Poor Tricked You

I should feel totally bad about posting Tricked You's every word on this Blog... but really, who the fuck cares... the post below has been our meaningless sarcastic back and forth nothingness that makes me look worse than him... and again, who the fuck cares... Grandpa Frank wouldn't. But anyway, this banter leads to one road -- an interesting blog post.

Miss Curious: (this was my trick)

hey lynz, check out this guy's profile... he uses my favorite word RAD... and says he's awesome (oh wait, that means he probably isn't?)... you could cajole him into dinner and when he says he takes tae kwon do, you can ask him about karate all night... "let's get back to karate..." girl, stop beatin' around the bush and get yo'self a date already :) hahaha. let me know what you think.

Tricked You:

I think it's cute that you tried to forward me to your friend but accidentally emailed me instead. That means we should fuck. (most people would be turned off that he immediately brought “fuck” into the equation… I love it… previous emails did not disclose his use of “fuck”… but there it is… verbatim)

No, it's ok. I'm already smacking my knuckles with a ruler.

Miss Curious (pretending like I didn’t totally trick him):

i never cease to amaze myself with how fucking brilliant i am.... if smacking your knuckles with a ruler satisfies you just as much as fucking a chick, then you've certainly been missing out. and hm... i'm not sure that you could keep up with me anyway... i'm a little terror. question -- what does that ruler tell you about your size? hahaha! and how many women have measured it? :) when you're not karate chopping your friends, what do you do with yourself?

Tricked You:

The ruler tells me 2 inches. ...of THUNDER!!!! (seriously though, when guys start talking about how small their dicks are, it usually means their dick is small... the humor / jokes / blah - blah -blah is their little defense mechanism they developed because of small-cock insecurities)

Miss Curious:

wow, you really are awesome! are you one of those guys who names his "thunder" and has conversations with it on the bus?

Tricked You:

Yes, I named it "Spike." I don't take the bus. That's for homeless people and retards. Oh, uhh, you don't take the bus do you? When you say you're a "little terror," what does that mean exactly?

Miss Curious:

"spike" - oooh aaah, enticing... i'm sure girls want to just sit right on that.

i was waiting for the bus this one afternoon, and saw this guy with a grungy little shirt and cute old skool shoes... he then approached these girls in front of me, and i thought - hm, he's totally hitting on those chicks.... i put my music on pause, so i could hear what he was saying --- oh, he's asking them for change.

moral of the story - i hate when i check out homeless people. so to answer your question, yes, i do take the bus, and i'm not homeless (just think they're way hot, apparently); therefore, i must fall into theeee "retarded" category.

by "little terror" i mean a lot things... i typically eat men alive - in every sense of the word.... i'm not just a person - i'm a totally RAD experience... no one's ever been the same after they meet me because i'm just such a fucking rockstar.... you can't help but love me -- (another "in every sense of the word") (PLEASE RE-READ THIS PARAGRAPH AND INSERT HEAVY SARCASTIC TONE)

you may be AWESOME, but i'm like, SUPER AWESOME... i don't know dude, i was just born that way... you know, GREAT.

Tricked You:

Listen, you can't just one-up me by adding a "super" in front of my title and claiming it as your own. Everyone knows that I really am the best person on MySpace. Everyone. Granted, it sounds like you can *maybe* ride a 2-inch DONG better than I can but that doesn't make you the best person on MySpace. On the other hand, *having* a 2-inch dong that can make the night sky light up as if it were day is another story.

Remember this.

By the way, don't worry about checking out the homeless dude. It happens all the time with gals too. There's a fine line between "skinny punk chick" hot and "I fuck anyone who will give me crack" hot. A FINE line.

Miss Curious:

strange, i can't remember when a 2-inch dong was something to brag about - even if it lights up the night sky... i suppose when you don't really have anything else to earn the AWESOME title, it's all you can hold onto (well, with your pinky at most).

and "super" is just a word, my friend, just a word... i live SUPER AWESOME... i embody SUPER AWESOME... i just am simply - perfectly SUPER AWESOME. you're almost holding your own w/ me... not too shabby. what does JP stand for?

work is so slow right now - i should google 'whether anyone has truly died of boredom'... that's why my messages to you are getting longer and longer :).... preventative measures... ensure i don't die during the holidays because work has come to a complete stop.

NO FUCKING ANSWER!?!?! OKAY, WELL, IT WAS THANKSGIVING. I DID EMAIL HIM AGAIN. EARLY MONDAY MORNING.

Miss Curious:

are you suddenly intimidated by my super-ness? :) do anything fun and exciting for tanx-giving?

Tricked You:

Thanksgiving was the bestest. I got together with 7 other transplant friends and started drinking at 7am! Not really 7 but it was pretty early. Had a great dinner and then went for some karaoke. I was the best performer of course.

And you?

THE END.

So this is where we've left off... this doesn't seem to be leading to anything... and that's actually what I want right now (per yesterday's post - and consistency in thoughts today as well)

I'm a Quitter Baby, So Why Don't You Kill Me?

I've decided to resign from the quest for a second date before the New Year. Although I have all this time at work to surf MySpace for potential dates, none of them excite me... nor do I really feel like putting myself out there. One has to be ready for that kinda' thing.

I really just like being alone right now. Sure I have my moments of "loneliness creeping in," but there's just something comforting in such feelings. Right now, I have complete control over my moods... I'm not waiting by the phone or playing guessing games or going psycho or a million other things. I'm just Miss Curious doing her little Miss Curious things. I'm enjoying my cozy covers and queen bed that I don't have to share with anyone... I don't have to roll over and think "fuck you for being able to fall asleep when I totally can't."

There you have it... my declaration to the world of the Blog... I am resigning from the deal - no more dates for me... not until it feels natural and like there's no pressure (i put solely upon my own dumbass self)... yup, not until then. Sorry that I'm such a quitter. Quitting just something I do. I have to be consistent with my Quitting behavior... I wouldn't want to disappoint and actually follow through with something I say I'm going to do.... what's the fun in that?

Tricked Me!

Thanksgiving. Busy. Grandpa Frank was on his best behavior... didn't tell my sister, "where've you been eating? the dining hall?... don't worry, you'll lose that baby fat." My younger sister is a size 5 and 5 ft 5 inches. Whatever Grandpa Frank.

MySpace: FuckSpace: HateSpace:

So, Tricked You hasn't emailed back. We had our entertaining little banter... my last email to him addressed whatever questions he'd had, and now he totally hasn't replied. That was last Tuesday. Granted, the holidays naturally would delay a response. I mean my last login was Wednesday. But, he's read my reply (for those of you who don't know - MySpace allows you to see whether your email has been read).... and he still hasn't sent me another message.

Now I feel like a complete dork. So nothing new really. But I'm starting to think I might not get that second date in before the end of the year. I've perused MySpace a few times and haven't really found anyone worth emailing. The only two were MySpace Guy that turned into No Second Date Guy and Tricked You... but anyway...

GreenEyes is totally kicking my ass in the dating department. Saturday night we went out with a group of oh, like 8 guys and they just love them some GreenEyes... she scored a potential date on that one... and then, she had Match.com date last night. Basically, she's got 2 dates in the bag. Fuck-fuck-fuck.

Well, I'm a little unconventional, shall we say? I'm not for everyone. Or a lotta' people, really. Well, shit. Okay-okay-okay, I'll email one more guy and give that a try... but if no luck, then it wasn't because I didn't totally try, right? I mean, I've tried.

Uh. Ughl. Err. Argh!

Real Estate Exam:

I can tell you what I didn't do over the holiday -- Study for my test that's this Wednesday. I totally dropped the ball. Practice test, right? Yeah, totally. It's one of those exams that people take a semester course on or at least a crash course... but dumbass Miss Curious realizes that she's completely forgotten how to study and has no motivation and is basically dead meat. On her pre-pretend-study practice test, she got a 56%. That means F. A good solid F. I know that this is one of those tests that's impossible to pass if you haven't studied, but fuck. But fuck... butt fuck? Ahh, the life of my new found loser. :)

Trent Reznor please come and get me!

"Let's Just Eat" - Grandpa Frank

I'm off to SoCal today for some rapid turkey chub on my stomach and pumpkin pie on my ass... ready for whatever my Grandpa's Thanksgiving "prayer" is going to be this year... it's usually something to the effect of, "who gives a shit about jesus, let's just eat." That's my Grandpa! Yup, Grandpa Frank who says the news should tell us, "[So and so] deserved to die... he was a big fat loser..." he thinks the, "Poor dead person who was a straight A student" bit, was probably exaggerated and lame. I love him! :).... and yes, he does use the word "shit" and "jesus" in the same sentence.

I'm back on Saturday early afternoon. Why so early? Because The Brother's birthday is that day, and I decided to come back to celebrate with him... but now, we're Splits-O, and I'll be back only thinking about the romantic day that we could have had. This again, proves my point of NEVER writing a person you're dating's birthday on your calendar. It fucking sucks. I know I could still spend his birthday with him. I know he still has feelings for me. I certainly have friendship feelings for him, but we've just got to move forward. But blah. I wish I could stay in SoCal for longer... did I already say Blah?

MySpace Update:

Nothing new with Tricked You. He hasn't replied to my last email, which sucks because I always want the other person to be waiting for MY email... argh... I hate when the tables are turned. Anyway, I suppose I'll drop him a line next week. I'm not sure what I really expect... I'd be happy with a quick date for drinks just to fulfill my 2nd MySpace date for the year... or marriage and 3 adopted kids from Africa could be cool too. Hm. There's just this weirdness of MySpace dating... I know gazillions of people do it, and I've done it in the past... but does it reflect some desperation for a date? 'Cuz really I just think this is something fun/funny to do. And really, I just like the thrill of not knowing what could happen. And I like the idea of things. Once they're real, I don't like them so much anymore.

But anyway, classic Miss Curious, overanalyzing!

I'm out until next Monday the 28th! I hope everyone gains 50 pounds and only rolls their eyes at family members twice.

Bleh!

Living Situation Update:

My neighbors are getting evicted.... the couple in the studio next door... you know, the ones who play RAP super fucking late at night. Apparently, I wasn't the only person who had a problem with them. I complained once, but the other tenants signed a petition to have them evicted. I feel kinda bad. I don't think it's an easy thing for anyone to have to experience.... even if they were warned several times and still didn't comply... yes, I still feel bad.

MySpace Update:

Tricked You and I have continued to exchange playful emails... we have yet to deviate from the 'homeless people' subject... we've discussed how there indeed have been occasions where we've both unknowingly checked out homeless people... that kinda' thing brings people together... it's a strong common bond. I still can't tell if this will ever take a serious turn and result in us meeting for drinks... we both can have extensive sarcastic who's more awesome than who conversations for a very - very long time. I suppose I'm waiting for him to initiate the date. Hm, we shall see... maybe something - maybe nothing.

Miss Curious Life Update:

The loneliness thing is creeping up on me a bit. I go home, procrastinate studying for my Real Estate exam, drink Diet 7-Up, and listen to my IPod. Sure I have long term goals, but most of them are too far in the future to really get excited about. My job's fine, my social life is fine... I have every opportunity a person could ever want, and I just feel fine... okay... never too excited... feel like it's the same thing day after day... and that everyday is my life... and my life can never live up to what I thought it was going to be because all my expectations had been unrealistic... and finding out they were unrealistic was a shitty blow. Yes, everything seems the same... everyday exactly the same as the day before... 9 to 5, living for weekends... but only wanting to unwind and rest from the work week... so what? so what the fuck? and I have no reason to complain because I have so fucking much... I have SO MUCH.... but yet, I have this complete loneliness and uncertainty... and I thought everything would have purpose... and no one can tell me the meaning of life... and i need to know it.... and "everyone makes her own meaning" and "love makes the world go 'round" and "children" just don't work for me... argh! And I'm so silly... I know this... but when i'm lying on my bed staring at the light fixture above and i hear cars go by and KOIT, I just don't know what I'm doing. I just don't know why I'm here or any of us are... and I'm sooo jealous of the people who have these answers... and I've tried religion and self-help and buddhism and this and that... but i'm still here... thinking these thoughts... and feeling completely alone. blah!

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet,
trying to find some money then you die...

- Bittersweet Symphony, The Verve

Somewhere someone must know the ending

- Space Dog, Tori Amos

Happiness Coming and going...
But how many corners do I have to turn?
How many times do I have to learn,
All the love I have is in my mind?

- Lucky Man, The Verve

Sometimes I Love Myself

I want a lead singer… More like, that’s what I think I want. This is the reason I’ll be single forever. After going to Nine Inch Nails this weekend (for free ‘cuz sometimes I’m a person who knows people… but most of the time I’m not, hahaha), I once again fell in love with Trent Reznor. And there he is with this unbelievable presence… and every girl in the room wants him and every guy wants to be him… and who the fuck is the girl that gets to fuck him every night? Who the fuck is she? And why isn’t she me?

And I stood there in awe of him, wanting him so badly like some teeny-bopper obsessed fan and realized how I could never be satisfied unless I conquered someone like Trent Reznor. But I know if I had him, my life would be following him around… he’d be like every musician I’ve ever dated where they’re so fucking important, blah blah blah. And although I can say that aloud, I still want him – I want the lead singer – I can’t get the idea of anything less than a lead singer is a waste of time out of my head. And sooo, I’ll always want what’s not best for me… and whenever I have something else, I’ll always be looking over his shoulder for Trent Reznor.

Small World:

On my way home from the show... thousands of people took BART home... and who do I run into?? DV, naturally. We sat together and chatted... he of course was his usual condescending self... I said something to the effect of "there's no better feeling in the world than feeling [this and that] at a live show."... he replies with some, "well duh, everybody feels that." Of course... but whatever... i just rolled my eyes... we got off at the same BART stop, and he lingered to see if I'd invite him over for a fuck... i thought about it for a minute... then thought, Um No - 'cuz he'd want to spend the night.... and wow, i'm like some guy who just wants sex and then his bed to himself... no cuddling... no funny business... just straight sex.

MySpace Update:

I read this guys profile, let’s call him Tricked You (you’ll see why soon). But anyway, I thought he was fucking hilarious… he kept saying how RAD and AWESOME he was… and I love arrogance and the use of RAD. I started to forward him to Green Eyes to see what she thought… amidst writing her a quick note on the forward, I realized that I hadn’t clicked forward, but was writing him an email. I was thankful that I had caught my mistake, but then I thought about it a little more… and I decided to send him the message:

hey [GREEEN EYES],

check out this guy's profile... he uses my favorite word RAD... and says he's awesome (oh wait, that means he probably isn't?)... you could cajole him into dinner and when he says he takes tae kwon do, you can ask him about karate all night... "let's get back to karate..." girl, stop beatin' around the bush and get yo'self a date already :) hahaha. let me know what you think.

He fell for my brilliant ploy:

I think it's cute that you tried to forward me to your friend but accidentally emailed me instead… (he continues... blah blah blah) - [Tricked You] (the perfect name as i clearly tricked him for those of you that don't catch on quickly, hahaha)

And so our conversation has begun. It’s more of a playful banter right now… discussing homeless people and retards… the usual. We’ll see if it amounts to anything, but I can certainly tell he’s no shy guy.

Womanhood.

Back from the land of the dead…

The period. It can go fuck itself. Yesterday I could feel that disgusting wetness in between my chubba thighs. As always, it was a surprise, so I was unprepared. Luckily, my co-worker still has her 2nd drawer stash. I glanced up to be sure no one was looking, and I stuffed it in my pocket.

When I got to the bathroom, I hadn’t even realized that I’d taken a boat; a P.Diddy sized Yacht of an Always Pad With Wings. I looked at the yacht and looked at my G-STRING!?? Putting that pad on a the G-String was pretty much as funny as me even trying to wear a G-String… thinking that my fat-ass somehow looked better with its chub oozing over the sides?

But anway… I had no choice… and I suffered with the excess sticky attaching itself to my pants all night. Yup, discreetly trying to peel the pad off my pants. So fucking fun. Um, no.

I hate periods. I know I’ve mentioned this oh, like once a month. When I first got it, I couldn’t wait to get pregnant just so I could go 9 months without it. But anyway, now that I’ve smartened up and realize pregnancy’s like death… I’m just waiting for Menopause.

Let’s address the “Shy Guy” point J-Do made in one of her comments Post-MySpace Date:

I agree. In the past I indeed have dated many shy guys. However, in the end, their shy behavior became an issue for me. Yes, I do like having space in a relationship and having things that are just mine… but I want a partner in every sense of the word. My shy guys would be difficult if I asked them to go to functions… they always nixed the Christmas parties, friends’ birthdays, housewarmings… pretty much any function that involved another person aside from the two of us. I was queen-solo... no one ever really knew I had a boyfriend... haha.

I want someone who’s comfortable around my bosses and parents and old people… and is excited to meet my friends… someone where my friends are like, “oh yeah, he’s soo for Miss Curious.”

And sure I’m probably really picky, but I’ve found things that work and things that don’t… and sure the other day Peace Corps L. reminded me of her, oh like, 3 qualities she wanted in a man and how my qualities were oh like, 3 pages long… literally.

I’ve said this before though… chemistry is huge… someone smarter than me is huger (with words like huger, he doesn’t have to be that smart!)… and a hundred things can be compromised… and I just hope that I’ll know him when I see him… and if I am to be alone forever because I wanted it all, then so be it, right?

Speaking of the “Smarter” thing… Red Hot Thighs (my High School carpool buddy – she can confirm that I’ve always been insane) and I read this article on feminism in our day… some interesting points:

1. Women now want all equality in the workforce and in every aspect essentially, BUT we still want men to pay for our dinners and open our doors. If he doesn’t pay, we’ll hold it against him.

2. Men, perhaps not consciously, choose women that aren’t as intelligent as they are. You often find men marrying their secretaries or subordinates much more frequently than you find women marrying their subordinates.

3. Red Hot Thighs & Miss Curious will NOT marry a man that they are smarter than. I’ve dated one man smarter than me… that’s why he’s not with me anymore (just kidding… but he was smarter than me… That’s Houseboy for those of you who know him.)

4. A death sentence for a woman at a bar is, “I’m going to Harvard Business School.” (Women from Harvard were actually quoted saying this... several of them).

5. The best way to have chicks flock to a man at bar is, “I’m going to Harvard Business School.”

Personally, I want to have all the rights of a man and to not be discriminated against when I get my car fixed (yeah, ladies ban Pep Boys – I should’ve known by the name)…. AND I do, indeed, want my dinners paid for and shoulders rubbed… and diet coke runs while I lie in bed in the middle of night. I want it all.

And, I will NOT marry a man who isn’t smarter than me… again, not like that’s hard, but oddly, there haven’t been that many… hahahha!

Oh man, I have to start working on that second date!!!

Sorry...

I've been out sick for the past 2 days. I'll post soon! And, if anyone hears of quiet / safe (in city terms) studios or cool roommate situation for approx 900-950 (the roommate thing would be less, like 800), let me know!

thanks!

RED EYES

Soon I’ll have to change the color of my eyes on my driver’s license to Red. As I close my eyes to relieve them, I recall my weekend, and how I could possibly get back to where it started. I hate Mondays.

FRIDAY:

It was one of those holidays that most 20 something’s know nothing about, but we’re only happy that we get off work early. Being a movie addict, I couldn’t resist the opening of Derailed. Part of me wishes that I had resisted. It had some entertaining twists and turns, but rent this one. After that, my wife Midge and I caught Chicken Little. Thumbs up to that. And yeay, the studio next door was fucking quiet… excellent!

SATURDAY:

My weakness took the best of me, and I called The Brother. “Let’s put the past behind us and pretend like we’re adults… and we can just be friends.” I then asked if we could meet up Sunday for brunch. He agreed. Later that evening, Red Hot Thighs and I took in some wine and Laguna Beach re-runs.

Since I love guns (um, no), the bus ride home was particularly enjoyable. It was midnight and on one hand alone, I could count the number of people riding on the bus. As we cross Market onto 18th Street, the bus suddenly stops. Cop cars surrounded the area. Some guy a few seats ahead said, “oh my god, that’s an automatic rifle,” and the pussy ducked down in his seat. Of course, the lesbian at the front of the bus, was like, “oh cool.”

My mind flashed back to La Sassy’s bus ride when she heard gunshots… everyone on her bus suddenly got nervous… the bus stopped anyway… and the ill-fated sound began, “beep-beep-beep,” the bus lowered to let some old lady with her walker get on. LaSassy’s mind, “keep going – don’t stop the bus – that old lady’s on death’s door anyway – save the rest of us.” (well, something like that, hahaha!)

But anway, I saw the green lights flash on and the bus doors open. Us passengers eagerly awaited this motherfucker to get on the bus… and low and behold it was a cop with his automatic rifle. He got on, scanned the bus, and gave us the okay to move ahead.

As we kept on down the street, we passed more and more cops with their flashlights, looking under cars and in dark alleys. A manhunt. To this day, I still have no idea what that was about. Hahhaa. Anti-climactic end, eh?

SUNDAY:

Brunch with The Brother. We ate, we laughed, and went our separate ways. There was nothing awkward. It was just like old times. He again apologized for the 2 hour deal and said he was really happy I’d called. I’m sure we’ll hang out again, but I know where I stand and I’m not vulnerable for much hurt, right now.

Later that night… Although the studio directly next to mine has blessed me with their quietness… the KOIT Bandits have more than made up for the Studio’s absence. Please be reminded that the KOIT White Trash Bandits have been a thorn in my side for almost 2 months. Late night music 3:30 – 5:30 am… now all times of the night and morning. Never during the day. So, shortly I plan to go to the Mission Police Station to discuss my options… My fire-escape is directly linked to the KOIT Bandits who live in the next building. One of the members last night chose to make the following comments at 1:30 am… then 5 am… then 7 am:

“You fucking bitch… get ready for a date with a bullet.”
“I know your habits, I know where you work, I know your family… we’re going to come down hard on you.”
“Don’t mess with the Cartel.”
(the date with a bullet was used last month to a neighbor who told them to shut up… I don’t know who the Bitch is, but I’m sure every woman on the block thinks it’s her… even me.)

“It’s 7 am bitch. Wake up. That’s right. Get ready to be Gang Raped.”
“I’m part of the Aryan skinheads. We’re gonna pass you around Bitch.”

And on and on and on.

Needless to say, I slept with my phone attached to my hand. My chest was tight all night. I couldn’t call the police because the second I pointed out the problem, the problem would be looking straight at me… and then I’d really be that Bitch.

I don’t scare easily… but I was fucking scared all night. Tonight, I will not be sleeping at my house. I don’t care to sleep there any-fucking-more. So what, I’m going to have to move AGAIN!?!?! What the fuck?!?!?! I mean, really. This KOIT shit has been going on too long… and clearly these ARE NOT people that can be spoken to rationally.

These days I’m starting to hate the city.

“All the animals come out at night - whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets…. Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up.”

-Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver

Threesomes Are The Way To Go!

When men shake hands, they pseudo-nonchalantly check out a woman’s chest. When Miss Curious shakes a man’s hand, she nonchalantly checks out his shoes. Last night with MySpace Guy, I checked out his shoes and knew that he’d have to have a winning personality to overcome them.

He didn’t really look like his photo, but nor did I. Once we acclimated to the other person’s demeanor, me, Green Eyes, and MySpace Guy all proceeded to chow down on some Indian food. I was more than thankful Green Eyes was there because he was a bit quiet. At the end of dinner, I looked down to see that my entire bowl was still full. Clearly, I’d been talking the whole time.

He wasn’t very engaging. Green Eyes and I asked most of the questions. He was always receptive, but there were moments of silence until she or I would ask something new.

He laughed at most of my jokes, which I of course loved. It could be that he’s a wake n’ baker / stoner / toker, and to him, everything’s funny… but I’d like to think it was me. Surprisingly we all enjoyed the conversation enough to carry it over to Delirium for a drink. MySpace Guy kindly bought his 2 dates drinks, which was sweet. Did I want to throw him down and fuck the shit out of him? Nope. And that’s a question one has to ask on a first date. Maybe not the “fuck the shit” out of a person, but “can I picture this guy sucking my tits?” If the answer is indeed “no,” then hm, forgo the second date???

And yeah, he and I had a lot in common... as I'd known from his profile and as was evident from our conversation... connecting with someone, however, isn't necessarily having so much in common, but rather having a chemistry and a desire to overcome differences and to explore one another... to be open to one another... and you never know who he's going to be. He could have bad shoes. He could be anyone. But...

Ultimately, the answer is:

d) He’s cool, and we have some drinks, but we all go our separate ways

Unfortunately, it’s all a bit anticlimactic. But that’s one down, one to go. I’ll start searching for the next victim now! and by the way... everyone should do the Threesome Date... so much less pressure, ahh.

The Brother:

And then when i got home to my empty studio, all i wanted to do was call The Brother. And it's not necessarily him, but more the comfort of me wrapped in his warm hooded 'juice' sweatshirt. I just wanted to sink into it and say that i'd never have to date again...

Living Situation:

First off, thanks for the numbers and support… you’re all my favorite word, RAD. Yesterday evening, I took my letter of complaint (please note that it’s the first ever in 6 years of city living) to my landlord. I went into his store and handed the husband the letter. The wife comes out and tells me to hang on a minute.

“Miss Curious… have you had any noise issues with your neighbors? I hear they’re loud?”

“Oh yes, actually, that’s what the letter is about.”

“I knew it… I told them not to have late night visitors and if a couple’s moving in there to be conscious of their noise… I told them all of this before they even moved in.”

Later that evening, the husband landlord called me… he gave me his cell number and told me to call at anytime, in the middle of the night, whenever, and he’ll take care of it. He told me that he’d worry about it for me.

So YEAY… I can’t believe they were so receptive. I felt entirely too nervous about complaining. I don’t want to be difficult, ya know!?!?!

SUCH A FUSS!

If I hadn’t been left waiting on the corner of 16th and Valencia on Sunday night, this story would have already been over. But instead I waited there with my phone attached to my ear, so no one would notice how humiliated I felt… and then on Monday, to find that email of MySpace Guy canceling our date and trying to reschedule. I didn’t want to reschedule. I wanted to hold the miscommunication against him. He didn’t hear the “runaround” I was giving him. Instead, he’s agreed to my terms.

And now, after waiting for his email replies and preemptively believing he would again cancel, he has confirmed his attendance to the Threesome Date for this evening.

Little does MySpace Guy know that he’s been ripped to shreds on my blog. Little does he know that by an overwhelming majority, my blog readers have all voted against giving him a second chance. In one email he described the MySpace Dating/Date:

"just a nice conversation and some drinks. no
expectations, no pressure, just meeting new people. i don't really
know why people make such a fuss over it."

“Such a fuss”!?!?!?! Hahaha. The entire thing, I’ve made into “Such a Fuss”… if he only knew. But tomorrow, all this Fuss will be gone. Then on to the final MySpace Date for the year. Yes, then on to the next Fuss, the next topic for blogging. The next topic to occupy my mind for just a moment in time!

The Brother:

I’m surprisingly not as devastated as I thought I’d be, but still I think about him every night before I go to sleep. I think about calling him just to hear the sound of his deep voice and to hear what he’d say when no one replied back… and I wish we were back in the days pre-caller ID. I tell myself just to go to sleep… just go to sleep… and just go to sleep brings us to “My Living Situation,” which was so bad last night that I didn’t just go to sleep… I did dial his number, and I was lucky that it went straight into voicemail, so he’d never see that I’d called………..

My Living Situation: aka HELL

I hate it. There hasn’t been anyone living in the studio next door to me since I moved in, but now the fairytale has come crashing down. The building was once a Spanish style single family residence. The studio next door and mine seemed to have been a grand room at one point. It still feels like one room. A young couple moved in next door, and I don’t mean “young couple” in the “oh how sweet” sense. I mean two punk kids who try and talk over one another. They also have their little hat backwards punk friends over every fucking week night. They drink their forties outside my window and talk about stupid shit. I can hear everything. They blast rap. It’s like walking around my room on one of those ‘Footsie Mootsies’ from County Fairs to massage your feet at the end of the day.

Thus far, I’ve banged on their door twice and pulled back the curtains to give them the stare down on the fire escape once. I’m talking 2 in the morning on Monday and Wednesday nights (ended at 2 am only because I asked them to stop)… those Stupid Mother Fuckers. The KOIT Bandits are small potatoes compared to these guys. Needless to say, I dread going home. I lie in bed writhing. I think homicidal thoughts.

Today I’m going to hand deliver a letter of complaint to my landlord… who knows what good that’ll do, but I’ll start calling the cops afterwards… it’s just excessive noise. In all my days of city living, I’ve never had any neighbors so consistently loud, EVER! I don’t mind weeknight noise until 11-11:30… holidays and weekends, no worries, but fuck… 2 am?!!? 4 weeknights in a week and a half?!?!? Question: if you don’t call 911 for noise complaints, who does one call?

Highlights For Tomorrow:

Recap of the MySpace Guy Threesome Date!

MySpace Guy Can Just Go Fuck the Homeless

Where do homeless people have sex? I hadn't thought about this subject intensely until this morning. While I was waiting for the bus, a homeless man, barely able to bend down, picked up his red packaged condom. My first thought, "what the fuck does he need a condom for?" Second thought, "wow, I'm mean... God will punish me, and I'll never have sex again."

This guy at work once told me about a homeless couple banging in some doorway. For a split second, I pictured it in my head. I hate when that happens. Right this minute, all of you picture: smelly grandma underwear wrapped around her ankles with a dirty ass pumping away in between her legs. Gross, huh?

But anyway, I understand most homeless are drunk or high or talk to themselves or karate-chop flying newspaper for hours... but the other ones... on their way to drunk... where do they fuck? I live in HomelessVille, and I have yet to see fucking... pissing, shitting, barfing, scoring, hooking, etc... but nope, no straight up humping!

Update on the Threesome Date:

Okay, okay, okay... MySpace date has disappear-o'd... WHAT THE FUCK?!?! He's sooo out!!! His last email, Tuesday at 11 am asked where and when on Thursday... I gave him the details and asked that he email me back to confirm the timing and such was all good... but what?!?! NO EMAIL BACK... it's not like I was all into this anyway!!!!

GREENEYES - it may just be you and me kid :)... which is even better! Hahaha!

Tonight:

I'm going to check out a Fiction Writing Group... I asked if I could just listen in and get an idea of what it was about... I'm crossing my fingers that's it's bad-ass... despite my Non-Fiction blog, my true love is the unreal - the fantasy (hahaha) - just imagine the shit Miss Curious can come up with! hahaha!

Aw man, so I was sitting here writing all about me giving MySpace Guy the runaround because the only time I suggested getting together was Thursday, but he’d have to meet a friend (Green Eyes) AND me. I thought there was no way in HELL he’d agree… But what does he do?!?! He AGREED!!!! Fuck me! Shit! Oh well, at least Green Eyes got herself into my boat w/ me, hahaha… and actually, that is one plus for him… doesn’t shy away from group scenarios.

Possible Outcomes:

a) He’s completely lame, but I still have a nice dinner and a good laugh with cohort Green Eyes
b) He’s totally awesome, and I can’t wait for us to go out again
c) He’s totally awesome, but a better match for Green Eyes, and I get to watch them feed each other Chicken Tiki Masala
d) He’s cool, and we have some drinks, but we all go our separate ways

So the triple date is this Thursday at 7:30 pm, so if I call any of you during that time, KNOW that it’s BAD.

If anything... I guess it’s something to Blog about, right? Hahaha!

Don't Fuck with MySpace

Part of me felt relieved. Part of me felt humiliated. The MySpace date never showed up. Walking to the bar, I scanned the nearby sidewalks hoping to catch a glimpse of this mystery man or to see if he was doing the same. I walked into the bar. It was empty. He wasn’t late yet, so I got a vodka tonic and hid in the corner. I perked up at every person who walked in hopes that it were him and this nervous anticipation would end. But he never came. I went to the film screening anyway, but I sat there amidst a sold out audience feeling like such a fool.

And then I wondered why I had been in such a rush to start dating. And I remembered how many times I’ve felt like a fool and how many times I’ve probably made others feel like a fool. And I remembered waiting two hours for The Brother the week before and how silly I felt then. And how I watched Bridget Jones this weekend, and she didn’t need guys, “to make [her] feel like a complete idiot…. [she] already feels like an idiot most of the time anyway.”

So this morning I came into the office and decided that I would write a curt-unpsycho email to say that I hadn’t appreciated his actions and that there were so many other ways he could have gotten out of the date if he’d wanted to. He had my number, and I didn’t have his.

Last week he asked when I could grab drinks… I mentioned the documentary on Sunday and that I was available Tuesday or Thursday of this week. He then asked if he could join me on Sunday as his friend was coming into town on Monday & Tuesday.

Waiting in my In-Box as of Saturday early afternoon was an email from him. His friend was coming into town on Sunday evening instead of Monday. He asked if I was still available on Thursday because he’d like to go out then.

I’m not mature enough to let this miscommunication go, so I emailed him back and said that I’d just made plans for Thursday. I didn’t suggest another time. I didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t or don’t want an email back, and I think my tone suggested so. I just took last night as a sign from our Fucked the Fuck Up’d God that this was just not going to happen. It was a reminder to chill the Fuck out.

And to my fellow circle of women who’ll be going on 2 dates before the end of the year. That was one down – one to go for Miss Curious… because ‘sorta’ getting stood up was still putting myself out on the line. That's that.

NEW NEWS:

I POSTED THE ABOVE A LITTLE WHILE AGO... SINCE THEN, HE SENT ME THE EMAIL BELOW... I'M STILL VERY HESITANT TO GO... AND, HE GOT STOOD UP? THAT PROBABLY MEANS HE DOES THIS THING A LOT AND IS DESPERATE... I MEAN, I'M A VIRGIN AT THIS!!! WHAT SHOULD I DO?!?! SAY YES - NO?


i'm so sorry. i hadn't heard back from you, so i was wondering if
you had gotten my email. i actually got stood up last week. so, i
know how you feel, for real.
my friend is in town until tomorrow, so after that i'm fairly open.
sorry about that last night. i hope the movie was good. let me know
when is good for you...
-jon

Home Improvement

I guess you could say I’m the Tim Allen of Home Improvement in the world of Beauty Improvement. I have all these grand ideas filled with enthusiasm, but yet every time, something manages to go horribly wrong.

Although I love getting those brazilian bikini waxes just for me, the cost becomes less of a priority when you’re not fucking anyone. In hopes of doing just that (fuckind someone), I rummaged through my drawer to find ‘Easy Sweet’ wax that my favorite person from Egypt had hand delivered a while back. I heated it up and spread the legs. The wax was a little to warm, so I thought it’d be a great idea to just spread a bunch all over my kooch and wait for it to cool before ripping.

Before I knew it, my arm was stuck to my thigh, my left hand was waxed shut, and my ass was sticking the floor. I then decide to get a tissue to remove some of the wax off my hands. Bad idea. Now wax and tissue were stuck to each finger. Luckily, I got some sense and remembered cold water could work.

In the end, I did remove some of the hair and trimmed a ton more where I couldn’t wash off the wax. Of course, however, I had images of DV’s face or cock getting stuck to my labias… assuming something might happen.

Let’s jump to DV now, shall we… sooo, there was never any guarantee of the genitals making an appearance last night… just hopes. He arrives, wine in tow… we do the customary ‘how are you’s’… still the outcome not clear. We continue to imbibe. I put in a personal favorite, ‘Coming to America’ hoping that “Sexual Chocolate” will set the mood.

The sorta-watching-the-movie-noticing-the-other-person’s-every-move is the best part…. As is my mind thinking... ‘It’s likely that we’ll fuck… now let me imagine how us two clothed people will become unclothed, will begin licking each other’s genitals, and then proceed to slam our genitalia together.’

While adjusting, his arm plopped down on my stomach. The back of his fingers slowly began caressing the place where my shirt ends and my shorts begin (this so reads like an airport romance novel – sorry!)… his moves are meticulous. I comment on the movie as though I hadn't noticed his hand sliding down my pants… I adjust slightly to give him the okay… and away he went.

And I had this “Pretty Woman” moment, where I didn’t want to kiss him… where I just wanted to have sex…. But there was kissing, minimal kissing… I avoided his stale wine and camel light breath as much as I could.

And I came. I came in his mouth. And it was nice. Just nice. He fucked well as usual… but this time, when he pulled my hair, it hurt. And I had this moment of clarity where I realized how sex just isn’t that great unless you care about the person…. he can be amazing at his craft, but if the emotions aren’t there, it falls short of GREATNESS.

To conclude, the evening went well. My vulva’s at peace. And sure there are probably a million psychological reasons why I did what I did, but frankly who gives a fuck… I did it… it was lovely… and now I know that sex really isn’t that important…. Sure it plays a part… but truly the best sex is with someone who makes your heart go pitter-patter.

NEW NEWS: The other day I spoke to some friends who were doing all that online dating shtuff… they had dates like, 4 fucking dates a week… and then, I thought about KriKri who’s hanging out with a MySpace dude. Sooo, as work is a bit slow, I took, oh a quick peek at MySpace boys. And there was this one… not the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, but cute… and what he said was beautiful…. I thought, what the hell, I might as well say hello. I did. He said hello back. And now we’re going on a date this weekend. It could be cool or it could totally suck. A big wait and seeeeeeeeee. (Green Eyes, your turn!)

Sick Fucked Up Ways of Getting Over an Ex! --well, and I'm just horny (PMS?)

I just did something BAD BAD BAD. But BAD feels so good sometimes. Since I haven’t been fucked in ages (with The Brother having too many other things on his mind), I just emailed DV. He’s just such a good fuck. I mean a really great fuck. I mean probably the best fuck ever. The best cock ever or close to it. I just love him pulling my hair and banging away.

Anyway, we’ve just exchanged a few emails and discussed getting together soon for a bottle or two of wine. There’s no guarantee if fornicating will occur, but I do know he’s single. I do know he loves to fuck me. And we all know that drinking incites my desire for fucking and throws me into a manic state where I can come on to anyone.

So, the ‘get together’ is in the works. And as I always say after a break-up, one needs a good banging to consummate the end of the last relationship.

BREAKING NEWS!… we’re getting together tonight! Holy fuck! Suddenly is kinda’ frightening! Well, sex is NOT a guarantee. If either of us isn’t into it, it’s no worries… yes, that’s right… we’ll just go w/ the flow…. Yes, okay… right.

Are All Endings Drawn Out Like This?

I already deleted his number from my phone. This ritual is imperative for a true break-up, particularly when it comes to Miss Curious… I mean you’ve all read stories of the “Opprobrious Drunk Dial.” (Interestingly enough the inspiration for my blog - yes, my very first post http://lilmisscurious.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_lilmisscurious_archive.html you'll most likely have to cut and paste the url) The frequency of such calls does not dissipate with age. Because of this, the ex-BF's number must be eradicated.

So, last night when a number popped up on my cell phone, The Brother’s name didn’t appear, and my idiocy didn’t recognize the number (honestly).

With the uncertain awkward grimace pasted on my face, I flipped open my phone, “Hello,” I asked with a question mark.

“Hey Miss Curious, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but there are just a few things I want to say, so you aren’t left with my actions of the other night lingering in your head.”

“Okay.”

“Well, again, I want to sincerely apologize for the other night. Maybe I unconsciously needed to push you away. But whatever the reason, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve been beating myself up all day. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that we’re over. I’m so sorry that we’re not going to be buddies anymore or at least for while. I care about you. We had a lot of great times, and I don’t want you to be left with my thoughtless actions of the other night.”

I of course had to get my jabs in and tell him how disappointed I was in him…. how hurt I was… what a fool he had made of me. But then, something needed to happen. Something needed to make us truly close that door. I needed and need to be angry with him… it makes all of this much easier.

I continued melancholy in tone, “Look, I’m not going to encompass our entire relationship / friendship upon the actions of one night. Yes, it hurt and yes, I felt so completely foolish, but maybe this is good thing… for now. And I don’t think it’s wise for us to speak for a while. That needs to happen. I think you’re an amazing man who, like everyone – like me, can make mistakes, and I’ll look fondly upon our time together. I’ll call you sometime.”

Making Up For 5 Days Off - Read Part I & II

PART I:

MISSCURIOUS AT YALE

I’m back from the land of superhuman 20 year olds… all striving for GREATNESS. Their everyday diction I haven’t used since I was in high school:

They use mellifluous. I use sweet/soft.
They use fortitude. I use strength.
They use plethora. I use a lot.
They use superfluity. I use excess.

Thank god, I remember high school vocab or I’d need dictionary to keep up with my lil’ sis and her psychotic-ly erudite (combined with intense genetic intelligence) friends.

She has a suite of 5 women. People were coming and going and laughing and gossiping. We ate well, we drank well, and we learned even more about one another.

No grad students just kids who’d make me a pedophile.

And of course, being with college students and hearing their aspirations, you remember where you once were. And you think about where you are now. And how you never expected to be here. And wonder if you’ve been happy. And think that you should squeeze every minute out of your life. Make every minute important. But you don’t have the energy anymore. You don’t believe anymore. And you’re so disappointed in yourself. And you think about how many people in your life told you you’d be something GREAT. And now you’ve given up. And that sucks. And you have no idea how to get back to that place where anything was possible. And you loved who you were.

PART II:

UPDATE ON THE BROTHER

Sunday night, I was thinking about who I’d call first when I got back from my trip. I realized that I didn’t really have anyone to call. So what do I do? That evening I call The Brother.

“Hey, I was thinking maybe we could hang out tomorrow night when I get home,” I ask.

“That sounds wonderful. I get off work at 6 pm, how does 6:30 sound?”

Pleased by his response, “Sure, I’ll see you then!”

I get there. It’s slightly awkward, but nice to see him. We discuss our weekends. While I’m updating him, I stop mid-sentence. He doesn’t notice and keeps watching TV. Of course. It was always about him anyway. I just let it go for the moment.

He tells me he's happy to see me. He tells me he wants us to hang out more often - that he likes my presence in my home.

8 pm rolls around. He has to go to his old place to pick up his check. It’s three blocks away. He tells me he’ll be right back.

2 hours later, I’m still at his house. I tried calling him several times with no answer. I began to worry. A Lot. I then decided to leave. I couldn’t stand waiting anymore. I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing there. I was kidding myself. Still holding onto him. And where the fuck was he? 2 hours?

Sitting at the bus stop, I called again. He answered this time.

“Hey what’s up girl?” he said as though no time had passed, and he had no idea why I'd be calling.

“Um, I’ve been trying to call you… what happened? Where are you? I was so worried! It’s been 2 hours. You have me, a guest, sitting at your house. You said you’d be a minute.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t see your calls until now. I’m at my friend Candy’s house.”

In my head: CANDY? WHO THE FUCK’S NAME IS CANDY?????!?!?!? FUCKING CANDY????!?!?! I’ve been sitting here worried, and he was at CANDY’S?!?!!? That stupid inconsiderate motherfucker!!!!

“You didn’t think I might be worried? It’s been a very long long time. Couldn’t have called to say you were going to drop by CANDY’S house?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I thought I’d be here for a minute.”

In my head: FUCK YOU. YOU WERE THERE FOR 2 HOURS. YOU’RE STILL THERE. YOU DIDN’T PICK UP THE PHONE. I KNOW YOU HEARD IT. YOU NEVER TURN YOUR FUCKING PHONE OFF. IT’S LOUD. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE IT INTERRUPTS ALL OF OUR CONVERSATIONS, AND YOU FUCKING PICK IT UP!!! FUCK YOU! AND YOU COULDN’T HAVE FUCKING CALLED ME??!?!?! AND WHY THE FUCK TELL ME YOU 'LIKE MY PRESENCE AT YOUR HOUSE' AND THEN WHEN I'M THERE, YOU FUCKING LEAVE?

“Well, I’m waiting at the bus stop. I’m going home. I think it’s very inconsiderate to have left me waiting. I worried so much only to hear you were at some chick, CANDY’S house. And you know what, I was just kidding myself. I don’t know why I was even there. I feel like such a fool. I think it’s time our friendship takes a break, so there’s just no gray… so there’s just no question whether this is over. It is over.”