Monday, October 08, 2007
I miss him.
I miss him
Ever have one of those dreams that you can't seem to shake when you wake up? One of those that latched on to your emotions so hard, that you mourned the fact that the dream wasn't real?
I had one of those last night, and I can't stop thinking about him. Not the band - although that would be a right fucking awesome dream. Him - the man in my dream.
I don't know who he was. I never got a name. He looked like nobody I've met, his voice was unlike anyone I know, and he made me feel like I've never felt. It was short, and oh so sweet. I woke up missing him. I've been thinking about him all day.
Life is one cruel bitch. I found the perfect man in Sandland, and I'll probably never find that channel again. That's probably a good thing. Otherwise, I'd probably overdose on sleeping pills trying to spend every unwaking second with him. The man. Not the band.
Yesterday I had a long conversation with a relative of someone I dated. It was mostly a question answer session - somewhat uncomfortable, somewhat not. I promised to keep our convo a secret, so I won't say any more about it. Besides, it's not the convo that is important. The thing was, I got to thinking afterward about when the last time I had a phone conversation with a female was. Other than my mother (and one liners with The Girlchild and The Girlfriend), I have not had a telephone conversation with another female since 1999. That's seven freaking years for those of you who were in the LD math class. Seven years.
Most of the time I'm secure with my lack of intimate relationships, because they are usually more trouble than they are worth. But here, in less than 24 hours, I got a not so subtle reminder of what is missing in my life.
It bloody sucks, dammit.
Since I'm in a fuckitall mood, and especially moody in the relationship arena, here is one of those survey things from Myspace, completed with a heaping helping of who fucking gives a shit and just a hint of sour grapes.
THE UNCOMFORTABLE SURVEY (note: I don't see what could be so unfuckingcomfortable about it... it's not like they're asking if you spit or swallow)
1. Longest relationship:
2. Shortest relationship:
3. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have told you they love you?
4. Have you ever thought that you were going to marry the person you were dating?
5. Have you ever liked someone so much that it hurts?
6. Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry?:
7. Are you happier single or in a relationship?:
8. Have you ever been cheated on?
9. What is your favorite thing about the opposite sex?
10.Have you ever had your heart broken?
11. Have you ever broken someone's heart?
12. Talk to any of your exes?
13. If you could go back in time would you change things to where you could still be with one of your exes?
14. Think any of your ex's feel the same way?
15. Do you believe that you are a good boyfriend or girlfriend?
16. Have you dated people who were not good to you?
17. Have you dated someone older then you?
18. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?
19. Believe in love at first sight?
20. Ever dated two people at once?
21. Do you want to get married?
22. Do you have something to say to any of your exes?
23. Ever stolen someone's boyfriend or girlfriend?
24. Ever liked someone else's boyfriend or girlfriend?
25. Does heartbreak really feel as bad as it sounds?
26. Are you looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend?
Any more stupid questions?
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
I feel Fluffy.
Last week I saw an exboyfriend's truck parked a few houses away from where I work. I don't know who lives there, but his truck stayed there several days, and had me wondering what he was doing. It's an interesting house, in that their entire front porch is covered with unidentifiable pieces of junk, and their grass is always high. At any rate, I didn't dwell on being nosy too long, but I did have occassion to reminisce about our short relationship. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking when it comes to men.
This guy, who a friend and I used to refer to as "Aneurysm Boy" after the breakup, was one of the flakier guys I've ever dated. The friend and I met him at a club one night. It was karaoke night, and the friend fancied that she could sing - which she could, don't get me wrong, if you happen to like Broadway hits (which I don't). She could turn Mary Had a Little Lamb into a Broadway soundtrack.
I recently ran across a YouTube video of hers. We haven't spoken in quite a long time... the last being at the wake of her aunt, whom she had been waiting on to die so she could sell her house and hook up with some guy from Alaska she'd met on the internet. It seemed that her plan worked, because she was married and video blogging from Alaska.
I stopped associating with her after she began proclaiming to whomever cared to listen that I was a slut. This came about after a guy she liked showed some interest in me. I wasn't interested in her guy, but evidently, she wanted to discourage him from any further communication with me, and I guess she thought that my being the proposed slut would put him off. Hey, I'm not the one that showed up at his place the morning after their first date for a booty call. No, I am not. I am also not the one that on another first date with some internet dude, gave him oral pleasures in the mall parking lot. Okay?
Be that as it may, we did have some interesting times before the fallout. She was an odd one, to say the least. She had a thing for Queer as Folk and the Beatles, called herself "The Fluff" (because she was "fluffy" not "fat") and had a hysterectomy at the age of 30 (I think) because she didn't want children. She also had her appendix removed at the same time, since she didn't need them. What kinda quack doctor agrees to cut someone open and remove things just because the patient had a whim? Then again, maybe he figured this chick shouldn't breed.
She was constantly on some sort of medically supervised diet, and taking those diet pills that block the absorption of fat, but which also will cause you to have "leakage" if you consume too much fat. She called it "orange oil", and would loudly proclaim that she had it. I think someone should have told her that the diet pills wouldn't counteract 12 Fazoli's breadsticks.
You had to feel a little bad for her. She had a confusing childhood. Her real mother gave her to her grandmother, who she thought was her actual mother for a long time, and then found out that her real mother didn't want her, and her mother was her grandmother, and her father didn't want anything to do with her. She was spoiled beyond belief, and was such a total bitch to her aunt, who took her in after her grandmother/mother went a little nuts. This aunt practically raised her, gave her everything she could ever want and more, and "The Fluff" would scream at her and call her names - it was horrible. And then the whole "I was just waiting for her to die so I could sell the house" thing. Sheesh.
My first ever memory of this girl was her coming to visit my neighbor. I happened to be there, too, and Fluff was all decked out in a pretty little dress - you know, her family had money, and she had all the best. Anyway, she bounced about the yard, and I followed her around to the back, where I saw her reach down and pick up a nice piece of dog poop.
Some interesting memories in her teenage years were of her sticking her fingers into a fan to see if it would cut them (it did) and snorting Doritos. Another time, she volunteered to drive me up to see a boyfriend, and somehow managed to run over into a ditch and smash her other aunt's car. Oddly enough, I got blamed for this. Of course I did. The Fluff never did any wrong, at least in her aunt's eyes.
Where was I going with this? Oh yes, I was speaking of the exboyfriend. At any rate, he was most a most flaky character. He was rather cute, a bit round, and most anxious to show me off to all of his friends. Our first date ended up being a double date at Macados with two of his friends, one of which flirted with me the entire evening. XBF didn't seem to notice. The next "date" consisted of us riding around in his truck from one of his friend's houses to the next, to "introduce me". A little odd, but somewhat flattering, too. We spent a considerable amount of time on the telephone. He worked for the railroad, and was gone 5 days a week. We would get together on weekends.
Our most "memorable" date was spent drinking sodas in K-Mart parking lot after dark, because he was "broke". Ah... so romantic. Eventually he started acting really weird, and making up stories about his sister that I still can't make any sense of, but the point of which was that I shouldn't call his house. Once he called me and asked if I could meet him in a few minutes at Walmart. I said yes, and went to the designated spot, only to have him not show up. He eventually called, and had an excuse about being delayed, and asked me to meet him in Arby's parking lot (which, incidentally, was where we met up on the first date, prior to Macados). I went there, waited... once again, no show. A call to him only gave me voice mail, so I decided to go home. He had the most wonderful excuse that a naive woman like myself ate up like candy. So the next time he called me to meet him somewhere, I went again, like a lamb to slaughter. Of course, he didn't show, and I didn't buy the excuse this time.
I can't remember the exact details of our breakup, but there was something about calling him from a club and having his mother tell me that he was out with his girlfriend. Ahem. I told her this WAS his girlfriend... and shortly thereafter he called me, whereupon I told him to blow it out his ass. Not really, I can't remember what I said... but it had the same sentiment.
I later found out from his cousin (with whom I was attending college) that he'd had an aneurysm when he was a boy, and hadn't been right sense.
I know how to pick 'em, all right.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
The Pocy Pen
Remember back when I was bitching about the costs on my ticket, particularly the parts about being charged for a two day stay in jail (that I didn't do) and the accompanying jail upkeep fees?
Sunday, August 12, 2007
A friend of mine noted that when reading my blog, that someoneone who didn't know me too very well might think that I had a live in lesbian lover. While this would be interesting (both for me and my blogs), I have to set the record straight (haha!) Let me explain: When I mention "The Girlfriend" I am actually referring to my son's girlfriend, Gigantor, Eater of Souls.
But hey, if it gets you all squirmy to think of me as a hot bisexual, by all means, think as you will. Oh, and if I *did* have a girlfriend, she would be smoking hot. You better believe it.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
It's a dirty job, but...
Whew. It's freaking hot.
I'm sitting here, nursing a 22 ounce Bud Light, which, according to a past boyfriend, makes me a slut. Or something to that effect. He used to work at a convenience store, and he remarked once that you could tell the slutty women by their purchase of 22 ounce beers. Based on some of the women I saw buy them when I was loitering around there, I might have to say he had something there. So I'm slutting it up here at home alone watching Dirty Jobs. So, if sluts drink 22s, and I'm a slut, and I'm watching Dirty Jobs, does it follow that all sluts watch Dirty Jobs? Or does Dirty Jobs cancel out the 22, kinda like Diet Coke cancels out a cookie? Am I a slut, or not? Don't answer that.
Anyhoo, I spent a good part of the day trying to find myself a replacement for the little S10 I rolled. It was less than fruitful, I must say. It's pretty hard to find a truck that's less than 5 years old under 10K, which is what I have budgeted myself to. I found some nice ones, but I'm too big of a chicken to wedge myself into a higher payment. What good is a nice new truck if I can't afford to go anywhere in it? Nawmeen?
Car salesmen really annoy me. Which is why last night The Boychild, The Girlfriend and I went window shopping after everything was closed. Dude, this is the way to go. Of course, most of them weren't priced, but you could get a nice look at them, and decide if you were interested without some salesman haggling you. At this one lot, they were even unlocked! We had a lot of fun poking around in trucks, as well as some phat ass Mustangs.
At any rate, back to the annoying salesmen. Look guys, I know you're out to make a sale, and will basically tell me anything and hang over top of me until you break me down. But let me fucking breathe, alright? Sure, I'm a girl, but I'm not stupid. Besides, I had my team with me. I played "The Buyer". The Boychild was "The Intimidation." The Girlfriend was "The Eater of Souls". And "The Girlchild" was "The Bitch".
The first place we went has the most annoying commercial ever. They call themselves the "Price Police". *rolling of eyes* There have been many a time that I nearly peed my pants when their commercial came on the radio, because I was *cough* speeding and their obnoxious "Price Police" siren started blaring through the speakers, and I nearly ran off the road looking through the rear view mirror for the 5-0. Anyhoo, I think that the "Price Police" are actually customer snipers they have on the roof of the place, because as soon as we got out of the car, we heard a loudspeaker, which instructed a salesman to come to the lot IMMEDIATELY. Since all the trucks had prices, we made a quick sweep before the dude could lumber the football field distance out to us, and were back in the car and off. I'll tell ya this much - their prices were way less than lawful.
The next place was my favorite, not because they had anything special (they had nada) but because I totally owned the sales dude. He was trying so hard, payment this, blase blase.. and he said he thought they could beat my bank. I said, "Can you beat 6% interest?" He looked like a little boy who just found out Santa wasn't real.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, and I'm contemplating something crazy, so... yeah.
Peace out, crakz.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
The Marmonite Motorway
I had a rather interesting lunch walk today. Things I saw:
1. An older woman going into the dollar store wearing pajama pants. They were blue with white clouds all over them. Rock on, Grandma.
2. A hair salon that I hadn't seen before... it was called "Curl Up and Dye". The name is so cute, I may just have to check them out. It turns out that salons that use the play on words are called "hair puns" and there are lots of web references. I found this link while searching for hair salon names... it's called "Hair Salon Names That Would Also Work As Steven Segal Movies". Kinda funny.
3. A guy in a very strange wheelchair that was doing Mach 1 across Main Street. You know how the umbrella type baby stroller handles are made? That's actually what this kinda looked like: a beefed up baby stroller with a turbo charger underneath. Today is a day I wish I'd had my camera with me. Of course, I only see interesting stuff when I DON'T have the flippin' camera.
4. A very friendly young man with Down's Syndrome. He stuck out his hand as soon as I got close enough to grasp it, and after shaking hands, he handed me a foam Spiderman ball. I remarked (rather loudly, as I forgot that just because I was wearing headphones didn't mean everyone else was deaf) how cool his ball was. His name was Jimmy. Sometimes I wonder about slow people. They always seem so happy. Maybe that's the compensation for not being all there.
5. And the last interesting thing I saw was a quite cute guy in a white truck with blue trim, with whom I exchanged smiles... and I know I saw him looking back in his rearview mirror at me. I half expected him to circle back, but he didn't. So Mr. White Truck, if you're reading this, I'll be taking the same route tomorrow, at the same time, ya know, should you wanna cruise by and smile again. As for everyone else, I take a different route every day, plus I carry protection (and I don't mean a condom), so don't get any bright ideas of stalking me during lunch. I'd hate to have to mace a brother.
This didn't happen at lunch... it was earlier, but has been bugging me all day. One of the guys came in and said something to another guy about his hat - something about getting it off a "blue dog", and insinuating that Hat Guy must have run said "blue dog" down, beat his ass, and taken the hat. The hat was just a solid white Adidas (All Day I Dream About Sex) hat.
Anyone have any idea WTF he was talking about? I won't ask him, because frankly, I think he's a waste of skin. I asked Hat Guy, and he said he had no clue, he was just going along with him.
I tried checking Urban Dictionary, but they didn't have that phrase. They did, however, return this as something they thought was "close".
Awarded to a man who has had anal sex with a female partner. Derived from British greyhound racing terminology, where the dog wearing the blue jacket traditionally starts in trap two. See also brown wings.
Um, no... I don't think that's quite what he was getting at, but thanks for the education!
A Google search turned up the following, some of which are rather interesting:
1. an entry in a list of Australian Slang : blow a blue dog off its chain - extremely windy
2. A conservative Democrat who tends to vote with the Republican party.
3. A cafe.
Of these, I think that 2 is most likely, but I don't think this dude would be into politics, and what would Adidas have to do with Democrats? I get the sneaky feeling that he was referring to a person of a particular race in a derrogatory manner.
I'm only speeding because I really have to poop.
Saw that on a bumper sticker yesterday. It was a really nice car, too!
I think that it may be one of those days. Already, I've overflowed the coffee pot and walked into a door frame. I'm so graceful. Tom, the most mild mannered and generally quiet person here at work, has cursed twice. I just burned my tongue on hot coffee, and most of my animal crackers have been the business end of the animal. Oh wait. Here's a whole turtle. And an elephant butt. A lion butt. This gives me a brilliant idea. I should start a psychic service based on animal crackers. Two elephant butts means you have something very ominous in your future. A camel head means... well, I'd have to sit and think about it for a while. I'm sure, however, that mostly ass crackers means that one is going to have a bad day.
Speaking of predictions... er, well, not really. But predictions and karma fall into the same sorta category I suppose. Eh? Anyhoo, a good while back, whilst still feuding with an exboyfriend, he had something smart to say about seeing me with a guy at a restaurant. XBF was there with his woman, who had really put on a lot of weight, and being pissy, I threw that fact back at him. He said she was on some medication that made her gain weight. I remember thinking then, "yeah, whatever", and feeling rather pleased with myself at the dig. Oh, but here comes KARMA, riding in on a big white fucking horse, and wouldn't you know it, I found out that the reason I've been putting on weight is that my current medications cause weight gain. Life's a bitch. How do you compete with a pill that causes you to be perpetually hungry and crave carbs? No wonder I've been eating so much damned cereal. I love cereal, but I surely would have stopped at one bowl in the past. When I'm home alone for dinner, it's always cereal. Fruity Pebbles. Count Chocula. Boo Berry. Frosted Mini Wheats. The new Captain Crunch Chocolate. Man, I love cereal. But methinks I'd better keep it out of my cabinet if I can't restrain myself.
Oh, and here's a random tip. Don't ever say you're fat in front of a Weight Watcher's success person. You will get a sermon (albeit mine was brief because she was short on time, however, she told me that I was getting off easy). She said fat = ugly, and a bunch of other things, and at any rate, I walked away feeling somewhat better about myself and also wondering what they do at those weight watchers meetings that make people so... passionately vehement. Weight Watchers must be the Jehovah's Witnesses of dieting.
Speaking of religious zealots, did you know that Mormon wives exist solely to serve their husbands? And that in order to get to heaven, their husbands have to pray them in? So, in other words, you burn hubby's meatloaf one too many times, and he might decide you get to spend eternity where things are burnt.
Back to the XBF I mentioned... I guess thinking about him and his woman made my feeble mind brew up some weird ass dream about him last night. It was terribly remniscent of our real life relationship at the end, only there were a lot of kids, and action figures, and it was raining. He was using a kid's umbrella that would barely cover me. His woman accused me of peeing off the balcony onto XBF, which I didn't do. Weirdness. I miss the person I thought he was... but I surely don't miss the real guy. He's just... not a nice person! (keeping the insults in check cuz I'm a little gunshy about the karma thing at the moment).
However... I will add this:
Dear Honda Rider with the Spiffy Matching Outfit:
You do NOT own the road. Motorcyclists do deserve respect, but we should NOT have to get in the frickin' ditch just because you're riding the center of a one lane road. Ass.
Love n' Kisses,
PS: Get a real bike!!
Sunday, August 05, 2007
For the birds...
What am I, a bird magnet?
The Girlfriend found a baby robin in my back yard the other day. It was pretty big, but it couldn't fly. So, she brought it in, and we put it in the birdie halfway house. Man, that cage has had more occupants than Clinton had girlfriends (I owe that one to Jamie). I fed it a worm left over from fishing the weekend before.
The next morning when I got up, mama bird was at the window talking to it. I can just imagine the conversation.
Mama: What did you do?
At any rate, I was late for work, and didn't have time to parole the baby, so I left, and when I got home, The Girlfriend had let him go. Seems like mama was trying to sneak a file in disguised as a nightcrawler.
I was given a link by a new myspace friend, and it's definitely the funniest, most bizarre thing I've seen in a long while. It's called Jamming a Pair of Scissors Repeatedly Into Your Crotch.
I can't explain it in a manner to give it justice, but suffice it to say that it's pretty much a "how to" guide with even questions submitted by readers. I sent in one myself, but it doubt that I will get it posted. Looks like the last update was back in '97. But here is what I sent in:
"I am 16 years old and have been "jamming" for about six months now. My mother told me this morning that it's time for me to have my first appointment with the gynecologist. Will the doctor be able to tell that I have been jamming scissors in my crotch? And will she tell my mom?"
Oh yeah... they say it's not a euphanism for sex, but I'm not so sure about that...
Monday, July 30, 2007
Obesity and Chance Meetings
Dear Loudmouth Whale at Wal-mart,
Thank you for nearly running me down with your electric wheelchair cart. It was horrible of me to be walking down an aisle that you were intersecting, especially while you were on your cell phone. How inconsiderate of me! I'm sure that weighing 800 pounds must be hard on one's feet. Perhaps if you left the handicapped cart for someone who is actually handicapped, you might drop a few pounds walking to get your hohos and Diet Coke. I didn't realize that being morbidly obese entitled you to an afflicted cart. Incidentally, I'll bet you could pay a little more attention to where you were going if you had that cell phone shoved up your ass. Sideways.
Love and Kisses,
This goes out to all you married men who like to get on social networking sites and flirt. Hello! You're gonna get busted one day. Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. P. I saw you today, with your wife, and you looked like you were trying to hide in your own armpit. Loser. Don't worry, I'm not into breaking up marriages. But stay off the internet and pay some attention to your wife. You never know when you might run into one of your online "friends".
Life is good. And I really mean that.
Friday, July 27, 2007
I just got back from my daily lunchtime walk, where I was honked at multiple times, and only once was it someone I knew. Mmmkay... Honking I can handle. It's almost kinda cool. Just so long as nobody's following me around and trying to get a date, like the one guy did... that's when I started carrying mace on my walks AND taking a different route every day. People can be so... weird. And not in a good way.
So anyhoo, I'm now back at my desk and I'm having a super elegant and high class lunch of a potted meat sandwich and off brand barbeque corn chips. You can't say that I don't eat like a queen, baby.
You know, I've always loved potted meat. I think I inherited it from my dad - he loved the stuff. But have you ever read the label on potted meat? What in the name of Ra is "mechanically separated chicken"? I get this mental image of someone cramming a live chicken into a blender and hitting puree.
"a paste-like and batter-like meat product produced by forcing beef, pork, or chicken bones, with attached edible meat, under high pressure through a sieve or similar device to separate the bone from the edible meat tissue. Mechanically separated meat has been used in certain meat and meat products since the late 1960s. This product can be contrasted with meat extracted by advanced meat recovery systems."
Sounds delicious! I wonder if they cook it first. OMR, do they cook it at ALL?
Another interesting tidbit: One of my search results was an amazon.com link. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you can buy potted meat from amazon.com. And I thought I had seen everything. By the time you paid shipping, you could have bought 12 more cans of the stuff at your local supermarket.
Potted meat reminds me of the penultimate ex-boyfriend, because he loved the stuff, too. That, and hot dogs. I think he would eat hot dogs every bloody day. He considered himself the ultimate hot dog chef. His hot dogs were pretty good, come to think of it. I think one of his friends even called him "Hot Dog".
Have you ever heard the song "Unanswered Prayers" by Garth Brooks? Okay, for those that haven't, the chorus goes like this:
Sometimes I thank God
I would like to publicly thank God for not answering the prayer I made to be with this ex-boyfriend. When we were dating, he was "separated". Girls - don't make this mistake. That's all I'll say. But anyhoo, he went back to his wife circa our breakup time. And last month, he was cited for domestic violence because he evidently held her down and wouldn't let her up because she wouldn't give him his Xanax. (This was in the newspaper, so I'm not libeling him or anything.) Since we broke up, he's gotten heavy into drugs. He lost one of his Harley's, and they're wanting to take the other when they can find him. He wrecked his truck, taking out a courthouse light pole, and dragging it all the way home (so I'm told, and he lived about a block away. When asked what happened to his truck, he was purported to have replied "Someone hit it with a baseball." Yeah. He was fried.) He lost his job, his wife kicked him out, and now he's living with his mother.
So once again, thank you God, for knowing what I was asking for would not be what I THOUGHT I was asking for, and putting that particular request in the circular file.
I'm not really sure why I went on about that, except maybe it might give someone something to think about when you don't feel like you're getting what you want. God knows the whole story. He's got the inside scoup.
Okay, no more religical stuff. Weird - this girl I used to know made that word up, and I dreamt about her last night. Her, her aunt (who is dead), and my family and vampires. At least it wasn't a nightmare. Man, my dreams have been fucked up lately.
There was something else that I was gonna - oh yeah! The Castleberry company recently had to recall a bunch of it's chili products. Here is a LIST, just in case you are interested. What really caught my attention was the last FOUR items. Seems like the Castleberry people make dog food in addition to their other "fine" products.
Speaking of "blow", here comes the saw guy... he's just about at retirement age, and is always trying to get me to give him some "bloomer pudding". Guess I better go fend him off.
Peace out, muh crakaz!
PS - Check out "The Girlchild's" blog about her first few days at the BK Lounge - aka Burger King. She is so freaking funny.
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