What I did last summer cont...

OK, so last September I started a post highlighting the top 5 things I did that summer, but for reasons out of my control I only made it to the the top 2. I'm here now to round out the top 5 with my other 3- I know that's pretty lamo especially since I have tons of stuff floating around in my head to write about that is actually present day material, but I intend to highlight my top 5 for this summer in a few months from now and I can't really do that without finishing last year- I just can't. So here goes:

#3. Quitting my job of 13 years

#4. Wine tasting in the rain

#5. Jumping without a net

The month of July 2008 was a big one for me because I had some pretty hefty things on my plate; things that would ultimately determine the course of my life. For starters I made the decision to leave the comfort, familiarity, safety and support of the job that I held for the past 13 years. It was a very easy decision but an extremely difficult task. Sure, there were signs that I should be moving on and things I hated about the daily grind and a strong sense of knowing that this wasn't where I belonged any longer but along with all that turmoil there was also total security. I had that job, my boss and my co-workers wrapped around my little fingers; I was in total control of my life. I made my own schedule (somewhat), had a boat load of vacation time, a huge network of close friends, daily opportunities to have 'fun' at work and actually laugh my ass off, benefits up the wazoo and a 10-15 minute commute. My work life was good - on the outside.

It was July 6 that I told my boss I would be leaving the company... but I would be around for another 4 months. The place I worked at was planning to moving and restructure come November so the time to get out couldn't have been more perfect for me. I eventually closed down the old place, said my goodbyes, cleaned out my stuff and made that 15 minute commute home once and for all. Walking away voluntarily was difficult, especially a month before the holidays and with no immediate plan on the horizon (the big picture had been put into motion but only in the mind) but thankfully I left with a higher knowing that 'all would be OK'. And it is...

My decision to leave my job came from our much larger decision which was made years before to relocate our lives, but what was only starting to become a reality over last summer. Let's just say I did a lot of spiritual growth between May and September and learned many interesting things along the way from some very wise people. I've had spiritual growth, or should I say I've been aware of my spiritual growth for many years now but it was only last summer that I moved to another level with it and for that I am very thankful. It made everything else that summer so much more colorful and alive. And that brings me to the wine...

east meets west

Last Sat, we decided to go to The Abbey in West Hollywood. It's not like it was a difficult decision to make at all, it's just that we've been a little tired of 'firsts' and we knew that going there would definitely feel strange and new.

We're talking about the Abbey in West Hollywood people, come on now. The fucking L Word was created around West Hollywood and the cast used to hang out at this place like you and I hang out at our local Subway store. Trust me, I'm not someone who gets overly excited to grab a glimpse of a famous person, as a matter of fact most of the time they walk right past me and I'm oblivious. It's just really cool to be able to hang out at a place that is kind of famous and very,very cool.

It's a very popular place and it sits on a side street off of Santa Monica Blvd. It was easy for us to get there, all we have to do is hop on Santa Monica Blvd and head East for about 7.8 miles. Not being too confident in knowing where we were going and where all the action took place, we decided to drive around for awhile to scope out the scene. We kind of fell upon The Abbey when we were looking for some parking- but trust me this place is impossible to miss. For starters it's HUGE, it has a total outdoors/indoors California vibe to it, it's really beautifully decorated, it's got some great energy flowing through it and it's packed on a regular basis. It of course caters to the gay boys but it's also quite popular with the lesbos in and around the LA area. It's a bar you go to- to 'see and be seen' and trust me, if you're a gay boy this is definitely the place to go. It was a complete party atmosphere when we entered as if an hour before 'Queer As Folk' just filmed a night club scene there but it was because every Sat they have what they call ABS: skin, sounds and sun. When we walked in under the archway, the sun was hot, the crowd was coiffed, the music was loud, the drinks were flowing and atmosphere was alive and well. Recession/depression?... not here and not on Saturday at the Abbey. One thing about those gay boys, they sure know how to live life and live it in style.

Since there seemed to be a tanning event going on outside and all seats were full, C.Love and I headed in to the bar for a drink and to settle ourselves down. I personally have a hard time checking everything out when I'm not seated or at least settled in a corner somewhere-away from the crowd. I prefer to be on the outside looking in. We hung at the bar long enough to drink 2 drinks each, down some chicken fingers, make small talk with the bartender and then we headed out. It was a perfect way to enter into the gay Hollywood 'scene'... it's difficult to break in when you don't know a soul and we know no one. As famous as this place is, it has a very inviting atmosphere and it's amazingly non intimidating. Granted, everyone around there looks as if they just walked out of a magazine so beware: you will be looked at up-and -down. We have noticed that people on a whole are definitely more put together out here; they are more fit and more conscious of what they put on and in their bodies, which is kind of refreshing I must say.

All in all the afternoon/evening was fun and we're so glad we got that out of the way- another first checked off the list. Now we're good to go into West Hollywood and not feel like we'll be walking onto the set of the L Word with Shane lurking somewhere in the shadows... Anyway, we will go back because the Lesbian scene out here in Santa Monica is null and void. They are here, but not out and not together. It appears the women congregate in West Hollywood and Long Beach and that's it-

We will find them though- trust me.

It's Official!

OK, I know it's been almost 3 months since my last measly post but I'm here to say I'm alive and well and officially living in CALIFORNIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (not so special to those of you actually born here but please bare with me)- plus I'm doing a little 'drunk posting' thing here so...

Anyway, to make an extremely long story short, C.love and I now officially live in Santa Monica CA., and it's fucking awesome; sun, warm temps, sunny days, laid back vibe, excellent food, fresh veggies, blue sky, ocean breezes, sun, sun, sun... no rain in sight- I know it may sound a little shallow to say the most important issue in my life is weather but I can't stress it enough how important "weather" is to us. I can't 'think' in cold temps; can't see straight, can't speak properly, can't breathe, and can't move forward- literally and physically. Warm weather to me is like oil to the Tin Man - it wakes up my soul.

As some of you know, we have been dreaming about living here for some time now and trust me it was a HUGE process to make this dream become a reality but thankfully I'm here to tell you all that dreams actually can come true... with a little work. We've only been here for one month exactly, but it feels like we've lived a life time within those 30 days. On the down side I don't have any employment yet, we still have many boxes that are not unpacked, we had to rent a storage space for $80 a month because the apartments out here are on average 600 square feet for a 1 bedroom and we are have enough furniture for a 2000 square ft. place- and we are friendless. It sucks being friendless when you're used to having a blanket of friends to keep you warm for the past 20 years. I'm struggling with this one-

Anyway, I'm here and tonight since C.Love is out of town and my cat is sleeping so I thought It would be a perfect time time to connect with the blogging world- connect in a distant way I suppose. Good or bad, blogging world is like family and it's nice to be able to call on them when needed- these days familiarity is needed.

I do hope you are all well and I truly apologize for not "keeping up with you all" but life was calling me and blogging became more of a task than anything else. That's not how I choose to blog, for me it's a give and take and if I can't give then I won't take... but I will wonder.

I will fill in the details of this move (hopefully) as time goes on but in the meantime I'm here to tell you all to keep dreaming... Cheers to livin' life!

Just Checking...

My computer's fvudck,ed up again; I'm moving to Santa Monica in March; I think it should be against the law to have more than 3 kids because people can't have more than five cats; I miss blogging and the connections but I know some of you could care less; and I'm unemployed and loving it -

Other than that I'm selling my Barbies on Craigslist and it feels strange.

If you're out there, hello...

Lobster rolls and coleslaw

#2 Homemade Lobster Rolls and Coleslaw

Lobster and Lobster rolls are synonymous with the East Coast and we try to sit down and indulge in one or the other every time we go back there to visit the family. The last one I had was last winter at a seafood shack on the Maine Coast. The weather was cold and gray. I had my Bean Boots and winter hat on and there were Christmas trees and wreaths available for sale right outside the restaurant; it's not how I typically envision feasting on lobster rolls, but we do what we have to do in life to enjoy greatness and on that bitterly cold day in December we did just that.

This past summer we had the unexpected pleasure of receiving two live Lobsters via Fed Ex from C.Love's parents who were in Maine to my family on the Cape. They had told us to look out for them the day after we arrived because the little guys would need to be put on ice. After emerging from the basement on the morning of day two of our vacation I immediately informed my mom to not worry about dinner that night because I had it covered- we were having lobster. It didn't take us long to decide to make rolls with the two 1/4 lb lobsters since there were 4 of us for dinner and that meant not much meat to go around. We thought about buying two more and breaking out the crackers and picks but I was really looking forward to making my own lobster rolls instead. I've had lobsters at home many times before but I've never actually made a lobster roll.

The morning was a little overcast so C. Love and I decided to hop in the car and head up Rt. 6 to P-Town. We took some detours into Welfleet to check out some property before hitting Commercial Street but by the time we got down to the dunes the sky turned dark, the clouds opened up and the rain poured down so we only stopped for a quick drink and headed for home. The sun soon came out again and skies cleared as we pulled into The Box Lunch in Eastham for a quick sandwich. I called my mom to see if the lobsters had arrived and the answer was an astounding YES- with seaweed and all. Excellent! So exciting, I know it's not much but it's the simple things you know? Driving around Cape Cod with the sun shining waiting for lobsters to be delivered to my house... and my mom and dad hanging out waiting to receive them. It was mid July, I was on vacation and I was making my own damn lobster rolls! (life doesn't get much better) I wanted to round out the dinner with some homemade coleslaw and corn on the cob so the next stop was the grocery store to grab the wine, the rolls, the mayo and all the other necessary ingredients before heading home.

Around 4:00, my parents typically start to get a little restless for dinner and since I really wanted to enjoy my culinary experience to the fullest with these lobsters, I sat them both in the porch with some wine and appetizers before I went on a search for the lobster pot. I found the pot, C.Love and my own bottle of wine and hit the kitchen. It turned out to be a perfect afternoon/evening; we toasted the buns (the real "New England Style" hot dog buns- split on the top), I made the kick-ass coleslaw, Cooked the corn, and made the lobster mixture. I like my lobster rolls the way most Bostonians do: with just mayo and salt and pepper- that's it. Lobster meat is so tasty, I don't think you need anything else in there. With a little butter on that toasted bun you're good to go.

My coleslaw was amazing. Like lobster rolls, most people get coleslaw out at a restaurant where it's been sitting around for days or it taste all watery and weak. I've never made my own and now I always will. C. Love didn't even like coleslaw but after that night she completely changed her mind.

Homemade lobster rolls and coleslaw on Cape Cod in the middle of summer... definitely a highlight and one I won't forget anytime soon.

What I did this past summer- Top 5

#1. SEX IN MY PARENTS BASEMENT.

The prelude:

It all started in the restaurant; there was C. Love sitting next to me and my parents across from us. We had a glass a wine each out on the deck before dinner and then my dad ordered a bottle for my mom and C. Love and I to split once seating at our table. (not a big deal but C.love can get bombed after only a couple of glasses and my mom is 77 years old. Granted she's a sprightly healthy, 77 year old who drinks a glass a night but still... I figured I'd be drinking the whole thing my myself- boy was I wrong.) It was a hot and sticky July evening on Cape Cod, we were looking and feeling good and we were on our third night of vacation. We were both looking forward to a night out for some for delicious seafood and good wine- little did we know that the dinner was the spring board to a night of ecstasy. Yikes.

Dinner was ordered and the wine and conversation flowed effortlessly. Everything seemed quite G-rated when all of a sudden, as I took a huge bite of my stuffed shrimp, I happen to glance over at C. Love and was immediately, totally blown away by her intense, 100 percent sexual stare. A sex stare?! I'm thinking, shit, how long has she been staring at me and what the hell is going on!? My dad was sitting right across from her while my mom was talking to both of us- oblivious maybe, but still looking and speaking to us. C. Love's wet stares and sexy vibe continued throughout the dinner- she was thowing me major steamy looks right and left and made some serious moves under the table but continued talk to my dad and mom and keep them fully engaged. I did my best to keep the conversation flowing and of course her wine glass full at all times all while soaking it up- litterally and figuratively. Bottom line here: she pretty much performed optical sex on me while we ate our stuffed shrimp and baked haddock - right in front of my mom and dad. (If my dad didn't notice those glances I'd be surprised- he had only one beer and water the whole night.)

We managed to get through dinner and the vibe continued the whole car ride home but thankfully home was only a couple of streets away. I vaguely remember walking into the house with my parents, throwing our keys on the kitchen counter and immediately saying "well, thanks for dinner-love you, we're going to head down" (down meaning downstairs...) we were luckily spending the week in the mini apartment down stairs instead of the guest bedroom on the second floor. On a side note, we never get the basement because it's reserved for the families with kids but they weren't around this year-hip hip hooray.

The Event:

I don't really remember exactly what transpired as soon as we got down there but I can totally remember whatever happened occurred extremely quickly and lasted for quite awhile. I remember thinking to myself- thank god we're in this basement because there's no way this stuff is happening in that guest room off the kitchen- no way. Of course I can't give you any details but I trust you all to use your imagination on this one... sex is sex but when it's good it's really, really good-

I will admit that the wine, the fact that we had vacation head and being in the basement certainly added to the sexual stimulation factor but I'd also like to believe it was a simple case of being in lust and love with my girlfriend and having it all come together that made it 'a night to remember'... and a top five contender.

Cheers to summer sex.

same station, different vibe

School's back in session and so am I... I think. I've gone back to my original blog 'look', changed my focus and changed my direction. Stay tuned...

school's out- and so am I

Finally... and like we respond to all evites these days: it's a maybe. Eat, drink and be merry! Peace out...

sucker

Just for the record I don't eat fast food. Every once in a great while I will have the 'hangover' burger to ease the pain or I'll stop for some fries and a chicken sandwich on a road trip simply because I'm in the need of some protein, but basically I avoid the fast food frenzy and stick to good old fashioned turkey sandwiches when I'm out and about.

I'm sure you've seen the ads lately for that new Southern Chicken Sandwich at McDonald's, I sure have... I do like the chicken sandwich, the grilled, the breaded, the little nuggets- you know, they're tasty. So when this new thing came out I must say I was slightly intrigued. Southern Chicken Sandwich?, what does that mean- it's got gravy on it? I was confused, and still am. So today (and today only) McDonald's is offering a free Southern Chicken Sandwich when you purchase a drink. I'm actually thinking I may have to step or drive into a McDonald's today just to taste the thing! They're doing everything but delivering it to me- and to top it all off, the thing only has pickles on it! I love those pickles.

I'm doing it, I'm in...

safe sex

(I'm fully aware of how judgemental I am being with this post but I'm thinking they all look like this)

Definition: "A cuddle party is an event designed with the intention of allowing people to experience non-sexual group physical intimacy through cuddling. Cuddle parties are described by organizers as "workshop/social-events" that gives adults an opportunity to "give and receive welcomed affectionate touch in a no-expectation, friendly setting, according to your needs, desires, interests, and boundaries." Cuddle parties are described as non-sexual events but kissing may occur at some parties. It's a drug and alcohol-free way to meet fascinating people in a relaxing environment. A laboratory where you can experiment with what makes you feel safe and feel good."

OK, what the fuck is this. On my way home from work the other day they were talking about this on the radio and so I had to check it out for myself. It's for real, people actually do this thing. First of all, I don't know about any of you but I don't need a 'cuddle' party to experience non-sexual group intimacy. But now that I just said that, I'm thinking that if you are an actual sex addict or if you have a tendency to confuse sex with intimacy than this may just be the thing for you... All I'm saying is there is NO WAY on earth I would ever go to any one of these so called cuddle parties if invited. First of all, groups of people in their pajamas freak me out (unless they are 5 year olds) and second of all, I would never attend any gathering where 'non sexual' (but completely sexual) activity is going on without some alcohol! shit, what's the point of these parties? Third of all, groups of people in their flannel pajamas is actually the most unattractive situation I think I could be in. Plus there are "rules" and what kind of party has rules- know what I'm sayin?

Rule # 1 - Pajamas stay on the whole time. (how about the fuzzy slippers?)
Rule # 2 - You don't have to cuddle anyone at a Cuddle Party, ever. (What?)
Rule # 3 - You must ask permission and receive a verbal YES before you touch anyone. (Be as specific in your request as you can.) (like that's really happening-come on now)
Rule # 4 - If you're a Yes to a request, say YES. If you're a No, say NO. (duh)
Rule # 5 - If you're a Maybe, say NO. (I disagree-if you're a maybe, say yes)
Rule # 6 - You are encouraged to change your mind. (and get the hell out of there-fast)
Rule # 7 - Respect your relationship boundaries and communicate with your partner. (yeah, "like , could you move down a little more"?)
Rule # 8 - Come get the Cuddle Caddy or ME if there's a concern, problem, or should you feel unsafe or need assistance with anything today.
Rule # 9 - Tears and laughter are both welcome. (Oh, no)
Rule # 10 - Respect people's privacy when sharing about Cuddle Parties and do not gossip.
Rule #11 - Keep the Cuddle Space Tidy (Stuffed animals take up lots of room)
Rule #12 - Thank you for arriving on time. (that one's loaded...)

One question: If this is an organized event allowing adults to experience non-sexual group intimacy why the hell are they wearing pajamas?! Why not wear turtlenecks and sweatpants?kissing may be allowed at some of them?!?... I'm thinking people that host and join these events are just desperate individuals looking for a perverted way to get some sex. So I need to know if anyone out there is familiar with these things.

The only way you would get me to attend one of these is if the invitation read: Woman only intimacy wine and cheese party; pajamas optional; and no shoes allowed. That's it.

Horizontal with Felicity

O.k, I just have to say one more time that this show was THE best show on television and the fact that the subject of it has come up twice now within the last 4 days is kind of ironic so I just have to put it out there.

Last weekend I was staying at my friend's house in Atlanta and we had just gotten home from a night out when I flicked on her TV (it was in my room) and the show Felicity came on. It was strange because I thought I was turning on the actual cable but apparently I was just turning on the DVD player-whatever. (I never actually figured it out) I heard the opening theme song as I was fluffing my pillows getting ready to lay down and was immediately carried into that trance-like, lethargic state I remember so well. That was it, I was down for the count. I quickly became totally useless to anyone else for the rest of the evening because Felicity had me- hook, line and sinker. Luckily the cats seemed to accept my horizontal position and settled right in there in between my legs and by my side, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't even touching them. If I remember correctly, t2 was behind me typing away at her computer and kelly was blowing her nose in the other room (allergy season in Atlanta); all seemed right with the night.

The lighting of that show is what grabs me and then the dialog is what reels me in. It's similar to that feeling you get when you're in the middle of a euphoric 'act'... know what I mean?... you're still floating and swimming around but quite comfortable in your little place?. It's a settling spot/feeling and it all just mesmerizes me, so there I lay-on my futon with eyes glued to the screen waiting for what ever was to came next. I watched the pilot that night and I chose to watch it with the commentary on because his (J.J. Abrams) mind is so entertaining to me I dig listening to how he thinks. Felicity was a television series with heart and soul... and humor. I can't say enough good things about it and as much as I love Lost, when I first started watching that show I couldn't believe it was from the same master mind as Felicity- talk about feeling 'lost', that guy is intense to say the least. Unlike the unexplained, frustrating drama that occurs weekly on Lost, Felicity was all about reality-amazingly real, piercing reality. It was all about the stuff in between the lines and when someones able to create a series centered around what's not being said by actually saying it is my idea of a creative genius. There were no unexplained monsters in that dorm room.

Anyway, I like to just take a moment to celebrate some facts:#1- J.J. Abrams is still creating meaningful stuff, #2- Felicity is still alive and well in so many people's homes, #3- I had no idea that t2 liked the show and that just makes me feel connected to her on a totally separate level-which is cool. And talk about Felicity 'moments', the fact that I was actually in the home of someone I blog with almost daily and have only hooked up with in person only three times and there was someone in the next room I've only met twice- was pretty cool.

Angie was hanging across town that weekend at her own pad but at one point during the last day we were there, she was mentioning that it was too bad we couldn't have spent more time together (she chose to be busy with other things). When she said that, I was a little taken a back because the rest of us were having Felicity moments right and left all weekend long- just because we were sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Afunt made conscious decisions to not do 'nothing' with us but sometimes within the 'nothing' comes a whole lot of something. The something in this case was simply being present (physically) with each other (not physically, physically- come on now) you all know what I mean... and that's all we needed. I'm sorry she wasn't around more also, but such as life- and such as Felicity.

Know what I'm saying?

In lieu of the weekend- Cheers! I guess we know where the 19 year old shops...

My idea of good

I'm so tired of people telling me about movies they think are 'good' and then either renting them only to experience how much I think they suck or listening to them go on and on all the while saying to myself "what the hell are they talking about!, that movie sucked so bad I had to turn it off", but continuing to keep my mouth shut- just to be polite. Granted, there are way more movies out there that I think suck as opposed to rock but that's just me. Zoe's latest post was on a movie called Wristcutters: A Love Story and apparently she loved the thing but with the title alone I'm thinking it's not really a quality film... but maybe. After checking out the trailer I decided to let this one pass- but you be the judge and if you end up watching it, let Zoe know what you think.

Anyway, her post got me thinking about my own favorite movies and thought I'd share. For starters, the movie The Station Agent holds one of the top (If not the top) spots on my list and I recommend it all the time to people looking for a good flick. I actually only recommend it to certain people though, because of the slow pace of the movie tons of people would find it boring and I don't want to recommend it if I think they can't handle it. To me- those people are boring. If I ever had to do speed dating, this would be one of my questions- 1. Did they see it and 2. Did they like it. This would tell me a lot. (other speed dating questions are another post) I understand people like movies for very specific reasons and depending on what mood they are in when they watch it has a huge effect also but for me, The Station Agent is a movie I love because it's real- not real as in non-fictional but real as in authentic and 'quality'. I get a good feeling from watching it- not an angry feeling, a sad feeling, a violent feeling or a depressing feeling. It feels normal, it's cool as hell and it's definately in my top 5. Other movies are:

Good Will Hunting- it's a Boston flick and it's "awesome" for many reasons.

E.T.- It's a classic and a watching a little kids mind in action is hard to beat.

Swingers- Funny as hell

That's three for starters, there's more but I'm running out of time and gotta go- So anyway, go rent Wristcutters if you're into that or rent Station Agent if you want to spend time with space... Let me (and Zoe) know.

tears of joy

I cry. I'm not a "crier", but I do cry. I don't particularly like to cry because whenever it happens it always seems to get in the way of whatever else is going on at the time. For me, if I'm sad it just makes me sadder and if I'm happy (and crying) it just wrecks the mood because now I need to find a tissue and can't focus on the enjoyment anymore. My crying can occur under many different circumstances:I can easily cry during sad or inspirational movies and seeing children and animals of any kind in pain; I cry when my parents are in pain and I could totally break down if I sat with the thought of one of them going through life with out the other due to a death; I am able to cry from certain words, pictures, thoughts and television shows and I'm a total sucker for the 'underdog' and the person living in "rags" making it big. But I also always seem to cry, well my eyes tear up, whenever I crack up laughing and sometimes that laughter turns into a lump in my throat as if I really feel like crying- it's strange and the eyes completely fill up when I cut an onion, but there's no emotion attached to those tears. In other words it's just never convenient to shed the tears, so I don't jump at the opportunity, but as we all know sometimes the act is unavoidable.

I've learned as an adult that crying is a healthy thing and should not be held in- kind of like sneezing... so I do it when the the moment moves me. I actually cried many times this winter, not because it was the worst winter in like 15 years but because I was either frustrated as hell over something, in a fight with C. Love, still growing, or over the fact that my job was requiring me to work some Saturdays; hence I felt like my life was being taken away from me. It's been a pretty tough winter for many reasons both emotionally and spiritually. At times I chose to bury my self in 'sex and drugs and rock and roll' to sooth the pain but that relief is only temporary then it's time to face the truth... and the tears.

Today I went running for only the second time this winter (I choose not to run on ice and risk killing myself from traffic or dodge snowbanks and get frost bite) because today was 61 degrees. Just saying that is enough to make me cry on the inside. The fact that I haven't moved my body much more than to run up a flight or two of stairs for the last 3 months didn't make for an easy jog, but I managed to get myself down to the lake. As soon as I jumped off the wall and my feet hit the sand my eyes started to tear and I felt that feeling in my heart, head and throat- I made my way over to the rocks away from the babies, the dogs and the walkers and totally burst into tears. They were completely undeniable and obviously inconvenient. I guess they were tears of joy but what they felt like were tears of relief. A lot of my tears over the winter were because I couldn't breathe; today my tears were because I finally could. That warmth from the sun and the energy from the beach is all my soul needs for fuel and the fact that it was without them for the last 5 months was too much for me to take today. They were tears of joy but then sadness when I soon realized that was the (sad) truth.

And of course I didn't have any tissues on me.

A hard knock life

Yesterday at work I noticed a small Spiderman lunchbox sitting on a desk in the office and it seemed (and looked) really strange. I knew who the lunch box belonged to because it was on the desk of the 'new person' but instead of my saying out loud, " what the fuck is up with the lunch box? does she have a 7 year old son or what?", I calmly asked if there was a 7 year old little boy running around somewhere- and people looked at me like I was crazy, they didn't get my joke. There's never any 7 year old's running around our work place, the youngest is maybe 17 and they're doing everything except running around. But my question was more of a way for me to understand who the new woman in the building was without being rude. I needed some explanation for that Spiderman box because I'm sorry but you can't be a 27, 37 or 47 year old woman and bring one to work on your first day without an explanation-she seemed sane but you never know...

When adults carry or own (and use) little kid things like that it freaks me out. If it's a joke I kind of get it but still... leave it at home. Don't wear little pink or yellow t-shirts with rainbows or kittens on them and don't wear little colored barrettes in your hair as if you were four. Now don't get me wrong, I'd kill to have my Partridge Family lunch box back in my possession but if I did, you wouldn't find me filling it with my banana, my apple, my turkey sandwich, my oatmeal, or my little bag of chocolate chip cookies and bringing it to work... no way, that box stays home and comes out only to show off how well I took care of it. It would even be different if she happen to have maybe an old school Barbie lunch box or something classic but Spiderman?!

Anyway, from Spiderman the conversation turned into Little Orphan Annie. We were talking about the lunchboxes we had as kids and someone in the group had an Annie one. Now I've come to realize that If there's a woman in any room between the ages of 35 and 41 and the story of "Annie" comes up, nothing else and no other topic is going to take over that subject- at least for the next 10 minutes straight. People don't just seem to 'remember' "Annie"; they live, breath and worship her- and her little dog too. The way they talk about her borders on obsession but it's so strange because it happened so long ago and they talk about it as if they were just on stage with her. I can never figure out if it's Andrea McArdle, the actual story, the orphanage thing or the music that everyone was attracted to but it never fails: first comes the announcement "I loved Little Orphan Annie", then comes the singing "it's a hard knock life...", then more chatter about the sun coming out tomorrow. The infatuation and power around this thing amazes me. Sure, I remember Annie but because she had to have red hair and have the bad luck of being an orphan, and I too had red hair- I guess I chose not to pay too much attention to her. A red headed orphan... do all the odd ball characters have to have red hair? Come on now, Pippie, Annie, Hollie. It sucked for me because I was the only scrappy looking red headed kid on the block and in school and feeling quite special because of it and they had to go and make weird looking characters in the movies and comic strips have red hair just like me. It was rough.

I just realized this post has turned from talking about a grown woman carrying a lunch box to my childhood issues with being a red head. Lunch boxes, Little Orphan Annie, red hair and pigtails, infatuations and being a little kid... I'm not sure what it all means, but I'm glad I was a little red headed kid - even if it's taken me 1/2 my life to realize it.

Ahhh

I haven't had anything to drink for close to two weeks because of my horrific bronchial/flu-like/exhaustion state that I've been entrenched in. But yesterday with the snow flying, Easter weekend upon us and cancelled plans to head out (because of the fucking snow storm), I picked up a couple bottles along with dinner on the way home from work and man did it go down smoothly...




I sipped it slowly and methodically and I swear I could have drank it for the entire evening. It's good to be back...

Out of commission

I don't know what that last post was all about, I scare myself sometimes... butter? man, I am sick...

Anyway, for the last week or so I've been fighting a cold; I've been physically exhausted, feeling a little dazed and confused and walking around like I haven't slept in days- and I have. Last night I went to bed with a fever and a low, deep cough that was just waiting to explode. Needless to say I called in sick today and spent the entire day on the couch- with exploding cough, lots of tea (I hate tea), spoonfuls of raw honey and herbal cough medicine. My chest is burning, my cough is dry, my fever of 101 at 2:00 has broken and I'm back to a normal temp, but I still feel like I've been hit by a mac truck... and left out in the cold-in the rain. Damn, I've escaped getting sick all winter long! I was so proud of myself, feeling like some anti-germ fighting super hero or something. I guess even superheroes get knocked down every once in a while, but I don't like it.

So yesterday I high tailed it out of work at 4:00 so I could finish up a project I have been working on and that was going to be picked up on Thursday. The project was actually a very cool one but it took up every ounce of free time I have had for the past 2 months or so. I'll try to bottom line it here: Someone hired me to fill an ipod with 4-6 hours of music and then make a mixed CD from that music and burn 45 copies(one for each couple) with her evite logo on each CD. She's having a "meet and greet" party at a restaurant for her friends and neighbors and since she had zero knowledge of any adult music (she has 3 bratty rug rats), she needed some help. All she knew is that she wanted "cocktail" type music that people could talk over- nothing too depressing or too loud. No problem, I was all over it. I have enough music in my house and on my computer to take care of a 20 hour cocktail party. I accepted the challenge and immediately dove in. The problem, and it was a big one throughout the entire process, was this woman. She just wouldn't leave me alone at any point throughout to let me do my thing. She e-mailed every day, wanted certain things earlier than we discussed, couldn't commit on the fee, had horrible taste in music, and basically couldn't let it go. So for months not only have I been listening to and choosing particular songs for the party but also pacifying this woman through the entire process. After printing up and cutting 45 copies of the play list for the mix on Tuesday at work, I came home and slid each one into it's sleeve and I was done. I piled the CD'S on the coffee table and went into the dining room to get a box to keep them safe. Less than one second later, I hear a crash and run in to find that my cat has knocked over my glass of water and it was all over the coffee table FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I grabbed the pile of CD'S and went into the dining room to assess the damage. First of all, do you know how long it takes to burn 45 CDs, compose and print out the cover art and decide which 20 songs are making it to the "mix".?! I take music and this type of thing very, very seriously. I told her from day one that I was treating this as if it were my own party and she had absolutely nothing to worry about. I changed the play list many times and even went to the restaurant and listened to the ipod. Since it sounded horrible because of their speakers, I turned around and burned 5 CDS for her to put into the changer instead. Sound is of utmost importance to me. This thing took me forever!

Back to the accident: it turned out that every single CD that I had burned and put into a sleeve had to be taken out and sleeve tossed- each and every one was wet. At This point I still had two nights left if by any chance the play list needed to be re printed or (the worst of all) CD's needed to be re-burned. Icouldn't literally breathe because with every breath came a whopping cough- All this while chasing the cat around the dining room because she was now obsessed with what's on the table and kept jumping up on top of the laid out CD'S. I proceeded to take every single CD and play list out to lay out and let dry. The cat eventually got shut in a bedroom and C. Love went to Best Buy to buy some new sleeves. All this while my cough is getting progressively worse and I feel a fever coming on. We spent the next hour putting the CD'S in their new, dry sleeves and I put everything in the closet, shut the door, ate some dinner and went to bed.

Fast forward to Thursday at 1:23: I'm home sick again today and already called in for Friday. I've hit the Robitussin, can't stop sneezing and the woman comes over in 1/2 hour to pick up the fucking Cd's. I think I'll meet her outside so she doesn't have to come into the sick house. Man, what a way to end the winter. And on top of it all I wasn't even invited to the party... oh well. I'm done- good bye, I'm off for a nap as soon as she leaves.

Bad Butter

I know there are more important things in life to discuss: like breaking up with your love or 'hooking up with a hottie' or quitting your job or losing your cat or hitting a pot hole and screwing up your alignment but I gotta complain about the bad butter I bought at the store. It's tainting all of my food like a bad smell permeating the air. It looked a little funky when I opened it but I needed it so desperately that I choose to ignore- and I now I suffer.

On Sunday I was making C. Love a birthday dinner (birthday was Sat) which consisted of fillet with a white wine herb sauce, twice baked MASHED POTATOES, roasted asparagus, some warmed bread, and some profiteroles with chocolate sauce for dessert. I had only one quarter of a stick of butter left after I made the profiteroles and I still had the entire dinner to make- not good planning on my part. I definitely needed more than 1/4 of a stick for mashed potatoes, a rich wine sauce and bread, so I ventured into the living room and told C. Love about my problem. Being her wonderful self, she offered to go to the convenient store for me and pick up a stick- great, but when she said "convenient store" I kind of froze in my tracks. I kind of think that if you're not a snack food, a newspaper, a cigarette, a soda, a Gatorade or maybe a box of tissues- you're never leaving that convenient store- I swear some of that food on those shelves has been there for years.

Anyway, to make a long story somewhat shorter, the butter C. Love bought that night was indeed bad... very bad. It looked odd to me on Saturday night but I let it slide. It smelled odd and it tasted a little funky in my mashed potatoes, but again- I let it slide. But tonight when I made Pasta Primavera it smelled and tasted bad again- that was it. Damn, a whole pound of butter and I had to throw it away. I looked at the date as I tossed it in the garbage. It said: Best if purchased by Jan 2008. Just as I suspected, don't ever buy butter in a convenient store- stick to the candy bars.

Trust me, I have many more important things to be discussing here but for some odd reason the butter thing got to me... So it leads me to this question: what are you putting on your toast- real butter or the fake stuff? (I bet the fake stuff never goes bad)

Inside out

It's like I can definitely see it. I can feel it, hear it, experience it and sometimes taste it but I just can't seem to touch it- physically touch it. Not that anyone can actually physically touch any part of it, it's just that being in it's presence and interacting with it feels like touching it-kind of. I'm talking about blogging. I literally haven't had the time ti sit down a compose a post let alone venture out and make some visits to just say hello.

It feels like for the past month I've been stuck in a snowbank. Sure, I come out every day and do my thing but I always go right back every night and huddle up next to the warm interior with ice cold walls. Thankfully people bring me red wine and laughs and I'm able to loose myself in the idealism of American Idol and the headiness of Lost, but this winter thing is getting old. I can see the sun but it's so deceiving because it has zero warmth and it always goes away way too soon. I do venture out of the snow bank quite often but all I hear is other people talking about how much their snow bank sucks or how they've abandoned their snow banks for sand dunes. Fuck them- But...after it's all said and done, I've kind of -strangely- enjoyed my little snow hut this year. I've gotten tons of mail and people bring me cool projects. It has some great air, tons of space to exercise my mind, it's an awesome place to do some 'planting', it frees me up from any outside obligations and complications, it's loaded with great food and wine and it seems to be a very good shelter from all the elements... if you know what I mean. Hibernation is good, I get it now.

The problem is that life outside the snow bank feels so far away; it's right outside my door but for some reason whenever I try to get to it something happens. There's either a blizzard, a wind storm, wild animals or another phone call to bring me back inside. Life in the snow bank is good but I miss real life. I miss the grass, the blue ski, the warmth of the sun, the back and forth nonsense talk from the blogging world, the friendly hello's from strangers, the smiles on every one's face and the ease of life. There's so much to do in my snow bank and it's all good but I'm ready to get out. Starbucks closed their doors for three hours the other day to train their employees. I'd like to open my windows for more than one second to re-train my body to breathe the good air.

I stopped over at t2's place for a second the other day and she was mentioning how long the month of February felt. She's absolutely right, in the dead of winter time seems to stop. That last month felt like eternity. Today is that funky extra day in February. Great, one more day...

winter storm warning #56

Ok, I know I am obsessed with the weather and can't stop complaining about this winter; it's been pretty rough here in Chicago so far with the fridgid temps and pesky snowstorms but this is fucking rediculous! I really wanted to go out tonight. I actually have cabin fever for the first time in my life and was looking forward to tonight- that's a huge deal, believe me. We had plans to head to a cool restaurant for cocktails with awesome food to meet up with a bunch of women (lesbos) for a professional networking thing. I rarely want to go out let alone socialize with a bunch of strangers but lately that's kind of all I want to do-it's strange. I'm all over the events with free apps, especially if they're good ones! Fuck, this sucks.

A couple of weeks ago we were invited to a cocktail party with free appetizers and FREE WINE, (that's right folks I said FREE WINE -for two solid hrs) at a new restaurant. We were at dinner there the week prior and we were approached by the marketing woman. She took our e-mails and said they had some private events coming up if we wanted to go. Hell yea! count me in for sure. That particular night was the bomb, with excellent food and endless bottles of wine from 7-9. My glass was never 1/2 empty and to make the evening even better, the woman walking around with the bottles (one in each hand) were hot- thank god the restaurant chose the good-looking ladies to work the room. Smart. One of them looked like Lindsay Lohan, back when the woman looked good. Anyway, that night it was also snowing and we almost backed out. Thank god we didn't...

It completely sucks when it snows but lately it's been snowing on every night we have plans! Most of the time we clear off the car and go but I always feel like I can't drink as much (if at all) and it's nerve racking getting home. Tonight we planned on going out up until the very last moment. Since I was driving and we had to pick up two other people and it had been snowing since 10 am and not expected to stop until tomorrow, I made the executive decision to not go. I'm glad we're not going, now we can watch Lost and drink where we are safe. It still sucks though and to make myself feel better I will continue to complain. It's an excellent subject to complain about. I'm off to get some vino. Cheers.

frost bite with a twist

I'm all for going out to a cool bar for a cocktail or two but come on now, these type of places are absolutely ridiculous.

I was thinking about them as I sit here in the warmth of my home with my new found honkin bottle of red vino and a soft comfy couch. I think at noon today it was 2 degrees... 2.... When I ran into the bookstore from my parking spot my snot literally froze upon dripping. Now that's just totally wrong. I think the windchill tomorrow is supposed to feel like it's negative 20. NEGATIVE 20! yikes.

I want to know who the hell actually chooses to go to bars like these and why, and what's with the blanket on that ice couch- like that works? When I'm so cold I can't think, let alone open my mouth wide enough to get an alcoholic beverage down there. And to drink with mittens on?! These people scare me. Just please give me the Beachcomer in August. Actually, just give me some red wine and a warm body.

Januray woes

Just a few random thoughts and observances I've noticed since the beginning of January

1. Women are never going to rule the world if lesbians can't get off the couch
2. The week after New Years has to be the worst week in the year
3. How can people think that 63 degrees in January in Chicago has absolutely nothing to with Global Warming
4. I wonder what would happen if i pods only came in only one color
5. How can someone who looks so gay claim they are straight?
6. Jeans with cuffs that are 6-8 inches on a suburban preppy woman with horrible shoes? That's high fashion?
7. Why isn't the Super Nanny all over that (Britany) Spears family?
8. Diet, exercise and New Years resolutions- don't bother.
9. Why the fuck aren't tampons free for women.
10. Why will some lesbians only choose to "go out" once a year to watch the factitious women of The L Word when they could have a cocktail and conversation with some 'real' ones the other 364 days. Again, that brings me back to #1... and I don't want to hear that you are "an old married couple", "a homebody", "just not looking" or "too tired". If you're dead that's ok but again... refer to #1 and get your ass out there.

I hope February is brighter-

all pooped out

Warning, if you have bathroom/feces issues don't read on


OK, this is a disgusting horrible story but it's kind of funny too so here goes: To make a long story somewhat shorter we'll fast forward to last Thursday evening around 5 pm. We were driving back to Chicago from Boston and had made it to our hotel in Youngstown Ohio (10 hrs into the trip). After checking in and checking the cleanliness of the room we decided it was OK to stay so we put our bags down and continued on. I had to go to the bathroom for awhile but since I have an issue with germs and dirt and grime I made the decision to hold off until we got to our hotel where I would at least have some privacy. Since I didn't have time to thoroughly inspect the toilet, I placed toilet paper on the seat... just in case. I did what I had to do in there, came out and checked out the quality of the TV; C. love then went in the bathroom to pee. After all the peeing and pooping was done we headed out into town to get a bite to eat.

Two hours later: We walk back into the room and since I didn't want to use the restaurant's bathroom to pee, I went back into our bathroom to do just that. When I got in I noticed something in the toilet (I'm not going to spell out exactly what) and not thinking anything further I immediately flushed, but something told me that wasn't my poop in there and then proceeded to pee. A second after that I stormed out of the room and said to C. Love "you used the bathroom after me, right?" "yes" she said with confusion. " I mean you flushed, right?", "yes" she said again. ( now I'm starting to freak a little) "you mean you went in, just peed and flushed. "Yes, that's what I'm saying!" (she's getting angry now because I'm not explaining myself) "And there was nothing in the toilet when you went in?" She proceeded to explain how she knew there was only pee in the toilet after she peed because she was noticing the color of it. ( we take note of things like this regularly)


OK, at this point I'm completely stumped, totally confused and a little bit grossed out at what I'm thinking because what I'm imagining is either number 1: my poop came back up after two flushes which is totally bizarro and very unlikely or #2: someone else's poop came up through the pipes, which is totally disgusting, totally wrong and totally bizarro as well or #3: someone entered our room while we were out and used our bathroom, which is totally horrifying, completely disgusting, completely wrong, and completely unbelievable. But out of the three, in the moment, we chose to think it was either #1, or #2- even though we both knew it probably wasn't. Now I spent the next 5 minutes trying to think back to what my poop looked like... just in case it was scenario# 1- strange things can happen with plumbing, right? After going through all the possible explanations and accepting that maybe someone possibly came in and used the bathroom we checked our luggage, and belongings and then both did our best to just let it go and we hit the bed.


The next morning we went to fill up the tank for the next 7 hours home but our card was 'declined'. Not putting two and two together (the unknown person entering our room and a declined credit card and the fact that C. love had left her wallet in the room) we proceeded to call the credit card company and they told us it was probably just the station itself that had the problem. It wasn't until we got back into our home in Chicago, heard the messages from the fraud people, unpacked, played with the cat, went to the store and then talked to the fraud people that we were told that someone has been making charges on our card and the fraud people caught it. Then we froze and realized the same guy (or girl) who came into our room and relieved themselves in our bathroom could have also stolen the credit card number. We freaked out; I was completely grossed out and we both felt totally violated. Nothing was stolen from C. love's wallet and it could have been two totally separate instances but it's kind of coincidental- don't you think?


So fine, someone has stolen our credit card # and used it. And fine, someone entered our hotel room when we were out, pooped in our toilet and didn't flush. Whatever... we will get the money back, I still feel really dirty, and I'm extremely angry that both those things happened but whether they happened within the same night and by the same person or not- it still sucks. FUCK! what the hell?! here I am thinking that whoever came into our room was either 1.- mentally ill and just does this kind of thing or 2.- an employee who regularly does this kind of thing: goes into someones room, poops, and steals credit card numbers (or the other way around). What the fuck, is that like his "sign"? his poop?!


The whole situation is totally strange but in way very, very funny. And I'm glad I can laugh at it now, even though I feel like I still need to take 10 showers a day to cleanse myself of the bad guy in our bathroom. We think it was an isolated case, our identities are in check and from now on we leave the television on and "do not disturb sign" on the door whenever we leave our hotel room. What a way to end the year

baby, it's cold outside

I'm feeling a bit of a draft these days and it's not necessarily because of the frigid temps outside -or maybe it is, I'm not quite sure. That's OK- Christmas time has a way of affecting different people in many funky ways. Most people are walking around in circles totally stressed out from all the mayhem or... depressed but I'm good because I'm just kind of sitting back under my tree watching the season go by.

Lately I've felt like I've been wrapped in blurry Christmas lights. Work has been crazy busy, so my long days have blended into even longer nights filled with too much red wine and mellow Christmas music but tis the season I guess, it's what I gotta do- Just chillin', literally watching the snow fall. Johnny Mathis and Nat King Cole have completely invaded my stereo system and gingerbread and truffles have happily replaced beer and pretzels. On the down side I've had way too much snow to shovel, windshields to scrape, parties to attend, cards to mail and people to call/e-mail and winter is in full force around here. I'm freezing, it always seems like it's dark outside and I'm tired as hell. But at the end of the day I always find a way to manage to relax-drink and eat and sleep like a baby. If the cards didn't get sent, people didn't get called and chores ignored it's all good because when you're walking around in a haze of Christmas lights nothing really matters.

The other day I was lying on my couch thinking about how my Dad used to make an awesome holiday Champagne punch for our "open house", Christmas Eve party every year. For some reason I just loved watching him make it; bottles of this, bottles of that, orange slices and a huge,cool chunk of ice in the middle of it. The punch was a hit and there was never any left at the end of the night. The deviled eggs were always wiped out too. Right now I'm staring at my mantle with all those photos of babies and children and families and I'm wondering if I would do the same if I had kids- I think not actually. I like cards, real cards.

On Saturday morning we fly out to Boston and then drive up to Maine. We'll stay in Maine until Christmas morning, and then drive back to Boston in time for Christmas dinner. We head back to Chicago 2 days after that and settle in for the end of the year. There will be no holiday punch or open house parties, but there will be lobster rolls, little kids, Christmas cheer, lots of love and probably snow- (I could do without the snow)

Merry Christmas to all- I hope the magic finds you.

Down for the count

I got hit with a 'cold'. It's funny because I work with a lot of people who are constantly sick and our environment is like a friggin' petrie dish, all hot and moist and disgusting. There's little air, a lot of dust and mold and a lot of people spreading their germs around. I'm usually able to fend off any potential threat by washing my hands constantly, walking in the opposite direction when someone sneezes, and I drink plenty of water but for some reason my defenses decided to take a baby time out. Bottom line here is I rarely get sick, actually I think the last time I got sick was exactly one year ago -that's weird. Anyway a couple of months ago I managed to avoid getting sick even when C.love was blowing and sneezing and coughing and dripping all over the place- I'm not surprised I got hit this time around, I mean I've been feeling like I need a break so I probably just allowed myself to give in. Maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow too, who knows.

Today all I did was get the cats nails trimmed, get my own hair trimmed, watch the food network, eat a grilled cheese sandwich and thought about things I would put on my 'wish list', just as t2 did. I was also trying to catch up on some blogs, since I've pretty much disengaged myself from the whole blogging process lately. I just haven't had the desire to hear about anyone elses life, or indulge their narcissistic tendencies; after all isn't that really why we all fucking blog? I've focused on a couple of things over the past month or so about blogging that have turned me off (or in the case of #1-on:

1. I'm strangely drawn to someones blog if I find out from a photo they are damn good-looking

2. I immediately get off someones blog when the post goes on and on and on and on... Sometimes I'll just scroll down to the last sentence to find out what the hell they're talking about.

3. I'm rarely interested in reading about a straight woman's world- it's usually boring as hell

4. I love when people comment back to every comment left on their post. It's like saying "thank you"

5. (this one I've hated from the beginning) When people write a post, ask questions and then don't respond to any answers- they just move on to another post.

6. I miss my creativity- I seem to have lost it in the wind over the years

So as far as my so called wish list goes for this year I've realized Amazon doesn't actually sell everything under the sun- go figure. I mean you can't but jeep wranglers there, or real estate or puppies or huge kitchens with wood burning fireplaces or more intuition or olive oil- know what I'm saying? I want an unlimited supply of wine, beer and olive oil for Christmas and I'm thinking they don't have that at amazon.com. I want cash to buy whatever the hell I want and I want to know where I'm going to be living in a year from now. I want to perfect my cooking skills, hook up with someone else and cook like crazy for other people and I want my own beach house to kick back in.

I actually like being home sick, I can just sit and think-without pressure. Random thoughts float in and float out. C.Love just walked in with the mail and I got something I wanted and have been waiting for, my t-shirt from Cisco Brewers-they rock. I'll take some of their beer for Christmas, or how about a weekend trip over there to drink it on the premises, now that would be a good gift...

Cheers

I can't wait for Thursday. Happy day to everyone; enjoy the food, the wine , the company and the day off. I'm making a new sausage stuffing this year... yummy in my tummy! We got wine, we got olives, we got some cheese, we got popovers, we got creamed onions, we got buttery mashed potatoes, we got some squash, we got a big ass turkey, we got delicious fresh green beans with some almonds, we got hard cider, we got time to cook and time to eat and time to give thanks. We'll do all that with no problem. Again, I can't wait. Cheers to all!

getting aligned

June 18, 2007 Where The Soul Is
Finding The Place You Belong

"There will likely be times in your life when your soul evolves more quickly than your circumstances. Your subconscious mind may be ready to move forward long before you recognize that you are destined to embrace a new way of life. "...

Phew- sometimes it helps to have someone else explain what you're feeling.

human decency

Why does it seem like people loose their manners when they become an adult. Shit, I know more 5 year olds who have more human decency than some 35 year olds do. Here's an example of what I'm talking about:

Last weekend we invited a couple over for dinner on saturday night. They responded via e-mail with " Yes, sounds like fun! we'd love to come. Do you think we can make it an early dinner because we (the boyfriend and I) want to try to catch a show later that night (band at a pub). Do you guys want to come along?"

My immediate response when I heard this was well forget it, I'm taking the invitation back because that's fucking rude. Then I calmed down, decided to rise above and be the adult here; we invited, they accepted so I will serve drinks and cook. I'm just saying first of all if you have something to do that night you either don't accept the invitation or you say "we'd love to but we have tickets to a show later that night. PERIOD. If the person throwing the dinner party wants to then say "oh that's ok, we can do an early dinner"-then that's ok. Do you know what I'm saying?! Anyway, they came, they drank, they ate, we talked, we laughed and it was all good.

After they left, c. love and I went out to meet up with a friend for some more wine so in the end it was all good. I don't like guests to overstay their welcome anyway so an "early dinner" was actually good for me. But I still think it was rude.

In and out...

and I'm not talking about the burger chain, although I wish I were. We flew in to California last Wednesday morning and out again on Sunday morning. Our purpose was to experience the area and try to determine a potential place to live- we did, and we didn't. Within those five days we probably experienced more emotion, excitement, fear, anxiety, confusion, and growing than we would have had in five months of therapy, but in the end I hate to say the trip wasn't anything like we had anticipated and everything we hadn't and it kind of sucks.

Lucky for me I was born and brought up in a house where my parents actually loved me. They told me they loved me, kept me safe and secure, never abused me, hugged and kissed me every day and night, literally tucked me into bed when I was little, read to me, played with me, made me feel important, taught me about good and bad, allowed me to grow at my own pace, didn't smother me with their own stuff and gave me stability- solid stability. They did everything I believe parents should do, but as we all know that isn't always the case. I consider myself very lucky. I also consider myself cursed. Cursed because as I've learned over the years and more so since I've evolved into the adult that I am that all of that stability I had when I was young has in a way kept me from growing and is making it more difficult for me to accept change- now in my life. What does my stable childhood have to do with moving to California? Well, I'm having a real hard time thinking about uprooting my life here in Chicago and letting go of all the comforts, security, knowledge and familiarity that I have, to go to a place where the exact opposite will exist. We are not familiar with California, have no connections out there, don't know our way around and personally I don't really feel like learning it all- it's a pain.

I've only moved once in my life. Besides living away at college for four years and living in two separate apartments in Boston, I've lived- really lived in only two I'll say 'homes' my whole life. My house, where I grew up and this apartment for the last 11 years. As a kid, I lived with the constant knowing that the bedroom I was sleeping in and the house we were living in was as solid as the cement and bricks that surrounded us. Let's just say I slept very, very soundly. I never had to deal with multiple schools, moving from place to place or making new friends so my mind never had to go there. unlike myself, if you are a kid who was never really loved or or is used to living in fear and instability, moving as an adult would probably have little effect on you. As a matter of fact it would probably feel more comfortable because it's what you were used to. Not so much for me.

Being in California last week was anything but a vacation for us both. We actually felt like we were working and went to bed every night as if the next day was another work day with lots to accomplish. Who looks forward to work. Every morning the maps came out, gas tank filled, and minds set on overdrive. We visited each town not with amazement, joy and relaxation but instead with our guards up, our spidey sense activated and our focus on 'do we fit in'. It's really hard to visit an unfamiliar place with thoughts that you may be living there someday. Live- really live there. It's like all of a sudden being a lefty instead of a righty or vice verse- you know? confusion, awkwardness and feeling discomfort runs rampant. Issues came up, arguments ensued, and our relationship took a beating. All because the both of us were freaked- out of our minds that we were actually thinking of moving to California and there we were in the middle of the process. Yikes. In the end nothing felt perfect- not the weather, not the roads, not the people and not any town we visited. There were glimpses of joy and sighs of relief here and there but when we got home we felt beaten and discouraged. Places were either too much or too little; too big or too small; too beautiful and fake or too crappy and unattractive. Nothing felt normal- nothing. Do we let go of our dream to live in a warm climate with beauty and joy surrounding us or do we throw in the towel and stay put here in Chicago- who knows. Moving back East is an option but it just doesn't feel like the right one- not yet. All I kept saying on the trip was "why is it so damn hard to get what you want". This whole thing is so difficult from every angle but know we are stuck because we started the ball rolling and we can't really go back. That's the thing with change, inviting change and growing- no one ever said it was easy but everyone always says it's worth it. Shit, just get me to the other side.

I sure would love to be zapped back to childhood where my decisions were monitored, my mistakes were fixed and my mind was like a sponge. And the safety of my bedroom was just steps away from the safety of my whole little life. Or at the very least back in California, sitting down in the sun eating an In and Out burger.

The sweetest

without a net

As expected, this whole "move" thing has brought up some of my issues and at this moment (unfortunately) continues to wreck havoc on my relationship and in turn has forced us to cancel our dinner plans for the evening.

I was just aimlessly scrolling through a bunch of old e-mails and I came across one that oddly enough hit the spot, calmed me down a bit (enough to attempt a post) and will thankfully allow me to trudge on with my process. My fear around this move or should I say 'fear of the unknown' has almost paralyzed me from making any attempt to move forward around it and instead has totally allowed the naysayer that lives inside of me to completely- 100% not only take over my mind but allow those stupid words to come out of my mouth as well. I've been wanting some 'proof' that everything will be ok for us in California especially after last weeks horrific events unfolded and since it's impossible to receive that, I've been living in a pretty bad place lately. My all knowing, strong, inner self knows we will be better than ok in California but that fucking negative voice always seems to win. I gotta find a way to put that thing on the bench and start letting the other guys play. So as some of you (or most of you) can attest to, when the negative voice rules our little world we tend to stay stuck in the gloom and doom and frolic in misery instead of embracing the potential joy of change.


Anyway, through the e-mail I came across "Today's Daily" and thought I'd share it with you all in case anyone else is entertaining the naysayer tonight instead of fun, human contact.

father knows best(?)

Like most dads, my dad has said a lot of things to me in our lifetime together- some good, some not so good, some just plain silly and some very meaningful but one thing he and my mom continually expressed was 'if you don't have anything nice to say to someone, don't say anything at all'. For some reason those words stuck and wouldn't it be nice if I could say I have lived my whole life abiding by that phrase- but (head down) I can't. As much as I hate to admitt it, I have said some hurtful, mean things to people in the course of my life time, and I do regret that. But I can honestly say that ever since I've "grown up" my track record has shown more silence than anything and I try to be aware of saying the nice things whenever I think or feel them- which is quite often.

My point of all this is that on Friday when we were on our way up to Minnesota to that wedding we made a pit stop at a McDonald's in Wisconsin to pee and we encountered a dad who obviously didn't drink the same kool-aid my parents drank. As C.Love and I were walking in one door this cheese head man and his little 6 year old son were walking out the other door. As soon as we stepped inside we hear- Don't ever talk to a lesbian, (pause) they all suck. I heard the words but couldn't seem to process them as quickly as C. love could (I was still in my morning fog) because she immediately responded with(as he was walking out the door) " thanks for that- we're lesbians" . I heard him, I heard her and I looked at the little kid- who was looking up at us. This whole interaction happened very quickly, like within 4 seconds but it lingered with me all weekend- just as McDonald's does. After C. Love blurted us 'out', the guy didn't miss a beat, didn't turn around to see who was speaking and responded with I don't care. He doesn't care- what a shock.

I was still processing the comment when I walked out of the restroom and remember saying to C. Love "there must be a "lesbian" behind the counter..." but all the while thinking what the hell? what kind of comment was that to let alone speak out loud but to say to your 6 year old?! I was honestly shocked this guy was actually saying those words, they didn't make sense- I realize we were in Wisconsin, but come on now! what the fuck! I don't get it. He's six!! After the shock and then the anger wore off, the sadness hit. I realize there are other people besides this man in Wisconsin that feel this way but thankfully I don't hear it too often because when I do it sets me back somewhat-

We got back in the car and C. Love came to the conclusion that this guy was problably married to one (a lesbo)or not married to one anymore- one can only hope. All I kept thinking was I hope that little guy only listens to his dad with one ear. Some words stick, hopefully those nine won't.

road trip

In about 45 minutes we have to get in the car and drive for 9 fucking hours. We're off to lame- ass Minnesota for a wedding. Everyone says "oh, pretty!" when I say Minnesota. Pretty? I say- for nine hours?! Pretty might be OK for two- not nine. Anyway, we drive up, go to the "grooms dinner" Friday night, wedding on Saturday and drive nine hours back on Sunday. That's my weekend.

Minnesota is fine but if I hand you a map and showed you exactly where in MN we will be you'd understand why I'm not looking forward to it all that much. How people live in the middle of nowhere as if they're stuck back in 1970 is beyond me. It's called a no frills weekend, that's for sure. In a way that's kind of refreshing, it was easy to choose a hotel because there was only two to choose from- Holiday or Comfort. We'll be in Willmar... if anyone knows where the hell that is.

So it's banquet tables, tradition and meat for dinner for me for the next 2 days- At least there's cable in the room so I can catch the Red Sox when we get back to the room tonight.

moving on

We've lived in Chicago for 11 years now, before that it was Boston for 32 and now we are off to California (city not determined yet) for the next phase. This next chapter feels like it could possibly be the most significant, meaningful, fulfilling and happiest yet, but only time will tell. You know it's funny but when we first moved here to Chicago we didn't know anyone, we were kind of unfamiliar with 'the lesbian community' and I started this blog in hopes of getting connected with some lesbians out here. Well, I did get connected with some other women- some lesbians, some not and some not so much but sometimes on weekends... I made some solid connections with friends from the blogging world as well but now It's time to start the whole process over again in a whole new city. Man, it sounds exhausting.

So here I sit in the comfort zone of my own home thinking about starting the process again. The thought of it is exciting but anxiety provoking at the same time. We wouldn't have made this decision if we weren't convinced at a much deeper more powerful level that it was the right thing to do. It's hard to think about leaving because we have built so much stability here over the last ten years: I have neighbors I trust my house key with, numerous friends I could call on a moments notice, a stable job with benefits up the wazoo, local coffee shops and liquor stores that know me and say hello as soon as I walk in, a mechanic and vet we trust whole heartedly, a house full of furniture and we have a very convenient, easy life on top of it all. On one hand it's so easy to stay and so tumultuous to leave but staying would equal stopping and leaving feels like growing- so we go.


We're going to California because we've been talking about it for years now. Plus they have the weather we crave, the food we love, the lifestyle we lead, the attitude we want surrounding us, the good spas C.Love can connect with, the beauty we prefer to look at and the ocean air that feeds our souls. But the real reason we're heading out to CA is because we know it's part of the puzzle, our whole life puzzle-(or path). As scary as this whole move is, it is overwhelmingly calming at the same time, it's kind of creepy. California is unfamiliar to us so we want to make sure we end up in the right area. You know... a lesbian friendly area... with cool shops and restaurants and stuff. Good luck to us, right?

So here goes, move #2. We are headed out to Long Beach at the end of October to check out the area, so if anyone out there can recommend a few potential places to live please enlighten me. One of my firsts posts was about the lesbian scene in Chicago and "a Lesbian in Los Angeles" had a few words to say but I need waaaaaaaaaaaay more. My biggest issue right now is trying to figure out how to tell people not to give us anything when we throw a huge going away party in December to say goodbye; (nothing except wine gift certificates that is)that and bringing our cat on the plane. I can feel this blogging thing will be used for a lot more than chit chat over the next 3 months so I'm warning you all now. A lot is going to come up for me and hopefully I'll see you on the other side -in sunny, warm California. Cheers.

the end

How depressing is today? on a scale of 1-10 it's up there pretty damn far. Labor Day completely sucks; how anyone can have a party and celebrate the day is beyond me. Next year I'm having a party though- not to celebrate, but to commiserate. Maybe it'll just be more of a celebration that summer actually exists- period.

a slice of my life

Sometimes I like to do multiple things at the same time. For example, most mornings I'm "Media Multitasking"-you know, watching TV, surfing the Web, reading the morning paper etc, etc. Add to this an occasional ball toss to the kitty with coffee in hand and my conscious awareness is literally all over the place, and I'm good with that. I assume the majority of people multitask throughout the day and for most of their lives but besides the morning routine I prefer to do things one step at a time. I actually prefer less stimuli in general in life- in every situation. I've informally diagnosed myself as an HSP . I really do HATE: loud noises, bright lights and 'smells'. I am an extremely intuitive person and get annoyingly overwhelmed when I have tons to do, say or respond to with little room to think. I enjoy Mr. Rogers and the game of baseball for the same reason- they're both slow and easy to focus on.

So as much as I attack situations with the long, slow approach, when it comes to cooking and drinking I'm multitasking like a pro. Monday evening was a good example of how my stream of consciousness went from practically comatose to hyper-aware in a matter of minutes. It all started when I made the decision to finish my 2007 summer CD and pour myself a glass of wine. Within that next hour and 1/2 or so, not only did I complete and listen to my mix, but I grilled a steak, roasted potatoes and asparagus, had an online conversation with a realtor about an outdoor shower, made a red wine sauce for the steak, ate olives, cheese and bread, played a game of hide and seek with the kitty and drank the entire bottle of red wine. Yes, entire bottle- with no hesitation. Now if that's not productive multitasking, I don't know what is. I went from living room to grill to stove, to living room- to bathroom to kitchen and back again. My senses were alive and I was focused and alert. I had a goofy smile on my face when C. Love walked in at around 7:30. First she told me it smelled good in there, then she said, "what are you smiling at?", I told her it was because I made an awesome sauce- she said "you're drunk" and walked into the other room to change. Ok, so I admit it, I drank the whole damn bottle (minus 3/4 of a cup for the awesome sauce) but the stuff was good and my shut off valve was lost when thoughts of that outdoor shower on Cape Cod came rushing in. Needless to say, the meal was delicious (I think)but conversation was a little rough around the edges and sleep wasn't as dream like as it usually is.

The next morning I was a little slow on the uptake but I actually found Mr. Rogers on TV to watch and my paper was delivered late so it was just me and my coffee and the couch. When I came home from work and C.Love asked me how my day was all I could think about was how I struggled through the day because I drank that whole bottle of wine- but I was good. I wouldn't have changed a thing. Wine, music and cooking? what more could I ask for- besides a whole lot more of that wine... Cheers- not so much to the end of summer with the dreaded Labor Day coming up but more so to the start of something new... and inspiration.

club victoria

Every so often we receive 10 dollar gift type cards from Victoria's Secret and sometimes they have a 'free panty' offer attached to it. Just for the record, the word "panty" is on my list of words I hate. We got one of those cards while we were away and C.love wanted the free thing so since the store is close to where I work, I offered to pick her up a pair- no problem.

The store had recently been remodeled but I had no idea it was it was going to take on the look and feel of what it did. As soon as I joined the throngs of people piling through the revolving door and made my way inside I was immediately blown away by not only the size of the place but with the electric atmosphere as well. Amazing. I stood there glancing around trying to figure out which way to go but nowhere out there, in that huge sea of bras and panties was there any indication that what I was looking for would be easy to find. (I was also in there for a new racer back bra in my newly discovered size-32D) All I saw was thousands and thousands of colorful, shiny, sparkly, glittery, lacy-things. And plenty of panties and pink dogs flying around- Madonna was blasting over the sound system, the floor was shaking and people were running through the place like it was Grand Central Station. I decided to follow the woman who had said hello to me when I first walked in, to ask her where I could find what I was looking for. She led me over to the farthest corner in the store and as we took the long stroll I was thinking two things: 1. why the hell am I always interested in things that are on the fringe and 2. where's Giselle Bundchen?! (it felt like there should have been a runway somewhere around there)

As we made our way through the store on route to the racerback bras, I couldn't honestly believe how much the place resembled a night club! Shit, there were flashing lights, beautiful (and not so beautiful ) people milling around, glitter, boobs, shiny things, loud thumping music and video screens... well, I'm not sure about the video screens but if there wasn't, there should have been. It was amazing and might I add brilliant. But I don't understand how there can be so many different types of bras and panties out there, and then I think- are the people buying and wearing all this stuff wearing it all the time? Because if the outer clothes don't reflect what's under them it all seems just a little wrong. You know? How about instead of paying 50$ plus for your bra, you dish out half that for a decent pair of jeans- that's what we're looking at, not your undies. Whatever.

When we finally made it over to the corner I asked her if she had the bra in 32D, and she looked at me and said "NO". Damn!, all that for nothing. Then I asked her if there were any bras in the night club that were in 32D, she again said "no, I'm sorry it's just not a popular enough size, you must be one of the lucky few, narrow in the rib cage?". "Yeah" I said. I'm thinking- LUCKY? I don't call this lucky if I can't find my size in Victoria's closet! I was so distracted by the nightclub atmosphere that I totally forgot to ask where the free panties were, but I managed to flag down the next head phone woman that walked by and she led me over to the bin. I was waiting for Justin Timberlake to come dancing in from the dressing room but no such luck. To make a long story short: I had ZERO success. No free panty, no bra, no nothing. I waked out empty handed and defeated.

I was thinking they should install a bar in the back corner and then nobody would leave empty handed. Plus it would totally complete the scene.. music, a runway, a bar- know what I'm saying? I'd definitely go there for a drink- if it was offered. But now I think I'll shop exclusively on line and drink at my own place- it's just easier . Victoria's place was a little frightening for a Thursday night.

my (future) summer home

I need some cash, cold hard cash because I want to buy something that at this exact moment I can't really afford. Or should I say is a little above my price range. It's a house- on Cape Cod. But it's way more than that; it's actually a house on The National Seashore in Wellfleet. There's a particular home in the same area that I'm more interested in but it isn't even up for sale. I have the woman in charge of these cottages asking the owner if they are willing to sell. Here's the thing, I'm tired of wanting and waiting- I can't take it anymore.

Ever since we got back from vacation we've started to adopt a new philosophy of just doing (whatever it is we want to do) and the rest will take care of itself. This requires a huge amount of faith and trust: that the universe will ultimately give you exactly want you deserve and desire. We are all in control of our own lives and a lot of the times I know fear and or crap gets in our way and holds us back. it's actually the philosophy of The Secret, or of the Law of Attraction. It's for real and it works. I have tons of faith, but it's a bit frightening all the same.

So I need some greenery, anyone got any they want to invest in something?
The path behind the house looks like this:
And then it's just steps away from this:

If we buy, we plan on renting it out to friends and family with the exception of a couple of weeks in July reserved for us. It's just a cottage we're looking for; a summer cottage to generate some additional income... for now. After that- who knows. It's just a beach house, it can't be all that difficult to get- right? If I could just find a way...

occupied

Something extremely horrifying happened to me on the plane to Boston last week; horrifying and when I made my way back to the seat I told C.Love the event was "traumatic"-it was that bad.

Let me preface this story by admitting how much of a freak I am about germs, germs in general: spit, sneezes, mucous, sweat, smells, shopping cart handles, salad bars etc. Public restrooms put me on major alert as do crowds when there's no air in the room and kindergarten classes. I manage to never touch my hands to my eyes and or mouth during the day and I wash my hands before and after I pee. (my thoughts are turning to the whizzy) I wouldn't call myself obsessive or compulsive at all, but I will say I think I am more concerned about germs and human waste than most of the general public is, I admit I have a problem. I'm in and out of a public restroom faster than a little boy in a bush but when it comes to airplanes I'm lost,confused, trapped and helpless. In my mind germs are just flying rampant all over that cabin and when someone sneezes?!, shit I just hold my breath and crank that air knob overhead. It's all I got. I don't drink anything before flying just because I want to avoid that bathroom at all costs- I can't stand going into that little room, it freaks me out. Morning flights are tough because of the need for coffee, but I try to get it all out before we board or if there's any left I'll hold it for as long as I can. (I know it's not good to hold it) Once inside that door and body turned around my mind is on nothing other than releasing and bolting- get me the hell out.

Last week, I don't know what happened, but I had to pee so I made the trek down the aisle. We had a good hour and a half left before reaching another bathroom so I figured I should go. And I did, with little interference; the trauma occurred as soon as I leaned over to flush... When I turned around to hit the button with my foot, my glasses fell off my shirt and landed straight into the fucking hole. The black (or toilet bowl disinfectant blue) hole. In that loud, flushing suction moment I froze. In what seemed like a solid 10 minutes, but was only probably 3 seconds between the flush and the end of the flush I watched my glasses go down... and come back up again. My first thought was shit because they were my only pair of glasses (I don't wear contacts) and I planned on driving a lot, then I thought-shit- THEY ARE STILL ALIVE? There they were sitting right there- wedged over the hole, I had to go in and get them. Wait a minute, GO IN AND GET THEM?!! But they were right there, just an arm's length away. With no time to panic, I held my breath, blocked out the thought of what I was doing and pulled them out. I picked the glasses out with 2 fingers and immediately tossed them onto the sink. I had no idea what was happening at this point but I managed to wrap them in a paper towel, wash my hands and get the hell out of there.

As I approached my seat at 14 D, C. Love looked up at me and said, "are you all right?" I said "no, I just had a very, very traumatic experience", then continued to recreate the toilet scene. She laughed and I wanted to cry. I sat there with my hands stretched out for the next 20 minutes, thinking I had some disgusting fungus growing on them. When the drink lady came by to ask if I wanted anything, all I could think of was a wet-nap. That would have been pretty nice at that point but she didn't have one. Figures, all she had were liquids.

So what's the deal? has this type of thing ever happened to anyone else? Have you ever lost anything down the airplane toilet?

(There was zero damage to the glasses by the way... amazing.)

Duh

They needed a study from Washington to figure this out?! Come on now...

Updated: 6:19 p.m. CT July 31, 2007.-Lust trumps love when it comes to having sex
Study finds there aren’t many gender differences in reasons for intimacy

WASHINGTON - After exhaustively compiling a list of the 237 reasons why people have sex, researchers found that young men and women get intimate for mostly the same motivations.
It’s more about lust in the body than a love connection in the heart.
College-aged men and women agree on their top reasons for having sex — they were attracted to the person, they wanted to experience physical pleasure and “it feels good,” according to a peer-reviewed study in the August edition of Archives of Sexual Behavior. Twenty of the top 25 reasons given for having sex were the same for men and women.

Men's top 10 reasons:

1. I was attracted to the person.
2. It feels good.
3. I wanted to experience physical pleasure.
4. It’s fun.
5. I wanted to show my affection to the person.
6. I was sexually aroused and wanted the release.
7. I was “horny.”
8. I wanted to express my love for the person.
9. I wanted to achieve an orgasm.
10. I wanted to please my partner.

Women's top 10 reasons:
1. I was attracted to the person.
2. I wanted to experience physical pleasure.
3. It feels good.
4. I wanted to show my affection to the person.
5. I wanted to express my love for the person.
6. I was sexually aroused and wanted the release.
7. I was “horny.”
8. It’s fun.
9. I realized I was in love.
10. I was “in the heat of the moment.”

Bottom line? it's all about the senses baby. Just get those juices flowing- whatever it takes.

sucks

It totally sucks going back to 'life' after vacation. I don't do it well and should have taken today off from work also... but I didn't.

gone fishin'

It's actually just a little over 1000 miles from where I sit right now and in less than 7 hours I'll be a mere 37 miles away. Yippee.


I'm off to spend a week of sun and fun on the beaches of Cape Cod and the taxi comes in about 1 1/2 hours. Why the hell is it that before you leave for vacation to do basically absolutely nothing, the week before is loaded with enough miscellaneous crap to keep you busy from morning til night. This is the first 'free' time I've had for awhile. (and it's not really free because this is the last thing I should be doing-I still have to finish packing).

Anyway, I'm off to Harwichport for a few days and then Brewster for a few more. In between is P-town. It'll be family time, beach time, fresh fish time, National Seashore time and so much more I can't even describe. If you've been there you totally understand and if not... I'm sorry. I'm out!- Later.

curb it

The other night I came home from work and sat down at my dining room table with a beer; that little picture is not anything that I haven't done a thousand times before but for some reason the beer that night had a really bad aftertaste. As I sat there thinking about the day, I heard some loud voices coming from the park across the street (this also is not so unusual) and noticed a group of people sitting on the curb with their feet in the street. There was a cute little girl around age 3 with awesome pigtails that stuck straight out from the side of her head, a boy about age 7, and three women around 30 ish or so -oh and a little chiuaua dog. They were just hanging out talking but my 'spidey sense' told me something wasn't right with them and sure enough I was correct.

Even though they may have looked and sounded completely out of place in this neighborhood, I was trying to tell myself they were probably just "having fun", so I sat back down and finished my beer. Soon enough they got louder and louder and began to create a scene for everyone in the park. Since they were pretty much right outside my window, I stood up to see what the hell they could be doing; again, they weren't actually doing anything- just hanging- strangely on the curb. Then I heard someone yell " you gotts go the to da bafroom?!" the little 3 year old voice whispered back "yes" (as if she was sorry). I watched as the mother immediately grabbed the little kid by the arm, practically lifting her off the ground saying "come on, we'll go over here" but looking around realizing there was no place to hide. No place but behind the trash can that is- the trash can that is practically on the sidewalk. Now I've peed in my share of strange and public places in my lifetime but not when I was three and not because my mom had taken me to an unfamiliar neighborhood without a car to take us back home with. (I'm just saying there was a bunch of bushes a mere 20 feet away) Ok, whatever. The little kid proceeded to do her thing behind the trash can as the 7 year old boy did his best to alert the public that this was happening. Now I understand this event won't scar her at all and she probably didn't really care where she peed but for some reason it bothrered me; then I heard her mother yell, while dragging her over to the trash can, " she's gots to learn somehow- this will make her a woman". Ok, now I could feel my anger coming up through my chest. Ahhh, learn what first of all- that her mom is an idiot or that it's ok to pee on the sidewalk in public- what exactly is the lesson here. I don't think peeing by a trash can has anything to do with womanhood but that's just me-I let that comment go but the whole scene wasn't sitting well with me- again, spidey sense...

I decided to leave the dining room at this point because it wasn't doing me any good watching this. As I tried to settle back down with another beer, I heard the little chiuaua dog barking incessantly and then heard my neighbors voice- what the fuck. I grabbed my beer in frustration and looked out the window to see what was going on, again nothing- still just sitting on the curb, talking to my neighbor who was walking her huge Siberian Husky. That's why the chiuaua was freaking out. I watched for a minute because I wanted to see the husky and the chuaua interact, it would have been funny but I never saw that- the strangers didn't want to get off the curb. What transpired was horrible to see: the woman holding the chiuaua was choking her dog with the lease and continually whacking it with her shoe because it wouldn't stop barking. Yeah, that's right the dog was barking... duh. I'm telling you she was whacking that dog non stop. With every swat the dog flew a couple inches and it went on and on and on. Watching someone violently hit a dog, really hard kills me. I honestly don't know what stopped me from physically going outside to ask her politely what the fuck her problem was, but I didn't.

Witnessing the abuse of a dog or a child is the one thing that could potentially turn my own anger into uncontrollable rage. Most of the time I have to quickly turn away from the scene for fear of what I could say or do, but mostly I turn away because it upsets me so much. I can't physically stand it. If I actually sensed any child or animal was being abused to the point of no return believe me I would intervene. This particular event wasn't all that horrible, it wasn't good but we've all seen much, much worse. I'm just saying if she's treating her little mini dog like that I don't want to know what's going on with pigtail girl- no thanks, can't go there.

After seeing this, the next day I read a very disturbing post by maria out there in Nebraska- not a good way to relax with a beer on a warm, sunny summer day.

butt ugly

The one and only reason I can't wait until January 2008 is because this is when the Smoke-Free Illinois Act will take effect. I'm so fucking tired of coming home after a night out smelling like smoke; it's bad enough that I reek of alcohol but couple that with stale cigarette smell and It makes me feel like a big fat bar boozer.

I hate smoking. I hate smoke, the smell of smoke, the look of a cigarette, ash trays and smokers breath. Unlike so many people, I don't find smoking to be sexy or "cool"- believe me I could name about a thousand other things that I would allow the coolness label to be attached to. I also find it annoying and somewhat rude when smokers file outside during a party (regardless of the weather) because they need a hit- and they never seem to go alone. Smoking seems old school, totally addictive instead of enjoyable, dirty and just plain stupid if you ask me.

I don't care that people smoke as long as they never come out of their house or car to do it. Now if I could only get a loud talking act to pass, I'd be good to go.

NOT sexy

Can someone please enlighten me and explain why 9 out of 10 women who wear thongs are overweight and insist on either wearing pants that are too low or too tight for their bodies? It can't be comfortable, right? Plus colored thong, white pants?- what the fuck is this?!

I don't get it, I mean it's not sexy or attractive to see the thong sticking up 6, 7, 8 inches higher than the jeans... what's the deal?

summer's soft spot

I seem to be completely saturated in the haze of summer lately. Ever since that Summer Solstice weekend my mind has completely gone on break, as it did years ago when school would let out. The only difference now is that instead of flagging the ice cream truck down or playing 'kick the can' until dusk I'm watching time go by as if I have nothing else to do for the rest of my life.

I've been lost in the moment of what it's like when the morning light turns to afternoon sun or when early evening turns into full fledged night time-that time period when you happen to be just talking or watching or reading or sitting and in what feels like a split second, the world outside has completely changed. Lost in the moment. I'm worried that in two months from now I'm going to wake up and be blindsided by the fact that the calendar now says September. Summer is like a drug, but in addition to the natural intoxication it gives me, add on top of that my usual consumption of alcohol and I'm pretty much checked out-period.

Being lost in the heat of the sun and heat of the moment, whether the moment consists of lust, love or time is all good. I can't quite figure out why blogging has gotten lost in all of this haze though. What always felt like such a concrete force seems to have melted away - temporarily...

summer solstice

Six months from now I'll be willing to give up my pinky finger for today's date: June 21. Not because it'll be four days before Christmas but more so because my thoughts from December-March are focused on one thing- summertime.

I don't know what I'm thinking but if there's any day of the year I should be throwing a party it's today. But I'm not. Not only is it the longest fucking day of the year and the official kick-off to summer but it's also Thursday (Thursday's rock) and around here it's Pride weekend. Summer has a certain feel to it and the fact that it only lasts three short months has got to mean something in the big picture, but I have no idea what; all I know is it's way too short of a season. I want to see the sun, feel the heat, hear the stillness in the air, bask in the energy and throw my winter jacket in a corner in the closet. The next three months are pretty much the closest thing to a guarantee that temperatures will be 70 or above. I'd like to be able to take the next three months off of work and just do nothing because that's what you're supposed to do in the summer; sit and wait... and drink lemonade. I actually think that today should be a national holiday- everyone, whether they like summer or not could find some benefit to "summertime".

I hope everyone out there has a fabulous summer. I hope it's not too hot for those who hate the heat and not too cool for those who want to sweat. So happy summer solstice everyone and happy "Pride". Cheers.

I'm just saying

Monday Night's "I'm just..."

1. What the hell is it with America's fascination with "William" and "Harry"?

2. Lemon-Lime Gatorade

3. But I like to 'give'... usually (sex)

4. Try it on french fries (mustard)

5. I would if I could t2

6. We better be riding on it instead of walking next to it (the fire engine at the Pride Parade)

7. It's the Red Sox

8. Because there's nothing on (TV)

9. You might want to close the door

10. Fuck, I just don't feel like talking to him tomorrow

11. Cus she's hot!

12. I need to stand up (when I think)

13. It's because it's warm out

14. We can if you want...

15. I didn't even have one beer tonight

Exactly(?)

"I always tuck my panties into my pants pocket,fold my bra and lay in on top of the pants.

Adam always said she had old lady legs."

(Got this one this morning- it's pretty funny)

strumming, singing and moaning

OK, still feeling a bit angry so I'm going off on my neighbors-here’s the deal: In the apartment across the hall from me there lives a couple who happen to be (I think) professional musicians. The problem is that they practice day and night and it’s fucking annoying when I just want some peace and quiet. And believe me, I could really use some peace and quiet, I have enough racket going on in my head these days.

They’re not rock stars by any means; I believe they are classical musicians. The woman is a singer and the dude plays the harp and piano. Most of the time it's pleasant because the music is gentle and kind of soothing- sounds like wind chime, new age meditation music. Believe me I’d much rather have someone singing classical music and playing the harp than screaming with an electric guitar. The clincher is when they plug in the amp- that’s right, I said amp. I think they have a synthesizer over there too. Now an amp in an apartment building is not right. I’m cool with a little acoustic rock, maybe a flute here and there, maybe even a piano but an amp? No way. It’s like a studio over there. They play late into the night and start early in the morning. It’s not every day, but I don’t think they work; they only leave the building when they have a gig at night. Plus they argue all the time, huge blow-outs with her high pitched screaming and doors slamming you'd think someone was getting murdered. The thing that bugs me about (opera) singers is the same thing that bugs me about (ballet) dancers: they both can't stop doing it. They sing when they walk the dog and they dance whenever they are in motion. Stop it!

The music in itself is annoying enough but It’s like these two don’t know how to live around other people either. They have no regard for others and I don’t get it. They are the type of people who have no boundaries- you know come home late at night, stumbling up the stairs,talking as if they were the only two people in the neighborhood. Sure, I’d like to crank my stereo late at night but do I? No because I’m normal. I’m a normal, considerate neighbor. They're loud, they're annoying, they're rude and they're out of control.

Saturday morning at 7, we were woken up with the sound(s) of them having sex. Windows open, she's an opera singer...you get the picture.

mystery solved

Question for t2: is this where the Puerto Rican thing came from? The photo on the top is me and the one on the bottom is NOT (obviously). I thought that was clear from my respective posts but maybe not so much. (Photo #1 was a play on photo #2...)

For those of you unfamiliar with what's going on here, when I met trinity2 face to face, she had said she was thrown when she saw me. Thrown, not necessarily because of my "look" but more so because she was under the impression that I was Puerto Rican. I ain't no freakin Rican.

Just wanted to clear that up in case anyone else is thinking the same thing.

anger,drugs and energy

I was so feeling so angry today, all day long. I couldn't wait to get out of work and leave; leave the day and enter the night. Nothing was wrong within the day, I just woke up feeling the anger. It probably would have helped if I didn't go into work and instead tried to figure out why I was so angry but that's not so easy either so I guess it's just as well. I feel sorry for anyone I came into contact with today, but then again they're used to it. Some days just seem more intense than others. I actually have a lot of anger inside me and I was thinking (after this weekend) that the only time I unleash it is in this blog. I realize I "go off" a lot in this blog and I understand my words may be a little harsh at times but it's a part of me that is real so I refuse to apologize for it. Afunt didn't waste any time telling me I was (in her words) a little prickly in my blog. After meeting her face to face for the first time it was like the second thing she said. It seemed as though it bothered her or something, but anyway it kept me thinking about the subject all weekend long.

I do have some anger stored up in me, what that's all about who knows but I'm thinking besides this blog and going off at work, I need a way to get my anger out. The problem is that I'm not an angry person; I'm a very calm, relaxed, somewhat intense person so doing physical things (besides, you know what... and running) I tend to stray from loud, rough, fast situations. I do love driving fast, that helps. Speeding always helps with the anger management but unfortunately my car these days is so bad off that it doesn't like it when I push it to perform more than it is able- it just won't let me drive with some verve and it's frustrating as hell.

I am definitely more when I write; I'm louder, more vocal, harsher, more judgemental (cus I can't fucking see you all), more brave, and more fearless. But that's normal, right? As my weekend buddies can attest to: in real life I am very relaxed, don't really swear too much, prefer to listen instead of speak, and like it slow and steady. What's the deal?! In my opinion I have the worst kind of anger because it's like always slowing boiling and only overflows every so often. It's similar to something being charged- I'm charged.

Anyway, today sucked, but I feel better already. I went running as soon as I got home, or should I say- sprinting. I ran out of the house like a bat out of hell (whatever that looks like). I picked up a pizza on the way home, sunk into the left over bottle of wine from the weekend and got a "check- in" e-mail from my 'Hotlanta' buddy so I'm all good. Drugs and energy; they do a body and mind good.

I know that anger is usually a mask for fear... hmmm, something to ponder as I drink the rest of this delicious wine.

a toast to the weekend

After falling asleep with computer on, cat curled up in my legs and C.Love at the store I woke up to a much welcomed place of silence and a not so pleasant feeling of void. I enjoy silence and after all the haze of the weekend it was nice to sit with some clarity; even if I was only clear on the fact that it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon on Memorial Day. The void part is what came through loud and clear though- they were right here and now they're back in(out) there.

But after I peeled myself from the couch and helped with the groceries, I did manage to finish off a bottle of red wine and come to the simple conclusion that we had one very special weekend, even if I couldn't seem to get any fucking words out of my mouth the whole time or couldn't get the analogy of 'comics coming to life' out of my head. Words will come, as will other thoughts but one thing stands strong today: thank god I started blogging because I probably never would have ever met any of these people otherwise. And as afunt is used to saying, "they're good eggs" (not that I thought any differently before this whole thing). I'm still processing all that happened during the weekend, not necessarily what we did or where we went but the important stuff about how we felt and for me how damn comfortable it actually was... bizarro. I've been freaking out about this weekend since the idea came up and actually thought about bailing on the whole thing all together but thankfully snapped out of it and decided to suck it up-I mean soak it up. Man, did I ever soak it up, like a kitchen sink sponge. It's difficult for me to be present in situations that are highly charged or unknown- and this weekend I got both. I've only been on one blind date in my life and it sucked and I tend to close up in situations I can't get a grip on. I was trying to explain that to kelly on the way to the airport but that situation wasn't so normal either so I may have sounded like the adults do on Charlie Brown (whawawa wahwa wa waaaha) for all I know.

Bottom line to this whole event, as t2 eluded to a little on Sunday night in the hotel, was this weekend was necessary for the big picture to become complete and sometimes the new, bizarre, hazy picture looks and feels a whole hell of alot brighter, older and calmer than the the old one's we know do. I'm thankful we decided to do this, thankful it was in Chicago (no escape), thankful they all exceeded any expectations I had of them and thankful it's over with. It was cool to meet bloggers up close and personal but still so strange I can't seem to get over it. It's that damn comic analogy...

she's back

I know it's crazy to watch a show because of it's host but it's not like I watch it with the volume down and look away at the moments she's not on; I enjoy watching the actual performances as well. I don't dance, I don't attempt to dance- well or have any knowledge on the subject. Sure I can move to music but my days of dancing have mostly been made up of sweaty drunken nights not moving to the music but slamming to the beat. When this show eventually works it's way down to the final contestants it's sheer entertainment- at least for me. It's amazing to me to watch so many (I'll say kids) with so much naked talent; I can't relate and I just watch in complete awe.

Thursday night it all returns: hot bodies, excellent dancers, amazing talent and Cat Deeley. She made my list. What a kick off to the weekend, "So You Think You can Dance" runs all Summer long. She's defintely a reason to stay in on a hot sultry night.

something I just have to say

I know this is going to sound insensitive, cold, maybe even mean but I can't stand children's art. You read correctly- CHILDREN'S ART.

An entire section of my town today is inundated with kids and all of their creative expressions in a street fair. Streets were blocked off, sidewalks littered with pencil drawings and four year olds in line at the coffee shop- it was just all too much. The only people interested in attending a kids art fair are people with kids. Unless I actually had a child (and I don't) who happens to have a drawing on display, or am a teacher required to attend, I find kids art fairs boring as hell.

I love kids- the way they think and speak and know, but as far as dealing with other people's kids I'm so not into it. And while we're on the subject of kids, let me add that I could care less about receiving baby pictures week after week of my friends newborn; hearing about their every noise, spit-up, nuance or milestone for weeks and months after that. One photo is enough. Other people's kids are like other people's dreams; I don't care to hear about them.

Neverland

An island and dream world; a metaphor for eternal childhood, immortality and escapism. Sounds perfect to me. Neverland may be a fictional place but I'd give anything to go hang out with Peter and those Lost Boys tonight, and any other time when I just can't seem to make sense out of my world-which happens way to often.

I know it's not a good thing when I revert back to my childhood to escape 'adulthood' or consciously avoid talking steps in my life just to stay put on my imaginary island, but it's so damn easy to do. I'm all about ease- ease, convenience and sereneness... and island life. Everything was so simplistic and easy when I was a kid, I had the world at my little fingertips. It all seemed to go awry as soon as finger painting became a skill of the past. When the braces came off things were looking up, but then sexuality came flying in- like a U.F.O. Unidentified says it all.

These days I seem to be struggling with the final push to either grow up or continue to stay on my island forever. I've conveniently enough, managed to create a way for myself to get off the island whenever needed; kick into adult mode to deal with adult situations, conversations, decisions, transactions and confrontations- that's no problem, and I actually do it quite well. The problem is that whenever I step off the island and hit the main land to deal with whatever I need to deal with, my desire to hop right back on that boat and sail away is imminent. Take me away from responsibility, finance, family, decisions and the doom of getting 'old'. I'll tell you this much, I've enjoyed my 30's and early 40's way more than my twenties-they sucked. Turning the actual 4-0, the night of, was torturous but it's been pretty blissful since then. Maybe that night I left one of my shoes back on the island; it may be time to go retrieve it once and for all- maybe that's the problem. I feel like I'm missing something here lately; missing a part of me that will feel OK on the mainland-forever. I fear if I step off and stay off, I will never be able to return. My 'spidey' sense says that's a bunch of crap, but it's still a fear so...

That Peter Pan bistro might be the perfect solution to feeling too adult these days. At least it's a step more mature (and safer) than an island filled with lost boys and fairies. Or maybe I should just go to drinking in Disneyland with goofy and the gang. Maybe that'll shake some sense into me.

passing thought

Wednesday morning- drinking coffee, trying to wake up, watching television with the volume down and thinking about pizza... I love pizza. I could eat it every day, but it's strange that I'm thinking about it now.

The best pizza anywhere, hands down is Pizzeria Regina's in Boston. Chicago Pizza sucks. Well, it doesn't suck if you like pizza six inches deep with enough cheese to fill your living room with. I prefer thin crust, good sauce, not too much cheese and some grease. Pizzeria Regina's is so good you don't need toppings but otherwise I like the veggies and pepperoni. My recommendation?, if you live anywhere near this place GO. You will not be disappointed.

Pee like a man

How nice would that be, to pee like a man. Think about it- there would be no more squatting, straddling, paper arranging or holding it. Just whip it out and let it fly. Sounds good to me, it's a hell of a lot easier and way more convenient (and I'm all over that). Now I'm not saying I want to be a man, just maybe pee like one if needed.

The other night I was pulled into a conversation about women peeing while standing. I think it came up because someone was talking about going camping and using this. Unfortunately I missed the intro about using the tool, so when I joined the conversation I thought they were discussing women who simply choose to stand while urinating (hate that word) and found the subject quite interesting. I had known about this phenomenon being quite popular in the lesbian community because of the 'wanting to be a man' fetish and I had heard about the using the tool because of sanitary reasons but I was unaware of any straight women having the urge to stand. The particular women I was hanging out with were gay but some of them wanted to actually not have to use the tool at all; they wanted to know if it was possible to learn how to do it with 'direction'. Now why they were asking me I have no idea; I wasn't offering any advice or speaking from experience just giving support, but it got me thinking.

The tools used for this act range from a paper disposable kind to a funnel type plastic thing. The more I think about it the more inviting it sounds but I don't want to be carrying around a pack of anything in my pocket or on my body except maybe gum so it's out for me. Except if I had to go camping, then I'm in. The funny thing is I could totally see myself keeping a stash of them in my glove compartment for those disgusting restroom visits on road trips or just road trips in general- hell who needs a restroom if I got one of these. So the funnel thing is one thing but doing it without anything is whole other issue.

So I'm throwing the concept out there for you all to ponder- peeing while standing- with or without the tool. What are your thoughts , concerns, feelings or experiences. Inquiring minds want to know...

early to bed

Going here tonight for a fundraiser for this group. It always feels a little odd when there's a relatively organized soiree at a sex toy shop because the atmosphere at such a place is anything but cocktail like. There will be wine and cheese served, but as far as keeping the conversation generic? that's like saying you're going to walk into a florist and not smell anything, it just doesn't happen. Interesting how a bunch of strangers can go from ground zero to seventh heaven in seconds flat but that's the deal. Personally, I have an issue with talking about something as intimate as sex with someone I have no connection to what so ever. But on the other hand... talking about something so detailed as which toy you prefer and why, with someone I'm attracted to is a whole other ball game. I'm an exceptional listener.

Sex (the actual act) is such a murky subject- some people are freaks about it, so many people have issues about it, some people are prudes about it, some people use it as a tool, others use it as a language, some people could care less about it and some people jut plain fucking enjoy it-in a nice, desirable way. I only care to talk about it, do it, listen to it and watch it when there's no creepiness going on in it. You know, weird, creepy bizarro stuff-it's fucking freaky. There's a fine line between sexy and 'all about sex'.

Anyway, tonight should fun, I know there will be enough to drink because we are in charge of picking up the supply of wine. As far as the other stuff goes, like I said "I'm an excellent listener". Sex, wine, women and cheese- sounds like a perfect evening to me.

THE AFTERNOON AFTER: Excellent night. Lots of wine, cheese, women and fun conversation... just as I had hoped. Topics that came up were peeing while standing, the Gay Pride Parade and being in it this year instead of watching it, vibrators being too loud, my body, Amy Ray, and how delicious the cheese was. It was a pretty normal night considering the scenery- penises as far as the eye could see...

an "inconvenient" joke

A joke? It's a fucking joke. I'm laughing all way over to my CD cabinet to pick out every single one of her discs and put them in a drawer somewhere; it's all I can do, it's not like I can call her up and tell her she sucks or "good one Sheryl, you fooled the world". The fact that she said what she did knocks her down a peg or five, in my book. You don't make jokes about important stuff going on in the world at a time that you want people to listen up- any SANE person would know that. A couple of things are going on now with Crow: she totally lost whatever 'coolness' she had going for her with that joke and she's making herself look like weak sauce because she stole the fucking joke from her buddy's husband, Larry David.

As I said before, there's too much craziness in the world these days to be saying stupid things-leave that up to those who never make sense. Sheryl Crow is the only one who knows why she chose to make that joke, she had her reasons. All I'm saying is that she's not the most influential person in the world so there's a fine line between popularity and poop. Good luck to her after this stupid move.