The Drinking Blues

Being hung-over at work, not fun. Now I’m dealin’ w/ the day-after-depression. Thoughts spinning in my head, what did I say, who did I see, who saw me? Not that I was overly wasted, just regularly wasted on Margaritas this time. They just taste so good. And there you are eating chimichangas with shredded chicken and before you know it, you and friend finished off a pitcher or two. You hadn’t even meant to go out… you just wanted some food.

Naturally, the drunk dialing tendencies kicked in around 10pm, yes, I was drunk early. I called The Brother, begged him to come over. He conceded. He asked me if I had matches and then disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, I was passed out. I vaguely remember my sweet man putting the covers over me and crawling into bed next to me. Fuck, do I adore that man. I hope he crawls into bed next to me for a very very long time.

But today, my stomach hurts, my mood is tired and all you can see on my face are the bags under my eyes. Oh the drunky blues… I should write a country song.

Chanel Handbags

Since the status of my job is up in the air and life just isn’t what I expected. I’m going to talk about vaginas.

A co-worker read me a paragraph out of her racy romance novel. The heroine, after having her partner kiss her with her freshly eaten pussy on his mouth, she described her own taste as “the earth when the rain has washed it clean, leaving a fresh crisp clean taste and scent.”

Puhleeeeaaaaze… After the Rain – isn’t that some massengill douche scent? or perhaps a Nelson song from the 80's? To avoid serious thoughts on serious topics, I’m going to think of all the things my pussy could possibly smell and taste like… how about you do the same?

1. Hot apple cider with fresh sticks of cinnamon on a cool winter morning.
2. A trellis of roses on the first day of spring.
3. All you ladies….

PS – Red Hot Thighs, my favorite High School cohort, I hope this Vagina exercise breaks the monotony of Needless Mark-up… perhaps your vagina smells like a Newly opened box of Chanel handbags?

Whatever.

I wanted to write about how this weekend my Dad and I put together my bookshelf… and while he was looking for a screw-driver, he came across my condoms and vibrator… I also wanted to write how things got all the better when we started unpacking my books, and he shelved, “The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio.”

“Miss Curious, how can they write an entire book on fellatio?”

“Um Dad, this isn’t really a conversation I want to be having. Anyway, it was a gift,” I replied desperately hoping he’d believe that gift part.

But instead, I’m going to finish this entry with my work angst. There are so many fucking deadlines and people nagging and so much money at risk and everyone’s blaming everyone for everything. Sometimes it just wears on the soul. This morning I woke up completely tormented by the fact that I had to come in today. All I wanted to do was hide under the covers and quit everything… quit responsibility, quit caring, quit quit quit. And I’m trying desperately to find some spark left in me to renew my interest in my work - to find some sort of way to define who I am. I can’t define myself by my work because it isn’t me. But what is me? Aside from being an over-analytical dork? I mean where the fuck do I go from here? Where do I find fulfillment? Man, this is the same shit I ponder all goddamn day! Where can I find the answers already? Or how can I stop my neurotic thoughts on such subjects?

This Licorice Smells Like Shit!

Because I’m queen over-analytical, I love to worry myself about things before they even happen. My latest concern has been the affect of this new pseudo-relationship with The Brother upon my wife, Midge.

The story of how Midge and I first fell in love is a good one. Let’s go back there.

Three months into working at my current job (over 2 years ago now), Midge and I slowly discovered our mutual love for 80’s teen movies. One weekend my boyfriend at the time was out of town, so I dragged Midge to my casa in Berkeley. We threw mattresses on the floor, wrapped ourselves up in warm blankets, and surrounded ourselves with junk food.

Although I’m pretty open about bodily functions, Midge and I just hadn’t gone there yet. When the junk food kicked in, I naturally needed to take a shit. Slightly shy, I told him I’d be in the bathroom for a bit. After a while, I finally returned to my comfy spot. Since I’d had a big unload of, well you know, stuff, I had to refill those empty bowels. I reached for the Red Vines. The phone rings, and I proceed to have a brief conversation, while I’m still scarfing down the licorice. As I’m talking on the phone, I mouth to Midge who was also eating Red Vines, “these red vines smell like shit.”

Midge, with his grimaced face, smells his, then retorts, “hm, actually mine don’t.”

So I start smelling the phone as the person on the line gabs away. “Midge, fuck I think it’s the phone… this phone smells like actual shit.”

Then suddenly my faces turns pale.

Midge, “oh my god, what?”

Stunned I whisper to him (person still on the phone) pointing to my hand, “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I have shit on my hand.”

He starts crying. I get off the phone and join him with tears of laughter.

“Guess I should have washed my hands.”

I learned my lesson. And this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

So I'm Psycho.

“Let’s get you drunk,” DV says carrying a bottle of wine up my front stairs.

I nervously laugh and what I’m doing becomes frighteningly clear. After pouring our drinks, we headed to the roof for a…. surprise, cigarette. We chat for a while, and he rubs my knee. It felt awkward, and the nervous laugh comes out again.

We headed back to my studio, turned down the lights, got on our stomachs and began watching the movie. Suddenly, I felt his hand on my lower back. My eyes widened. His thumb found the small bit of skin exposed and slowly moved it back and forth. I thought that if I would just remain still and laugh at the attempts at humor in the movie, he’d remove his hand.

Of course that didn’t work. His hand moved to my wide-ass and gave it a full hand rub. Didn’t think my eyes could get wider, but they certainly did. My mind spun out of control as a psychotic episode ensued… I was thinking, “I’m single, this feels good… I hate being so hooked on The Brother… The Brother has total control over me… what do I need to prove… shit-fuck-fuck… where are the cigarettes when I need them… why do I have this desperate need to sabotage something so amazing with someone who doesn’t deserve me? Why do I need to have conflict in my head? Why can’t I just be happy and enjoy this time w/ the Brother?… what the fuck is wrong with me? I’m fucking psycho!?! I feel sick now.”

And DV kept touching me, and I let him. And I didn’t look at him. I just kept watching the movie. His hands roamed over my clothed body. And then he tried to take things farther. And the masculine horny side of me thought about it for minute… but I looked at him – his lips… and thought about the Brother’s voicemail waiting to be heard when DV left… and I said, “Look, I have strong feelings for someone else. I’d love to hook-up for this momentary sense of satisfaction, but I’d have too much conflict in my head if I took this further. I’m really sorry if I gave you the impression that something would happen. But it’s not. And won’t unless whatever I have going on with this man should end.”

DV, “Well, I’d love for something physical to happen now… I mean we should be fucking right this minute… and I guess it’s my own fault that I ever let you go.” And he left.

And I had the vindication I had wanted for such a long time with him… but like anything, it came at a time where it no longer mattered… and where I actually felt sorry for him.

I Can't Be For Real

I couldn’t be more predictable if I tried. Now that those crazy things we like to call “emotions” are kicking in, the fighter in me is kicking right back. Everyone hates being vulnerable, but being the extremist I am, I take that hate to a new level. The Brother is a beautiful man, and I adore him, and I’m pretty certain he adores me. However, I’m giving birth to intense insecurities about the true nature of his feelings for me. I’m in serious panic mode.

Be prepared to hate me… DV just emailed, out of the blue for the 3rd time in the past 2 weeks… funny how he just showed up again… anyway, we’re watching a movie tonight at my house. Part of me is saying, “fuck I can’t have all my eggs in one basket w/ The Brother,” so I’m hanging out w/ DV… not that I even would want to be with DV, but it’s like some fucked up declaration to myself…. That I’m free – that I can do whatever I want – that The Brother isn’t everything to me…. But DV and I can be friends… I mean c’mon, the worst thing he really did was dump me…. Well, I guess that is pretty bad… I mean who the fuck dumps Miss Curious? Hm. Okay, I just can’t do anything stupid tonight that might jeopardize things w/ The Brother. Well, it’s only been 1 week with the boy… it’s not like we’re getting married. OK, everything’s okay. Yes, that’s it, everything’s just fine.

So you're right, everything's not just fine... AND I’m addicted to cigarettes. Anyone know those things were addictive? Apparently, I didn’t. Right now, everything’s a good reason for a cigarette:

- Midge won’t talk to me… cigarette please.
- I didn’t like the tone in her voice… cigarette.
- I have too much work… but I have time for a…. cigarette.
- Thoughts about The Brother… cigarette… cigarette… and cigarette.
- DV’s coming over… cigarette… cigarette… cigarette.

Can I just say that I’m clearly a head case? Why the fuck can’t I just chill the fuck out. Okay, act normal. Act normal.

Scared Shitless.

I became well acquainted with my carpet this weekend. First my knees got to know it rather intimately, and then my back was soon to follow. The carpet left strong impressions on both body parts as I was being slammed into it by The Brother. After hours of bed-top romping, I was making my way to the bathroom when I got pinned to the wall and the relationship with the carpet soon began.

With reckless abandon, the sex has begun.

I called my Grandma this weekend, Grandma B, the reason I can grab good ass and cuss in Spanish. After mentioning I was now dating someone, she gave me some advice, “Miss Curious, just be sure you hold out to….. kiss him.”

Hold out to KISS him???!?!?! “Of course Grandma, of course.” Are you kidding me?!?! Wow. Little does she know I only held out from carpet and bed banging because it was that time of the month. Crazy times. Am I going to hell? If I am, I’m not going without some serious rug burns.
Aside from the sex, I still can’t believe how smitten I am with this beautiful man. Sadness is easy, but happiness is fucking scary. With this man, I am so fucking scared. Everything just “fits” with him. So I sit here waiting for something to fall, and I am trying my hardest to not provoke disaster as some self-fulfilling prophecy bullshit. I just need to embrace this man and realize that I can have him and my friends and my job and my family and maybe even happiness.

Penis and Vagina

Women don’t often see one another’s vaginas. Men, on the other hand, see each other’s cocks as much as they scratch their balls. I often wonder what men are thinking when they spread a chicks legs and dig in. Are they comparing my pussy to some other chicks? Does mine some how look different? Bigger labias? Discolored labias? A small hole or a large hole? And the taste? I’ve had several men tell me my pussy tastes particularly good (thank God), but what the fuck does that mean? Okay, disgusting admission, I’ve tasted myself before… out curiosity, hence, the name Miss Curious (well, for more than just this reason.) It tastes fine… I’d eat it.

The Brother and I talked extensively about our genitalia last night. He feels that his cock should be much larger because the other brotha’s he knows all fit into our stereotypes of being well hung. The Brother’s cock is perfect. He has nothing to be insecure about… I mean, I’ve had some fat large cocks in my days, and they’re not fun to fuck as they bang up against that cervix and it’s “oooh, ouch, yikes, ouch… errr, ahh.” And, they are certainly not fun to suck… I can hardly get my mouth around the head. I can’t give a good blow job to a leg. It’s just not happening.

Anyway, his cock comments and comparisons to other Brothas in the shower, made me suddenly fearful of how my vulva compares to others. On rare occasions we may catch a glimpse of another woman’s pubes, but we really never get down in there and see what’s happenin’. I suppose I’ll not spend too much time thinking about it and just let the man eat… I’d actually really like to read comments on this topics… any insecurities? Realizations? And if any men read this, tell me what the fuck you’re thinking about down there!?!?

Not for the Sensitive Reader

“That Time of the Month” started during my first date with The Brother. I realize this is a good thing because I would’ve slept with him that night. God fucking knows what a slut I am and totally pulled this fast one on me…. But I’m actually quite glad… we’re now in the midst of junior high heavy petting. I feel gross-o with a bloated stomach and a constant need to diarrhea, so I keep my clothes on. However, I had to show him that this white girl knew what she was doing, and when the lights turned down, MissCurious went down…. And went to town.

It didn’t last long, no fault to The Brother… when I arrive on the scene it never lasts long. Some comments from him:

“Holy shit.”
“V asked me to give her tips on BJ’s, do you mind if I just send her to you?”
“Wow, I haven’t had a blow job like that in years.”
“Wow… shit… wow… fuck…. Damn girl.”

Then he got all lovey-dovey and says, “promise me that will happen again…. Now more than ever, I CANNOT wait until I get to eat your p*%#y!” Lucky for me… and lucky that he loves to eat a good woman… he LOVES it… he says, “anytime anyplace mama!” Oh yes, again, lucky for me!

AND… I never knew what women meant when they said a guy’s cum tasted good. It was like, “what the fuck, cum tastes like rank-ass.” But alas my dear readers, I have tasted some fine cum…. Very very fine cum. I already can’t wait to have more.

Ahhhhhhhh, I really like this man. We talk about nothing for hours and hours… and he’s so goddamn goofy and sweet and kisses beautifully… and oh right, he’s fucking intelligent as shit… just wrote an article in Bass Guitar magazine… I’m such a lil’ school girl… and oh fuck, the potential to get hurt increases daily. Fucking scary. I can’t wait to fuck him anyway!

You asked... here's another pic... he's my little cutie pie... He's not the blond haired blue eyed that normally grabs my attention, but he's just doin' it for me! 

My beautiful new man!  

The Brother

I'm smitten. What can I say? He's a beautiful beautiful man.... with really soft lips.

La Sassy here, guest-blogging today for the MC.

As can be expected, MC's weekend was not without its highs and lows; its emotional turmoil; its dating dilemmas; or its hair disasters. While I was not fortunate enough to observe her weekend adventures first hand (with the exception of a few hours on Saturday night), I did check in with her constantly via my brand spankin' new and awesome camera phone (more on that later). I have the pleasure of reporting all of this to you as a guest blogger.

So, Friday Schmiday - I had to call MC this morning to ask what she did, because my selective memory had chosen to forget, so it couldn't be that exciting. Turns out she took her short lesbo hair do out to the Lexington to see what kind of womans she could pick up on. Sorry, though, no hot lebanese action to report as she returned home early to snuggle in within the heaps of pillows on her bed and dream of the Brother. She was all tired out from her long visit with him the night before when they chatted for hours and got to know each other a little better (better than "Can I take your order", "yeah I'll have a turkey sandwich and a large diet coke"). She reported that there was a strict "no action" policy that night and that they sat on her bed with a large bank of pillows btwn them. Oh, and I must add that I'm proud of her (and impressed with him) for standing firm on the "no action" rule until the Brother deal with the GF.

On Sabado, MC rang me while Jeff and I were on a Container Store shopping bonanza (Oh, the aisles of bright plastic storage solutions!) to report yet another hair emergency. I had to exit the store so no one would be bothered with my calming techniques ("take a deep breath and count to ten; your hair does not define you; you know you're not a bull dyke, even if you think you look like one"). It turns out MS went for a trim, because we all know how short haircuts need constant upkeep, and the madhairwoman, err, stylist, chopped off more than MC had in mind. Having seen the recent trim, I have to report it is not nearly as bad as MC originally thought. She showed up that night at Harry's on Fillmore looking radiantly beautiful and with her flawless skin, amazing eyes, and cute, punky hair. Everyone showered her with compliments and I got the impression they were genuine. We had a photo shoot of lil miss beautiful herself and check out the pic she took.

Let's jump back to earlier that day....Also involved in that container store convo was the discussion of how to proceed with the Brother in his current relationship status. MC reached the conclusion that it was best to take that "no action" policy even further and make it a "no interaction" policy until he broke free from the chains. I supported her decision; she doesn't want to give the Bro the impression that he can have both (not that he was trying), but still, it was past the point of innocence and he needed to deal with it. She communicated that to him shortly after while Jeff and I were off buying our new (previously mentioned) camera phones. BTW my very first call on my new cell was to one MC herself - that's loyalty baby!

Then we all went out that night, chit chatted, drank a bit, took pics, went home, woo hoo.

The next day, after a lovely and uneventful brunch with DV (which left MC feeling quite resolved in maintaining a friendship with him and nothing more), the Bro called and reported that he was a free man. Wait - stop the presses - the BRO IS NOW A FREE MAN. They made plans to see a movie tonight with none other than myself and my hot BF. I can report that MC is very much looking forward to their date and I am expecting to look over and see them holding hands in the popcorn as they stare into each other's eyes. My question to all her loyal readers is: will the infatuation last now that fantasy has become reality for them both? We all must stay tuned for the answer. And don't forget to check out Miss Curious' version of my weekend at http://www.lasassy.blogspot.com.
 

A Lot Can Happen In a Day

“Look, I’m just going to lay it all out on the table. I’ve had a huge crush on you for two years. My co-workers are sick of hearing me go on and on about you. When I take your order, all I can think about is how badly I want to talk to you. When I heard you asked about me, I walked around like a giddy school-boy. Over the last weekend, all I could think about was you – the possibility of you…. BUT…… I have a girlfriend. We’ve been dating for around four to five months. I’m not in love with her nor is she in love with me. Things with her haven’t been that bad, but they haven’t been that great either. She’s going to the east coast for the summer, and so she and I have come to a cross-roads…. Especially now that I know my fantasy of you could perhaps become something more. I know that I don’t really know you, but I’ve seen you come into the restaurant for over two years, long before I even met this girl… I have wanted a chance with you, and I’d like to start by becoming friends.” - The Brother

“Friends? Well, I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me… but neither of us knows the other… knows if taking this chance will be all for naught… and perhaps you’ll have regrets about your current girlfriend…. You need to figure out what’s going on with that before you and I even address this.”

I couldn’t believe The Brother’s candidness… the only other person I’ve known to be so frank, is well… me. Hahaha.

“I have to go band practice, but will you call me later?” He finishes.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him all evening… on my run – at the movies…. His words like caffeine, jolting me awake and making me edgy.

11:30 pm rolls around…

“Come over right now… I think we should just talk face to face… nothing will happen aside from some conversation to see if this is something we’d ever want to pursue further…. I’ll give you a crash course on Miss Curious… perhaps your ideas of me will come crashing down… and I’ll see if I even want to get to know you better.”

“I’ll be right over.” The Brother eagerly replies.

Mounds of pillows between us, our conversation flowed over 3 and half hours. The only things I didn’t about him… he doesn’t drink or smoke (what kind of person does this make me?!?! Hahaha)…. But actually he’s 36, and he’s focused, and he doesn’t want to be out partying every night anymore, but he has no problem with anyone who might want to… and that’s cool with me. And he made me laugh… a ton… he does these goofy little voices… he’s passionate about so many things, but not to where he can’t make fun of himself… a ton. Here I started, relatively attracted to this guy, and with every word, thinking he was the most beautiful man alive…. And with a girlfriend, fuck fuck fuck… but nothing’s easy right?

At the end of the night, we embraced…. It wasn’t a hug… it was definitely an embrace. And with this embrace, I felt everything a woman could feel from a first kiss or first fuck… it was electric. Moments later we were interrupted, talked for another few minutes, and he asked if I would hug him again… and I knew he felt the same thing… but fuck he has a girlfriend. We said our good-byes, I told him I’d drop by the next day to say hi at work (that would be today).

Friday at the restaurant:

“Were you able to sleep last night?” I mumbled desperately trying to mask my elation.

“Not at all… all I could think about was you… and what I need to do.”

“Oh perfect, I’m glad I was able to scare you off, so you could move on with your life,” I sarcastically replied.

“Yeah right…. So when can I see you again?”

“That’s a tough question to ask… when I want to see you and when I should see you are two totally different things. And fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Wow.” I answered realizing how difficult this was beginning to get for me.

His girlfriend leaves for the summer next Thursday. Before then, they’re going to have another serious conversation… and I’ll know what my fate is going to be. Fuck!

Same day (yesterday, Thursday the 9th)… I received this email out of the blue from DV… he mentions that he’d like to get together over the weekend for brunch… something not at 3am when I typically make my drunk dials… he wants to catch-up… Hm… this should be interesting... this will be the first time we actually hang out other than one drunk NIN night since he dumped my sour ass in January. Weird.

So Much For Laying Low

Today two people in my office had birthdays… for birthdays we usually get them cakes from, hm, where??!?!…the restaurant next door where my latest crush so conveniently works. The owner of the company (you’d never know he makes a million or so a year), let’s call him Bob because that’s his name, his partner (boyfriend) Orlando, and I were discussing who should pick up the cake.

Miss Curious, “oh, I’ll go pick up the cake… a guy I think is cute works there.”

Wide-eyed Bob replies, “oh, really… well, I’ve had a crush on a guy there forever,” (reminder: his boyfriend is in on this conversation)

“He’s probably not the same guy… my guy’s straight, and I don’t think he’s your type.”

Bob begins to describe him.

Miss Curious, pulling the band flyer The Brother gave her last week out of her drawer, “is it this guy?!?!” pointing to his photo.

“My goodness, yes, that is him… I love him,” Bob retorts as he purses his lips to snub his competition.

“Well Bob, remember yesterday when you drew a face on that Green-Bristled Broom and went office to office saying, ‘hey look it’s Miss Curious and her new hair!’… yeah Bob, payback’s a bitch because this guy apparently has had a crush on me!!!!” Miss Curious so curiously chuckles.

“Fine… it looks like none of us will be going to get cake,” Bob pouts.

Moments later as I’m busily working at my desk, Bob’s partner Orlando notices, “hey, where’s Bob… I bet he’s at the restaurant without us!”

Miss Curious, “No way, he wouldn’t have gone without us!”

Orlando, “Let’s just go check.”

I eagerly follow, and low and behold, who’s there talking to The Brother?!?! Yup, Bob. Orlando and I burst into laughter… cackles rather.

The Brother then engages me in conversation, “Did you have a good weekend? Well, I guess it’s Wednesday now,” he laughs.

Light-hearted banter ensues with an audience of Bob and Orlando. Bob leaves, Orlando stays to watch me act girly and fumble over my words telling him I’m boring and watch a ton of movies. Orland finally decides to head out with the Cake we had to get, so it looked as though we went there for a reason.

Miss Curious, “okay, well, bye,” I mutter to The Brother.

He replies, “Since we’re both movie buffs…”

“Is this where you segue into getting my number?” Miss Curious interrupts.

Grinning that upper-teeth smile, “yup,” he gets out a pen and paper, and Miss Curious gives him her number.

Sooooooooo, here we are… so much for laying low. Hopefully, he’ll call soon!

Apes and Naughty Nadia

My older sister Naughty Nadia and I like to spend hours on the phone discussing how ridiculous the two of us are and how the other is the only person who can truly understand the depths of our outlandishness. One of our main topics of discussion is, surprise, boys. We go on and on and on about boys we see here and there and how we have psychotic thoughts about these people we’ve maybe uttered one word to, if any.

We decided that when I’m in San Diego and she’s in San Francisco, we should take tours of our crushes… we then realized that hm, how funny – for her, we’d have to visit all the local gyms and yoga studios…. While for me, on the other hand, we’d have to visit all the local bars and restaurants. This says a lot, trust me.

Now, onto my latest crush… The Brother (I really hope no one takes offense to his nickname – I just love being un-pc)… last week I was talkin’ all this shit about how I was going to ask him out… now, I just feel lame… like I’m some desperate girl who needs a date or something. I’m just so goddamn impatient… I mean if he indeed is the one that likes me, cool, I think he’s adorable and he keeps good company… then why the fuck shouldn’t we just see if we get along? Things are always so fucking difficult… or perhaps I just make them that way. Well, anyhow, end point being, I’m layin’ low – not going in to the restaurant a psychotic number of times. Fuck it. I’m just gonna’ kick it with my lesbian hair!

Over It Already

I’m wearing a dress today as though that may somehow help. I’m trying to think of all those products that could possibly “jump start” my day, but for some reason, the only thing that comes to mind is crack. As I’m not looking for any more addictions than I already have, I’ll skip the crack. So what’s a girl to do when she can’t muster up some serious positivity?!?!

Fuck, I’m in the worst mood ever! I’m in one of those “I Hate Everyone” moods. So here’s my RANT - I hate passive aggressive bullshit especially. I hate when people ask questions they already know the answers to just so they can make some fucking stupid-ass point. Hey folks, let’s not play the blame game, let’s just get the fucking solution because if you start playing that game with me assholes, you’ll fucking lose!!! (because I just can’t lose – even if I’m wrong!)
I have this fire in my stomach… it’s the serious definition of rampage, you know…. Where I want to take everyone down with me… god, why am I such a bitch? Hahaha!

Yeah, just not having it today at work... or in the world. Just over it already. So go fuck yourself.

Who Me?!?! "Yeah You"

When I consider love from afar, I never expect that someone may be loving me from afar. Last week, at a restaurant next door that my co-workers and I frequent, I got up to go to the restroom. In my absence, a waitress that we’ve come to chat with from time to time asked my 2 friends at the table if I was single.

When they said yes, she grinned, “oh great, my co-worker has been in love with her forever.”

They naturally asked, “well, who is it?”

“He’d kill me if I said anything… and don’t say a word to her!”

Haha, yeah, right… the second I got back they told me, and we immediately perused the room for possible candidates. This didn’t take too long as most were women or gay men. There is one that particularly stood out… I had always thought he had a cute lil’ style… he has a shaved head, goatee, funky black rimmed glasses, and he’s a nice shade of black.

He was our waiter that day… and if you’re in love with some chick, bring on the small talk… but no small talk with him. Just business, “I’m sorry did you want potato salad with that?”

After we left, I started piecing a few things together… suddenly I realized why the girl had come to the take-out line and asked me why I wasn’t dining in… that I should dine in more often. I remember thinking that was a bit odd… but now I know the motive… I also remember, let’s call him “The Brother” (to be PC and all, yeah right… don’t knock it, I love me some brotha’s) looking over the counter with some other waitress – I thought they were looking behind me – picture last scene of sixteen candles when Molly Ringwald looks behind both shoulders and mouths, “me?” Now I think, hey, maybe they were looking at me. Weird.

Anyway, yesterday I went with another friend. He came up to our table and finally made conversation. He said he liked my hair, yeay! Then he brought over some flyers for his band’s next performance, which in this small world, is headlining a show whose opener is the band DV manages (a band of all his best friends). Hmm, how nice would it be to go and tell DV I’m there for the headliners and hangin’ w/ the base player. Hahaha!

Throughout the meal, we joked a bit here and there. When we got our bill, he hadn’t charged for any of the drinks… think he’s my secret admirer??? As we walked out the door, I went up to the waitress and asked if The Brother was single. She said yes with a huge grin on her face.

I guess we’ll see if anything happens. The show’s in Berkeley a couple weekends from now. It’s a bit of trek, so I may not go unless I know I’ll get to kick it w/ The Brother after the show… I’ll keep y’all updated. Right now, I’m enjoying this bit of mystery and flattery!

sooo, this is the length of the hair... it's now bright plum and is actually styled versus this nuisance. to much of my surprise, it's now starting to look relatively decent.... i'll have to send some updated pix... i promise this is it at its worst, so you can maintain a friendship with me, hahaha! :) 

I Don't Think he Wanted to Be an 8inch Pianist

Maybe it’s because I’m the middle child or grew up with a sizeable pooch that I have this insatiable need to cut and dye my hair…. And with this insatiable desire there have come many hair disasters and recoveries. It started at a young age, 12, I think it was… My under-aged step-mom streaked my hair and as easy as it was to convince her to do it, my waist long hair caught on fire when my grandma kicked my ass playing swords with marshmallow sticks – yeah, she backed me into a tiki-torch. Here comes my first short hair-cut, and I actually dug it.

When I was 15, my friend and I decided to go purple, of course not telling our folks so that they couldn’t talk reason into our thick heads. Yet another disaster. With no experience, I not only dyed my hair, but my entire back, shoulders, cheeks, and forehead. This was my grape phase. The recovery was okay… this is where mom and dad as though taking turns to rub their daughter’s back when she’s projectile vomiting, they began taking turns to the hair salon for recovery of Miss Curious’ latest hair disaster.

11 years later, in one week, I went from jet black to yellow to short “merlot” to “funky cherry” to “chilled plum”. The yellow didn’t like taking new colors, so I’m semi-permanent dying the fro every other day.

When I think of my new hair, there are a few images that come to mind:

- Shag Carpet
- Duster
- Cartoon Character
- A True Afro
- Lesbian Biker Chick
- Brigitte Nielsen in her Flava-Flav Days

It’s about 2 inches long (shortest it’s ever been) and sticks straight-up…. Attractive. No. My older sister Naughty Nadia says, “Apes, once you go short, there’s fucking nothing you can’t do!” It certainly makes in an interesting case study on femininity… you don’t realize how much you appreciate your goddamn hair until it’s gone. But, after spending a few days w/ the new grape head, I’m diggin’ it.

So the man walks into a bar... the bartender (part-time Genie) tells him he has 3 wishes... the man asks for a million bucks and instead gets a million ducks... Miss Curious walks into the hair salon and asks for 'man-getting hair' instead the hearing impaired Genie gives her 'wo-man-getting hair'... yeah, that's not what i ordered.
I should have pix of it tomorrow… unfortunately went through the yellow stage sans-photos.

Out Sick

Sorry for the delay... I've been out sick for the past 2 days... give me some catch up time this am, and I'll write soon!
:)