no shit, here i am

So. I’ve been waiting at the gyno’s office for like HOURS. My appt was supposed to be 2 hours ago. I am currently wearing a (not) sexy white paper sheet under flourescent lighting. Jealous? I know.
I have a favor to ask of ya’ll; could you please start pimping out this site to like-minded folk?
I find the more readers I have the more often I write. πŸ™‚

So, as you all know I am smitten with Bear but last night Sasha was all–I WANT MORE SMUT. With details, and plot.
Fuck me, details and plot are a bitch. But I will get working on it. πŸ˜‰

And I have another past friend asking to be invited back to the cast. How can I say no?; she is a friend, sweet, and lovely.

And holy fucking stoned batman. I’m self medicated here to prep for the pain of this “procedure” aka ripping off a chunk or 9 of your cervix.
I took a vicodin, 2 advil, and 2 ativan.
It is SO nap-thirty.

>Random crap I can’t make better

>Okay, so at lunch today I was reading the news, then some blog updates on some of my favorite ones. Some of which have not updated in a while and I was all, *exasperated sigh* what is wrong with these people–don’t they know I need lunchtime reading!! Then I had of moment of clarity where I was all, shit. I’m an ass. People read my blog for updates and I am a slacker. So, I have this list of topics in my phone that I really cannot seem to flesh out. So here they are in no particular order:

  • I had gum today. It was suprisingly good. (I swear they are not all this bad) As I type this I am eating an orange. It is also suprisingly tasty.
  • This island is RIDICULOUSLY small. I have no words as to the smallness. For example, one guy at work told me he was behind me in his truck at a stoplight and he left plenty of room so I could back up if I need to. Okay, first off…WTF–stop noticing me after work and secondly, I was well within safe guideline and stopped behind the line. Also, random strangers now know my name on the street. This happened occasionally in Chicago and stuff too cause I am an oversharer and will have gotten/given a life story while, for example, waiting in line at the bank. However…this place takes it almost to epic status. The standard rule of thumb is–don’t ever fight with anyone or talk bad about someone cause holy hell–the island will know. I have that song, “Somebody’s Watching Me” stuck in my head a lot.
  • I am so addicted to diet coke it is past the point of healthy. And here, well ounce per ounce diet coke is more expensive than rum (ha ha, I totally don’t know that for sure but it is very probably). I have paid up to almost $6.00 for a 12 pack and a big bottle of rum is $7.00. This island makes me wish I drank more; although in truth most of the people here fall in the category of functioning alcoholics (if we were stateside). I’m okay with that.
  • The detriment of proximity: okay, this one’s for the family members out there and this one is important. I am much better farther away. Seriously. If we lived in the same town we wouldn’t get along nearly as well. I’m kind of abrasive, use humor to my own detriment, and cripes…sometimes I am just not nice. Just remember that when you get all lovey and missing me. I’m not all that great. πŸ™‚
  • This island is where electronics come to die. Seriously. I don’t know if its the heat, the salt air, some sort of wacky messed up Bermuda triangle effect. Don’t know, don’t care. Just be aware that everything electronic is toast after a few months here.
  • Most of the time I am on time to work. I have no real set start time but you know…showing up at 10 is not really encouraged. And regardless of the time you get there you are still stuck for a minimum of 8.5 hours. So, it behooves me to get here early. Additionally the earlier I get here the more I can avoid CRAZY CROSSGUARD LADY. Oh yeah, we’ve got a good en out west. She clearly wears a sign that says–Crossing Guard. Now, where I grew up and everywhere else I have lived a crossing guard, well, you know–they stop traffic and let folks cross. Traffic police–they direct traffic. So, this crossing guard lady, she stands in the middle of the intersection and directs traffic with the most crazy-ass’d hand gestures you have ever seen. The first time I saw her I thought she was doing an interpretive dance. As far as I can tell she blows her whistle intermittently and with no real meaning. However “jazz hands” seems to mean stop, “swishy hand circles” seems to mean wait your turn. I really don’t know; sometimes I just wait til she glares at me then drive away quickly. Hey, maybe “glare” means go.
  • I went all Nancy Drew on my landlord this week. Our electric bill has been going crazy; and honestly I am sick of the whole thing. But I called the electric company on the off chance that he was all behind in his bills or something. Turns out not, but I was all fired up. I’m looking for a new apartment for when my lease runs out…but this may be my best option. Don’t really know. Today being friday I don’t really care. I do know that the electricity seperation is not really well though out nor is it overly accurate. A lot of guesstimations are made. I also know I have not been using my a/c anymore and keeping track of the few times I turn the fan on, etc. If my bill doesn’t lower significantly I am out of here.
  • I hate my truck’s (Bertha’s) horn. On this island horn play is critical in traffic. But I don’t have the timing of the darn thing down yet so I either sound insanely road-raged or I can’t get her to make noise at all. It is frustrating.

Okay, so I know how lame these random tidbits of my life are and I shall promise to find other crap to write about.

Love and hugs,



I’m aware I have been a slacker but well, I’m lazy.
Things are mucho better on the cervical front. I’m sure you all spent your waking hours worrying. :/
So, I learned something recently; like seriously…did you know that fucking someone doesn’t make you friends?!? Actually, you all probably did–its just me that rides the short bus. *sigh* After some awkward work moments (shaking the angry fist at Mr. Blingy) AND you too Psycho (I blow a razzberry in both your general directions!!!). But after a long conversation this morning with Love (yes, he is not allowed to talk to me often; but once in a while we get to IM) it turns out that *I* am the weird one. Most folks do not have most of their ex-boyfriends (ex-bedmates) attend their wedding. Nor have they slept with the majority of the bridesmaids.
I’m not going to lie. I’m flummoxed here. My best friend (E) is the first woman I ever, urm…did. We just exhanged texts while I was mid-post.
So, I got nuthin. seriously. I can’t be the only person I know who is friends with people they have fucked–additionally I am instituting a new rule.
NEW RULE: There will never be fucking unless we are friends afterwards. hrmmm. wait a minute.
NEW RULE (amended): There will never be fucking unless we are friends before hand. Phone/text sex doesn’t count. Neither does it count if you are just covering me in oil and making me cum. It only counts if…. *scratches head* This is hard. I may need to develop some sort of flow chart….

NEW RULE (v3): Okay, if we fool around don’t be an asshole.

There, version 3 sums it up. Whenever I flirt with someone (fool around with, hang out with…whatever…you get the point) I get attached. Usually for a short time although sometimes for 15 years or so (Love and I are well on our way to having a tryst by the time we turn 80 or so. *sigh* ) For a few days post orgasm (be it self induced while on the phone, whatever) I need attention. I’m not too proud to admit that. I have a vagina–hells, most (some?) of ya’ll have seen it–additonally I have feelings.
So yes, don’t be an asshole is a good rule: take it and implement it in your daily lives.
Much love,