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...