and then there were three…

Posted in Thoughts and/or Observations by

There is a small subset of the population which truly are my kryptonite.  They all appear to have the following similarities:

  1. They are big dudes. Seriously, we are talking that guy that when they walk in the room people say, “whoa”. Usually over 6′ 3″. 
  2. They are very smart.
  3. They are very dour.
  4. They are intrigued by me, sort of attracted to me, but don’t really like me very much.

The first version of my kryptonite I married, the second moved to another country while I was out-of-town, and the third one just disappeared before I could ever kiss him in person. I *should* be thankful that I didn’t get a chance to do something stupid like fall in love with him.  But boy howdy is it going to be awkward when we run into each other (notice I didn’t say “if”? yeah, the Gods love awkward way too much for it to be “if we ever run into each other”).

The problem with H-Kryptonite is that I *want* to make them happy. Everything inside me screams to do everything I can to make them happy–but when they aren’t (see #3) it hurts me because I feel like I failed. Lame, right?

So, new rule? If a suitor comes my way and they display any version of #4 – it is a HELL NO because I deserve better.  If they have either #1 or #2 (yay!) but if they combine either of those with a #3 I’m thinking itsa no.

I need a flow chart.

~big yawn~

nitenite.

lunchtime words

Posted in Thoughts and/or Observations by

Well, it’s lunchtime again and I have absolutely nothing of importance to share. I do learn more about myself on a daily basis–some of which does not flatter me. I often joke about my awkwardness; the thing is? usually I am awkward-charming; but sometimes I’m horribly reminded that I can delve into a scary state of awkward when I am attracted to someone.  That unfortunately awkward idiot doesn’t know when to shut up and go away and keeps attempting to poke the other person into liking her; it kind of hurts me to watch myself do it.

*stands there; pokes with finger* “like me now?”
*pokes again* “how about now?”
*pokes again* “now?”
*double poke* “better now?”   
*poke* “wait?, where are you going? but I  have more POKING!”

Quick run-down: ‘performing’ for new people I am awkward-charming-funny; performances for me are when I am teaching or even visiting with people/acquaintances/family and I am fucking amazing at it. It took me over 3 decades to realize that performance-piece of awesome, well that isn’t really me. I am pretty comfortable with the me that is too loud, too snuggly, and usually wearing a huge dorky smile while craving physical affection A LOT.  This is the me  you will see I am comfortable and with true friends and loved ones. :).  It was only today that I realized there is a third culprit–a version of me that I am just beginning to understand. If I am sounding a little too schizophrenic; please know I don’t “switch” minds, the different ‘versions’ are me using different behaviors that I am trying understand. Hand to Gods; I didn’t do this on purpose. I have always been attracted to big dudes and have a special weakness for big dudes who are not that excited to be involved in my life. It’s like I can here a celestial voice state, “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED”. And I become a much less attractive version of myself; let me specify – I become much less attractive to myself. So, after this unfortunate enlightenment I feel very, “well, huh. that’s unexpected” about the whole thing. Sheds an unfortunate understanding onto the aching scar of my failed marriage….hell, even sheds a brighter light on the dude who moved to Canada without telling me.

Perhaps dudes over 6 foot 2″ are just my damn cryptonite? *shrugs*

With age comes more wisdom about my past and more frustration with myself by redoing the same dumb crap.

Live, Learn, Fuck Up, Get Older, Keep Living, etc. etc. etc.

*kisses y’all*

-H.

Random animal update

Posted in animal stuffs by

Good morning y’all,
I was pretty darn sure this trip to the states had broken the poor Herbert. He was okay but he had a noticeable lack of bouncing herbertness to his step. Or, to put it another way, he was way less annoying. Well thankfully (?) he is back to his kleptomania-induced whippy-tail-of-death for which to wake me up with a stolen slipper in his mouth (thankfully one i recognize this time!). So proud, yet so stupid and annoying……glad to have the pain-in-the-ass back again.
I would hit snooze but the jerk keeps bounding around and bouncing on any animal he can find to explain how exciting it is TOBEAHERBERT!!! Needless to say; they are underwhelmed…..

And mah heart goes a pitter pat….

Posted in Chances are I probably thought it was funny... by

…..so, I wrote this for a person I was excited to get to know but he felt uncomfortable about it. Because I really did like him I took it down. But since I realized he has deleted and blocked me out of his world with nary a word I figured what the heck–it reminds me I am still able to get excited about finding a new playpartner. **kisses**

So, I’m feeling corrupt-y again. To be perfectly honest I haven’t felt this way in YEARS. For the past fewish days (after I got to see some old friends and really feel centered and beloved for the first time in many years) i have been feeling……well…..FROGGY.
The only way I can describe this feeling is froggy. Froggy, at least in the brain of me, is the what I call Life (the dog, not the concept) when she has had a whole anti-inflammatory rather than just a half. She gets that mischievous glint in her eye that says, “member when i ate the couch looking for my skeeker? Or member when I got a deer carcass through the dog door? Yeah, thems were good times.” And then wants to play fetch. Because she feels GREAT; she feels FROGGY.
So, my version of couch destruction and/or deer carcass yoga involves (apparently) talking “dirty” and/or showing someone my boobs online. During shenanigans of meeting with my friends an almost cartoonish picture of my boobs was provided to someone to be sent to their friend to “show him what he was missing” and “shock him” (important sidenote: my boobs were NOT on display as said party). Well, yesterday morning I shot off a quick message to the intended boob victim, something along the lines of, “sorry about the boobs”. Awhile later I received a reply which stated, “never apologize for boobs”. That made me giggle but awhile after that I received a, “what boobs?” message. That made me chortle and then we had ourselves a fun back and forth that lasted for hours and then phone conversation and then we video chatted. A lovely time was had by all. 🙂
So, I am greatly enjoying that magical rush that comes with the mutual attraction of a new friendship/playmate for the first time in a long time. While I have no idea what, if anything, the future holds; I do think any future Midwest trips are going to be a LOT more fun. *evil grin*
Now, who wants to fly me back to the Midwest to get laid? Anyone? Hello? Is this thing on?
smiles & kisses y’all.
H.

Ten Random Things About Me

Posted in random word vomit by

1. I prefer vanilla oreos to chocolate ones.
2. I begin to panic if I don’t have diet coke available.
3. My favorite meal is tacos in any form.
4. When I am happy I sing along with the radio/ipod/elevator music; when I am depressed I forget to sing.
5. I originally thought I could do 100 things about me; downgraded to 50; and around 8 I realized I was being way too ambitious.
6. I love washing laundry more than any other chore; I hate folding laundry more than any other chore.
7. The feeling of clean laundry out of the dryer feels like nails on a chalkboard sounds to me and the folding of laundry is less horrid if I wear gloves (yes, I know this is weird).
8. I feel guilty when I nap.
9. I am not really a cat person and holy crap am I in trouble now that I have a cat who LIKES being chased around by someone saying, “KITTY KITTY KITTY KITTY!” yes, I am a real life Elmira.
10. When I was a wee tiny Heather I used to worry that ants didn’t have enough food and I would put lollipops on ant hills.

Hello Consent!

Posted in random word vomit, Thoughts and/or Observations by

Hello world, I am me. I am in no way perfect and I do not expect anyone else to be perfect either. Somehow though, I think yon’ kiddies have gone and fuckered up somehow. I have been engrossed (and grossed out) by the Steubenville, Ohio raping. In my vast internet searching of opinions and details I am just disgusted.

I enjoy sex. Hell, sex is one of my absolutely favorite things in the entire world. In the words of my favorite gynecologist, “if people don’t like fucking, they are doing it wrong” (I told you she was awesome). Throughout my college years I greatly enjoyed ‘mini-relationships’ or ‘hook-ups’; I have never enjoyed emotionless sex.  It turns out that over the years I just didn’t understand how to have a relationship and considering the multiple marriages of both of my parents this doesn’t shock me. Sex to me is something wonderful, not just because I can get off–but because it is such a connection with that other person. You can focus completely on that other person and sensations and fully immerse yourself in the joy of that time with the other person. It is, for me, quite spiritual. (okay–not every time; sometimes I do just want to get off–but most of the time; spiritual)

However, over the years I have sensed a distressing trend of young teenagers to immerse themselves into the ‘hook-up’ culture–but coldly.  I don’t know what it is about emotionless sex that causes me chills–but there is something about reducing what to me is an act of friendship and love to something equivalent to a fist bump (shit….I *am* 12. I want to make a bumping uglies joke and that is totally NOT appropriate. 🙂 ) that disturbs me deeply.

Recently, a new(ish) friend of mine asked me if my cervical cancer was caused by having too much ‘dirty sex’ and that question, well, sucked. Now, S–if you are reading this; do not get upset or think I am mad at you in any way. I am not. This is just an example of how a society based on repressed puritanical values will infiltrate and poison young open minds to think that sex is ‘dirty’ and shouldn’t be enjoyed. This is one reason I refuse to speak quietly about the fact I have cervical cancer. It sucks. It isn’t fair. And it is no-one’s damned fault.

In today’s news I was forced to read about society’s moderate outrage that Bill Gates wants to spend some (of his own damn) money to make a condom better. People are saying, well, if  you can orgasm in a condom it ‘can’t be that bad’. Sure–but it could be better. That is like saying, hey–the Ford Model T worked *just fine*; why would we want to make any other cars?

Sex-shaming has to stop. It. Has. To. Stop. We are animals that are blessed as hell to 1. not have any sort of penis spines such as those found in male cats and 2. the ability to THINK and decide what we want to do. We are sill just animals and as such our bodies *want* us to make with the procreation. But hot-damn! We were smart enough to think of ways around getting knocked up every time we have sex. Go Humans! Go Science! Does that mean everyone *should* have sex all of the time? I don’t care; it is a personal damn choice. If you want to remain virginal until marriage–good for you; that is an impressive sacrifice and I admire your fortitude. Does virginity decrease your value as a person? nope. Does enjoying sex decrease your value as a person? nope. Personal value IS mutually exclusive of sexuality.

Most women I know will say something like, “I believe in women’s rights; but I am not a feminist”. It has taken me years to understand that statement (which I used to say myself, btw) is utter bullshit. As a woman who worked with men on construction-type sites for years I was guilty of similar bullshit. I am not proud to say it took years before it dawned on my thick-head that I was an asshole and it. needed. to. stop. Nowadays when I am on a job site and something about me being a woman comes up I use clinical words such as vagina, labia, or ovaries to make men cringe; hell if I’m uncomfortable ‘all y’all gonna be uncomfortable. These things do not come up nearly as often as they used to; not because I am not a woman or do stupid shit like degrade men using supposed insults such as ‘girl’ or ‘youre being a woman’ or ‘pussy’–but because I am experienced and competent and them asshats need my help and nothing in this world is more impressive than a person who knows what the hell they are doing. In a moderately related note–hollywood is just as fucking guilty. The trailer came out for Kickass 2 and oooh-boy I was squeeing in my chair and I clicked and watched and for the most part, enjoyed. The parts that jumped out like a mental speed bump for me was when Hit-Girl was training with Kickass and she hit him as he complained she said something like, ‘Act like a bitch, get hit like a bitch’ and ‘take your tampon out’. See? She was written as saying the same kind of shit I was guilty of saying. I understand it is supposed to be funny–but if you take half of a second and think about the underlying BULLSHIT of the statements it just fucking sucks. Am I boycotting the movie? HELL NO! I can’t wait to see it. Will I continue to make sure anyone who see’s that preview understands how shitty statements like that are? HELL YES. Over and fucking over–until that women are weak bullshit STOPS.

Oh yeah, and the Steubenville rapists? they are not a group of boys (and if you think there were only 2 of them; you are sadly mistaken) who ‘accidentally raped someone’ and now their lives are ruined; they are fucking RAPISTS who did their damned best to humiliate and degrade someone who was not able to give their consent and video taped this disgusting event not for their ‘personal pleasure’ but to make certain the victim’s degradation was known far and wide.  Can doing something that horrific happen ‘accidentally’? Fuck no it can’t. The scariest thing I read regarding the rape was written by a teacher and is located here (http://accidentaldevotional.com/2013/03/19/the-day-i-taught-how-not-to-rape/). That brave teacher (and I mean BRAVE!) took on a scary topic with her students not with the approach of ‘and now we are talking about rape’ but dealt with the subject as it came up naturally and handled it beautifully. What is scary? That these (and I am certain many other younglings) do not understand what rape means. Please read her description; it was amazing.

In general as I live my life as an ethical slut I avoid slogans; let’s be honest–after too many repeats it just loses meaning to too many. The other day I saw a t-shirt that read, “Consent is Sexy”. As slogans go; I give it a ‘meh’ rating. I like the meaning–but the slogan blows. However, when I think of that moment when two people are intertangled and one whispers to the other, ‘please fuck me’ and the other says, ‘yes, please….’ and hell yeah, consent is sexy. Let’s take it one step further–enthusiastic consent is REALLY sexy.

Ladies and gentlemen, I beg of you: do not play idiotic games, do not follow anyone’s ‘rules’ but the ones you are comfortable with, and if and when you decide you want to have sex with someone-give consent enthusiastically!