is nice and fun and not so angry, sleeping around.
I want The One. like everyone else. just one to be close with, one love one life, one ring to bind them all, the chosen one, one to wrap myself around a million times and never let go. I want that. and of course, behind that, I want another endless thousand to fuck, in whatever way I feel obliged.
But I can’t do that with the same person I’m in love with, I’ve tried. I can’t ever do it and it makes me cranky and cruel. I can’t help it, not anymore than I can help blinking. I pick and gnaw and grind at everything in my life. nothing works. nothing happens. I want to say to G: I am just as hungry as you, but you aren’t enough. I can’t find relief through you. I used to, once upon a time, when we didn’t know each other very well, when you were just some boy, when I wasn’t invested, when it didn’t matter. It’s okay though, I love all this other stuff with you, I do, I do, because it’s comforting and honey warm. if only you were gay, it’d make all our lives easier.
So how do you tell someone you love him, you think he’s beautiful, sexy, that you worship him like jesus, but sex just won’t do it for you anymore, because you love him that much? That it’s the sublimeness of this love that kills? how do you say that? how do you say that and not seem like a lunatic? is it even possible? no one listens, no one knows, no one sees.
Because it will never be fun for me, ever, it can only be dirty and raw and scary and I want that with guys I barely know, guys I don’t love or really feel any concern for at all, people who don’t mean much, someone I can dust off my hands at the end of the night. not with someone I have to see everyday, someone I share my world, my son, my sun.
it’s a heavy heart you see, a big sack of rocks & blood & shadows; I need people to take turns lifting it. it’s too much for him, too much for me.
No one will ever understand this and I’ll forever be trapped in one loneliness or the other.
is it me? does anybody else in here feel the way I do? vera? bueller? anyone?