"Peanut, didn't yo mamma teach you it's not polite to talk with a boob in your mouth?
Oh right..."
If someone stuck a mic in my house during the day, they might wonder at my sanity.
Mon Amour does a wicked impression of me cooing "Who's gotta stinky monkey butt?" when changing Peanut. Laughing with the stomach flu was painful...
Showing posts with label Issues Moi?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Issues Moi?. Show all posts
22 February 2013
08 February 2013
Muffin top
With much jumping and yanking, I managed to get into a larger pair of my pre-preggo non-stretch jeans and do up the zip and button. I have even managed to sit down in them.
Ha. I'm enjoying the muffin top, at least while puttering around the house.
This post brought to you by the enormous pile of laundry waiting to be done. Stupid rain. Also imma plug H&M low rise stretch jeans as they have gotten me through 9 months of preggo land whale and subsequent post-preggo "fuck I have no clothes" freak outs...
Ha. I'm enjoying the muffin top, at least while puttering around the house.
This post brought to you by the enormous pile of laundry waiting to be done. Stupid rain. Also imma plug H&M low rise stretch jeans as they have gotten me through 9 months of preggo land whale and subsequent post-preggo "fuck I have no clothes" freak outs...
15 October 2012
Knocked Up: Twiddlin' My Thumbs
I'd say sittin' here and staring at my bellybutton, but I haven't been able to see my innie-turned-mini-penis for a while now. We're on our third fetal monitoring, and though it says I'm having contractions, I feel fuck all still.
I'm hoping this bodes well for labour and in the meantime, Peanut seems just comfy and content to stay where she is (usually with her feet all up in my ribcage.)
Am also assiduously playing the "Not thinking about it" game. To wit:
Easier said than done sometimes...
I'm hoping this bodes well for labour and in the meantime, Peanut seems just comfy and content to stay where she is (usually with her feet all up in my ribcage.)
Am also assiduously playing the "Not thinking about it" game. To wit:
- Not thinking about what labour will be like
- Not thinking about possible labour complications
- Not thinking about if Peanut will come out healthy and whole
- Not thinking about what my vag will be like post-partum
- Not thinking about potentially having a cesarean if there are complications
- Not thinking about possibly having post-partum depression
- Not thinking about the sleep deprivation
- Not thinking about how my nipples will be beat up learning how to breast feed
- Not thinking about OH SHIT I'M GONNA BE SOMEONE'S MOM
Easier said than done sometimes...
18 May 2012
Knocked Up - Body Bits n' Pieces
Peanut is bouncing around right now, which is slightly out of the norm thus far since they seem to be more active at night (like their mother. Ha!) I'm still not used to this sensation, because it's like having a little alien parasite lightly knocking around my insides. I sort of want to rewatch all of the Alien flicks in homage, not to mention in preparation for this summer's Prometheus release, but horror flicks and I are not on the best of terms. I'm the chick screaming her bloody face off in the theater. At everything.
This week my belly has exploded, at least from my point of view. Well, maybe I exaggerate a bit because if I look straight down, my ginormous boobs still block the visual of my belly. Now I'm wondering if they block me seeing my feet...Holy shit, they do. Ahahahahahahahaha. I'm sure that's helped by the fact that 10 year olds have bigger feet than my dinky size 35's but still...
While we are on the subject, I am making full use of these sweater puppies while I can, especially seeing as the the current cleavage situation is out of control. For fuck's sake, the grocery store rent-a-cop followed me around the entire store other day and totally got in my way while I was in the produce section. Stop blocking my access to the zucchini, asshole.
Titty fucking, which is something I couldn't do with my boobs' prior configuration, is realllllllly easy right now, much to Mon Amour's delight. And when they become milk factories? Party tricks ahoy! I am going to hit bulls-eyes from across the room with these things. I can already hang lightweight items off my nipples...
This week my belly has exploded, at least from my point of view. Well, maybe I exaggerate a bit because if I look straight down, my ginormous boobs still block the visual of my belly. Now I'm wondering if they block me seeing my feet...Holy shit, they do. Ahahahahahahahaha. I'm sure that's helped by the fact that 10 year olds have bigger feet than my dinky size 35's but still...
While we are on the subject, I am making full use of these sweater puppies while I can, especially seeing as the the current cleavage situation is out of control. For fuck's sake, the grocery store rent-a-cop followed me around the entire store other day and totally got in my way while I was in the produce section. Stop blocking my access to the zucchini, asshole.
Titty fucking, which is something I couldn't do with my boobs' prior configuration, is realllllllly easy right now, much to Mon Amour's delight. And when they become milk factories? Party tricks ahoy! I am going to hit bulls-eyes from across the room with these things. I can already hang lightweight items off my nipples...
22 March 2012
And the house of cards comes tumbling down...Pt. II
Continued from Part 1
........................
Flashback to a few weeks prior, when we had gone to his parents' house for Sunday lunch, the first time I was to meet his mother, father and grandfather. In the days preceding, he explained that we couldn't just drop in because his mother "wasn't much of a housekeeper." He also warned me not to give her my cell phone number lest she start calling me all the time and ditto for friending on Facebook. The words "intrusive" and "slightly crazy" might have also been used, or at least heavily implied.
That Sunday also marked the first time I got irritated with him, as he had said he'd call me to let me know when he would pick me up. I was finishing up a cake to bring when he called me and said he'd be there in 15 minutes. While not aimed directly at him but more in his general direction, my semi-expletive laden response and frentic running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get dressed amused him to no end, but to his credit he apologized profusely and made a major effort to calm me down.
What I saw of the house was a little cluttered but nothing out of the range of normal. The lunch wasn't as awkward as I anticipated, mainly because his mother never stopped talking and thus I didn't have to worry about my socially awkward habit of silence when I get nervous really being noticed. He father spoke little and his grandfather a bit more, showing me a photo of his wife when she worked on the American military base in Napoli.
And after when we got back to my place, the clothes went flying and he slammed me against the wall as soon as the apartment door shut. Thank jeebus my flatmates were at the beach. Moment noted for posterity when I am old and senile, because fuck that was hot.
........................
........................
Flashback to a few weeks prior, when we had gone to his parents' house for Sunday lunch, the first time I was to meet his mother, father and grandfather. In the days preceding, he explained that we couldn't just drop in because his mother "wasn't much of a housekeeper." He also warned me not to give her my cell phone number lest she start calling me all the time and ditto for friending on Facebook. The words "intrusive" and "slightly crazy" might have also been used, or at least heavily implied.
That Sunday also marked the first time I got irritated with him, as he had said he'd call me to let me know when he would pick me up. I was finishing up a cake to bring when he called me and said he'd be there in 15 minutes. While not aimed directly at him but more in his general direction, my semi-expletive laden response and frentic running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get dressed amused him to no end, but to his credit he apologized profusely and made a major effort to calm me down.
What I saw of the house was a little cluttered but nothing out of the range of normal. The lunch wasn't as awkward as I anticipated, mainly because his mother never stopped talking and thus I didn't have to worry about my socially awkward habit of silence when I get nervous really being noticed. He father spoke little and his grandfather a bit more, showing me a photo of his wife when she worked on the American military base in Napoli.
And after when we got back to my place, the clothes went flying and he slammed me against the wall as soon as the apartment door shut. Thank jeebus my flatmates were at the beach. Moment noted for posterity when I am old and senile, because fuck that was hot.
........................
13 February 2012
That which does not kill you...
...makes you sicker? Seriously I can't recall a winter where I have gotten sick so often. Reading around, apparently the cause might be that I am trying to kick the cancer sticks. Supposedly while the nicotine kills you, it also kills off a bunch of other little nasties hanging around. Supposedly.
Last week I started getting a fever Sunday night, which lasted for about 48 hours off and on. Tuesday night the BF came over to play nurse and we watched Benvenuto al Sud. During a shot of the sun setting on the Gulf of Napoli, he turned to me and said
"When my brother and I were young we used to look at the horizon and tell each other 'Over there is America.' Even then I knew where to look for you."
"But that's the Mediterranean, not the Atlantic. Over there is Africa."Between paroxysms of laughter he managed to gasp out
"Thanks, love. You just killed the dreams of a 6 year old boy."Sometimes I am the most unromantic literalist on the planet.
11 January 2012
Skewed Motherfuckin' Perspective & Sliding Doors
A conversation today between Will and I about celebrating my birthday last night:
"I'm a bit flabbergasted. He organized my birthday dinner out at Ariccia with everyone, bought me a cake, had them turn out the lights when they brought it in, surprised me with two lovely gifts and told our other friends who my favorite author is and how much I love reading. And he's taking me out of town for mini-holiday next week. He's spoiling me rotten."
"Honey, I don't know how to say this without being really horrible about it."
"Oh just say it. You're not going to offend me."
"Well honey, that's what boyfriends in normal relationships do. And he's obviously crazy about you."
"I am so fucked up, aren't I?"
"Just a bit, sweetie. I can't believe you were with that, that..."*purses lips*
"Shithead?" *grin*
"Yes. I can't believe you wasted so much time on him."
A sentiment with which I can well agree, but on the other hand, had things gone differently I might not have ever met Mon Amore né Ma Liason. Hence the reference to a tempid Gwyneth Paltrow flick in the title...
The promised updates shall arrive soon, cari amichi. No, really. Now that the hols are over (and yes, I count my birthday as a motherfuckin' holiday, yo) I plan to get this post backlog finished up and make good with my resolution of blogging more often.
I'm also trying to quit smoking, so my whacked out theory is that since I don't smoke in front of my computer, keeping my hands busy at the keyboard will help.
Will and Olive are also quitting smoking, so it's gonna be Bitch City 'round these here parts for a while... :D
"I'm a bit flabbergasted. He organized my birthday dinner out at Ariccia with everyone, bought me a cake, had them turn out the lights when they brought it in, surprised me with two lovely gifts and told our other friends who my favorite author is and how much I love reading. And he's taking me out of town for mini-holiday next week. He's spoiling me rotten."
"Honey, I don't know how to say this without being really horrible about it."
"Oh just say it. You're not going to offend me."
"Well honey, that's what boyfriends in normal relationships do. And he's obviously crazy about you."
"I am so fucked up, aren't I?"
"Just a bit, sweetie. I can't believe you were with that, that..."*purses lips*
"Shithead?" *grin*
"Yes. I can't believe you wasted so much time on him."
A sentiment with which I can well agree, but on the other hand, had things gone differently I might not have ever met Mon Amore né Ma Liason. Hence the reference to a tempid Gwyneth Paltrow flick in the title...
The promised updates shall arrive soon, cari amichi. No, really. Now that the hols are over (and yes, I count my birthday as a motherfuckin' holiday, yo) I plan to get this post backlog finished up and make good with my resolution of blogging more often.
I'm also trying to quit smoking, so my whacked out theory is that since I don't smoke in front of my computer, keeping my hands busy at the keyboard will help.
Will and Olive are also quitting smoking, so it's gonna be Bitch City 'round these here parts for a while... :D
05 December 2011
Intermission
"You need to update your blog."
Ja, don't I know it. September sort of sucked, October was meh, and November saw me back Stateside for Middle Sis' storybook wedding and Thanksgiving, Ma Liason in tow.
I should probably find a new name for Ma Liason finally, seeing as he met all of my family and I've only ever brought a guy to meet the family once before. (My Inner Neurotic is currently screaming "AND LOOK HOW FUCKED UP THAT TURNED OUT, HMMMMMMM?!" Shut up, Inner Neurotic.)
Plus, to the great delight of Olive*, I have been been breaking out in massive amounts of HIVES due to the plethora of PDA-tastic Ti Amo's, utterly diabetes inducing declarations of luuuuuurv, and maybe a small feeling out of future plans together which might or might not involved him using the words ci sposiamo.
That sound you hear is the Inner Neurotic hyperventilating into a paper bag while hives explode upon my body.
Anywho, I will be picking up from where I left off, if only to introduce his batshit insane family. And then you too can all marvel with me about how a perfectly lovely, generous, caring and outrageously nice fellow managed to result from the nice yet manipulatively egocentric mess that is his immediate family.
A presto
* Who has also apparently been taking bets with another friend of ours as to whether or not I would come back married or engaged. Luckily she knows that the phrase "I hate you bitches" is my way of professing my deep and abiding platonic-overlooking-the-shores-of-lesbos love for my homegirls.
Ja, don't I know it. September sort of sucked, October was meh, and November saw me back Stateside for Middle Sis' storybook wedding and Thanksgiving, Ma Liason in tow.
I should probably find a new name for Ma Liason finally, seeing as he met all of my family and I've only ever brought a guy to meet the family once before. (My Inner Neurotic is currently screaming "AND LOOK HOW FUCKED UP THAT TURNED OUT, HMMMMMMM?!" Shut up, Inner Neurotic.)
Plus, to the great delight of Olive*, I have been been breaking out in massive amounts of HIVES due to the plethora of PDA-tastic Ti Amo's, utterly diabetes inducing declarations of luuuuuurv, and maybe a small feeling out of future plans together which might or might not involved him using the words ci sposiamo.
That sound you hear is the Inner Neurotic hyperventilating into a paper bag while hives explode upon my body.
Anywho, I will be picking up from where I left off, if only to introduce his batshit insane family. And then you too can all marvel with me about how a perfectly lovely, generous, caring and outrageously nice fellow managed to result from the nice yet manipulatively egocentric mess that is his immediate family.
A presto
* Who has also apparently been taking bets with another friend of ours as to whether or not I would come back married or engaged. Luckily she knows that the phrase "I hate you bitches" is my way of professing my deep and abiding platonic-overlooking-the-shores-of-lesbos love for my homegirls.
14 September 2011
And the house of cards comes tumbling down...Pt. I
After a rather late night out Saturday, I awoke Sunday morning around 7am to Ma Liason frenetically pulling on clothes.
“There's missed calls and messages from my brother that they've taken my grandfather to the hospital.”
He calls his brother to get details and I hear his brother through the iPhone speaker tell him that their grandfather didn't make it.
His wail is heartwrenching. “What do you mean he didn't make it?” I hug him tightly as he cries, rubbing his back in circles, disjointedly remembering that my mom would do the same when I was a child.
He abruptly continues getting dressed, “I have to go there.” I attempt to cajole him into slowing down, beg even. Just give yourself 15 minutes, I say. I'll make you coffee, you just woke up, you shouldn't be driving on the motorcycle right this immediate instant when you've had such a huge shock.
He acquiesces to the coffee, abruptly sits down on my couch like his legs gave out and begins to sob. Huge body racking, air gulping sobs ripped from his soul. I bend over him and hug him and rub his back again.
When he stops, he grabs his helmet, refuses to wait for me to make him some coffee. I trail him to the door, where I grab his chin and look at him. His eyes bright blue and bloodshoot, all puffy and slitty from too little sleep and too much shock; he refuses to meet mine. “Text me when you get there.”
He doesn't. I gnaw at a ragged cuticle, try to distract myself with reading a book, of which I read a sentence and immediately go back to the beginning of it, like a record skipping, because I've totally forgotten what I just read.
24 August 2011
Breaking News
Olive: HOLY SHITTTT
Olive: Change your fb status honey pie
Me: Why?
Olive: Ta Liason is now in a relationship
Me: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Olive: I am grinning so hard right now
Olive: I wish I was with you to witness your hives
Me: BITCH
Me: OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK
Olive: Oh I am going to have fun with this
Me: Seriously you wrote that and I felt like I'd just gone on the first hill of a massive roller-coaster. Whoah
Olive: Are you freaking out yet?
Me: Um, a bit. The low blood sugar isn't helping
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. OK FINE I'M FREAKING OUT A LOT
Olive: Well I just left my thoughts on this change
Olive: Holy shit
Me: *whimper* oh shite
Olive: Why am I freaking out with you
Olive: And he put your anniversary down
Me: I hate you Olive
Olive: 16 march, correct?
Me: HOLY FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?
Me: I am going to start hyperventilating in about 2 seconds
Olive: Doll just breathe
Me: OMG HE DID
Olive: You know that you are in a relationship this is just another weird step to confirm
Olive: And he just linked it to you
Me: SHIT
Me: Logically I know the FB relationship status change freakout is silly
Me: but dude, I haven't told my dad that I'm seeing someone yet :D
Me: (Dad and I don't talk a whole lot, which is why I haven't mentioned it to him - I think I last talked to him for US Fathers' Day because he didn't pick up his phone for his birthday.)
Olive: Well its probably better to tell him when its official
Olive: Jesus that means you and Ta Liason have been together for over 5 months now
Me: Time flies when you're fucking like rabid weasels in heat
Olive: Change your fb status honey pie
Me: Why?
Olive: Ta Liason is now in a relationship
Me: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Olive: I am grinning so hard right now
Olive: I wish I was with you to witness your hives
Me: BITCH
Me: OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK
Olive: Oh I am going to have fun with this
Me: Seriously you wrote that and I felt like I'd just gone on the first hill of a massive roller-coaster. Whoah
Olive: Are you freaking out yet?
Me: Um, a bit. The low blood sugar isn't helping
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. OK FINE I'M FREAKING OUT A LOT
Olive: Well I just left my thoughts on this change
Olive: Holy shit
Me: *whimper* oh shite
Olive: Why am I freaking out with you
Olive: And he put your anniversary down
Me: I hate you Olive
Olive: 16 march, correct?
Me: HOLY FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?
Me: I am going to start hyperventilating in about 2 seconds
Olive: Doll just breathe
Me: OMG HE DID
Olive: You know that you are in a relationship this is just another weird step to confirm
Olive: And he just linked it to you
Me: SHIT
Me: Logically I know the FB relationship status change freakout is silly
Me: but dude, I haven't told my dad that I'm seeing someone yet :D
Me: (Dad and I don't talk a whole lot, which is why I haven't mentioned it to him - I think I last talked to him for US Fathers' Day because he didn't pick up his phone for his birthday.)
Olive: Well its probably better to tell him when its official
Olive: Jesus that means you and Ta Liason have been together for over 5 months now
Me: Time flies when you're fucking like rabid weasels in heat
25 July 2011
Sun, Sand & Gettin' Serious
Yesterday found me, Will, all three of my flatmates, a friend of theirs and Ma Liason beachside. This was notable not only for the fact that all of us managed to get together for the first time in a very long while, but also for the fact that Ma Liason had the rare entire Sunday off work.
He also hates the beach. He has skin like a red-head's; one hour on a pedalo in the middle of an Abbruzzo lake resulted in him looking like a lobster for almost a week. So I was caught by surprise by earlier in the week when he proposed going to the beach.
He also hates the beach. He has skin like a red-head's; one hour on a pedalo in the middle of an Abbruzzo lake resulted in him looking like a lobster for almost a week. So I was caught by surprise by earlier in the week when he proposed going to the beach.
"Andiamo al mare domenica? Magari vedi un po se Will e Olive vogliano venire pure."So after a bit of a late start due to the weather forecast faking us out 1, we all met up at our local beach hangout, whereupon I promptly slathered SPF 50 all over Ma Liason; I was having no repeats of our daytrip to Abbruzzo. And it worked :) Viva kiddie sunblock. Plus, for my excellence in sunblock application I got a back massage later. I'm pretty sure that's just a socially acceptable way of feeling me up in public, not that I'm complaining...
"Cosa? Ma tu odi andare al mare."
"Ebbene ma se ci sei tu è diverso..."
30 June 2011
On Flashing Red Lights
Chatting with Olive about a third person's relationship 1 brought up the phrase "That would be a big fucking flashing red light to me." Which reminded me of a night out in Ariccia 2 with some friends about a year ago.
Thanks to a discussion about how someone's cats would pet their fish, I found myself recounting the time the Shithead had bought two goldfish. For the cats to eat.
He had always gone on 3 about buying them either a couple of white mice or goldfish to eat, arguing that it was in their animal nature. I had always put my foot down, not only because ewww, cruel but also knowing how the cats played with their toys, I didn't really want to clean mousey blood spatter off the white walls of the flat.
Thanks to a discussion about how someone's cats would pet their fish, I found myself recounting the time the Shithead had bought two goldfish. For the cats to eat.
He had always gone on 3 about buying them either a couple of white mice or goldfish to eat, arguing that it was in their animal nature. I had always put my foot down, not only because ewww, cruel but also knowing how the cats played with their toys, I didn't really want to clean mousey blood spatter off the white walls of the flat.
24 June 2011
Things to Reacclimate To
There's some stuff to which I am having to reacclimate with Ma Liason, or even in some cases, simply acclimate. In short:
- Having sex. Quite apart from the whole "muscles I forgot existed" thing, the second time he came over I bled like the proverbial virgin, right onto the white duvet cover as we didn't make it under the covers. I didn't even notice until we got up off the bed after and he pointed it out.
"Ti ho fatto del male?"
< sarcasm >Yeah, not embarrassing at all.< /sarcasm >
"Era un po scomodo proprio al inizio ma sarebbe la colpa di ieri sera; dopo un paio di secondi era tutt'ok. Anzi, altro che semplicemente OK. Perché?"
*He indicates the splotches of blood on my duvet cover*
"Oh. Oh cazzo."
16 May 2011
Making Me Giggle
With the mid-morning sun bouncing off the warm cobblestones of a Sunday-empty Trastevere piazza, suddenly getting swept off my feet and carried across the shallow sudsy grey puddle created by buckets of post-mopping water from an opening restaurant...
...that's like Sandra Bullock in a rom-com type of cute. My bitchy nihilistic inner cynic is totally battling it out with my inner Disney princess right now.
...that's like Sandra Bullock in a rom-com type of cute. My bitchy nihilistic inner cynic is totally battling it out with my inner Disney princess right now.
11 May 2011
The Honeymoon Period
Wherein you are walking funny from excessive horizontal mamboing and are lucky if your friends don't throttle you, because every other sentence out of your mouth is some reference to the guy you have started seeing...
For fuck's sake, I almost want to throttle me. But we've already determined that I am Her Royal Highness TMI, Intergalactic Queen of Oversharing 1, so even though I attempt to edit myself, shit keeps popping out like champagne corks at New Year's. Usually while giggling like an idiot. Gah.
You can't see me, but the face palmage is epic...
In my defence, I think my brains melted out my ears about two weeks back, a side effect of shagging like two rabid weasels in heat. I heartily endorse dating a younger man, because WOO-BOY CAN WE SAY STAMINA?! My flat mates are taking great joy in teasing me, pointing out that I've lost my little love handles. Who needs a gym when you can fuck your way into bikini form?
For fuck's sake, I almost want to throttle me. But we've already determined that I am Her Royal Highness TMI, Intergalactic Queen of Oversharing 1, so even though I attempt to edit myself, shit keeps popping out like champagne corks at New Year's. Usually while giggling like an idiot. Gah.
You can't see me, but the face palmage is epic...
In my defence, I think my brains melted out my ears about two weeks back, a side effect of shagging like two rabid weasels in heat. I heartily endorse dating a younger man, because WOO-BOY CAN WE SAY STAMINA?! My flat mates are taking great joy in teasing me, pointing out that I've lost my little love handles. Who needs a gym when you can fuck your way into bikini form?
25 April 2011
Olive, an Olive, and a Breakup
My darling Will has broken up with his boyfriend of a year, which hooo boy could I say a few thousand extra juicy words on the subject of Will's Ex, but won't out of respect for Will and any future book deals this blog might garner me1. Last night we dragged him out to our friend's place for a glutton-tastic Easter dinner party.
I've discovered that eating an outrageous amount of cholesterol is Hangover Fairy Repellent. Between my grandmother's torta salata recipe2, a metric buttload of deviled eggs, potato salads, pierogies, and various other Easter foodstuff involving eggs, cheese, meat or some combination thereof, I think my liver is protesting at the insane amount of cholesterol ingested last night instead of giving me grief for the equally large amount of alcohol we used to wash it all down. Either that or I'm going to have a retroactive hangover 3 days from now.
I've discovered that eating an outrageous amount of cholesterol is Hangover Fairy Repellent. Between my grandmother's torta salata recipe2, a metric buttload of deviled eggs, potato salads, pierogies, and various other Easter foodstuff involving eggs, cheese, meat or some combination thereof, I think my liver is protesting at the insane amount of cholesterol ingested last night instead of giving me grief for the equally large amount of alcohol we used to wash it all down. Either that or I'm going to have a retroactive hangover 3 days from now.
12 April 2011
I Don't Remember How to Do This
So I have the beginnings of a post on the perils of Internet Dating sites, which I keep meaning to finish off eventually. But today I've sort of been musing on the Post NRA II: RNRA interactions with the opposite sex.
There was the guy who gave me a total intellectual & physical wide-on. We played a few rounds of tonsil hockey, until I discovered that he was actually dating a friend of a friend. Who was a single mom and had the usual single mom problems with the father of her child. She was extraordinarily cool when we talked, but to say I felt like absolute shit is a mild understatement. Actually, I thought I was gonna hurl. "Hi. Yeah, I didn't sleep with your boyfriend, but we made out in his car." I was torn between abject grovelling apologies and wanting to beat the everliving shit out of this dude for her. You don't fuck around with single moms. Single moms are sacrosanct.
So that sucked.
There was the guy who gave me a total intellectual & physical wide-on. We played a few rounds of tonsil hockey, until I discovered that he was actually dating a friend of a friend. Who was a single mom and had the usual single mom problems with the father of her child. She was extraordinarily cool when we talked, but to say I felt like absolute shit is a mild understatement. Actually, I thought I was gonna hurl. "Hi. Yeah, I didn't sleep with your boyfriend, but we made out in his car." I was torn between abject grovelling apologies and wanting to beat the everliving shit out of this dude for her. You don't fuck around with single moms. Single moms are sacrosanct.
So that sucked.
24 March 2011
The Gecko
I have two tattoos; a ying-yang over my hip bone and a garland of flowers & Egyptian eyes as my tramp stamp.
My tramp stamp is a bit higher up that the norm since low rise jeans at the time were still way higher than those around currently, plus I wanted to be able to hide it for dance. Please also note that I was part of the first wave who made tramp stamps ubiquitous. 90's grunge flannel grrrls with unlaced Doc Marten's representing, yo.
While I should actually get them touched up, I've been leaning towards getting a third one instead.
My tramp stamp is a bit higher up that the norm since low rise jeans at the time were still way higher than those around currently, plus I wanted to be able to hide it for dance. Please also note that I was part of the first wave who made tramp stamps ubiquitous. 90's grunge flannel grrrls with unlaced Doc Marten's representing, yo.
While I should actually get them touched up, I've been leaning towards getting a third one instead.
31 January 2011
Frustrated Velociraptor: I am woman, hear me GRAR!
Being a single female at 35 sucks sometimes.
Not in that Sex & the City "Oh me, oh my, will I ever land my guy?" way either. Actually I don't even want to think about S&C because the facile 4 tropes of women (with admittedly fabulous shoes) would just piss me off even more right now.
I look young for my age (thanks for the awesome genes, Ma). I have lost track of the times I have gotten the "Oh you'd better hurry up and find a man before you cant procreate any more" bullshit spew upon finding out that I am 35.
As if my uterus is the only reason for my existence and even that is worthless unless I procure my self a penis possessor to plow the field before the bloom of youth fades.
Fuck that noise. Fuck it right in the ear with a rusty chainsaw.
*deep breath*
Not in that Sex & the City "Oh me, oh my, will I ever land my guy?" way either. Actually I don't even want to think about S&C because the facile 4 tropes of women (with admittedly fabulous shoes) would just piss me off even more right now.
I look young for my age (thanks for the awesome genes, Ma). I have lost track of the times I have gotten the "Oh you'd better hurry up and find a man before you cant procreate any more" bullshit spew upon finding out that I am 35.
As if my uterus is the only reason for my existence and even that is worthless unless I procure my self a penis possessor to plow the field before the bloom of youth fades.
Fuck that noise. Fuck it right in the ear with a rusty chainsaw.
*deep breath*
08 January 2011
Dusting Off the Cobwebs
*cough cough*
My, my, my. The echo in here ricochets off the walls, eventually drowning in a fluttery eddy of dust bunnies...
...I've probably been reading too much Neil Gaiman lately, as is my wont. Anywho...
Now that I've prettied things up a bit, let's see if I can start the blog ball rolling again. I don't think I can pick up where I left off, or at least not straight away; that will take some easing into. The salient points to bring things up to speed would be
We'll eventually get around to the details, but for now enough poking at recently healed scars. It's a Saturday night, I am PMSing like a motherfucker and thus am in need of alcohol & semi-acceptable Mexican food.
Alla prossima
Addendum: Just to clarify, the Year from Hell was 2009, 2010 was Purgatory. And thus I've dusted off the blog in 2011, which I hope will keep with the Divine Comedy theme and be the year that I win the effing lottery.
My, my, my. The echo in here ricochets off the walls, eventually drowning in a fluttery eddy of dust bunnies...
...I've probably been reading too much Neil Gaiman lately, as is my wont. Anywho...
Now that I've prettied things up a bit, let's see if I can start the blog ball rolling again. I don't think I can pick up where I left off, or at least not straight away; that will take some easing into. The salient points to bring things up to speed would be
- my love affair with the Eternal City continues, having entered the metaphorical "I hate when you publicly adjust yourself, but I still love you in spite of it all" stage
- Nuclear Relationship Armageddon II: Revenge of the Nuclear Relationship Armageddon happened 6 months before the supposed wedding was to occur.
- Subsequently, the SO has reverted back to his former Good Omens inspired nickname: Enemy, Destroyer of Queens, Angel of Broken Hearts, Great Beast that is called Weasel, Prince of Thieving Bastards, Father of Liars, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Mindgames. Or Shithead for short
We'll eventually get around to the details, but for now enough poking at recently healed scars. It's a Saturday night, I am PMSing like a motherfucker and thus am in need of alcohol & semi-acceptable Mexican food.
Alla prossima
Addendum: Just to clarify, the Year from Hell was 2009, 2010 was Purgatory. And thus I've dusted off the blog in 2011, which I hope will keep with the Divine Comedy theme and be the year that I win the effing lottery.
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