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| Me & Tammy Faye Baker |
| 04.29.05 (9:12 pm) [edit] |
|
Strange ass dream last night... Some of the facets of it were directly from the talk radio show I was listening to. Still it was odd. I was Heritage USA (remember that place in the 80's with Tammy Faye Baker?) I was taken in a convertible to watch people harvesting cherries. It was odd because the cherry bushes were frozen over - as they thawed when the sun hit them, they'd be 'plucked' of the cherries. Then we could see in the distance that there was a really big tornado coming. We tried to drive her convertible into an underground cement bunker church to avoid the storm. There was a religous service going on - or more like a prayer vigil going on for everyone's safety. Apparently, we thought the storm had passed, because Tammy Faye and I were out driving thru the cherry fields when the tornado came up behind us. I was telling her to floor it because it was chasing us and gaining speed. Then the storm was RIGHT on our butts when it ascended into the clouds. We took a deep sigh and were like "WOW!" Then the storm dropped down again - just in front of us and continued on the path - it hopped right over us. Then it split into a bunch of little tornados and went off into the distance. We were overlooking the damage, driving around. I can't recall if it was completely devastated but there was intermittent damage. I was concerned about my car. We drove to it (which was my real life car) and there was a big tree that had fallen on it. No one offered to help me get it off. So I was standing on the side of the road for a long time, waiting for someone to give me a lift when someone finally picked me up. *** The Tammy Faye/Heritage USA reference was from the radio... The rest of it, I have to think about more. Some of it already makes sense to me. After I've had some sleep, I'll ponder it more. *** I think Irish is going to need to do an interview with Tammy Faye. |
| Hamster Balls |
| 04.29.05 (2:18 am) [edit] |
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It's 3:31 am. I've been up for hours. I have a fever and chills. I have a raging infection. Fortunately, I already had a pre-scheduled dr's appt at 10:20. Joys of Lupus - GRRRRR. I get these at the drop of a hat. Maybe I should just live in a plastic bubble. I could be like a hamster. The stairs in my house would be a bitch to go up and down though. And I bet I'd knock over a lot of things trying to make corners. |
| Is it sexy? |
| 04.28.05 (6:36 am) [edit] |
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I'm having a debate with another Tblogger who will remain anonymous until she reads this and posts a reply... I say a floor-length fuzzy nightgown is not sexy. Unless it's sheer. Or low-cut. Body-hugging. And somehow, I am doubting she was wearing something like that. What is sexy to you in the opposite sex? |
| Mauling & Tonsil Hockey |
| 04.27.05 (6:40 am) [edit] |
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This is a first. I think. At least the first in a long time in regards to a date... The dude didn't do anything blaringly idiotic. Not once. I was vascillating about what to wear because it was rather cool and breezy. Would black jeans be too casual? Would a skirt/heels be too dressy for a mid-week date? I opted to go with the black jeans, a nubby v-neck silk sweater, and my tan denim jacket. (FYI- Airborne, I wore the same ensemble I wore when you blew thru town). He showed up at 5:30 on the dot. Opened the car door for me. Went to a nice restaurant. Conversation was good. Talked about a lot of stuff including politics where we pretty much agreed on everything. Then we went to get some gelato. (Again opening every door for me along the way). Drove me home. Came inside for a few minutes where we had some iced green tea. He didn't make a move. About 9, he said he had to get going. Walked him to the door. He made a joke about 'the awkward Annie Hall moment" and gave me a peck while accidentally stepping on my toes. Then he asked if he could call me about going to a movie or something this weekend. I said sure. I don't feel sparks, not crazy about his beard and he is 12 years older than me, but I enjoy spending time with him. He makes me laugh, he's polite and intelligent. It's also a record for me - I don't recall a 2nd date where the guy hasn't at least tried to maul me and play tonsil hockey. *Not that this girl doesn't mind an occasional mauling and game of tonsil hockey, it was definitely a change of pace. The End. |
| Up my skirt |
| 04.26.05 (2:33 pm) [edit] |
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Date tonight with "Roger" aka the dude I went to see Tom Jones with and who endured 20+ mins of unsupervised conversation with my mother. He called a bit ago - asked if he could pick me up 5:30ish. (Awfully early) I am really tired and don't feel well but he makes me laugh. I'll update tonight unless I don't feel well. Or I'm up all night with him. (kidding!!!!) I'm instituting the SD date chastity method. Not that I really think it will be an issue. However, to avoid ANY sort of temptation, I wear granny panties. No way in hell is any guy gonna get up my skirt if I'm wearing those. (Ladies, can I hear an "AMEN!"?) |
| Massages |
| 04.25.05 (8:31 am) [edit] |
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I mentioned to someone last night about how I would looooove a really good massage. When reminded me of two funny massage stories. First, my sales team went to South Beach for a long weekend a few years ago. We each got a massage or facial. Afterwards, we all got together for dinner. Kelly, my friend who died earlier this month, told us about how she loved her masseuse. That it was so 'freeing' not worrying about him seeing anything. How she could just flop around and not keep the sheet over her. We asked why that was. She said her masseuse was blind. I asked her who she had. She said "John". I looked at her and said "I had John too. He's not blind." Watching her expression over dinner as she is recalling how she was exposed - totally cracked us up. We never quite got to the end of how she thought he was blind... Now, I was given a delicious "Day at a Spa" as a gift. It's something I love but would never spend the $ on myself like that. It wasn't a place I had heard of before. But I showed up for my appt. The place wasn't exactly as 'luxe' as I'm accustomed to, but I figured, it's a massage, facial, mani/pedi... what can go wrong? Facial was ok. Mani/pedi went fine. I'm on the massage table. The guy was kinda creepy. I've already flipped over onto my back. The massage, in theory, is wrapping up. He asks if there's anything else he can do. I say "No thanks, it's been great." Then he reaches up under the sheet zone and starts to go toward an area covered by panties. I literally jump off the table. (There was NO mistaking what he was going for.) I screamed. The manager came in - I told her what happened. She said I must have been mistaken. There was no mistake. I got dressed and high-tailed it outta there. So I now have 'issues' with a male masseuse if he's creepy. (If he's a hottie, bring it on baby! LOL) And I messed up my mani/pedi too! |
| Even Sex Goddesses Have Technical Problems |
| 04.24.05 (10:25 am) [edit] |
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It's a good thing the plans to go hiking on Stone Mountain didn't evolve. It's windy and really chilly. I'd be a shivering popsicle today. I've done laundry, cleaning and did the entire cardio striptease workout. I think the "advanced" workout is: Now try the routine with 4 inch heels. Mwahahaha How is it that no matter what move Carmen Electra does, it is sexy? She oozes it. From the innocent 'come hither' stare, to the 'rolling' (aka grinding) of her hips. I do the moves but I don't have the sizzle or the magic. I just don't capture the kitten-ish lusty wench aura that she does. I'm more like...a cow rubbing her ass against a tree to get a scratch. How much of this is innate? How much of it is learned? Can I just buy a pill or something? It was somewhat redeeming to see her hair get stuck in her lipgloss when she was flailing her hair all over the place. Even sex goddesses have technical problems. There is hope afterall. And I still have the talent of amusing the hell out of myself. |
| Wild Monkey Sex |
| 04.23.05 (6:54 pm) [edit] |
|
I was awakened at 7am by a call from my 'breakfast date' for today. I had been up late thanks to the storms coming through. Hopped in the shower, primped a bit, but not too much. "D" came over for me to take some pics and work on his profile for online dating. We never made it to breakfast. (Get your mind out of the gutter folks!) I took a few pics of him (he was wearing a white turtleneck and it just wasn't a great choice to have a picture taken in). I went upstairs to see if I could find something that he could wear instead. And of course, he made his move trying to maul me. Then I made my move and told him to back off. Then his son called and he had to go. (I was right - he'd try something...) I had the rest of my Moo-Goo-Gai-Pan from last night for breakfast once "D" left. It's not bad for breakfast. I like to put hot mustard on it for a little 'punch'. Then I trimmed ivy and pulled up weeds in my front yard. I was tired, but it needed to get done. I was sneezing my posterior off all the while - stirring up the pollen. And I called "T" to see what the plans are for tomorrow. Haven't heard back from him. (GRRRRR) I know he's not flying today - too windy. If I don't hear from him soon, I'm going to make other plans for the day. (Yes, I will play hard-to-get when necessary.) The HIGHLIGHT of my day was a call from my beloved Airborne. It seems that the BIRTHDAY BOY got his groove on last night. And got a wee bit intoxicated. Everyone was buying him drinks. And "young nubile barely-legal' girls were asking him to dance. (I would have given my kidney to see that!) One of them even gave him her telephone number! He said she was too young. I think he's nuts. He's not getting any younger - why not enjoy the company of a younger female while he has a chance. He's got a month left - might as well make the most of it - right? Mr. Airborne was rather 'free-wheeling' with his language and this southern lady didn't appreciate such 'colorful' descriptions as 'lick my nuts'. I told him that apparently his manners were influenced by the booze, the loud music or the young women. (Or it *could* be old age!) Now he wants to know if I want to go to Canada with him in mid-fall. Uh, no. I don't do cold weather - I'm like a lizard - let me lay out on a hot rock anytime. Oh and speaking of lizards, he now wants a trained Komodo dragon named Spot. (That's DEFINITELY going to seal the deal on me ever stepping foot in his bachelor pad). He *did* get a ton of furniture (I'm guessing the traditional awful bachelor black leather?) He's such a dork. Oh, and I had mad wild monkey sex today too. Kidding. Just checking to see if you read the entire posting. :P |
| Sex Question |
| 04.22.05 (12:41 pm) [edit] |
|
I was having a discussion with another Tblogger (who will remain anonymous unless that party wishes to identify themselves) about sex. (If you can't do it, you can at least discuss it inteligently, right? LOL) Anyhoo - I say that most women will agree that they'd choose NO sex over BAD sex and the exact opposite for men. What about you - would you take bad sex over no sex? (And we're leaving the description of 'bad sex' up to you) |
| Why I hate popcorn |
| 04.21.05 (7:31 am) [edit] |
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I used to love popcorn. I remember Monday nights watching "Little House on the Prairie" with my mom and eating popcorn. (Ditto on Friday nights watching "Donny & Marie") But then I went to college. And my disdain of all corn popped began. Marcie (or was it Marcy?) was my roommate. She was from Atlanta as well. I didn't really like her from the start, but I kept an open mind. She wanted us to have these hideous matching checkerboard sheets and matching comforters. (Reminded me of NASCAR for some reason - she had no taste.) Marcie/Marcy loved popcorn. As in she ate it 3x a day. At least. The girl lived on popcorn and diet coke. And she made it in one of those older poppers that you put the oil in, with the corn, and it spun around. When it was done, you flipped it over and the top became the 'bowl'. The room reeked of popcorn. Constantly. And I was constantly cleaning up those damn kernels that didn't pop. How they ended up all over the place, I have no idea. After our brush with the law the first weekend of college, it went downhill. She was homesick. Was convinced her future was dammed because of her 1/2 night in jail. (It was a great oppty to expand our social reputation!) Never left the room except for classes (and I guess to stock up on popcorn and diet coke) ALWAYS on the phone with her parents. Asking me to leave the dorm room so she could talk to them when I was trying to study. Or sleep. F'ing annoying that a 19 year old girl can't be away from mommy & daddy for 4 week stretches. Marcy/Marcie went home Labor Day weekend and Fall break. She quit school to go back home before Thanksgiving. We were two weeks from the end of the quarter and she quit. Tuition was about $10k/quarter. When she left (good riddance!), I had the room to myself for a quarter. It was nice having a huge bed (even if it was those hideous checked NASCAR sheets). I kept finding those damn kernels ALL year long. No matter how much cleaning I did, it was like the ghost of Marcy/Marcie was leaving them for me. It's been 15 years and I have not touched popcorn since. Can't stand the smell. Blech. Then spring quarter, I had the Panamanian drug dealer move in... |
| For April... |
| 04.20.05 (4:14 pm) [edit] |
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May Mr. Vibes rest in peace. I'm sure he's humming away in vibrator heaven. Did he die of exhaustion? The *BIG* dilemma I've always had when my trusted 'partner' sputters and dies... I can't just toss it out in the trash. I've had such an intimate relationship with the device. I mean we've shared some great times, ya know? (Plus with my luck, the garbage men would purposely leave it in the street) So then, do I bury it? Have a memorial service? Have a moment of silence? I feel like I should pay it some sort of tribute. But I'm concerned that a dog might dig it up and... Perhaps a burial at sea? I dunno. Thankfully, Mr. Magic is doing just dandy. RIP Mr. Vibes. You done good. |
| Suck-O-Rama |
| 04.19.05 (3:39 pm) [edit] |
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It's been a sucky day. 1) I decided to sit in the sun for a bit this morning. Got all situated, tunes going, iced green tea within reach, book in hand. Then I realize, there's a lot of flies around. No wait - they aren't flies. They are termites. Swarming/hatching. Right in front of my towel. (Might I add, not 12 inches from a termite bait station!) So I get up, move to the deck. Watching the critters fly off to hopefully chew on some of my neighbor's homes instead of my own. 2) It's a beautiful day, but I had to go in to shower for my 1:30 dr's appt. I make the 30 min. drive downtown. Find parking. Walk to the appt. The nurse looks rather surprised. Advises me that my appt was at 10:30, not 1:30. And they are charging me for a 'missed appt". I pull out the appt card that THEY filled out - says "1:30". She said "OPPS!" Of course, it was a waste of time, $3 parking, gas, and missed an extra 2 hours of sunning. 3) I'm driving home and "Ned" calls. He's making small talk. His "girlfriend" commented on my other blog last week again (grrrrr). I haven't acknowledged her comments at all. He keeps asking me "what else" I've "been up to". (I'm wondering if he's asking in 'guyspeak' if I'm dating anyone?) 4) I'm walking in my house as I'm talking to him and I see about 15 of those termite swarmy things on the floor. I smoosh them. I'm not sure if they are coming in from outside or I have another problem inside. I tell "Ned" that I have to go and he tells me to call him back this afternoon. (I think not.) I call Airborne instead and wake his ass up. He's cranky and ornery when he hasn't had enough sleep... I have a tenative date Friday night with the dude I went to Tom Jones. His ex-gf is coming into town this weekend to get all of her stuff out. She's been gone for 6 months. She was shagging his best friend and flaunting the relationship all over the place. (Why has it taken her so long to get her stuff out?) She now lives in S.C. (I think?) I called someone else and suggested we do lunch tomorrow. I have to clear the air with him. I'm going to be blunt. Gotten a lot of mixed signals with him. It should be interesting... That's it on my end. |
| Marriage Proposals this Weekend |
| 04.18.05 (7:04 am) [edit] |
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I'm alive. The festival I was working on was a major success. Perhaps too major - we were not prepared for such an onslaught of people. I have some rather colorful stories to tell. I received 11 marriage proposals over the weekend. (I think several suitors probably resided under a bridge and I didn't even catch most of their names...) More later. The mother is invading and I have to try to do a mad dash to clean the place up. I'm exhauasted which means that I have NO patience for her. About Friday night... FORTUNATELY none of them showed up - that I saw. I was busy with a perverted tv weatherman doing live remotes so I wasn't socializing. One sent me an email saying that he had to go into work for a system problem... The others - dunno. Don't really care. |
| Does your blog reflect you? |
| 04.13.05 (3:30 pm) [edit] |
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Interesting question I raised with someone that I'll pose to you guys out in Tblog-land... Do you think your blog is a reflection of yourself? Do you care what others think? What do you think of the people hawking their 'new posts' on Tblurt. People begging other people for their suggestions, insight, etc. Don't you find some of the blogs out there utterly reeking of desperation. (No, I won't name names.) For myself, Scuba Diva is NOT me. I present a certain 'facade' of superficiality at times, aloofness at others, and a spirit of humor and drama to kick. What I write about IS true, but I write from a role, a perspective that is more shallow at times. Some people that read my blog before meeting/speaking to me have remarked that I am a lot deeper than what they expected. Do I care what others think? At times, I have. I was distracted by rankings, the number of hits I got, etc. Then I remembered why I was blogging. For me, me, me! If some nitwit that I've never met has nothing better than to review my blog in a mean-spirited way, so be it. I can't please everyone. There's enough negativity in the world that I don't need to add to it. (Don't confuse that with my blunt "what the f**k were you thinking?" replies to some people's postings. It's not mean - I just don't sugarcoat things.) I am NOT my blog. But my blog is part of me. |
| Pictures |
| 04.13.05 (11:57 am) [edit] |
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In honor of TrekGuy showing his pics of his vacation. I thought I'd show you guys pics of one of my favorite vacations in Xcaret, Mexico. This place is paradise. It's about 45 minutes away from Cancun. Lots of Mayan ruins. http://photobucket.com/albums/v168/ScubaDiva /Travel" title="http://photobucket.com/albums/v168/ScubaDiva /Travel" target="_blank"http://photobucket.com/albums...%20Pics/Xcaret%20Mexico/ I recommend using the slideshow option. And...for those that are patient. There's a pic of me in there. Or it's in the Cancun section. I don't remember. |
| Put a Fork in 'em |
| 04.12.05 (2:56 pm) [edit] |
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I 'spoke' (aka IM) with "Flipper Boy" this afternoon. He said "I got the feeling you weren't really interested any more anyways." My reply: I think we are too different, you're a nice guy but not the guy for me. He answers: It's ok. I understand. I'm not angry or upset. Angry or upset???? I was polite, a vision of loveliness (kidding!), and honest. I *could* have been a little more honest about things, but I didn't see the need. |
| Camp Tblog |
| 04.11.05 (5:56 pm) [edit] |
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Summertime. Remember summer camp? I was kidding around with Godsmack about Tblog Camp. Can you imagine if Tbloggers got together for a camp session? Sitting around the campfire, toasting marshmallows, telling stories instead of blogging them. It'd be interesting to see how cliques would form. I love watching the dynamics of people - so I'd love to be a fly on the wall. I'm guessing people would be toasting more than marshmallows. What sort of camp activities would you participate in at Camp Tblog? Swimming? Canoe? Chorus? Horse-back riding? Arts n' Crafts? Gynmastics? Archery? Tennis? Trollop and Tramping around? Backstabbing? Meddling? Flirting? |
| Pics of Tom Jones |
| 04.10.05 (10:15 am) [edit] |
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Pics from the concert added to my photobucket - Thanks again to the mom for scoring us 3rd row center. Some pics of "the mom" TOTALLY clueless that I was snapping pics of her. (She has this thing about pictures being taken of her) There are more pics but it's a pretty day and I'm going to sit outside and toast my blister tootsies. http://photobucket.com/albums/v168/ScubaDiva /My" title="http://photobucket.com/albums/v168/ScubaDiva /My" target="_blank"http://photobucket.com/albums...%20Night%20with%20Tom%20J ones/? |
| Diva had a GREAT night |
| 04.09.05 (9:57 pm) [edit] |
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I had the most fun I've had in ages. Went to see Tom Jones in the private concert. He kicked ass. (Lots of pictures to share) I went with "R" and had a GREAT time. (No sloppy clothes, opened doors for me, very courteous) Did I mention I had to see my mother at the concert venue to get passes for two other people? And did I mention that "R" sat with my mother and chatted for a good 20 minutes while I met the other friends? (And they both thought the other was charming?) My friend Brian convinced my mother to stay for the show and she was getting down - as in screaming and dancing and flailing around. She tells me that Tom is not wearing any underwear. (I didn't need to hear that - especially from my mother, ya know?) Then, she took a sign marked "RESERVED" and added "For Tom's Use Only" and plastered it to her chest. And the woman had had nothing to drink. The concert totally rocked. We were third row dead center. SWEET! Panties were flying thru the air constantly. The stage was littered with them. My mother said that if she wasn't wearing pants, she woulda thrown hers. (I was beyond mortification then) Then we ditched the mother who almost plowed over me in her Mercedes as she was leaving the parking lot - and she didn't even realize it was me. "R" and I went to a noisy Italian place and had great conversation and food. (And he didn't even ask me to split the check - lol). He's allergic to strawberries and his dessert had strawberry in it. So he was sort of eager to get home and get some benedryl. He didn't even try to smooch me. There was a connection there. I think he had more oppty to talk to my mother than I did with him. That's a first - spending time with "The Mom" on the first date. Oh, and I called my friend "ProducerBoy" and left him some vm of Tom playing. I hope it came thru clear enough. Other than my feet being completely covered in blisters. Seventeen big ones. P.S. "John" called about 6pm. Left a VM - haven't listened to it yet. Some guys are totally clueless... PPS - "R" just emailed me saying he had a fabulous time and wanted to see me again. (Now let's hope he doesn't do that late-night booty call stuff. Or maybe I need to do a criminal background check?) |
| Flipper your ass outta there |
| 04.08.05 (10:20 pm) [edit] |
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If you aren't paying attention, "John" sounds sorta like "bomb" and that pretty much describes my evening. Since I had already shaved my legs, I didn't have to say to myself, "I shaved my legs for this?" I didn't want to go in my more dressy funeral garb, so I changed into a camo green cargo skirt (above the knee), a v-neck nubby sweater with purple, green and tan in it. (Ironically, the same shirt I wore when Airborne blew thru town - he better say it was a cute shirt). Nude colored heels. Casually cute. Good hair day - curled and somewhat fluffed. We met at a great Mexican joint (the one Airborne and I had lunch at - and ditto with "Ned" now that I think of it.) He is wearing the sloppiest outfit I've ever seen. And his hair was a disaster. Didn't look like he had washed it in...days. His geek-ness was just more than I could handle. I tried to be polite. The waiter was a little 'too friendly' with me and "John" got livid in a passive-aggressive way. "John" has gone scuba diving 24 times. (Dangerous zone when males think they know it all underwater.) I've quit keeping track after 200. He kept calling fins "Flippers". In diving, when you do that, you look like a total buffoon. I gently reminded him that 'flippers' are on dolphins and scuba divers wear 'fins'. He threw a temper tantrum for about 3 mins talking about how it's not what you call the equipment, people are just there to have fun. I sat there and concentrated on my salad. Let him look like an idiot on his next dive trip, doesn't bother me in the least. Finally, he finishes his meal. All of his bantering didn't give him much opportunity to eat. When he did eat, his manners were abysmal. I had a feeling he was rather desperate. Divorced 2 years, recently moved to Atlanta from Boston, seems rather needy. I had stupidly asked him before our dinner date if he'd like to go see Tom Jones with me Saturday night. (Totally NOT his music) He said yes (just to have more face time). Then he said he wanted me to spend Sunday with him and go to the movies. (Can you say "WHOA! Nelly!) We walk out, it's dark and the parking lot is almost empty. My car is far away on the other end. He doesn't even offer to walk me to my car. (I have my pepper spray, so I was ok, but it was the gesture...) I drive home, wash my face and get into my jammies. I log on to check email and there he is "IM-ing" me calling me his "little girl". What the f**k? The chemistry could not have been any less present. ***As a sidenote, I'm now going to see Tom Jones with "Rick". Of course, I haven't talked to "John" yet to break the news. First I was going to go to the concert with "K" but he has to be in NYC for business, then I asked "Kiltboy" if he would be backup in case I couldn't find anyone else. Next I asked the "Dr" but he's on call tonight. So I asked "Rick" but he had a friend coming into town. So I asked "T". But "T's" family is in town this weekend and he was actually going to ditch them for the night - but I said no. And instead he wants me to have dinner with his visiting mom and sister. (Family???). So I asked "John". And I will be unasking "John". I got an email from "Rick" saying that his friend is coming into town next weekend instead. So... Did you follow that? Me either. |
| Date Update |
| 04.08.05 (5:34 pm) [edit] |
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Back from my friend's funeral. There were well over 1200 people there. Not a dry eye in the place. People were getting up and sharing stories about her that had us laughing and crying for 90 minutes. I can honestly say I'm a better person because I knew her. Date tonight. With "John". I ran into him in the grocery store - literally- with my cart a few weeks ago. Semi-cute but I think he's going to be a little too high on the geek-meter for me. But we'll see. I have been wrong before. I was supposed to meet someone for lunch today that I'm re-considering, but our schedules didn't work out and I was afraid I'd be cutting it close for the funeral. His mom and sister are in town and he wants me to come over for dinner with them. Now, I haven't seen him since early December. He seems (and I stress the word seems) to have really changed his approach with me. So, we'll see... There are a couple of other prospects but until this festival thingy I'm working on for next weekend is over, I'm not going to have much time. One is a doctor (he seems to try to impress me with that). Another is - I can't remember what he does, but he's funny, but I get the impression he tries too hard. Will have to get him over his nerves. BTW - the VIP party should be interesting. I've invited the guy I'm reconsidering (and his mom) to the party. As well as another two guys I've dated but we've transitioned into 'friend' mode. I just hope they don't start talking. I prefer to keep my friends close and the guys I dated closer... |
| Airborne Update |
| 04.07.05 (2:04 pm) [edit] |
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Had an extend convo with Airborne this morning. I warned him never to call that late again or I would be calling at an unexpected time (ie very early in the morning) to retaliate. He said that he turns his phone off at night. I asked "What if I get all hot and bothered and want to talk to you?" His reply: "Try Penecillian." His arm is in a cast. A trainee got "a little enthusiastic" and slammed him down causing two hairline fractures above his wrist. Unfortunately, they didn't have a hot pink cast available, so he has a royal blue one. He was whining (yes, whining) about how it sucks to shower with a cast on. I told him he should be thankful he doesn't have to style his hair with a blowdryer, brush, hairspray and flat iron. He said that the trainee wouldn't let go and he used a "groin release" (which in civilian-speak means he grabbed the guy's nuts). His apartment is well-furnished and he's been introduced to the neighborhood welcome wagon (I mean posse) which have all probably had starring roles on "Cops". He's thinking of getting a black leather couch, but I told him that a large recliner would probably be more useful for him. Yet he says that when he has 'company' they can canoodle (my word) on the couch. I told him that if she has the option of sitting on the chair with him or the bed, his options of seeing some action probably improved. That is, if she'll step foot in his apartment. (It's got quite a colorful group of people that he's endeared himself to already.) His son, the boy, got in big trouble for possession of Reeses Pieces. I know, it sounds stupid, but apparently having food in the barracks is a big no-no. He offered his superior some (which I thought was very thoughtful) and in exchange, he was written up on a bunch of charges. I'm thinking of sending "the boy" some Reeses Pieces for his birthday or some holiday. I figure he'll appreciate it. Then again, Airborne wants me to go visit him. Considering the luxurious bachelor pad he has, and the exciting nightlife it offers, I think I'm going to stay right here. |
| Booty Call from a most unlikely person |
| 04.07.05 (7:49 am) [edit] |
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News Bulletin: I am now a brunette. At least for today. It feels different. Maybe I should wear glasses too? Didn't sleep a wink last night. Laid in bed thinking about my friend and a bunch of other stuff. I'm going to be sharp as a potato today. Phone rang at 12:59am. I was awake, rolled over to see who it was, didn't recognize the number and went back to trying to sleep. Not sure who the f&&k was trying the late-night booty call, but I wasn't going to encourage them. This morning, I check my vm. Shocked. It was Airborne. Since he's in Kansas or some other state in the middle of nowhere, it certainly wasn't a booty call. But still. Bad Airborne, bad. I think I"m going to wait until Saturday morning, 6am Atlanta time (4am in Kansas) and return the call... |
| A tribute |
| 04.06.05 (4:00 pm) [edit] |
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I just got news that a friend died Sunday of gallbladder cancer. She had been diagnosed 3 months ago and didn't want to tell everyone. She was 36 and such a spunky girl. Always the life of the party, full of exuberance and spirit. Two children under 5. I really admired her and wished I could be like her in so many ways. Such a fucking shame. Waiting for the funeral details. I hate funerals. (But who likes them?) The etiology of gallbladder cancer has eluded researchers thus far, but it has been associated with gallstone disease, estrogens, cigarette smoking, alcohol consumption, obesity, and female sex. (She didn't smoke, was in great shape, didn't drink, and hadn't had problems with gallstones...) |
| Gold Card Pussy |
| 04.06.05 (9:00 am) [edit] |
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Lulu got ANOTHER application for an Amex Gold card yesterday. I don't have a gold card. I've gotten applications for them before, but didn't really see the need. I was REALLY tempted to fill it out for her - Occupation: Rodent Control Manager Salary: Daily Brushings, squeaky toys and treats. I just wasn't sure what to put for her social security number. I could ink her paw and stamp it as her signature. I figured whoever read it at the processing center would get a chuckle. Imagining what she'd blow it on... Catnip. Tuna. Personal Massuese/brusher. Some birds and squirrels to chase. Someone to cough up furballs for her. Imagine her showing up in bankruptcy court for non-payment? LOL They'd take away her squeaky toys. |
| Fuzzified Thinking |
| 04.03.05 (12:15 pm) [edit] |
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One word. Red red wine. Oh wait. That's three. Then again I am seeing double. So count it as 2 words and the 2nd "red" is my fuzzified vision. Lesson: sitting outside sipping on red wine on an empty stomach in the sun while reading an email from a guy that really really likes you can cause things to go to your head. I need a pedicure and a facial and a massage and a sauna and vacation. Donations? Update: Falling asleep on the grass in your backyard is not recommended. I am uber-crispy on my front and pastey-white on the back. I took a shower and I'm ready to pass out. Someone bring me some chineese food. I'm hungry. I'm craving some of my homemade sangria too. Maybe I'll make some next weekend and get trashed again. My hot Tom Jones date had to bail - he's got to be in NYC on business next weekend. Gotta find someone else... |
| Eating Nads |
| 04.02.05 (11:23 am) [edit] |
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Yet another shining example of the intelligence of our future. And it's a f'ing hillarious commentary on the Nads infommercial. Enjoy. http://www.x-entertainment.com/messages/373.html" title="http://www.x-entertainment.com/messages/373.html" target="_blank"http://www.x-entertainment.co... And I wonder what the hell you were thinking when you clicked on the name of this posting!!! |
| Romancing my Knickers |
| 04.02.05 (10:15 am) [edit] |
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I think romance is, for all practical purposes, dead. Call me jaded, but how many people would truly describe themselves as romantic? Sure, we do romantic gestures from time to time, usually at the beginning of a relationship - before we get into that comfort zone where that fluffy pink phase disappears and reality shows up. Flowers, doors being opened, that dance of courtship. I profess that the romantic stuff doesn't matter to me in my dating, but, just between you and me, I love the stuff. However, I don't want it used as a ploy to win my affections (or my knickers), I want it to be ongoing. Of course, we get busy with life and leaving a note on the mirror might seem like something trivial, but it's the little things to me that impress me. Forget the roses and grand gestures - the simple things that show that I crossed his mind and I am appreciated utterly rock my world. Me? I'd love to express that side of me. To get a wee bit mushy, but not overly so. However, many guys think that's a signal of something more, that the girl is smitten. That they can stop their 'romancing' because the girl is nibbling. I can't help but to smile when I see an old couple holding hands, when he refers to his wife as 'his bride', those sort of things make me melt. Alas, I know it's incredibly unrealistic. It *could* be the men I've dated. I'm torn between my Southern upbringing of how a woman *should* be treated and the reality that most guys may give it a half-assed attempt in the beginning (if the woman is worth the effort). But it doesn't last... I'd rather not have it at all than to longingly recall how romantic he used to be. It seems that the majority of GenX-ers have failed to keep the movement alive. We get too damn busy with life and see it as trivial. Is it me? Is romance a lost art? Is it kaput? |
| My steamy evening |
| 04.01.05 (4:27 pm) [edit] |
| Happy Day After April's Fools. Glad I reeled you in on My Steamy Evening with "Jed". |
| Amazing Night! |
| 04.01.05 (8:17 am) [edit] |
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Good thing I decided to shelve my reservations about "Jed" because I was wrong. I was really wrong about him. He picked me up, a bunch of red Gerber daisies in hand. (My favorite flowers). He was well dressed - no stains on his shirt. Freshly-pressed khakis and a denim shirt that made his eyes pop. Dare I say he was even handsome? And he smelled good. Not sure what fragrance he had on, but it was subtle and made me want to snuggle up to him. Plus - he said hello to the felines and patted them on the head. His car - totally clean. He opened the car door for me. We went to a nice quiet southwestern restaurant that had gotten great reviews. He had called ahead and requested a particular table. (The maitre d' said "We have the table you requested...") Again, he pulled the chair out. Asked what I wanted and ordered for me. Complimented me. Conversation was intelligent and fun. Time seemed to fly. He touched my hand and the electric sparks were undeniable. If I was a guy, I'd go BOING! (hehe) After dinner, we went to this great club that has lots of alcoves with sofas and candles. (It's one of my favorites.) We had some wine. I told him how stressed I had been so he starts rubbing my shoulders/neck. O.M.G. I was like putty. He started whispering in my ear. Flirtacious things that got this girl wiggling in her panties. (Did I mention how hot I get when someone nibbles on my ear?) We got on the dancefloor. We were the ONLY ones out there and I didn't give a damn. We came as close to possible as fornication dressed on a dance floor. He did this thing where he brushed the hair out of my face and I got chills running down my spine. He suggested we leave the club, that his place was not far away and he'd love to sit on his balcony and watch the lightning and pop open another bottle of wine. His place - no bachelor-style place with the predictable black leather furniture. It was stylish, neat, and comfortable. I excused myself to the 'powder room'. (Dare I check the medicine cabinet to see if he has medication for herpes in there?) I come out and find tons of white candles lit. He pulls me close, the music was a slow jazz, I felt myself slipping... Then I woke up. April Fools. Hehe For the record, I stayed home and watched a movie last night. My date was postponed. |
by Redonthehead