Tampons and Ramen

The blue Kitchen

2010-03-03T20:17:00.000-08:00

Cat shit. Yep, that's what we found in the back of a corner cabinet next to the fridge. Behind the steamer and the rice cooker. Our friend/contractor told us he couuld get a great deal on granite kitchen countertops. I'd asked for tile, but he said granite was cheaper and easier. Granite and stainless, granite and stainless. its like a mantra. I wanted to stay away from the norm.

So we're going with granite. Emerald something or other. Wanted to stay away from that beige/black stuff everyone has. Or every cheap condo we looked at had. Except ours. It looked good with the blue paint. Our friend/contractor took off the old countertops, and way in the back, in the dark, behind the rice cooker and steamer, was cat shit. I wanted to vomit. It was so close to my steamer. It was slightly petrified. So the old owners probably had a cat who crept into their cabinet and shit in there. How old it was, I don't know.

That's the bad news. The good news is that the bf...he is no longer the boyfriend, he's now the Fiance, also got so grossed out that he's using his tax return and we're getting new cabinets. I suppose I should thank the cat for shitting in there.

Mine, and inspiration kitchen pics.

2010-01-01T20:36:00.000-08:00

After a LOT of back and forth, we agreed on a light blue for the kitchen. (and probably the rest of the main areas). I like the wallpaper, but I don't think he will. I also liked the black and white kitchen, so I think we're going in that direction. The tile I chose is a dark gray, not black. But it goes well with the blue paint chip. He is going to get a stainless fridge. If we went white fridge, we could save a couple hundred bucks, but he's buying it, and he likes the look of stainless, so I'm okay with it.

My finace wants to buy me a Christmas Gift

2009-12-22T21:30:00.001-08:00

He asks what I want for Christmas. Asks me if I have a list. I say, "It's on the computer." he tells me later that he looked on top of the computer, and didn't see a list. I say, "no, on the computer, on amazon."

My wish list is posted on amazon. He checks it out, and he's disappointed. "There's books on there! Books are boring!"

"not to me!" i say. but i can't convince him.
I say, "well, there's a tortilla press on there. i could make fresh tortillas."

He says, "I don't want to buy you that. I want to get you something fun."

I'm thinkin', yeah, like a video game. I know for a fact if I had a video game on there, he'd buy it for me.

Little drummer boy, God given talent, and synchronicities

2009-09-26T15:49:00.000-07:00

4 year old kid, been playing since he was 3 and a half. Frikkin' amazing.

Click HERE

It had me wondering about synchronicities.

First, a parent noticed him at 3 hitting play-doh cans with spoons, and paying attention to it.

The usual parental response is relief, glad the kid's occupied, and subsequent ignoring, so the parent can go back to doing their own thing.

Then to give the kid drums...

Kids do a LOT of things.
What if he'd been in a sandbox, and the parent caught note of that, and bought him a shovel instead?

Or a play chef's kit. Or a nice outfit.

Point being, the frikkin' series of synchs-- to notice the kid's interest, to exactly hit on the kid's instinctual talent, to give the kid the means (the drums) ALL TOGETHER at a single, perfect point in a persons life.

An incredible amount of synchronicities had to happen for this.

Which led me to another question.

Is this shit in all of us? Are we all geniuses, in one area or another?

Could I have been the greatest bagpipes player ever, had a series of events led to bagpipes in my arms?
(kidding, i can't stand the sound of 'em, but its just an example)

The old lady waitress who brings your pancakes...could she have been the best brain surgeon ever, but never had the exact sequence of life events necessary to bring her there?

And then there's choice.
It is up to us to find our own talents.

But often, I see people whose deliberate chosen field is unsuited to them.

I had an ex, who was an excellent artist and musician, but chose to be a college professor instead.

He got his ph d in human behavior. His human behavior was always questionable.
He got fired for screwing a student in a religious college.

For fricks sake, why didn't he pursue the music or art, and screw the groupies? Music was where his talent was at.

Yet he fancied himself a doctor and psychologist, where his talents were sorely lacking.

Point being, i think it takes a lot of awareness to see our true talents.

Some are developed...there are a lot of musicians and artists out there who were never prodigies, but became better than the average bear by dedication and committment.

Was that their true calling? Or could their genius have been somewhere else?

I guess it doesn't matter, as long as it leads to joy or satisfaction.

But that's why I chose this particular video. The kid has a few out there, but in this one, he's so happy, smiling in the beginning, screaming at the end. It's really beautiful.

No Pooh, pooey!

2009-09-08T20:35:00.000-07:00

Day 5. Broke down and washed my hair...somewhat. Put a tiny drop of shampoo in a tiny bit of conditioner, watered the whole thing down...

Wowza! New trickeroo!
My hair came out gorgeous. I have no idea if it was 5 days worth of quasi no-shampooing or what.

Could not hang without shampoo. Day 3 or 4, used baking soda. Closest I got to a shampoo clean. Also did a daily rinse w/a bit of apple cider vinegar in water, and added a sprinkle of stevia leaf. Did have a very healthy scalp condition, but could not handle the not-clean feeling of the hair. Didn't like running my fingers thru my hair.

Not only that, I have long hair, and not using shampoo meant having to spend a LOT of extra time on it, brushing it w/a natural bristle brush, etc., just way too much time. So I caved. But I am going to use my new trick...a tiny splash of shampoo in some conditioner w/water. Loved how my hair came out.

No Pooh, no shampoo day 3

2009-09-05T16:32:00.000-07:00

Stumbled upon the idea of not using shampoo. Proponents said their hair was not greasy, its great, so I decided to give it a try.

Its day 3. I've been using water, followed by a quick rinse with about a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar in water, and then another rinse to get the vinegar smell out. On day 2, my hair looked enviously shiny, but not greasy. Day 3, I'm not loving it, but there's supposed to be a greasy phase you go thru the first month. I may not make it. I came dangerously close to dousing my head with shampoo today, but didn't. Plus its been really hot and I'm sweating a lot. Doesn't make this easier...

Back in the old days, they only took a bath a week or month, and did not have chemical shampoos. Now I know why they brushed their hair 100 strokes. Its to distribute the grease thru the hair.

Why am I doing this?

1. Because I love my hair, and have been losing it. I've lost at least 25%, probably more. I tend to lose it when I stress, but I don't think chemicals are helping.

2. I'm sick of toxic chemicals being dumped on me by greedy corporations who say chemicals in barely detectable amounts are harmless. Yeah, maybe if we only used shampoo. But add those harmless, barely detectable amounts up. Your toothpaste. Your deodorant. Your cologne. Your dishwashing detergent. Your soap. Your laundry soap. Your make up. Your hand and body lotion. Your foot powder. Your air freshener. The air you breathe. Is it still harmless when you add it all up over decades? Which ones? Which combinations? They can't tell you. Its just my personal stance against corporations who don't care about human health and well being. So my way of saying screw you to them is to quit buying their products.

I was using all natural shampoos, and chemical free products, then I thought, what about just water???

so, back to my no shampoo experiment...some links below if you're interested.

Here's a link about it, and here's Penny Weynberg, who hasn't shampooed her hair in 11 years, and another link with a lot of posts by people who've done it here.

Stock Shock Sirius XM Radio Movie

2009-04-18T13:11:00.000-07:00

http://stockshockmovie.com/

So here's a dvd coming out in June. For free shipping, use Coupon Code: Susan

From the website: SiriusXM satellite radio is one of the lowest priced stocks in the market. This, despite the fact the company is a virtual monopoly (having merged successfully with XM radio) and generates nearly 2.5 billion dollars each year with its 19 million subscribers. Even as SiriusXM has a growing number of fans and market potential, the stock has traded for as little as 5 cents per share making "short sellers" filthy rich.

That's it from the website. The below is me:

So anyway, I purchased sirius stock. I wanted to learn how to buy stock, and I'd read Suze Orman, and I decided I needed to invest in stuff other than high heeled shoes and purses.

Only problem was, I didn't have much money to work with. So sirius was terrific for me, because it was siriusly cheap (bad pun) when I got it. So far, its gone up, and I'm still hanging onto it. We shall see. But the important thing is that I learned how to buy stock. (that sentence cracks me up in an after-school-special kinda way)

My next lesson I need to learn, and hopefully not the hard way, is how to sell it off at the right time...

2009-02-14T15:31:00.000-08:00

We all know Valentine’s day sucks.

For the singles, all you’re focused on is how painfully single you are (and feeling like a total loser). For the attached ones, Valentine’s day is a set up for huge let-downs (and feeling like a total loser).

Here’s some reality for the ladies: if your partner's idea of romance is sitting in front of the tv with a beer, the date Feb. 14 will not magically turn him into someone who feeds you chocolate covered strawberries and champagne and surprise you with 10 hours of delicate foreplay.

I learned this in my early twenties. I purchased a dozen long stemmed red roses for my then-boyfriend. When he saw them, he blurted, “Oh, shit! It isn’t Halloween is it? I mean…(long pause)” The guy couldn’t even remember the name of the holiday, much less celebrate it.

I only remember 3 Valentine’s days from my past. The one I just mentioned, another when I decorated the bedroom with pink and red streamers (again, I was in my early twenties), red and white balloons, set out a pink beverage, it was cherry 7-up… and finally, one when I happened to be single that year, and threw a party for all my other single friends. (that time, I was in my thirties)

The point is, my most memorable Valentine’s days were about me doing something to make the day special. And not being attached to the result. (mind you, the time I decorated the bedroom, my then-boyfriend did not take me into his arms and tell me I was beautiful and how much he loved me. I think he looked terrified and bolted.)

Anyway, with this in mind, I decided not to blow off Valentines day, but instead, I set out to make today special.

I’ve started by sending Valentine’s greetings to some dear friends, via email. (including a couple of hideous homemade e-cards)

I’m taking the time to write this little essay to post to all my friends, so they don’t think they’re alone in having a less than fabulous Valentine’s day. (and a shout out to those of you who do have a great one!)

Earlier, I put on some inappropriate red lipstick, and did errands in it. (It was my only make-up, that and sunglasses)

My boyfriend and I will go out to dinner tonight, and I’m going to wear a red dress that I haven’t worn before, that’s been in my closet for months. Even if we go to a cheap chinese restaurant, I’m wearing a fabulous dress and ho-red lipstick.

I ain’t waiting for the romance-fairy because there is none.

Instead, I’m gonna do what I can do, which is have as good a time as I can, and if my partner or anyone else wants to go along for the ride, then by all means, join me in having a great time. This includes my friends, via email or any means.

So if you decide to join the Valentine’s day bandwagon, then drop all the expectations, let go of romance, and set out to have a good time instead.

Then, if any romance happens, it’ll be a bonus.

Happy Valentine’s Day all!

BTW, I already had some romance today. I saw a young couple, she was chubby and dressed like Raggedy Ann, in some bibbed dress with petticoat, almost like a square dance outfit. He was skinny, super long haired, goth/punk wearing eyeliner. She sat on his lap, and as people drove by, they stared and judged. As the two held each other, I recognized the “You and me against the world” thing, that was also a part of what they had, and it was really beautiful. Really really beautiful and romantic.

2009-01-31T12:09:00.000-08:00

This is "Precious," my one legged pigeon friend. Behind her is a security dude. Another security dude (not pictured) recently came up to me. As he stood among an empty Fritos bag and multiple cigarette butts, he threatened to fine me $100 for littering by feeding my one legged crippled pigeon friend. I said, "But there's no evidence" (of litter) since the birdseed I'd dropped for her was eaten up. He said, in a snotty ass tone of voice, "The EVIDENCE is that I SAW YOU!"

Great job controlling litter, buddy.

Which reminds me of another time when a woman saw me toss some leftover birdseed (I probably didn't see Precious that day) to some sparows, and chastised, "Ya shouldn't feed da birds, dey carry disease."

In the fantasy world in my head, I'd have said to her:

"Look, lady, you're probably what, diabetic? Maybe on cholesterol medicine? By your standards, we shouldn't feed you either cuz you carry disease. I see a LOT of runny snot nosed wet hacking little kids. Should we not feed them either? Those little brats are gonna consume a lot more of the earths resources and create a lot more waste than these tiny sparrows. Why don'tcha eat another mad cow burger with bacon and leave me the frick alone?"

That was my inside voice voice.

Um, so right now, I'm working trying not to be so self righteous. Its not really graceful. (I'm trying to develop grace. Albeit, obvously, not so successfully...)

2008-10-25T14:49:00.000-07:00

Damn.
I just spent a long time in the shower, shaving, getting all clean and beautiful with the intent to seduce the boyfriend as soon as he got home. He just called. To ask what we should serve the guests who are coming over to carve pumpkins. Damn. Well, by golly, now would be a good time to own a vibrator. But I don't. Guess I'll go jog or something. (yeah right)

Above, my Governator pumpkin I carved a few years back.

2008-10-25T13:02:00.000-07:00

To Do List:
1. Fill up the space between now and when I leave my body.
2. Have who I am right, where I am right.
3. Unearth, dig up pleasure from the recesses of my soul

2008-10-25T11:59:00.000-07:00

Listening to cocteau twins right now, sorta like a bumpier version of Enya, which I can't decide if I like, never been one to run thru emerald isle forests. Although my friend did say that one guy she fucked said that Enya loud was really good to fuck to. I thought Massive Attack's Mezzanine album would be most excellent to fuck to, however, it didn't work. Meanwhile, thinking of a girl I met, years ago. She lived downstairs from me, in a small studio apartment with her gloomy Russian musician boyfriend. She was the opposite, light, life, a smile to die for. Short dark hair, small, like a little bird angel creature. TV was turned on, no sound, to Playboy channnel. "Because my boyfriend likes it," she said. He sat glumly over a keyboard, probably suspicious of me, of anyone who came into contact with his beautiful girlfriend. She said she sang, and she and her boyfriend wanted to be "famous like the Cocteau Twins, you know, really good, but not so famous that you can't walk downt the street..." She grabbed a beautiful colored crystal bowl from her nightstand, held it up to her chest, smiled that fucking gorgeous, breathtaking smile at me and said, like a little girl with a new barbie, "Look! I stole this from a shop in downtown La Jolla!" I no longer remember what she looked like, I only remember that I loved her then.

This video is exacerbating my current horniness...

2008-10-25T09:56:00.000-07:00

I'm grumpy.

I shot a wedding a week ago. I started checking out other wedding photogrpahy sites, and damn, am I cheap. Even the bride had a "that's all?" tone to her voice when I told her how much I charged.

I took the cliche shot of the bride looking out a window, and suddenly her bridesmaids are creaming their panties because they're excited about me getting that shot. Total fucking bridal cliche, but what the hell. I'm getting paid, they're creaming their thongs, and prefab cliche is a helluva lot easier than original creative artistic shots.

Damn, I am grumpy.

I'm pissed off for a couple of reasons...I've got $45 to last me till the end of the month. I want to buy a book, and a dress, and grocery shop for the week.

Knowledge, beauty, or food...

I have enough for the book.

Why oh why am I so grumpy?

For breakfast, I'm eating peanut butter and jelly on a spoon. I don't have any bread.

Maybe the grumpiness is because I have hundreds of wedding pics to sort thru, crop, and edit.

Well, I need to get my day started.

I call Saturdays "My day of pleasure."

Where the frak is my pleasure today???
Grumpy me.

2008-10-01T20:01:00.000-07:00

I see these beautiful recipes, and I think, "Wow, that looks delicious. I'm going to try that recipe!"

And then I add my own special touch.
The touch of "Why don't mine look like the picture with the recipe..."

2008-09-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

email transaction:

Shelby writes: did you know clay aiken(am. idol) just came out of the closet?! i am shocked! i had no idea he was a fag!!! you just never really know someone....lol

Me: Clay Aiken? Gay?!
I find that hard to believe.
He's so macho. Man, those leather types always fool me...

Shelby: I KNOW!!! where was my gaydar?.....my, i must be losing it with age...did you know i was gay?

NEKESA MUMBI MOODY wrote an article about Clay's coming out (url below) and she quotes a girl on a fan-site that had me speechless:
"This is really shocking news as I had no idea he was gay," read a comment posted by "Sheridansq." "And now I have to deal with this. I am not sure what to say to people who know I was a fan. ... I didn't go to work today and am not answering the telephone."

I want to meet this girl, Sheridansq -- not be her friend, but to stare at her like a zoo animal. Taking a day off work?! I'm picturing her with her forearm thrown to her head, having a Victorian fainting spell, "My smelling salts, pleeease..." as she falls on her divan... (...a long, backless sofa...) What's she gonna tell her boss? "I'm sorry, its Clay...I thought we would marry...but he's gay...Even tho he has no idea of my existence, well..."

So I started thinking about gayness, and how if I get a couple drinks in me, I find cuteness in those big butch bull dykes...

I'm questioning 'what is gay?' Besides the Clay Aiken lip balm you get if you join his fan site...

I can love someone of either sex. I mean, you love your grandparents. So who you love doesn't make you gay. Gayness must be who you're sexually attracted to.

But if I were to be blindfolded and stimulated...touched in a way I like, I'd get aroused if it were a male or a female, so for me, it's not a biological orientation towards a gender. Blindfolded, I'd react the same to a man or a woman touching me.

Of course, in a particular mood, a ladybug crawling on my arm could feel really good...but I wouldn't start a relationship with it.

So by my logic, either homosexuality is a choice, or I'm bisexual.

But then if I masturbate, I'm having sex with a woman. That must be gay.

What if its out of convenience? Being lazy? What if I don't feel like going thru the effort to have someone else to get me off? Sometimes its a hassle. If my boyfriend is in the middle of watching a playoff game, it is waaaaay not worth the hassle.

So where does laziness factor in? I knew one stripper who said, frustrated, "I'm straight! Everyone thinks I'm gay, but I'm not! I just don't feel like breaking up with my girlfriend!"

Where does laziness factor in?

And what about auto-eroiticism? I can arouse myself just thinking about being blindfolded and having different hands touch me. I can turn myself on. So does that make me auto-sexual? (is there a word for this?) It sounds like, "ought to sexual" like "I ought to have sex."

Well, I need to get my day started. I took the day off work. I'm going to a PAX (Alison Armstrong) workshop. We'll see if it does me any good.

2008-09-20T10:06:00.000-07:00

Lipgloss Riot

I wore make-up to work for the first time, and it was a mind blowing trip.

I tend not to wear make up on public transportation. When I've worn make-up, here's a sampling of what I've experienced:

one tried walking home with me. Uninvited.
a guy stroking his cock near me.
a guy asking if I liked my pussy eaten, and proceeding to make pussy sucking sounds. He had many missing teeth, so the sucking sounds were grossly lifelike.
Another guy asking where I worked and explosively angry when I refused to tell him.
etc.

So yesterday, I'm all made up on the bus and trolley, and I have to face my fear of undesired male attention. I'm on the trolley, noticing how tense i am, and giving out a 'Don't fuck with me!" vibe, glaringly ignoring everything with a penis.

My instinct is tellng me that if I let go the fear, I will relax. If I relax, I will appear approachable, and if I appear approachable, I risk a sexually attracted male hitting on me in inappropriate ways.

On a grandly instinctual scale, if I relax, I'm putting my life in danger.

So that was an interesting tidbit to notice.

Then I get to the trolley station, where I and 4 lady friends hang out waiting for our bus. I'm able to relax, because I'll be in a group. Safety in numbers, and less chance of being approached.

One of the ladies sees me approaching and starts screaming and pointing at me. Its like its a makeover show, and I'm the ugly duckling tranformed.

They surround me and make a big fuss. I notice that while 2 go up emotionally, and are happy and thrilled to see me made up, 2 go down. I could tell that it was a blow to their self esteem.

This surprised me, because one of the girls I'd always admired for her confidence.

So I paid attention to others' reactions to attractiveness, and my reaction to my own attractiveness. It was very interesting.

I noticed when a woman went down, when seeing me look good made them feel bad, I felt really sad. It made me not want to look nice. I felt responsible for their sadness.

But it had the opposite effect on others. They went up emotionally, and got happy.

One coworker seemed to value it. She said, "You are beautiful. You must do this every day!"
(sorry, ain't gonna happen...)

My boyfriend's response: Seeing me with makeup on in the mornings, noting it was unusual, said, "Who are you trying to impress?"

He later called me, and said, "Whadja get all made up for? How come you never do that for me?"

(this was interesting, because I wear make up on weekends, essentially for him)

Some things I learned:
When it comes to sexual attraction, I act like a wild animal. Totally instinct. Like on the trolley, I was giving out a terrified wild animal anger stay away vibe. Like a tense frightened dog growling. that's how I felt inside.

I learned (from a friend) that guys feel this, and they feel rejected, even if they aren't a threat

I realized that I have no choice over who I attract physically. I can't just attract the nice, gentle man. By looking attractive, I risk attracting an inappropriate psycho.

I realized on an instinctual level, it feels like life and death.

I realized that some ladies will be happy on seeing another woman look pretty, other ladies will feel bad about themselves.

It ended up being an emotionally exhausting day. All over a little lipgloss...

(and powder, and foundation, and 20 minutes with a curling iron, etc. etc.)

**********
Note: Some days, I can put on make up and its like I didn't do a thing. No reactions.

I suspect the reason I got so much response yesterday is due to something I did regarding rituals. The night before, I'd heard a podcast on tantric sex rituals, worshipping each other as divine.

That night, I decided to treat my body as divine, to the best of my ability. I tried to ignore my flaws. I brushed my teeth a little more consciously, instead of violently. I decided to treat myself to lotion, and I put it on with care, treating my body as a gift, not slapping it on unconsciously, hurrying to get it over with.

I think that self-care did something incredibly magical, and I think that's where the beauty came from that everyone freaked out about. I think the lipgloss was a very small part.

Here's the podcast with rituals. The interview doesn't get underway until about 4 minutes plus into it. You have to copy paste into your browser:

http://digg.com/podcasts/Expanded_Lovemaking/750624

2008-09-17T21:28:00.000-07:00

I watched a dvd about a man's pilgrimage to sacred sites in Tibet. He visited monastaries and caves where monks and enlightened women and men meditated, etc., and wouldn't you know it, I got aroused. Especially during a singing bowl demonstration. (I found that amusing)

2008-09-13T10:56:00.000-07:00

It occured to me that creative expression is a way to express some feeling, some emotion...to capture it in some limited way. I mean, how do you capture love thru words or art? Its freakin' impossible. Yet people try and try. They write songs, poetry, make paintings, etc.

And I'm sittin' there thinking in a stoney way, "woooow, that's so deeeeep..."
(the concept of creativity as an attempt to capture a feeling)

and then I thought, "That's not so deep. Everyone knows that."

2008-09-12T23:27:00.000-07:00

I was feeling a little gypped today (no offense, gypsy's! --- total tangent, but that's where the word 'gypped' came from) because I only have 5 senses.

You know, taste, touch, smell, etc.

I thought of the vastness of the universe. And me, with only 5 measly senses to experience it with.

What if I had 10 senses? I could experience the world more orgasmically. Imagine!

We're so limited, we can't even imagine other senses. Because these 5 are the only ones we can filter the world thru.

I shouldn't feel ripped off. Because I hardly make use of my 5 senses anyway.
I barely smell my tea when I drink it. I should breathe it in, like a coffee commercial. Close up on the nose...
Half the time i have music on, I'm ignoring it. Tuning it out.
I barely taste my food when I eat.
Do I look for what's beautiful?
No.
Only if it lands in front of my face. Like my hot neighbor appearing before me yesterday when I looked like shit and probably smelled like piss. (see previous post for piss explanation...)

I barely make use of the senses I do have.

I am trying to feel more though. My life is about what I feel. Joy, rage, hope, sadness. I've been a numb, feeling repressor for too long.
My massage dude told me to keep the energy moving. Feelings are energy, I gotta keep 'em moving. Let 'em flow thru me, not shove 'em down and stifle them.

Something has shifted slightly. I feel more like a human being and not a zombie. One zombifies themself so as to not feel their fucked up lives. At least, that's been my experience. Many years of personal experience.

Its not as frightening as I thought. If I feel them, and feel their motion, and not attach judgements to them (like judge my anger as wrong, etc.) I can experience them, put my attention on the sensation, and it leaves.

And as it leaves, I end up feeling like a more whole person. Hard to explain. But I feel more human. This is good.

2008-09-11T18:09:00.000-07:00

So my bus ride today -- yes, I am a total loser. Lets add a visual to my loser-ness-- me, running to catch the bus, but it takes off.
I have to wait for the next one.

My water bottle spilled inside my big purse/bag. I pull out drenched books, hoping my birdseed isn't wet (that I take for my little one legged pigeon). The bus stop benches are full, so I set my bag on the ground scrounging for kleenex to wipe off my dripping cell phone. I smell pee, and worry that I may have set my bag in dried bum piss, rehydrating it with my wet purse.

I am a fucking poster child for loserville.

I get on the bus, still a wreck, but I'm going home, so all will be well.

And what happens?
My super gorgeous neighbor guy gets on. He had jury duty, decided to take the bus. He sits by me, graciously.

I am suddenly keenly aware of the glaring contrast between me and his perfect gorgeousity.

His hair: Perfect.
My hair: a mess.
His clothes: Perfect.
My clothes: a mess.
His eyes: dazzling green,
my eyes: ordinary brown.
His teeth: blindingly white.
My teeth: I just had them cleaned and polished yesterday, so they are not dingy yellow. They're shiny yellow.

I am trying so hard to smile and nod politely at him, instead of screaming to the Gods, "Why now? Why me!!!"

When I look at my big messy bag, and right on top, right in front, is the little pouch I'd opened looking for kleenex. In it, in plain, open view, is a fresh stack of maxi pads, enough to sop up the juices of a hundred steaks.

And I'm like, yeah, that's about right.

The crazy bird feeding lady with her maxi pads and a bum piss smell wafting about her...

I am not even in a league to imagine fucking the guy.

2008-08-30T11:21:00.000-07:00

Been doing lots of inner-personal growth stuff, dealing with repressed issues. Stuff about my mom keeps coming up. Repressed emotions will not stay repressed. They will be heard somehow, whether thru illness, emotional distress, depression, anxiety, rage, etc. If you shove crap down, it will come back and bite you in the ass.

My mom is taking me to lunch. She will make sure to communicate (many times) how unacceptable I am to her because of my weight. She will pick apart everything I eat.

I ordered a veggie bowl with cashews on it. She points out that cashews have fat, always explaining the correlation between my being fat, and the particiular item I'm eating, letting me know precisely why I have failed as a human being.

Never mind if my brother has fried chicken, fries, and cookies on his plate. I will be singled out for a cashew.

Once, she called to grill me about what i'd eaten. (get it? grill? haha)

I had eaten something super healthy, and I thought, 'finally! She can't say anything!'

I said, "I ate raw red organic kale that I pulled out the ground 2 minutes ago..." Okay, slight exaggeration...but whatever it was, it was super healthy and I was sure I wouldn't get a lecture about my failing as a totally obese person.

She paused for a moment, and blurts, "Well don't eat TOO MUCH! Even if its healthy you can't eat too much!"

Cannot win w/her.

And this memory came up, many many years ago. I was 4 years old. We were standing in a subway station, at a magazine stand.

She pulled out a magazine, browsing thru it. I'd done a 5 page modeling spread in there.

She closed the book, and held it in front of me. There was a super cute little girl on the cover. (I think it was a magazine for how to crochet childrens clothing or something). And she told me this is what you have to do. You have to get on the cover.

I never made a cover. Who knows, maybe I could have -- had she not cut my hair short so I looked like a gddamned boy, but aside from that, for fucks sake, I was 4.

I had no control over whether I was on a cover or not, and I knew that.

What was I supposed to do? Knock on the door of the magazine directors and try to negotiate? Me, as a fuckin' preschooler walking in and saying, "I'd like to negotiate a cover."

Anyway, something about the absurdity of that amused me, and its somewhat cathartic to write it out, and she's going to be here any minute, and I should probably vomit those memories out of my body so they don't contaminate every moment I spend with her. Egads. I'm pms-ing. This is not going to be easy...

2008-08-29T22:26:00.000-07:00

Shelby called, and said, "I hope I don't sound like trailer trash, but RV-ing is really fun!"
Anyway, this made me laugh and laugh.

Change of subject:
I had a nightmare last night.
In my dream, I tried to scream, but I couldn't.
So I tried to scream again, but barely a sound came out.
Finally, I mustered up all my strength, and with intent, screamed.
This time, I actually did, in my dream and real life, as I woke my boyfriend up.
"Are you okay?" he asked, worried...

I actually felt somewhat empowered. I was impressed that I broke thru the dream with my scream. It was an odd bridge between dream and reality, connected by a scream.

Meanwhile, change of subject again...
I watched Superbad last night. (maybe that's what caused the nightmare...)
Actually, I watched it twice. In a row. And I am a close-to-middle-aged woman. And its one of my favorite movies.

I love Seth's loyalty. I love his unconditional loyalty to his friends.
And I love Fogel's high voice and lisp.

2008-08-16T10:34:00.000-07:00

I've been reading more lately. I discovered Osho. I knew that Vic Baranco had a lot of controversy surrounding him, and I loved his information. Osho had a lot of controversy surrounding him. I figured he must have something good to say if people are trying to get him to shut up. Like Jesus.

I saw one of his books at my neighbors place. I asked her if I could borrow it. She got a weird, strange look on her face, disturbed. Maybe it bothered her that I knew what books she had?

I'm not one of those people who snoops thru other people's bathroom cabinets. I don't care if you have preparation H in your cabinet and giant tubes of vagisil. But I love books, and I'll check out your books if you've got them out.

So my neighbor, after changing her facial expression back to normal, brings out her Osho book, Freedom, the Courage to be yourself. and says,
"As you can see, I didn't get very far. He's too negative. Maybe you can tell me different."
A tiny yellow bookmark marked about an eighth of the way thru.

I loved it. Few books crack me up or make me smile, and this one did. Fewer books shake me up. This one did. He bashes belief systems, belief in God, belief in beliefs, just argues them and shatters them. While reading, I was embarassed, I felt stupid, but I let it go, and re-aligned my head with some new viewpoints.

I saw some of his cd's on ebay, but I didn't make it home in time to bid. I thought, "It was not meant to be..."

Then I laughed out loud.
I had just read him say that belief in fate (like my saying it was meant to be or not meant to be) is what losers tell themselves.

He didn't use the word loser, but you get the jist.

To explain, the book is about freedom, and you can't have freedom if you believe in fate. The concept of fate negates the concept of freedom, so if you want freedom, you're going to have to give up a belief in fate.

Meanwhile, as I processed having my belief systems shattered, I came across this website, did it for fun, and got this card. There's a funny little conundrum going on here...re. fate, the card, and no fate...

You are The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

2008-07-19T09:31:00.000-07:00

I decided that I need to get my spending habits and my eating habits under control.

So here's my first thought:

"I shall go to Starbucks with my trusty notebook and get a strawberry blended lemonade with whipped cream, and sit outside and go over my budget and grocery list and see where I can cut costs and calories..."

Can you see the discrepancy? I shall SPEND MORE MONEY (buying a strawberry lemonade) while considering dieting ( DRINKING PURE SUGAR AND FAT...)

So in my attempts to save money and lose weight, I am actually spending money to gain weight.
EGADS!!!

All irony aside, the underlying desire is, I want to be in a different environment than my home to chill out with my notebook. I can't think at home due to too many distractions. (...I should write Shelby and email...I should call PW Stain...What's in the fridge?)

I want to focus on my goals, saving money and creating a new diet plan. (I gained 20 lbs in the last 8 months) This requires plotting out whole new recipes and grocery lists.

Besides, I think I have a coupon somewhere for a free beverage from Starbucks. That takes care of the money aspect. I'm not giving up the whipped cream though.

2008-07-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

Regrets

No one likes regrets.
I thought of mine, today, passing a tattoo parlor, full sleeves tatted guy with peircings arms crossed standing in the doorway watching me walk by...

I thought, "I wish I had pierced my nipples years ago."
Because I always loved the look of nipples with delicate nipple rings. (not the big thick rings with balls, mind you, but a feminine, delicate, thin ring...)

But I didn't do it because I didn't want scar tissue messing with my milk ducts in case I had a child.

And now, I know I will not birth children, so it would theoretically be a perfect time to get my nipples peirced, my dream of 21 years finally come true...

But my boobs.
Alas, my boobs.

They no longer look like they did 21 years ago.
Not to mention I lost 50+ lbs.

It just seems so sad to decorate my little deflated balloons.

2008-07-12T11:15:00.000-07:00

I love this poster. It made me feel good. I'd googled "demotivational posters" looking for that one with the guy who had his girlfriend tatted on his arm (couldn't find it, if you have it, please send it to me).

But this one made so much sense to me.

I remember incidents of depression prior to first grade, but my chronic depression began on my first day of first grade: I was confused, unsure of where my class was, in a totally foreign environment. By lunch, I was starving. They served me an enchilada in a thin aluminum tray. I had never tasted Mexican food before, and it was too rough for my palate. I'd been brought up on delicate flavors like fluffy white rice, tofu, miso soup. The grittiness of the corn tortilla and acrid earthiness of enchilada sauce were such a shocking affront to my tastebuds. I pushed it away, starving, but unable to eat it. I was so forlornly depressed. That depression stayed with me for the next 35 years.

At that moment, the essence of my soul turned into "this fucking sucks."
The enchilada? My inner self saying, "this fucking sucks."

My home life? My dad had just left my mom, and she was miserable, no goodness left for her children.
"this fucking sucks."

the fact that I was six, seven, eight, nine and beyond,---and had NO control over anything.
"this fucking sucks."

The fact that my mom was/is a control freak and controlled everything, including what I ate, what I wore, how I looked and used her control to make sure I looked like a freak...
"this fucking sucks."

(it sounds pretty harsh, but everyone was wearing saddleback ditto's or jordache jeans, and she's buying me wool kilts because she thinks it looks like a "schoolgirl." WTF?
I wasn't living in whatever Japanese version of England she was fantasizing about. Wake up and smell the 70's. Then beating the shit out of me for borrowing her much more up to date fashionable clothes so I wouldn't be ostracized for looking like such a dork freak...)

Add to "this fucking sucks" -- "and there's nothing I can do about it."

Until I got into my teens, and it became, "this fucking sucks," but let me try to make some decisions within the boundaries of all that sucks.

Some of those decisions included dating a rapist, because home fucking sucked, and dating a rapist fucking sucked, but at least it got me out of a home that sucked for a few hours, even if I had to pay for a few brief moments away from hell fighting for and losing my virginity.

Hi, John! Thanks for the half-assed apology while driving me home. "Sometimes I get a little assertive." YA THINK?!????

The problem is, that when you make all your decisions from "this fucking sucks," you tend to (I haven't figured this out quite completely yet) make decisions towards eradicating the pain, but you can't see beyond the immediate pain. This affects your choices.

So its like someone is twisting your arm behind your back, and it hurts, so you desperately reach for a Tylenol.

Or a bottle of booze.

Or a new outfit.

Or a new relationship.

Not that those options are not valid choices, and valid solutions.
But are they the right solution to that particular pain? Or will they create a whole new set of things that suck, esp if you go back to them time after time? (like the drinking, or compulsive shopping, or whatever...)

I wrote this in an email to Shelby:
When I was a little girl, I didn't dream of becoming a fat, drunk, uneducated meat-eating smoker with no money in the bank living in a one room dump serving cokes in a nudie bar.

And yet, there I was. And in my late thirties, too, not at 19!
(dont' be totally offended, I'm actually cracking myself up)

But truth be told, I'd come from a lifetime of trauma, and that one little room to myself was the safest place I ever had, no parent or tweeker boyfriend beating me up, the job was really fun, and I had a lifetime of pain to numb with the alchohol--including a dead boyfriend.

In one of my college art classes, we each did a performance expressing our lives up til now.

For my life, I instructed everyone to dance in a circle. I watched people dance, and I'd go up to someone, and i'd replicate their movements. I'd go to another person, and replicate their movements. The end of my performance was me, going into the center of the circle, dancing my own dance.

When the TA asked me what that was about, how that was about my life, I said, "I'm just checking out everyone else's groove, looking for my own."

(its getting late! I need to finish up this post to get on with my day!!!)

So what happened is I began taking care of me, to the best of my extent.

I got a degree. I quit eating meat. (the thing about eating meat for me, is that I have suffered so much, I have gotten beaten up so often, starting with my mom, to lovers, that I do not want to inflict physical suffering on any creature if I can help it. And that includes cows and chickens and fish and pigs and pigeons.) I quit smoking. I quit drinking (as an anesthetic. I will have a sip or two of wine with a meal, but very rarely, and I havent' finished a glass in years). I dropped a few pounds.

This was all fine and good, but I never dealt with the emotional stuff. So about 2 years ago, all the shit from past, now that it had an opening because I wasn't drunk-numb, came out in the form of anxiety. Out of the blue, I couldn't do things, like go a mile from my apartment without extreme terror. I was upset, too, because I just lost all this weight and I was like, "I look great!" but I couldn't go to a mall to buy clothes, or even out to a restaurant to be seen. I was like, "what did i lose all that weight for..."

but anyhoo, I started dealing with the emotional shit.
And dealing, and dealing.

I found some stuff called releasing, which did wonders. (google Larry Crane or Hale Dwoskin) That saved my life, and I can now go beyond a mile from my apartment.

I found NVC, which is so line with my values. Non violent communication, a.k.a. compassionate communication. Google Marshall Rosenberg.

It is truly about ending suffering on the planet. All suffering.

Right now, I can still see where I'm still running from the shit inflicted on me as a kid. I can also see where I'm reacting to the shit inflicted on me as a kid. (my interest in NVC is a direct response to that)

I'm in the healing stages, with some growth. After this, I expect to be in a more expansive emotional growth stage. I functioned from "this fucking sucks, and I'm powerless to do anything about it," during my childhood. Then young adulthood, which was "I'm doing what they all told me I should do, and this still fucking sucks." To now, which is a slight inkling of, "when I do what's best for me, because my soul is screaming for it, not because my parents/society/our culture told me I should do it, it doesn't always suck..." and lets see where we go from there...

That's my plan for today. I gotta go. It's after 1 pm and I'm still in my pajamas...

2008-06-28T23:15:00.000-07:00

After my Grandmother passed away, the family was going through her belongings. My aunt found this poem. It appears to be one of my childhood works. The funny thing is, I refer to my aunt as "mean" towards the end of the poem.

The funnier thing is that my brother, there during the discovery, said my aunt was not pleased about that.

Where I'm actually somewhat disturbed is that I haven't changed since I wrote that. I don't know when it was written, but I know I wasn't in the 5th grade yet, because I could spell by the 5th grade. But this is the same stuff I write in my journals now. Whatever pisses me off. Everything I'm frustrated with. I haven't changed.

2008-06-28T22:50:00.000-07:00

A picture of two fashionistas.

Um, sort of...

2008-06-28T20:08:00.000-07:00

I'm addicted to tart frozen yogurt, made famous by pics of celebs eating Pinkberry in Los Angeles. I have yet to eat from Pinkberry, but I've found other places that serve it. I asked the girl at the counter, "What's in these? Crack? I'm totally addicted." She said, "You're not the only person whose said that."

So my little luxuries: 2 books I purchased at a thrift store in my purse, and my tart frozen yogurt in plain and green tea, with fresh cherries. Oh, yum.

2008-06-13T22:01:00.000-07:00

Another tidbit from one of Shelby's emails. Of toilet paper, he writes:
"did some light shopping includes 12 rolls of ultra soft scott tissue. the kind that just melts away like a reeces peanut butter cup!(OOOOH)"

2008-06-11T19:18:00.000-07:00

I have hero fantasies about myself. I imagine hearing the words,

"Its a good thing she didn't wash those dishes! She saved us all!"

2008-06-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

Probably the best Line From an Email ever. From Shelby:
do i sound like a 42 yr old when i say "i want to go to a duran duran concert?" or do i just sound gay?"

The rest of our email conversation goes as follows:
Me: when you say you want to go to a duran duran concert, you sound old and gay. And that is hilarious.
I've been eating all day today. I must be hungry like the wolf. Sorry, didn't mean to make a bad duran duran pun. It was just The Reflex. Oops, did it again. Help, I can't stop. Save a prayer for me...

Shelby: did u say old? "HOW COULD YOU!"

Me: If you are wanting to go to a duran duran concert, you are not young. Trust me. I was among many almost middle-agers a couple years ago at a Flock of Seagulls concert.

2008-06-08T21:43:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd post some random pics I took. When I'm on the bus, I journal.
I splurged on almond butter. Its both a financial and diet splurge. I like it on bananas.
I was taking random pics today, and took a pic of this leaf. Later, a fig hit something nearby, fell, and landed on my foot. I'm wondering if someone threw it at me and missed, because they thought I was taking pics of their house. Fuckwad. Oops, that's not nonviolent communication. I made a judgement and labled them a fuckwad. In nonviolent communicaton, you avoid lables and judgements. You go according to your needs. So instead of callng them a fuckwad, I'd say, "this person did not meet my need for safety." Assuming they threw a fig at me...
I was reading about earthing, something about magnetic forces of the earth doing good stuff for the body, and it suggested being barefoot, so the feet make contact with the earth. So I'm barefoot, and I didn't feel much difference. I was hoping to feel fabulously healthy. Then I think, maybe I don't have enough surface area touching the earth. And what more surface area to contact the earth with than my ass. So I sat on a rock with my feet on the earth, and waited for some healing energy. I am not sure I felt any, but what the heck. It was better than sitting in a starbucks. If you look in my purse, you can see my socks!

2008-06-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

My friend emailed me some pics he took of me 10 or more years ago. Here's one of them.

2008-06-08T10:52:00.000-07:00

SILK CAMISOLE SET

I need pajamas. My nightgown bunches up around my waist and feels like I'm sleeping on a lumpy innertube.

I want a chemise (in guy language: short nightgown). Its quick to get out of in the mornings, and as a non-morning person, I streamline my morning routine to get every ounce of sleep possible.
I perform experiments like, "how much time can I save if I brush my teeth while I pee..."
(that one failed).

A chemise can be pulled off in under 2 seconds, versus pajamas with pants, with require a more seconds. I'm all about efficiency.

I could not find a silk chemise within my low budget range, but I found a silk cami and short set on ebay. The shorts would require an extra 2 seconds to remove. My morning routine is like olympic swimming. Tenths of a second count.

But due to my low budget, I got the silk cami set. It was new and my winning bid was 99 cents, $6 shipping.

I got scammed.

Its not silk, like the ad stated. Its polyester, and not even soft polyester. Interestingly, no fabric content tags sewn on. I know what silk feels like. What a rip off. I am so bummed.

So if you go on ebay and bid on one of these, just know its not silk like it says twelve times in the posting. Its polyester.

2008-05-11T21:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I wore an inappropriate dress, braless, low cut, thin fabric stuck to my tits, but I was at home, so I didn't care...however, I had to go out and get the laundry, which is downstairs and on the other side of the apartment complex. I left my apartment, and saw a young lady, hottie, wearing a tiny triangle bikini top (brazillian style), braless, beige, nearly fleshtoned, showing a lotta lotta lotta skin. She's on her bicycle riding down the street. She and I looked at each other and smiled.

Later bf took me out to dinner. I put on a clingy red cocktail dress and clingy red lipgloss. BF got out of the car and said, "I feel under-dressed, you're in a cocktail dress, I'm in shorts and flip flops. Whadja get all dressed up for anyway?"

I said, "You."
then I put on a big bulky long sweater so I'd look more toned down.

A young woman standing outside the restaurant had been watching me; she was standing among a group of people.

She had blonde hair. Interesting earrings. As I passed her, we made eye contact, and she said softly, "You look pretty."

I smiled at her and said "thank you."

Oddly, I attracted more girls than guys yesterday.

2008-04-27T23:09:00.001-07:00

My mom is a control MONSTER.
Today, she told me I should lose weight because she could see how much I'd gained. "Woooow!" she said, "Gaaawsh!" Big exclamations. "You gain weight THAT FAST?!" Then a littany of what I need to do to lose it.

I was so excited about going grocery shopping and starting a new way of healthy eating. All I could think about were the green smoothies I was going to make...and here was my mom, draining every bit of goodness from me, I damn near wanted to get fat again, just to piss the bitch off.

OMG, I just had a flashback to her reading my diary when I was 16 and being shocked because I referred to her as a bitch many times. I was shocked that she was shocked. Was she not aware of her behavior?

All the excitement I had about green smoothies and healthful eating dissapated.

Did she ever say, "wow, you lost 70 pounds, what a great accomplishment!"

No. All I sensed was her relief, that her daughter wouldn't make her look bad anymore. (Especially not to her ex-husband, my dad...and her goal is to make sure I look better than his daughters with his current wife...how fucking insane is that?)

Meanwhile...

I also made a green smoothie, GAWD ITS KILLING ME ITS LIKE SUBMITTING TO THAT MONSTERRRRRRRRRRRRRR (my mom...)

and anyway, it was pretty decent.

I blended:
1 giant Swiss Chard leaf
1 kale leaf (no tough stems, just the leaves)
1 apple (peeled, cored, and chunked)
5 almonds
1 tsp spirulina (dang that stuffs expensive!)
1 tsp flaxseed meal
Water to smooth(ie) it out.

I had not used powdered spirulina before. It is the darkest green you can imagine.
My smoothie reminded me somewhat of a pre-chewed salad. It tasted very salad like, but a little sweet from the apple. It was not unbearable.

I had hoped it would kill my sugar cravings (I just discovered Haagen Dazs Coconut Sorbet...and nearly ate the whole thing). According to people who drink green smoothies, its supposed to kill your sugar cravings, but did no such thing. I wonder how long I have to do this before I lose my taste for sweets.

2008-04-27T00:54:00.000-07:00

Today was mostly good. I started the day off eating a scoop of hardened fat. Saturated. Coconut oil. Then I ate an apple and a banana. Later, 2 primal strips fake meat teriyaki jerky. Damn, those things are good. I only wanted to eat one, but I ate two. They tear, like meat, into fleshy tendony strips, and I get that carnivorous satisfaction without the guilt, and without eating a once living creature, and knowing its better for my health than a drugged up dead cow.

Anyway, I tried on this cute little sundress that was $457, and wasn't any cuter than a $45 one... and decided I needed to lose a few pounds. I'm gonna start making green smoothies. Will see how that goes. I want to make them for breakfast, but I eat breakfast at work, so I'll have to buy a blender and take it to work.

I was then walking, and I wanted to cut thru this alley, but I didnt know if it was a dead end or not. I asked a guy, "Does this go thru?" He stopped what he was doing, and started walking towards me. Thinking he hadn't heard me, I asked again, "Does this go thru?" He started walking faster towards me, his face very angry looking, not saying anything. I realized then that he was a local weirdo and very angry, picking up speed coming at me, and here I was, halfway in an alley. I turned and quickly walked back towards the street, and THANK GOD a group of guys just happened to be walking by, like 6 of them... I didn't look back.

I was really unnerved by the anger in his face and how he started coming at me.

I had to leave, I had to protect the 3 vegetarian jerky's in my purse. and me!

2008-04-08T18:22:00.000-07:00

The boyfriend has recently gotten into youtube. Only he's logging on under my unsername.

Now there are all these posts he's written, with my username next to it. Things like, "DEPECHE MODE IS THE BEST BAND EVER!!!!!!" etc.

Criminy.

2008-02-29T19:08:00.001-08:00

Dr. Marshall Rosenberg

2008-02-29T17:37:00.000-08:00

I've recently discovered Non Violent Communication (NVC) also known as Compassionate Communication. Being so new to it, I can't describe it well, so I'll include links. But from the tiny bit I've been exposed to, I am all over it.

So anyway, here's a funny little anecdote...at least to me, about something that happened along the way.

Kelly Bryson, an author, teacher, and practitioner of NVC (non violent communication), was doing a workshop nearby about using NVC in intimate relationships. I decided to go. BF wouldn't go with me, but I understood. So no biggie.

So I'm there alone, and of course, what I dreaded-- there's an excercise, and everyone has to pair up. This was just lame because it seemed that everyone there already knew each other, and I didn't, but I finally found someone willing to pair up with me.

Brief description of excercise: You decide if you are a "kite" or "string" in your relationship. The kite is the person who wants freedom. The string is the one who wants security.

I can't decide which one I am, but I figure its just a communication excercise, I'll be a string. I pair up with this guy. He says he can be either, he can be a kite or a string.

Well, there's an odd number of folks in the workshop, so this one lady joins us. Instead of two, there are 3 of us.

The 2 others are trying to decide whether they are kites or strings, and they both start giggling and laughing, going,
"We're both! We're bi..." (giggle giggle laugh laugh.)
So they're both repeating, "We're bi, we're bi... " laugh laugh laugh

So I chime in and say, "Good thing you guys are bi because it looks like we're going to have a threesome"
(because we're the only one in the class with 3 in our group, instead of two.)

AND THEY BOTH STOPPED LAUGHING AND LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS A FREAK!

So anyway, I still think this is funny and I told a couple of my friends about it.
Frankly, I think my contribution was much wittier, as it required more thought than repeating, "we're bi, we're bi,"

Anyway, enough of that.

So here are some links to NVC.

This is the link to the main website. It'll tell you what its about.
http://www.cnvc.org/

This is Kelly Bryson's website, the author I saw speaking at the aforementioned workshop. You'll have to copy paste:
http://www.languageofcompassion.com/homepage.htm

Dr. Patti Taylor has a podcast that you can download and listen to and hear an example of NVC in practice. Its of 'sensual' nature, so you probably don't want to listen to it around uptight sonsabitches. Or maybe you should...

Episode 25: Compassionate Communication for Intimate Needs and Desires with Lori Grace Star and Scott Catamas, Master Teachers of Compassionate Communication

http://personallifemedia.com/podcasts/230-expanded-lovemaking

2008-02-11T13:01:00.000-08:00

I am a rebel. I do things my way. THE MAN can't tell me what to do.

Look at this. I TOOK that picture. I'm a rule-breaker.

2008-02-11T12:53:00.000-08:00

Now check this one out.

There I go, breaking rules again. The sign says, "Do not sit on the furniture." Guess what I'm doing? I'm sitting on it.

My friend GregieFresh took that picture of me pushing the limits of society. And smiling while I do it.

2008-02-05T21:46:00.001-08:00

Gained a few lbs over the holidays. Trying to lose it by eating health-fully.
Today, I make "Pho," a Vietnamese soup pronounced "Fuh."
Boyfriend says, "What are you making?"
I say, "Fuh."
He says, "Huh?"

Lots of work, Pho. Anise seeds. Ginger. Cinnamon sticks. Shallots. Brown sugar. Garlic. Watercress. Tofu. Basil. Lime. Cilantro. I forgot the bean sprouts. I also made a modified tabouli with garbanzo beans.

I asked boyfriend if he liked it.
He said yes.
I said, "Is it a keeper?"
he said yes.
I said, "Are you just saying that because you're on a diet and its a healthy dish, or do you really like it?"
He said he liked it.

Later, as we're eating, he says,
"This is hardcore vegan."
He munches a little more and adds,
"I bet you could get used to it after a while."

??? What???

But he ate 3 servings of the tabouli.
It was pretty good.

Check out this winter's Vegetarian Times. Lotta good stuff in there.

2008-02-02T19:41:00.000-08:00

Good looking gentleman in health food grocery store smiles at me, I acknowledge briefly, continue shopping.

He says, "you don't remember me do you?" He owned a restauarant that I used to frequent.

We chatted about the old days, when he had his restaurant. He was in town visiting his kids. Sold the place years ago.

I was looking for parsnips. I wanted to try a new recipe but I didn't know what a parsnip looks like. Suddenly, I light up, and I say, "You owned a restaurant! Can you tell me which one of these things is a parsnip?"

He points out a root-y vegetable, and I thank him, get his email addy, and move on.

Get home, check my reciept. Rutabagas.

Rutabagas? Whats a rutabaga? I didn't have rutabagas on my grocery list.

I do a google image search. I had rutabagas. A restaurant owner, telling me a rutabaga was a parsnip.

I didn't know what a shallot looked like either. He pointed out shallots to me. I hope he got that right. I didn't image google shallot.

2008-01-12T10:14:00.000-08:00

I sometimes blurt what pops into my head without thinking.

A hetero male coworker was talking about luxury items--things he wanted to buy when he had the funds. He said, eyes lit up, "a black leather couch."

Without thinking, I said, "That is SO gay-guy in the 80's."

I think I hurt his feelings. But it slipped out.

Maybe I should have been more supportive instead. "Yeah, and you could put a Nagel print on the wall...and have a shiny black vase in there on a clear glass and wraught iron coffee table...and maybe a bust of a naked male torso on a credenza somewhere...oh, and a faux zebra rug on the floor..."

I think I'm going shopping today with PW Stain. She's supposed to come and visit.

I should probably get up off my ass and take a shower and get dressed. Ugh, why does life have to be so difficult? Getting dressed on weekend mornings is such a chore...
My Hello Kitty pajama's are so comfortable.

Sigh.

Has anyone made New Year's resolutions?

I'm thinking about mine. I'll probalby have them ready by April.

One of my resolutions is to buy shiny clothing.
Like Dynasty Joan Collins in the 80's.

Oh, speaking of, David Gahan (Of Depeche Mode) has a single out, and he's solo.
I was dancing around to it in my living room last night.

Okay, I need to take a shower and get out of the 80's...

2007-12-30T00:38:00.000-08:00

Interestingly, I have had this identical conversation with my boyfriend about three times.

Him: "Your boobs sure got small."
Me: "That's what happens when you lose weight."
Him: "So they're just fat?"
Me: "Yep."
Him: "They really got small."
Me: "Do you wish they were bigger?"
Him: "No."
Me: "I could get fat again."

2007-12-08T21:05:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to create more time for myself. Time management. Multitasking. Looking at how long it takes me to do stuff. Instead of putting 1:00 (for one minute) into the microwave, which requires 3 digits, (a one and two zeroes) I punched in 60. That's only two digits, instead of three. I saved the time it would take me to put in that extra digit. Also, the distance between the six and the zero is closer than the one and zero, so my finger doesn't have to travel as far. That means its quicker.

So if I put in 60 instead of 1:00 into the microwave like fifty times, I will have saved maybe one second. Pretty impressive, huh? (and then I spent 20 minutes blogging about it.) But seriously, from when I get up to when I return home from work, making dinner, cleaning, putting away my mail, etc., I have less than an hour and a half per weekday to do anything related to MY life, MY joy. This was a suprise. I'm reading Time Management From the Inside Out by Julie Morgenstern. (Love her stuff) Been looking at ways to save time here and there to make time for important things...like joy and pleasure.

I'm trying to study it. Today I loaded groceries onto the checkout counter by what goes in the fridge, what goes in the cupboards, etc., so they're grouped like that in the bags. When I got home, all the fridge stuff was in the same bags, so I could put everything in the fridge at once. Noticing things like the microwave thing, which was more amusing than timesaving, but hey, I'm still looking. I have a job where I can't manage time. I'm given orders to fill

OMG!!!

I forgot to tell you guys!

I no longer do admin asst work at the funeral home, GLORY HALLELUJAH! What a shit job that was.

I never have to deal with gross stuff again! No frikkin' family member wanting me to brush their corpse relative's hair. OMG, what a nightmare that was. What was I supposed to say? "That's not in my job description..." Yeah, that'd go over well.

The nightmare is finally over. Thank you God.

I'm doing some desktop publishing stuff. For those of you who took media classes with me in college, remember the digital imaging and computer classes where we'd have to print some large format item out, and there was only one large format printer for a zillion students, and we'd be there till 3 a.m. waiting for it, or getting there at 5 am and finding people still there waiting for it??? Anyway, that's sort of like my job now. I get up at a super early time when people shouldn't be getting up, and I print stuff out on old printers that don't work, and everyone yells at me because nothing is centered. They all think I'm totally inept, the new print-person.

I have not explained to them that I have spent hours with tech support people, 2 men have come out and spent hours on the printer and still haven't been able to fix it. One guy from the company that makes the printers (Riso, whoever heard of them) was supposed to train me on it. He spent 3 hours on the phone with HIS tech support, because he couldn't get the damn thing to work, and then told me, "Um, I have to go. We'll have to schedule a training for another time..." and I never heard from him again. I know why, because he didn't know what the frick was going on.

But on the bright side, people can complain about me, but I'm new, and the last person quit rather abruptly so there was no one there to train me properly. I've had to figure it out all trial and error. Hopefully I'll get it down soon.

I really like the job, except for the malfunctioning equipment. It is the first job that I've ever sort of liked. And I'm so relieved to be out of the nightmare. I couldn't even write about the former job because I found it so disturbing.

Shit like some family wanting their dead daughters clothes back, and you have to tell them that they're too bloody because the girl died in a car accident, and bloody stuff means biohazard, so you can't give them back. I mean, what a fucking nightmare.

Imagine that. Imaging having to tell a grieving family that they cannot have their daughter's clothing back, and then having to tell them why.

For poverty wages.

Not to mention thinking about the families sometimes, like how sick can you be to ask for stuff like that under those circumstances? I'd be on the phone or looking at them like, "you've got to be kidding."

It was horrible. I can't tell you the nightmare that job was.

It is like a my life is now a huge sigh of relief.

Now I only need time to forget about that other job.

2007-11-22T08:10:00.000-08:00

A large Catholic Church. A bum/homeless guy...whatever, he looked unkempt. Standing across the street facing the church, yelling, "What am I supposed to do? I DON'T KNOW!"

And I'm thinkin', I feel ya, buddy. I really do.

2007-10-28T21:52:00.000-07:00

I'd heard that God did not put children on earth for us to teach them. God put children on earth for them to teach us. And holy shit, if that didn't just happen to me.

My sister in law brought her 5 year old niece over Saturday night for pumpkin carving. Because all the horror flicks on tv (Halloween) were child inappropriate, we put a Star Wars on.

At some point, Chewbacca was groaning, and someone asked the little 5 year old girl if Chewbacca was her favorite character. She said, "No. Princess Leia is."
She then asked, "Do you want to know why?"
When we said yes, she answered, "Because she's smart. And she's brave."

I am so fucking jealous.
Back in my day, I was never taught that smart and brave were virtues.

The only reason I got good grades was to avoid beatings.

I mean, how different would my life be if I'd been taught that being smart and brave were virtues?

My mother told me things like, "you're so messy, no man will marry you!"
I was taught that cleaning a house was virtuous. I didn't like to clean, so I basically failed as a valid human being.

Later, it became all about what I looked like.

Thank God people are teaching their children differently.

Its good to like Princess Leia because she's smart and brave.

2007-10-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

Honestly, is it just me? I think the lace totally looks like pubes.

These are daisy fuentes® Low-Rise Lace Bikini Panty currently on sale at Kohl's.

Like a quasi merkin.

2007-10-21T00:43:00.000-07:00

His pants may be falling down, but at least no one will take his bike. Wait, that's a girls bike.

What is the reasoning? Appealing to the theif's sense of pity? "Look, I can't even afford a lock for my bike. Please don't steal this."

Or maybe thinking the theif will be too lazy? "Aw, shucks, I don't feel like unbuckling the belt."

Whatever the reasoning,

I found it amusing.

2007-10-06T13:49:00.001-07:00

Last night I watched The Devil Wears Prada over and over again until 4:30 a.m., with a notebook in my lap taking notes and marking 4 clothing catalogs from 2 different companies. (I love Patricia Field. She did the wardrobe. She also worked on Sex and the City.)

My wardrobe is crap. I wear the same pair of pants to work all week. If I spill something on my pants, like tea or someone's grandpa, I'm SOL. Within the last couple years, I changed my diet and lost weight. Thrilled, I spent a small fortune on a new wardrobe.

I lost more weight, hocked my new clothes on ebay for 1/10th of what I paid and gave the rest to my coworkers. I'm back to square one--broke and naked like the day I was born.

Do I buy more clothing, or hold out to lose that last 7 lbs? What if I don't lose that last 7 pounds? (said the blogger, as she finished her breakfast of corn chips and m&m's.)

My wages are a pittance. I was aware of the joke -- me, watching the Devil Wears Prada drooling over Prada and Chanel and Valentino.

Even the fabulous design houses of Jacqueline Smith and Kathy Lee are beyond my budget.

C'mon Kathy, bring them kids back. I need a $6 pair of pants!

I tell myself I'm getting inspired. So I can't have a black cashmere turtleneck dripping with layers of Chanel chains around my neck and a gigantic jeweled pendant..."

Maybe I'll buy some toilet chains from Home Depot and layer those like necklaces and hang a Christmas ornament off one. See if I can find a poly-blend turtleneck at a yardsale for a quarter.

I'm just kidding.
It's almost 3 pm on a Saturday and I just finished my corn chip and m&m breakfast. Ain't no frikkin' way I can get up early enough to go to a yard sale.

2007-09-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

While deleting old emails, I came across excellent stuff written by my friends. Here's an exerpt from my friend Sunny, an EMT: (with her permission, don't y'all freak out I'm gonna post your emails!)

I had a call the other night. This Korean bar maid (do you know about the Korean bars here?) got hit by a car. We found here smack dab in the middle of the four lane road....like on the yellow line. SHe was moaning, big language barrier....but she got banged hard!!! Like two broken femurs, broken pelic, broken ribs, pneumothorax, skull fracture, and it cut her intestines in three!!! So basically...she's fucked.

The weird thing is, it happened right outside of all these bars at 1:30, when most are closing and there would be a crowd. She was also only dressed in her thong, fishnets, and a glittery camosle. Her shoes were scattered all over the road. Usually these Korean girls are outside making a scene...but NO ONE was there...just us and police. My partner said he saw the truck that he thinks hit her, but we didnt get the story or what happened cuz we had to hurry and go....kind of weird....why was she wandering around in her underwear? Oh well...she is still alive...they did hours of surgery on her...she was 52...I thought she was 35-40. She too had a boob job...one of her implants imploded!!!

Well..its so freaking hot right now...and I have laryngitis...I havent had a voice for four days...today is the first day I can kind of talk. There is alos a hurricane coming our way. They say its gonna go to the south, then pass us to the west by a 100 miles or so...I bought extra water, food, and toilet paper just in case....
I'll talk to ya again soon

2007-09-01T23:58:00.000-07:00

Last year I penciled a self portrait. It was an excercise from the book Drawing On The Right Side of the Brain. I was impressed by the before and afters. Everyone's before self portrait was childish, scribbled, unimpressive. The after's were exponentially better. So I did my "before" portrait. And what an ugly vision it was! Crude, scribbly lines, bad bad bad, just hideous. Didn't look anything like me. Looked like a monster.

A year later, I find it tucked into the book. I show my boyfriend. "Look at this!" I say. "Can you guess who it is?"

He says, "You?"

Great. Juuuuuuust Great.

2007-09-01T23:40:00.000-07:00

I would rather think I look like this than the pencil self portrait. The grainy fuzz helps. : )

2007-08-24T22:34:00.001-07:00

As if it weren't bad enough that I work 40+ hours a week in a funeral home to maintain poverty status, I get fucking phone calls like this:

Someone calls. Someone's dying. The dying person has made prearrangements for their cremation and subsequent shipment of their cremated remains to another state. The woman on the phone is asking questions, and I'm explaining what was paid for, what wasn't, etc.

Suddenly the woman changes her tone on me all fuckin' jekyl and hyde, and says, all suspicious, "How do I know you'll really send the ashes to the cemetery?"

What the fuck? Ya think I'm gonna take 'em home and set 'em on my mantle? You think I want some strangers cremated remains?

Call the fucking cemetery three days after I call you saying we sent them and SEE IF THEY'VE ARRIVED.

Does it take a fucking genius?

Fuckin get the fuck off my phone and lemme get back to work.

2007-08-03T18:24:00.000-07:00

I hate when my boyfriend looks at porn on the computer. He thinks he's all sly by deleting his history and cookies and all that. But afterwards, I have to re-set all my log on information. The weirdest shit is I'm so okay with legal porn. Sometimes I'll say, "Hey, why don't you spend some time alone with the computer. I'm gonna read in another room. I won't be out for at least 20 minutes." I figure, give the BF an opportunity for a little pleasurable enjoyment.

He gets all indignant, like, "Well I never!" Like I'm a degenerate for suggesting that.
Then I tell him I'm working late, I come home and I gotta re-set all my log-in information.

thanks buddy.

So, while on that topic,

Something gross happened to me at the funeral home. We don't have a kitchen sink. (Its a funeral home, not a restaurant) So if I make a huge vat of coffee, I don't have anywhere to wash the filter. I don't want the grounds clogging up the bathroom sink. I went outside to rinse the coffee filter with the hose. I thought there was some dried bird shit on the spigot. As I turned off the hose, I touched what I thought was bird shit, but it was slimy.

Yesterday, a bum was outside my window. I couldn't tell if he was jerking off or shaking it off after taking a leak. I have these semi opaque windows, so I can see shapes and movement, but no detail. My asst manager goes out there, and the bum had his pants off. The bum told my assistant manager that he was trying to hose off a sore on his ass.

I think that was bullshit.

Because today, I touched slime on the fucking hose spigot. I think I got bum jizz on my fingers. It made me dry heave. I never use antibacterial soap, because its bad for the environment, bad for your body, and creates antibiotic resistant super-bugs, and should be illegal for any place except for hospitals and funeral homes.

I totally antibacterial-soaped my fingers up today. Bleh, that was fucking gross. I still feel a bit nauseated.

2007-07-29T22:48:00.000-07:00

BF downloaded a tattoo he wanted to get. He didn't like part of it, wondered how it would look reversed, etc. I ended up making modifications to it, until BF was satisfied. And then I got an ego sense of satisfaction thinking that this permanent body marking was to some extent, my work.

(Is this how a dog feels after pissing on something?)

2007-07-15T10:38:00.000-07:00

Grocery store today, cashier ringing up my items says, "sweet onions." I say, "brown onions." (20 cents a lb cheaper) He says, "they're kinda flat." The vidalia sweet onions are flat, and he's thinking I'm trying to pull a fast one.

Yeah, the onions were flat. I picked through all the cheaper brown onions, finding the flattest ones. Many years ago, I was at a grocery store picking thru onions, and an old lady smiled knowingly and said, "get the flat ones. They're easier to cut." The round ones roll. Which reminded me of a quote from Lloyd, in Dumb and Dumber: "... Senior citizens, although slow, and dangerous behind the wheel can still serve a purpose."

I'd heard that old folks have this wisdom procured thru life experience, but I never trusted it. When I was 11 years old, I asked my Grandpa for a needle so I could dig a splinter out of my finger. He told me, "Just let it alone, it'll fester and come out on its own." I wanted to avoid an infection. So I mistrusted senior-advice.

Except for my great-grandmother. I was very young (under 10), being dragged to churches by my nutcase missionary aunt. They tried to indoctrinate church propoganda in my head, telling me my mom was going to burn in hell for an eternity because she was buddhist. (not a good thing to tell a small child) I would be unable to sleep with stomache aches because my mom hadn't accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as her own personal savior. I asked my great grandma, "what about the people in the jungle who have never heard of Jesus?"

My great grandma was the only person in the family who had enough sense to tell me "God loves everyone, and if you're a good person, you'll go to heaven." This was quite a relief to little-girl me. I am sure my great grandma is in heaven right now.

2007-07-08T22:38:00.000-07:00

Surreal moment today: Boyfriend and I layed out in the sun. I'm in a red floral halter bikini with bikini bottoms the size of briefs. (fuckin' mail order) I've also got a sheet covering me entirely, because I like the feeling of sun but I don't want the rays on me. Yep, hangin' onto that last bit 0' youth. Boyfriend does 3 pancake turns, front back front. The midday sun is hot, tires us out, so Boyfriend and I go inside and lay down on our bed with the air conditioner on.

Boyfriend turns on the tv in the bedroom, flips the channels and stops at Joel Osteen (tv evangelist), Boyfriend lays back down, and to my amusement, I see that Boyfriend has a slice of cucumber covering each eye. Joel Osteen is talking about having a tune in your heart for God. Boyfriend says he sang one of his favorite hymns at church this morning, and starts singing a church hymn with cucumbers on his eyes, and I'm laying there thinking, 'this is surreally hilarious.'

2007-07-08T00:45:00.000-07:00

Irrational Fear:

Singing quietly as I walked down the street, I worried that people driving by would think I was a crazy person talking to myself.

2007-07-07T21:12:00.000-07:00

I'm standing before a tray of dirty mushrooms floating in a margarine pool at an all you can eat buffet, and this short lady with short hair looks at my plate and goes, "Where did you get those edamame beans?"

Later I think how funny would it have been if I'd said, "You're hitting on me, aren't you, you little lesbian, you! "It would have been funny on several levels, but partly because I don't think she was gay, just short haired/no make-up.

What I really said: "In the salad bar section."
Reality.
I can make it so boring.

Sigh...

I have this book called 1000 nudes. Its nothing but photos of naked people taken at the turn of the century, when the camera was first invented.

That was illegal at the time, so the folks that did it were taking a huge risk. You see these ladies, in black and white, in their late 1800's stockings and dresses with skirts pulled up, no panties, the woman's got her hand over her face, but she's smiling. Very cute.

I remember standing in the bookstore, staring at the book, trying to decide if I should buy it or not, when this little old lady came over and stood next to me. She was an employee of the bookstore.

She put her hand softly on my arm, smiled, and said, "I like this one."

It was a book of old photos of nudes, but all about bondage.

Now that was cute.

****************

which reminds me,
I was walking home from work one day, and as I passed an older woman walking her dog, she commented on my face. Said I didn't take care of my skin. Told me a recipe that included yoghurt and eggyolks to get rid of the sun spots I have.

I saw her a few days later. She read my palm. She said that I was nice to everyone. She said that I could have a whole days worth of things to do, but if someone came along with a fun idea, I'd drop everything. She said I loved love, loved pleasurable things, loved things that brought joy. Then she picks up my other hand and says, "Who died who was close to you?"

I said, "My boyfriend. The one who I was going to marry."

She said she got divorced young. She said she wasted her life unmarried, as she didn't get to have sex. She told me to get married.

2007-06-23T10:09:00.001-07:00

Goal: a minimum of 1 act of generosity per day.

Requirements: must be affordable...(if I pay too much, and feel resentment, its not an act of generosity) NEVER GIVE MORE THAN YOU CAN AFFORD. *

Must not be a "fix." (Like giving a drug addict rehab literature...) *

Must give me pleasure/enjoyment, or at the very least, a sense of satisfaction. *

I burned a couple of cd's for people. I wrote a bum a thank-you note for smiling at me one day.
"Dear Bum, thank you for..."(I didn't really begin with Dear Bum, but wouldn't that have been hee-larious...)
Stuck a very small amount of money in the envelope, but that doesn't count as an act of generosity because I didn't have much cash on me that day and it hurt. Like I was a little kid trying to pull out a loose baby tooth. Didn't wanna do it. THAT IS NOT GENEROSITY. That's just plain fucked up. Turns out I could afford it. But it doesn't count. Only the thank you note counted.

Anyway, here's one that backfired, because it was a "fix." A morbidly obese coworker found out I'd lost 70 lbs, and asked how I did it. I said I changed my diet, mostly eating healthy. Whole grains, low-fat...and this is where this shield goes over their face, and they aren't interested.
They'd rather pig out on their cancer causing hydrogenated fats and whatever.

I had a cookbook with me at work, because its hard work maintaining weight loss, and I have to spend time creating delicious low fat menu's for my week ahead, because if I don't, I'm gonna grab fat-ass food.

I figure I am not using the cookbook that day. I don't want to give it away so I offer to loan it to her for a week or so thinking, that will be my good deed. She's all,
"Oh, I can't do vegetarian."

I say, "You can use these menu's for side dishes."
I mean, she can have her hunk of dead flesh, but instead of eating it with some fat ass side dish, she can make a skinny ass side dish.

My coworker wasn't interested.

Anyway, that was definitely more of a "fix" than generosity. I think that's why it backfired.

Next topic, sort of along the same lines:

Boyish looking middle aged woman on the street approaches me with convoluted story.
"Where's such-and-such grocery store?"
I say, "Across the street, and take a left."
"I gotta cross the street?" she says, slight concern.
"Yeah."
We are right by a drugstore. She says, "They said my prescriptions gonna take an hour and a half. Its gonna be dark by the time its ready. I need to call my friend and tell her I'm okay." She's wearing a flannel and jeans, has her hands in her pockets, sways back and forth like an adolescent boy.

I figure here's an easy act of generosity. I let her use my cell phone. She pulls a hand out of a pocket and holds out some quarters.
"I'm not trying to scam you," she says. I decline her quarters.

She uses the phone.
No one is there. She's nervous.
"Would it help if I walked you across the street?" I ask.

She hesitates. "Yeah," she says, adding, "You can tell I'm not the brightest person in the world." (she's got kind of a speech thing, sorta talks slow)

I'm not clear on why she needs to get to the grocery store. "Can they fill your prescription faster?" I ask.

"No," she says, "but that's where a payphone is. Can I use yours to call my friend again?"
So I let her, and she leaves a message, adding, "and this nice lady let me use her cell phone."

To prove she's not trying to scam me, she pulls a wristband out of her pocket, and says, "I just got out of the hospital an hour ago."

Now I'm terrified. I'm like, "what if she's contagious, and how can I sterilize my cell phone?"

I want to ask her what she was in for, but I am too polite.

And it occurred to me that she was passing herself off as "not the brightest person out there," but other than a slight speech thing going on, I thought she was pretty genius. I mean, I'm lazy, and I was willing to walk her across the street and do stuff for her.

*requirements for acts of generosity stolen from Love for Sale half price Course written by Vic Baranco. Yay Vic! I bet heaven's a lot more fun with you there!

2007-06-19T20:19:00.000-07:00

I was in the drugstore buying condoms. The aisle said, "Family Planning." Funny, I thought, I'm planning not to have one...

I'm still embarassed buying them. I look for a female cashier but of course there are none.

And then one male cashier says to me, "I'll take you over here."

Take me? Um, where? On the counter?

2007-06-13T21:42:00.000-07:00

Adventures with my tard coworker:

Once I asked her to mail death certificates to a client. (her job to do post office runs) She didn't do it. Few days later, client calls complaining that they never got their death certificates.

The Tard rushes off to send them, and to cover her ass, calls the manager and says we got a complaint, so she dropped everything and "SENT THEM RIGHT AWAY!"

Makes herself the hero.

The fucking Tard was the reason they were late.

Another time, she needs to mail her own personal items. No manager around. She leaves, stops at the door, and says, "Do you need anything mailed?" I say no, not really. But I have some forms in my out-box if she wants to take them.

She gets back from the post office. Manager is there. She yells, "Tamponsandramen needed something mailed RIGHT AWAY! So I had to go to the post office."

Lying straight to his face. Making ME look bad.

I tell my manager that she needed to mail personal items, and I didn't need anything mailed at all.

He shakes his head and laughs, amused.

The irony is she's getting a semi promotion. She is inept, but because no one in my building wants her around, we are lying about her qualifications to get her out. I'm giving the worst employee I've ever seen excellent references.

Things she's done:

Snuck onto my computer when I was logged on and looked at ads for marijuana.

Forged my name

Taken company vehicle to shop for hours at a time. (do I complain? Hell no, I'm so glad she's gone)

Emailed people from my company email account.

Come in late, leave for hours for personal errands, and not log time. At one point, she was being paid for about 12 hours per week that she wasn't there.

To make matters worse, I do almost all of her administrative duties. One day I told her I was too busy, please do your own work, I cannot do it right now.

She got mad, took off in the company vehicle, went to other locations and told everyone I was bossing her around.

Because I said, "I cannot do your work."

2007-06-08T21:33:00.000-07:00

(from an old email I wrote)

BATman. SPIDERman. Why the creepy things? What about cute stuff? Where is Kittenman? Or Hamsterman? Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's Pandaman! (say that one out loud. its fun. pandaman pandaman pandaman) I demand pandaman!

2007-06-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I see poetry and the beauty of it almost hurts.

I saw the backs of two homeless guys walking side by side down the street. Behind them a flock of seagulls feasted on the leftover food the men left for them.

2007-04-22T22:34:00.000-07:00

For dinner, I made Tuscan Bean Soup out of the cookbook Vegan With a Vengeance. It uses 2 whole heads of roasted garlic. It purees into a nice tan color. Boyfriend has a bowl of the last of it.

I come out of the bathroom and say, "Where is the air freshener?"
Boyfriend tells me, "Behind the towels."
And then I watch him pour grape juice into his bowl of Tuscan Bean Soup.

I look at him quizzically, and he gets all mad and blurts, "See what you made me do? You distracted me by asking me a question!"

I start laughing hilariously, and he's all bummed because its the last of the soup.

I'd planned to take leftover soup to work for lunch Monday, but what's left is full of grape juice.

So I make a pot of rice. I have some leftover tofu, and I'm gonna do it Japanese style with a packet of this rice seasoning with Japanese writing all over it. (Actually, international style, as the rice is Basmati.) This is for my lunch at work tomorrow.

My first thought is, "where can I hide the rice seasoning?" Because of my coworker.

My pain in the ass coworker does not know I'm part Asian. She makes racist comments, and I find them interesting. I don't want to blow my cover though, because I like this "invisibility."

Like the shooting recently. She said, knowingly, "He was Asian."
As if that explained the shooting.
She adds, "Most of 'em are on drugs."
I'm thinking really?
Most of the ones I knew were not on drugs, but this is me as racist-- most were getting all A's and screwing up the learning curve and studying biology. (as I'm only half asian, I wasn't in that category. I did not do well at all in biology)

Its kinda funny, as my manager (also racist, but either reformed or well concealed) has seen her dis Asians in front of me, and he starts squirming like an earthworm. Man, its funny. Luckily, he has a short attention span and hasn't told her yet that I'm Asian.

So meanwhile, I'm keeping my little Asian food packets to myself, lest the she figures it out.

2007-04-22T21:42:00.000-07:00

RECIPE

Found a cheap recipe for fat free whole wheat banana muffins (or banana bread). Not the most tasty muffin, but edible, cheap, and goes down with my morning tea. Did i mention FAT FREE? And no poultry ovum? Vegan, as long as you use vegan sugar.

5 ripe bananas
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 cup water

2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp cinnamon

Heat oven to 350. Mash bananas with sugar and vanilla. Then add water. Sift dry ingredients together. Add wet stuff to dry, mix gently, plop into greased muffin tins and bake for about 20 minutes, (I use cupcake paper liners) or put it in a greasy loaf pan and bake for an hour.

*****

STORY ABOUT MUFFINS (recipe ABOVE)

I used to buy Quaker Oatmeal To Go for breakfast, but the ingredients were nasty. The above is my healthy and cheaper alternative.

Last week the boyfriend took some of the above muffins to work, and to my horror, gave them to coworkers.

The muffins are okay in a healthy, edible way--but I wouldn't serve 'em to guests. He comes home and says everyone loved 'em, and someone even told him to thank me. I didn't have the nerve to tell him that no one wanted to dis his girlfriends cooking.

Seriously, I take some pride in my cooking, and those muffins are the equivalent of comfortable stuff you wear at home when you don't expect company.

I made a batch on Sunday nights so they'll last thru a week of quick breakfasts. I put them in a tupperware like storage container, and put it in the fridge. Oddly...here I am, now over forty, and feeling so grown up using tupperware. Tupperware was like such a grown up thing for me.

When I was a kid, it was something grown ups were into. My grandmother bought me a tupperware lunch kit. My neighbor lady had tons of it. It was something I always associated with adults, or people older than I was. So I got this weird sense of pride, like a kid acting like a grown up, putting my banana muffins away in tupperware.

Sometimes I'm such a dork.

2007-04-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

So I got one of them forwarded email quiz things, and it lists all these things like have you ever used sex toys etc..., with a "fine" at the end. You add up your score, and pass it along to your friends. I add mine up, and its like $500.10, and I send it off.

My friend Sunny returns hers, and she's at like $800, which cracks me up. So I tell my friend Tory, and I'm all, "Yeah, I'm totally jealous, Sunny's at like $800," and Tory sends me hers and she's up in the thousands.

Anyway, I love my ho friends. My ho friends are the BEST!!! I know none of this makes any sense, so below is the forwarded thing I got.

Bust out the calculator...

Just read the "offense" list below and if you've done it, you owe that fine.
Keep going until you've read each" offense" and added up your total fine.When you are done, send it back to the person that sent it to you andyour other friends.

Title your email "My fine is $........"

You don't have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine.

>>>>Smoked Weed - $10
>>>>Did Acid - $45
>>>>Ate magic mushrooms - $30
>>>>Ever had sex at church - $25
>>>>Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -$40
>>>>Had sex with someone on MySpace - $25
>>>>Had sex for money - $100
>>>>Ever had sex with a Puerto Rican - $20
>>>>Vandalized something - $20
>>>>Had sex on your parents' bed - $10
>>>>Beat up someone - $20
>>>>Been jumped -$10
>>>>Crossed dressed -$10
>>>>Given money to stripper - $25
>>>>Been in love with a stripper - $20
>>>>Kissed some one who's name you didn't know - $0.10
>>>>Hit on someone of the same sex while at work - $15
>>>>Ever drive drunk - $20
>>>>Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk - $50
>>>>Used toys while having sex - $30
>>>>Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -$20
>>>>Went skinny dipping - $5
>>>>Had sex in a pool - $20
>>>>Kissed someone of the same sex - $10
>>>>Had sex with someone of the same sex - $20
>>>>Cheated on your significant other -$10
>>>>Masturbated- $10
>>>>Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close
>>>>friend -$20
>>>>Done oral- $5
>>>>Got oral- $5
>>>>Done /got oral in a car while it was moving - $25
>>>>Stole something - $10
>>>>Had sex with someone in jail - $25
>>>>Made a nasty home video - $15
>>>>Had a threesome - $50
>>>>Had sex in the wild - $20
>>>>Been in the same room while someone was having sex - $25
>>>>Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars - $20
>>>>Had sex with someone 10 years older - $20
>>>>Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 - $25
>>>>Been in love with two people or more at the same time - $50
>>>>Said you love someone but didn't mean it - $25
>>>>Went streaking - $5
>>>>Went streaking in broad daylight - $15
>>>>Been arrested - $5
>>>>Spent time in jail - $15
>>>>Peed in the pool - $0.50
>>>>Played spin the bottle - $5
>>>>Done something you regret - $20
>>>>Had sex with your best friend - $20
>>>>Had sex with someone you work with at work - $25
>>>>Had anal sex - $80
>>>>Lied to your mate - $5
>>>>Lied to your mate about the sex being good - $25

>>>>Tally it up your fine, When you are done, send it back to the person that sent it to you and your other friends.

Title your email "My fine is $........" You don't have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine.

2007-03-31T09:36:00.000-07:00

This one day I had really bad menstrual cramps, and I thought it was punishment for buying something from a door to door saleswoman. She was very sweet, Japanese, tiny tiny tiny, and I couldn't totally understand her thru her accent. (You'd think i of all people, would be able to) So I bought a crane calendar from her, because she said cranes symbolized happiness and love, and those are two things I can't get enough of. Proceeds went to (something I didn't understand) and she gives me a flyer, I give her $8, and she's gone.

Later I look at the flyer, and its TO PROMOTE CELIBACY!!! Its all propoganda against (I'm sure) mostly girl teenagers not to fuck until they're married. Which I think is wrong. You teach responsibility and ownership of your body. You teach making proper choices. You don't teach "don't fuck til you're married," because that just leads to making really bad marriage choices. So I thought God was laying down a big assed punishment on me for giving money to that stupid fucking cause and I was being punished with really bad cramps. Anyhoo, the cramps never really went away (they finally are now) and I hadn't felt well for like a frikkin' month, and that's why I haven't been posting in my blog. That's my story. I hope that woman kept the money for herself and none of my money went towards that dumbassed cause. More repression of women. Fuck that shit.

2007-02-11T11:33:00.000-08:00

I'm at the grocery store, among other things, I'm purchasing maxi-pads. I'm checking out, and the register is spitting out ads in addition to my receipt. I look at the coupon the register has assigned me. It says,

"May we suggest Always Maxi Pads with new clean wipes?"

Ahem!
What are you suggesting?!

2007-02-01T22:26:00.000-08:00

I was in Japan the summer after my freshman year in highschool. I was 15, and I remember my disgust at 30 year old Japanese women with Hello Kitty purses and accessories. I associated Hello Kitty with preschool girls. I was 15. My favorite magazine was Vogue. I was all about chic sophistication, or at least dreaming about it.

Fast forward many years later. I make fun of my boyfriend's ex girlfriend. She liked Pooh Bear. My boyfriend teases me. He says, "Want me to get you a pooh bear stuffed animal?" I roll my eyes.

So maybe its twisted kharma, but suddenly, I find myself at 40 suddenly liking Hello Kitty. Who is even more disgustingly cute than Pooh Bear! (I think the disgustingly cuteness is what repelled me originally) For Valentine's day, I requested the boyfriend buy me Hello Kitty pajamas. A couple months ago (I can't believe i'm admitting this) he bought me a Hello Kitty cell phone case. I told my boyfriend: I can't make fun of your ex anymore. She likes Pooh. I like Hello Kitty."

Boyfriend, he was supportive. He said,
"I was never down with Pooh. I'm down with Hello Kitty tho."

I gotta admit, hearing him say that brought a smile to my heart. Glad to know my boyfriend is down with hello kitty...

2007-01-25T21:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I'm sitting outside the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. A woman in front of me is helping her little girl into a stroller.

I hear the little girl blurt, "This is the best day of my life!"

Still makes me smile.

2007-01-09T23:00:00.000-08:00

The Joy Of Working At A Mortuary

Dialogue, between me and assistant manager:

Me: Is Mr. _____ 's autopsy done? Is he ready to be picked up from the medical examiner's office?

Assistant Manager: No, they sent his brain out for tests. They haven't got it back yet."

Me: Oh. Okay.

And for the rest of the day, I couldn't get that darn Wizard of Oz song out of my head...

'If I only had a braiiiinnnnnnnnnn..."

2007-01-07T12:54:00.000-08:00

In a Korean store, a shop called Good Under Wear. Would that be versus, oh, Bad Underwear?

2007-01-07T12:50:00.000-08:00

While Christmas shopping, I came across this ornament that appears to be giving the bird. (and I'm not talking about a partridge in a pear tree)

2007-01-01T21:37:00.000-08:00

Shelby, my alcoholic friend, is very lovable.

So last Friday I stop by the restaurant where he works to meet up with him and give him his Christmas gift. He's going to the bar after work, his usual routine. My friend is with me, the one who got me a haircut as a Christmas gift. We all go to the bar, Shelby's home away from home.

Shelby is sick. Dog sick, snotty nose, watery eyes, congested weird voice thing going on sick. He gives me a hug for a greeting and a wet kiss on the cheek.

I grimace, but I don't say anything, as he's my friend.

We go to the bar, and he's not even drunk, and he's spitting on me as he talks. A lot. I move my barstool back. He touches me in between spitting on me.

I think, "As soon as I get outta here, I'm washing my hands. And arms..." I think, "I must NOT touch my eyes, my nose, or my mouth..."

At which point, he says something and spits in my eye.

Dammit.

The highlight of my evening (other than a kick-ass sexy haircut) was when I moved my barstool back to avoid Shelby's saliva spray. A cocktail waiter, with little room behind me and the wall, brushed his cock against my ass trying to get past me.

He turned back and smiled at me, so I stuck my ass out a little further, jokingly.

This is why I love gay men. I can do something like that. If I did that to a straight guy stranger, I'd be fighting him off the rest of the night.

With a gay man, I can have a little fun, have a few laughs, and that's that. And you know what? I like fun and laughs.

2006-12-31T20:19:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, everyone!

I had a kick-ass Christmas. Materially, it rocked. I got everything I wanted, and so much of what I wanted I couldn't decide what to play with first. Got a cookbook -- Moosewood Restaurant Low Fat Favorites. It looks very good.--full of ingredients I'm comfortable using (rice, beans, grains, vegetables), unlike Vegan With a Vengeance-- what the heck is tempeh and seitan? OMG, this is funny. I just realized why I like the Moosewood book. It's got a little bit of an Asian twist in there, but mainly Mediterranean or Italian. That's my ethnic background. Tomatoes and basil and garlic and miso. I plan to try 5 recipes this week.

The boyfriend bought me a sewing machine. I plan to create a wardrobe worthy of an entire issue of Vogue. Sewing is about me as control freak. At the store, I see a shirt I like, but not in my size. Or not the right color. When you sew, you control every aspect. You pick the color, the size, the fabric, the print...the buttons. Its about total control. I dig that. It's probably cheaper to buy off the rack and not as time consuming, but the control...I love the control.

One little problem...

I don't really know how to sew.

But I'm not going to let some minor detail like that get in my way.

I also got a much desired tripod. Finally, a Christmas photo with me in it! (instead of me being the one with the camera)

My friend took me to get a haircut by her gay stylist with long flowing gray biker hair. (I was like, "uh-oh..." thrilled he was gay, but the biker hair threw me...) He did a great job. My hair looked fucking fabulous Friday night! And wasted on a bunch of guys in a gay bar. Oh well.

I wish I had taken a picture of my fab hair.

Today, it looks sorta Joan Jett, but not in a good way. Could be worse. Could be Rod Stewart. (hahahahaha crackin' myself up here...aplogies to you folks who are not amused.)

2006-12-12T22:23:00.000-08:00

Stir fried some cabbage, onions, broccoli, garlic and tofu. Meanwhile, cooked up a pot of brown rice.

I try to eat healthy. But that doesn't mean I like it. I'm half Japanese. It ain't rice if it ain't white and sticky. To me, brown rice is like ... well, it's like eating Crunchberries all your life then switching to All Bran. You kinda swallow it because its good for you, all the while wishing you were eating Capn Crunch.

So I'm grimacing inside for the following reasons:

It's brown rice.

The cabbage was bitter.

My life sucks because I have to eat this way or I'll get really fat.

So there's me, in the kitchen, cookin' up a big batch of self pity, when the boyfriend comes home from the gym.

He says, "Wow! What smells so good?"

(me, on the inside, "cabbage?!?")

He says, "I could smell it outside. Smells great!"

Sometimes its like a little door opens and I briefly see a world where not everything sucks. It was nice.

2006-11-23T22:12:00.000-08:00

I had some suspicious moles removed at the dermatologists office. When the anesthetic wears off, the deep gouged out ones hurt.Unlike the small surface ones. One was bleeding so she cauterized it. I could smell the burn. Ew.

The assistant girl was a total ditz. Very sweet, very warm, but not the brightest bulb on the tree, no siree. I don't know if this is normal, but everywhere she gave me a shot bled. Then she had to re-do some lables that went on the biopsy jars. She said, "Oh, I did these backwards." The dermatologist asked her to go get something, because it wasn't where it was supposed to be. I was also supposed to get an aftercare sheet with instructions on it, which she forgot to give me. The assistant then tried to sell me some vitamin C cream. I asked her what was in it, since I mainly stay with natural products. She said, "Vitamin C." I asked her what else. She said, "100% Vitamin C." I looked at the jar. 15% vitamin C.

Totally sweet girl, but dang. What a ditz.

2006-11-12T02:41:00.000-08:00

Looking at zillions of wine bottles in a store, it took forever for me to find the Pinot Noirs. Then it took forever for me to read the lables to see where each came from.

I imagined me in a restaurant, asking, "Do you have a northern pinot noir? Nothing like a napa valley. I prefer one from a cooler climate." I thought of how wine snobby that would sound, and I smiled on the inside.

My smile had nothing to do with the wine snobbery. I happened to read that northern pinot noirs have higher levels of resveratrols in them (I don't know what the heck resveratrols are). And this is supposed to prevent wrinkles and other facets of aging. Seriously, I'm at that point where I'm willing to try almost anything. And by the way, the resveratrols diminish with exposure to oxygen. Which means the best bet is to buy it in a box. (air doesn't seep into the bags inside boxes of wine) However, I have yet to find a box of pinot noir from a northern climate. Shucks.

2006-11-08T18:33:00.000-08:00

A friend and I joking about the Canadian version of Diffrent Strokes:

What you talkin' a-boot, Willis, eh?

2006-10-21T22:02:00.000-07:00

Another email. Needs serious editing, but thought it had the capacity to be a good piece of writing.

Flashback to the matzo balls I ate 25 years ago when my mom got married. 25 years later I remember I liked them a lot. I swear, I have a love affair with food.

So I was remembering the matzo ball soup. I remembered having them after my moms wedding. She got married in Anaheim at a wedding chapel. Chapel was cheesy lame. I think the only people on "her" side were us kids. Her hubby had his family there, and his friends. Probably less than 20 people total. Certainly not a dream wedding. There was a big wedding cake in the foyer. I think it was made of plaster. It was there so people could take a picture next to it.

The reception was us going to my moms husbands friends' house. the wife made the soup. Everyone but the kids (my brothers and i) spoke English as a second language.

I think that's why when I asked the lady what the matzo balls were, she didn't say "matzo balls." she scanned her brain and came up with cracker crumbs. The lady was thin, pale. She had short blonde hair. She drank a little wine, and was talking and to make a point, slammed her wineglass down and broke the stem. Her husband got mad that she was drunk.

My mom came to America with my dad. He left her for another Japanese lady. She had 3 of us kids, and no husband. She was too ashamed to go back to Japan, so she lied to her parents that everything was fine. Whenever they asked where my dad was, she'd say he was bowling. (for 10 years) So no family flew in from Japan to see her get married for the second time. After she remarried, I think she broke the news to her family.

I never thought about it, but I thought how sad. How sad to have a shitty little wedding with no one there but your kids. My mom is really pretty, always has been, and I remember she didn't look pretty on the day of her wedding. I didn't like the dress, and I didn't like her hair. She had a lot of flowers in her hair. There's a picture of all of us. I didn't like my dress, or my hair either. It was the eighties.

25 years ago, and I still remember I like matzo balls. Every once in a while, I see them pre made in a big jar at the store. I want to buy them, but they're in chicken broth, so I don't. I thought about making them, but never did, being so afraid of the unknown. Partly because i'm not for sure they were matzo balls. lady never called them that.

me: I like this. What are these?
she: Cracker crumbs.

my poor mom. she said she didn't want to get old alone. far as i can tell, marriage ain't no guarantee you won't. its love that keeps a person sticking around. not a peice of paper. or ring.

she and 2nd hubby are divorced. he still loves her. has the housekey. comes over every day when she's at work, and makes her food so she can eat when she comes home. she doesn't eat much. she's very skinny. I did not get that gene.

what pisses me off is that my mom is still in love with my dad. a guy who dumped her in a country where she couldn't even speak the language, while she was pregnant, and had two toddlers. wasn't even there to see his son born.

meanwhile, hubby #2, who she treats like shit comes over and makes her dinner every night. He's gone by the time she comes home. He packs little foil packets of vitamins for her to take.

A couple of years ago, my mom said she wanted to change her name back to my dads last name. I was so pissed. I told her if she did, I was changing my last name to a matriarchial name I made up.

I figured my dad hadn't raised me, why should I carry his name?
I put together my 2 grandma's first name, and my great grandma's and my moms first name.
If my mom changes her name back to my dads last name, then my last name will be Mumida. My dad named me, obviously, as my mom didn't know any American names. So if I were to change my name legally, I'd be Nadia Mumida.
Nadia Azusa Mumida.

I asked my mom what she would have named me in Japanese had she been the one to name me. She said Azusa.

2006-10-01T14:20:00.000-07:00

Asian Rite of Passage

(yet another email I wrote to someone, posting it here instead of coming up with new blog material...)

I think I did some kind of Asian rite of passage yesterday.

BF and I were at Fry's Electronics. (do not like the crazy pace of that place.) Did get a kick out of some lil kid with his bike helmet on, looking at the dvd cartoons. Later, i was thinking, "wait, wasn't the kids section on the other side???" and I check out the cartoon dvd's, and sho nuff, he was checkin out the NOT FOR CHILDREN adult anime dvd's. Risque cover art, I must say...

Anyway, while there, I bought...drumroll please: a rice cooker. I know this has to be some kind of rite of passage for Asian gals. When they get their very first, very own rice cooker. My last one was a hand me down from my mom. It had a missing leg. I didn't use it much.

I did not purchase the fancy $500 kind, the kind that also bakes bread and wipes your ass. I got a $20 one, and made a worker walk in the back to find it, as they were out of stock on the shelves. He smiled when I got excited as he brought one out. (I was sure he was gonna come back and say, "Nope, all gone...")

I really like that smile guys get when they see my delight.

Last time I saw it, I was looking for some shoes. The store was out of my size. I went to another store. I asked the guy, "Do you have (name of shoe) in a 9.5?"

He found them and I gasped out loud. He smiled that smile

Oh! I’m using the rice cooker right now and I can smell the rice already! I’m so excited. I hope it works. I was wondering if you use the same amount of water for brown rice as you do white. We shall see…

Rite of Passage Part II

This is a true blog entry.

Okay, stuff bubbling out of the steam hole on lid of rice cooker, leaving rice residue all over lid. The expensive rice cookers don't do this.

Forgot to mention that as I was leaving Fry's, I was thinking to myself, "My chinky ass gots a rice cooker."

I know I am not Chinese, but "Chinky Ass" sounded more lyrical than "Jap Ass," so I used that instead. I also figured white folks don't know the difference.

Take my bf. He calls all Asians Gooks. I had to explain, "Sweetheart, I'm not a Gook. I'm a Jap. Vietnamese are Gooks, and Chinese are Chinks, Phillipino's are Flips."

I should have followed with, "Got that, Wop?"

I'm part Italian as well, so when asked about my nationality, I have been known to say I'm Wopanese.

2006-09-24T08:42:00.000-07:00

My Favorite Phrase

A virtual friend of mine asked me if women liked dirty talk during sex. I replied, "I don't know." My suspicion is yes, because I've been browsing thru literotica.com and both men and women writers often have scenarios using dirty talk. However, I've never practiced it--due more to laziness than prudishness.

The conversation continued, and I jokingly wrote my virtual friend: "If someone called me a slut during sex, I'd say, "Suck my slut pussy, bitch!"

That's my favorite phrase now. Maybe its the alliteration.

I oughta put it on a tee shirt.

Suck my slut pussy, bitch!

(sorry to put you guys thru this, but this cracks me up.)

2006-09-23T23:28:00.000-07:00

I was watching this chick turn on various guys. Here are pics for your enjoyment:

Here comes another guy:

She seems to like the second guy better. I thought his ass was decent.

I was also checking out foot fetish pics on ebay. I'm not into feet. But I'd sell pics of mine to afford luxuries like Top Ramen instead of the lesser expensive Maruchan. So I'm doing my market research, and I find a guy selling pics of his wifes feet.

He's got an amateur artsy pic of the wifes soles, but I notice some detail in the darkness. I lightened it to see what was in the pic. You can see what I came up with the second pic.

Goodness, what a voyeur I am!
Enjoy!

And finally, here are my toes, on my dinette, next to a flower filled sake bottle.
Currently, my toes pics are not for sale.
But...uh, I'm willing to negotiate...

2006-09-20T22:22:00.000-07:00

My Annoying Coworker

talks so much. She said, "Do you want to hear about the time..." and my assistant manager blurts, "NO!" and she ignores it and continues. He looks at me with a look of utter frustration. I shrug.

Annoying coworker has begun following me into the restroom. If I go into the bathroom with my coffee mug in my hand, I'm going in there to rinse my coffee mug out. She's figured this out. She follows me as she talks. As the door to the bathroom closes behind me(it's a one-person bathroom), she holds the door open with her hand, so she can continue talking to me. It's unbelievable!

Did I mention she's no genius? Direct quote. While blabbing about all her trials and tribulations getting car insurance (as if I'm interested!) she says, "Did you know that 1 out of 3 cars is uninsured? That's more than HALF!"

I'm like, "get outta the bathroom."

2006-09-12T22:03:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, like 7 or 8, I could lower my eyelids and see my little long dark curled eyelashes. If the sun caught my lashes just right, they separated into little balls of rainbow colors, a sheer blue ball, a sheer pink ball, each colored ball atop another, making up a rainbow colored eyelash. I thought I had superpowers, and I was seeing molecules.

2006-09-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

One of the perks of working in a funeral home is that you get to hear people cry all the time. Its not really a perk. I was being sarcastic. It's actually depressing and painful.

My office door opens out to the lobby, where people congregate prior to and after funerals. I've noticed something. When I hear strangers cry, I now hear differences. Some people cry because someone is dead. They're afraid of death, they know it's okay to cry, so they cry. Some people cry because they're sad, due to loss. That's a quieter, cleaner cry. It's almost like music. It is not unpleasant to listen to, it takes you to melancholy.

Sometimes I hear people crying because they're angry. That's usually a louder cry and the noise comes from their stomachs.

Today I heard a regretful cry. It was the crying of things I never got to tell you, you left before I could say good bye, before I could say I love you, before I could finish. I heard that cry for a long time. Its more high pitched towards the end of the sob.

There's also a "how could this happen" kind of cry.

I don't even have to see them. I hear them cry, and I know what the relationship was.

2006-09-06T23:26:00.000-07:00

In 9th grade, Silica L told me about Nancy Friday's book Men In Love, all about men's sexual fantasies. After reading Men in Love (about 1000 times) I (oh, pun totally intended) went thru a dry spell for about 10 years until I read Anne Rice's erotic stuff.

Fast forward another 10 years or so. Got the itch again. Advertised online for it. "Write me something dirty..." I met a really hot writer online. Love his stuff. (he SAYS he's a he...) He told me about literotica.com, which has kept me occupied lately. Lots of erotic stories.

The problem is that in the stories, everyone looks so great. At least, in my head they do. I'm reading a story and it's going something like this:

"My cock was straining thru my jeans. She deftly unzipped my levi's, and grabbed my throbbing member.

"Oh, Richard," she purred, "I've wanted to suck you ever since I laid eyes on you." Brenda licked her full lips in anticipation, her gorgeous blue eyes focused intently on my..."

etc.

So I'm reading this stuff, and it's all good, that is, until I get to the authors bio. And see his picture. Suddenly, I'm incredulous. "Brenda wanted to suck him?" I mean, it's this dumpy looking guy with a bad toupee, going by the name of Richardlovespussy or something, and suddenly my mood is a bit dulled, to say the least.

Or I get a little disconcerted when I'm reading an erotic poem, and it gets into major S&M about humilation and drawing blood, and the authors pic is this frail looking woman using the term "I" in all her poetry about getting beat up. That kinda freaked me out a little. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered me if she was a little bigger, or looked like she could take it. But she was so frail and skinny. I'm thinkin', take a whip to her back, and you're gonna expose some spinebone. Not sexy to me at all.

Granted, I know it's fantasy. And these writers are idealizing themselves and their characters.

Maybe I'll just not look at their pictures. Then they will be always as beautiful and sexy as they portray themselves in their stories...

sometimes reality is so awesome. And sometimes, it's not.

2006-09-04T03:28:00.000-07:00

I'm gettin' so lazy. Not even blogging, just been posting bits of my emails. Here's one I started, but never sent. Angeldude, you were the recipient. However, you made mention that my writing makes people uncomfortable. I took that to mean you. so i didn't send it.

Posted it here instead. this is funny to me, don't know why.

Good morning. I can't sleep. So I'm sending you an email. How many emails have I sent you? You save them? I know you do. You collect me. Today (now yesterday) i had nightmare images. While I was awake. A bug struggling in a web. A dead pig impaled. That was fuckin gross.
Some luau thing on the beach. I've never seen that before. It was surreal. Like a nightmare, but real. Kinda like my job and the dead folks. ew ew ew.

2006-08-26T09:53:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting in my blog much. I have a writing buddy now, and we put together short stories, on occasion sexual in nature, and we compare, critique and enjoy. In fact, the prior plumber email was an excerpt. Here's another exerpt of an email I sent.

Preface: I was writing about Quincy Troupe, one of my professors in college.

On the last day of class, Quincy would invite us over to his house. Personal Narrative. We all wrote about ourselves. My favorite class of all time. All about me.

Quincy's house was big and a little chilly in the winter, big windows, lots of light, high on a hill in La Jolla. Not decorated tastefully or beautifully, but joyfully (better, in my opinion). Art all over the place, real art, stuff he bought because he liked it, not because it was pretty. (most of it wasn't) Bright living room where some of us would sit on the floor. He'd make us read our stories out loud.

Rich Asian girl writing about her rich doctor dad back in Taiwan or Viet Nam or somewhere where rich kids get kidnapped and its better to send them off to America for educations and safety.

Poor Asian kid writing about coming to America when he was 9, other kids making fun of him for his funny clothes and inability to speak english. Hearing mom and dad fight because mom didn't wear her wedding ring when she waitressed. Mom loved him, slept with his clothes so they'd be warm when he woke up cold mornings to put them on. What's wrong, she asked, sensing his pure misery. He couldn't tell her. She used a weeks worth of tips to buy him a playstation and took Dad's wrath.

White quiet nerdy girl writing about her dead grandmother whom she never met, but identified with. Grandmother was a young journalist, interviewed Hitler who took a liking to her and took her to an event, later JFK took a liking to her as well but politically he couldn't be hanging out with a journalist, his family put a stop to that.

White quiet nerdy girl had pages about the adventures of this beautiful, glamorous, jet- setting grandmother of hers, whom she never met, but oh, how white quiet nerdy girl identified with her (heck, coulda been a reincarnation!). Meanwhile, in one paragraph of her story, brief mention of her current living grandmother who managed a trucking business after her grandfather died and made enough money to put all dozen of her grandchildren through college, including white quiet nerdy girl glamorizing other grandma she'd never met.

Black kid in there, something wrong with his eyes, they were squinty and moved a lot, finally, he reads his story and I find out he's almost totally blind, and he writes of sucking pussy and his girlfriend who he loved and I'm fucking digging it so much, makes me want to fuck a blind guy if they're as good as he seems. Surprises me, cuz he's such a young kid, amazed by what he notices without seeing.

Quincy is stern with him, and it blows my mind, he says the kid uses too many words and its too much. I want to raise my hand and say, "No, no! It was perfect! It drenched my pussy good!" but I don't. Although I write that on my copy of the story and return it to the kid. Who knows if he could read it though, poor blind kid.

My turn to read my story, and I'm writing about small time meth dealer ex boyfriend, and me dancing nude in a strip club, drunk off my ass in the bathroom on my period, one wobbly high heeled foot on the ground, the other on the toilet seat, burning a tampon string out of my pussy with a lit cigarette. (reliving my old glory days, days of ample cash and sleeping with lined wastebaskets next to me so I could puke tequila bile every morning)

Funny thing, in college, hadda get up so early, no make up, ugly clothes, usually sweats and t-shirts. Plain plain plain I can be so plain looking. Last day of class I wear a little make up and one brainy girl in class looks at me after I finish reading aloud of past stripper days. I catch her eye as she cocks her head, first time noticing me with make up on, and I see her thinking, "i can almost see it..."

She's too brainy for me, once I talked to her. Half my age, and she's like a creature raised by Jeopardy writer parents or college professor parents, we find no common ground, she's too intellectual. I suspect she's lonely too, as she's too brainy to have friends. She created some strange way of writing, it was brilliant, read aloud it sounded like that clicking sound -- like that african tribe they make fun of on South Park.

The prof didn't get it. I couldn't quite figure out if it was pure genius on her part, or if she was not a good writer. I leaned more towards the genius though. It was like code, her writing was like strange sounding code.

It was that look she gave me though. That look gave her away. I read about my stripper days and she gives me that look, like for one second, her curiosity was piqued.

It gave her away. I knew right away under that beneath her short brown hair, underneath her isolated, brainiac, too smart to socialize outer shell, there was someone supremely sexual buried there. I caught her eye, and she looked away. I'd have liked to see her come.

2006-08-25T23:10:00.000-07:00

the following reads like a blog entry, but it was actually parts of two emails I sent:

Last nite, toilet would not flush. Opened the back of the tank, and lifted that floaty ball on a stick to pull up the plug so water would go in. The floaty ball stick was corroded and rusted, and snapped. Now there is water filling the tank, but it will not stop.

I use a plastic clothes hanger to prop something up, and it makes the water stop. Toilet tank has a platic hanger sticking out of it, tank lid is on the floor.

BF gets up in the mornings before I do. I hear him use the toilet. The water is going, and I can hear him trying to figure out what exactly it is I did to stop the water. Little sounds of the hanger scraping, him trying different positions. No idea why, but I am so amused by that. I can picture his quizzical face.

BF is not a handyman. I fix things with plastic hangers. But I always make sure I call things by their technical names. Like floaty ball stick.

Plumber came by today. Big samoan looking guy. I'm in the bedroom putting on make up getting ready to go out to dinner. Bathroom is off the bedroom. I ask him what the floaty ball stick was called.

He says
"Don't laugh. We call it a ball cock."

Now I know what to ask for when I go to a hardware store.
"sir, where can I get my hands on a ball cock?"

Plumber was a comedian:
Working on the toilet, mutters,"Peice of shit."
I was so tempted to say, "sorry, shoulda flushed."
Didn't say it.
Thought it would have been funny though.

Someone told me to live out loud. I don't.

2006-08-22T22:11:00.000-07:00

I have a ton of material I could write about my job, some funny, some horrific. But it makes me a little sick to my stomach to think about my job at the mortuary on my time off. My friend Cattah came to visit me a while back, and brought her DVD set of 6 Feet Under. I was like, "I can't. I don't want to watch anything having to do with death on my days off."

Cattah died July 5th in a house fire. I keep feeling these waves of anger and sadness and despair. I was supposed to meet her in New Orleans last May, but I didn't go. She was all about music, and went to the jazz festival there. When I asked her what her name should be in my blog, she said "Cattah." Because that's what her boyfriend called her. She loved her cats. The weird thing was her odd fascination with death. Strange, because she died so early. So young.

I keep pushing her memory away. I get these little bursts of grief, then I shove them away. I think it will come in time. I am just not ready yet. But this is the first time a death has ever made me angry. I don't know why I'm mad at her for dying. As if it fucked up my plans or something. Like she deliberately took away our friendship. Okay, this is what happens. I get these little bursts of grief, like I just did writing the previous sentence, and I need to push it away. I'm not ready yet.

So here's some crap about my job. Ever had a coworker who was like a gigantic splinter in your ass? And you can't get it out? That would be my situation.

So lame coworker is in my office, as usual, since I am so perfect and keep a clean office and you can find stuff in my office versus anyone else's. There's a woman in my office whose husband has died from stab wounds. There are two plastic bags of his belongings in my office that were released to us from the coroners, and I tell the woman they are his items and she may take them home.

My fucking coworker who is a snoop and loves to snoop thru other people's stuff probably can't wait to see what's in those bags, so she hands the wife MY SCISSORS. MY FUCKING SCISSORS.

What's the big deal? The wife cuts open the bags. The guy died of stab wounds. All the shit in there is bloody! Then the wife dumps the bloody contents--bloody wallet, bloody ring, bloody pieces of paper on a table in MY OFFICE!!! I'm about ready to scream what the fuck are you idiots doing??? Get that shit off my table! Fuckin' buy me some new scissors, I ain't using those no more!

Yeah, that's life with my coworker. Thanks. Thanks a fucking lot.

Then some other dead corpse in the chapel, and someone wants a lock of hair. Lame coworker comes into my office, gives them my scissors to use.

Anyone want some scissors? I ain't touchin' em.

Why do I have to work with such a tard?

Know what else bugs me? Not that I'm a genius, because I'm not. But how can someone be so stupid?

She opens sleeves of plastic cups from the top. Okay, when you open the sleeves from the top, whenever you take a plastic or paper or styrofoam cup, you have to pull it out by the lip. Where your mouth is gonna go.

The bitch picks up dead people for a living. Okay? I don't know what the hell she's touched. Yeah, she's supposed to wear gloves, but I am not there. How do I know what she does.

So she's reaching into these plastic sleeves and pulling out paper cups and touching all the rims.

Don't you think you should open them from the bottom YOU STUPID FUCKING TARD so you just touch the bottom of the cup when you need one?

I don't fucking get it.

Oh, if you can't tell, I'm in a pissy mood right now. Every time I think about work, this is what happens. I get in a pissy mood. So I've got hecka material, but I can't bring myself to write about it.

2006-08-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

When I was in college, I was in some computer class, where the professor had a laptop and the image on the monitor was projected onto a huge screen behind him. I was about midsection high in the graduated lecture hall, and I kept wondering, when is the professor going to focus the screen? He adjusted something, and said, "Can everyone see okay?" People behind me yelled, "Yeah."

That was the moment I realized I needed glasses. My second moment came when I was doing the eye test at the DMV, and the lady kept shrieking, "Do you wear glasses? Do you wear glasses?"

I was all, "Um, no," but apparently, I guess I should.

So I got glasses. The eye guy measuring my vision leaned in really close, got in right between my legs, and stared into my eyes. At one point, I thought he brushed his crotch against my knee. Old horny guys. They're pretty funny sometimes, in a pathetic, got-nothing-to-lose kinda way.

I have glasses now. I put them on and things are crisper. I can see dilineations between leaves on trees.

I find this distracting.

Somehow, all this new detail is confusing. I never wear my glasses. I like my blurry life.

2006-08-05T12:29:00.000-07:00

I love amazon.com. It's my fave site to shop. But it checks out what you look at to give you reccommendations. I have, for entertainment value, marked this book called How to Good-Bye Depression: If You Constrict Anus 100 Times Everyday. Malarkey? or Effective Way? (Paperback).

This was written by a Japanese author, and it was computer translated, into very bad Engrish. It makes me goodbye depression every time I see it. Well, amazon has made some suggestions for me based on the fact that I've looked at that book.

Did I already blog this? So now, when I log onto amazon, I get these reccommendations for books like one on drinking your own piss. Which I am not into. I do so much appreciate amazon for thinking about me though, but they'd be better off sending me reccommendations for books like, How to Not Look Forty When you are, or How to lose twenty pounds of fat without diet, exercise, illness or surgery, or Gourmet meals in 5 minutes with 5 cheap ingredients or less, etc... Now those are some books I'd like.

2006-07-29T15:38:00.000-07:00

2006-07-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

Do you ever think things like this?

A big fat black fly is buzzing around you and it's bothering you, and it occurs to you that you have the power to kill it, but you think, "What if reincarnation really exists and it's my dead boyfriend who just wants to be close me," and if I swat it, I'll be killing him, and that would be cruel.

Do you ever think things like that?

I didn't think so either.