MiSS IN A FUNK CuriouS

Enough with Pricks for the week... how about something more mundane!?!

LaSassy and I have started running this month. I've only done about 3 times a week thus far; however, running this weekend will put me at about 4-5 days for this week. I can already see the improvements. No sore legs or tendons.

My chub. No improvement there. That'll come from weed and alcohol deprivation. My March and April partying spree is slowing down. I'm not talking complete stop or anything GOD NO... where would I get my stories in that case. But anyway, just trying to find that overall balance, at least for now.

This weekend. I may hang out with the Notorious Jackie-O and/or Green Eyes. I just need to kick my ass out of this new, "i don't feel like doing anything i'm so burnt out from Miss Party Curious."

We shall see. I always end up surprisingly myself.

It Still Stings

There’s nothing better than a night where you have no expectations and it turns out to be a wealth of entertainment.

Last night, I was invited to be the wing-woman for my friend Red Hot Thighs. She brought a friend, and he brought a friend. The friend and I assumed the Wing-Person positions and chatted off in the corner. Since things are never easy, Red Hot Thighs much preferred the wing-man to the actual guy with whom she was set-up.

What’s interesting to Miss Curious:

Being attracted to the guy you’re dating / the guy you’ve been set up with’s friend. Could Red Hot Thighs potentially make a move for Wing-Man? Her friends were going to set her up with Wing-Man or the Actual Guy. In her mind, she just got the wrong guy. (Please note: she and the Actual Guy have met a few times before and had email correspondence. Last night was not the first night for them.) I know I’ve been in a situation where I got along better with a boyfriend’s best friend, than I did with him.

Needless to say, Red Hot Thighs was eager to get outta’ there, but she didn’t want the night to end. So, where do we head? Cheers.

And who’s there? Obsession.

All you can drink for $8… dessert included (dessert is not a euphemism in this case).

And he always watches my drink. I’m mid-last sip and he already has a new Mojito made up for me.

He gives me a hug good-bye… he asks me about my Black Rebel shirt… asks if I went to their show at the Fillmore. We have a quick conversation about music. He knew a thing or two. And it hurts even more.

And why doesn’t he like me back? He liked me enough once to suck my tits and tell me he loved my body.

Close the door Miss Curious. Again.

Penis Predictions

Is there a science to predicting the size of a man’s penis? I’ve certainly had extensive conversations about the topic and have drawn from much of my own experiences… and I have my judgments. And maybe I’m Un-PC, but who the fuck cares.

1. Men with Asian fetishes I automatically assume have small penises. Where’d this come from? Well, it’s said (you know, by people who say things), that asian women have tight pussies… therefore, men with small penises are looking for a tighter fit.

2. Lanky men… yes, tall, awkward, skinny boys have, in my experience, had the largest cocks.

3. Black Men… the rumors – not always true.

4. Asian Men… the rumors – true.

5. Men who wear fitted pants MUST have big dicks. If his pants run right up to his package, it denotes confidence… confidence that although there might not be a visibly large bulge, he knows what’s under there… and can wear such fitted pants KNOWING…. And so, Miss Curious knows too.

6. Large hands and feet… the rumors – totally NOT true. I almost believe that small hands denote large dick… perhaps god stopped the growth of the hands and gave a bit more to the cock.

Last night, Chicajato dragged my ass out to Bottom of the Hill for a badass local band, The Hundred Days. As soon as I walked in I spotted a major HOTTIE. Turns out, he’s the lead singer. Also turns out that he has an Asian girlfriend. My first thought, “Oh, he must have a small dick.”

Is this wrong of me to think? Yup. But again, who the fuck cares. I’m just being the honest bitch that I am.

The Answer to Yesterday’s Trivia Question:

The Rusty Trombone folks. Yes, I’ve licked anus and given a hand job at the same time. And I’d do it again!!! It’s only for those lucky few serious boyfriends… and they fucking love it!!! Obviously, the ass must be uber clean… like right outta’ the shower clean.

Miss High IQ: A Motley Monday

THINGS ONE SHOULD LEARN IN KINDERGARTEN: MISS CURIOUS HAS DONE ONE OF THE FOLLOWING, WHICH IS IT???

Blumpkin: Giving a blow job to a guy who’s taking a shit.

Dirty Sanchez: While having sex in the Doggie-style position, the male sticks his finger in the female’s (or male’s) ass. Upon noticing a coat of excrement on one’s finger, he then reaches around a wipes the excrement over her upper lip creating a curvy moustache reminiscent of a Mexican cowboy, vaquero.

Donkey-Punch: While having anal sex doggie style, the male proceeds to punch out his partner. When the partner passes out, the anus tightens giving the male’s cock a nice firm satisfying grip on his cock.

Golden Shower: Pissing or being pissed on by your sexual partner.

Hot-Plate: A man or women lies on his or her back. The person on his back tautly holds a piece of saran wrap. The other partner squats over the saran wrap and proceeds to take a large dump. Because saran wrap is clear, it allows for a pleasant shit show.

Rusty-Trombone: Licking your partner’s anus while giving him a hand-job.

Paddington: When a girl won’t let you cum in her or on her, a male then cums all over her stuffed animals, rather Paddington Bears.

Snow Ball: After giving your partner a blow-job, he cums in your mouth. You then kiss him and give him his cum right back.

Walrus (I think this is what it’s called, Duckky?): After giving your partner a blow-job, he cums in your mouth. He then punches you in the stomach and cum streams out of your nostrils giving you a likeness to a Walrus.

MISS HIGH IQ:

Humming around my apartment in true Julie Andrews fashion, I decide I’d pull the Martha Stewart out of me and clean my glass pipe with 420 Agent Orange (especially designed for cleaning pipes.) The bottle said to soak it in a plastic bowl, so being resourceful like Martha, I decided to clean out the hummus container. I then soaked the pipe overnight.

This morning, I removed the pipe and emptied the container. Here are the thoughts in my head:

“Hm. Wow. It worked. What’s in this Agent Orange stuff anyway?”

“Hm. Garbanzo beans, taheni, lemon juice and spices? Who would’a thunk to use those ingredients as pipe cleaner?”

In KriKri fashion: Wait for it……… Wait………

“Oh my god. I’m reading the hummus container.” A Humbling Moment.

WHY BREAKING UP IS HARD FOR ME:

And why is it so hard to break-up with someone you really love / loved? Because it’s hard to believe that it can happen twice… I love that campy romantic comedy, “Someone Like You,” where Ashley Judd is reminded by Hugh Jackman, “Ray is not the last man you’re ever going to love.”

AVAILABLE FOR WEDDINGS AND BARMITZVAHS

On this lovely Monday, I thought I'd showcase my great photography skills... this photo is from Midge's "After Party"... it's much like my one and ONLY picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa... where the photo was all blue sky and clouds with the very tip of the tower in the right hand corner. How is it that I missed the ENTIRE tower? (Right to Left: Midge, Enrique Vagina in the mirror, and My Name Is Tim)
















SHOWS MISS CURIOUS HAS ATTENDED (AT LEAST THE ONES I CAN REMEMBER, THERE HAVE BEEN MORE, I THINK):

Alanis Morissette
America
A Band Called Pain (3)
Beastie Boys
Ben Harper
Billy Corgan
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Cake
Charlotte Martin
Cold Play
Counting Crows
Dave Matthews’ Band (7)
Death Cab for Cutie
Digital Underground
Duran Duran
Eenor
Elefant (2)
George Clinton
Green Day
Jack Johnson
Living Colour
Liz Phair
Madonna
Mason Jennings
Maroon 5
Medeski, Martin, & Wood
Neil Young
Nine Inch Nails (3)
No Doubt
Ozomatli (4)
Pearl Jam
Prince
Rage Against the Machine
Smashing Pumpkins (3)
Snow Patrol
Tegan and Sara
311
Tori Amos (2)
Toto
A Tribe Called Quest
U2

Would Pay HUGE BUCKS to See This Band Get Back Together:
Smashing Pumpkins

One Singer/Group to Be Resurrected From the Dead:
Jeff Buckley

Must See Before I Die:
Bjork
Radiohead

Could Die Without Seeing, But REALLY Want to See:
Arcade Fire
Muse
Pete Yorn
Mary J. Blige

A Tie? I Think Not!!!

Licking Your Own Pussy:

Seems to be a bit of a tie. BUT - I believe in the darkness of one's bedroom, more women would lick just once... just a quick lick.

Oh Brother:

I hung out with The Brother on Sunday (for the newcomers, The Brother is my last boyfriend, since I’m UN-PC, he’s titled The Brother because he’s black). He works next door to me, so I do see him about once a week, and we hang out every other week (I’m super mature, so I can hang out w/ my exes, hahaha). He has this new girlfriend who also works next door. It seems like he’s with her to just be with someone… which is, of course, totally LAME.

When we were hanging out, I remembered how much we have in common. And I wonder how in the world things didn’t work out?!?! And then I realize, it probably has something to do with the fact that I’m INSANE. PSYCHOTIC. But then of course, I could just be bored. Hm. But I do see other people and how little they have in common and how good they are at making things work. Or not so good at making things work, but they stay together because they’re committed. I mean, some people are just good at relationships. Some people are like, “let’s go to couples counseling.” I’m like, “if we have to go to counseling, this isn’t working, so fuck-off.” And I’m so bad – bad –bad.

What the fuck do I expect? How could it have really been better? I know I had a problem with his schedule, but now he’s only in one band versus 4.

Oh well. He’s with someone else. Hm. It’s the “there’s no one else, so I go for the last person I was with” Factor.

Shout Out:

Shout out to all my girls that have picked up the music pieces... I sooooo appreciate y'all getting into (or at least acting like you're into) my music. And Green Eyes, yeay for Damien Rice in June!!!

Suck Your Own Dick

Just as all guys measure their cocks, most guys have tried sucking their dicks at one point or another. Of course, they probably don't come at all close, but they try.

So, let's be honest here. Ladies. If you could reach your Kooch, would you lick your pussy? Just out of curiousity?

If you get-off with your hand, getting-off with your tongue isn't that far of stretch. And don't you want to know what a guys (or girl) tasting? I mean we can all dip our fingers down there and take a quick lick, but would you, yes would you lick your pussy if you could?

Exhaustion

The cut-off mystery has been solved. My friends went to the Transfer Tuesday night… the bartender, Clark, mentioned that he hadn’t cut me off. Apparently, one of my gay boyfriends had told him to stop serving me drinks. Hahaha. My friend also told Clark that I had been slightly concerned about my ridiculous behavior. He replied, “I love that girl!”

But then again, who doesn’t?

I had yet another live show on Tuesday night. Charlotte Martin, a Tori Amos / Kate Bush protégé. Excellent show. I must admit, however, that I’m tired. Very tired. This will be my last show until June. For the last month, I've been go - go - go. I need the break. I’m hanging up the pipe and resting the body.

Rest. I need rest. I miss Midge. Almost all my girlfriends have boyfriends. Although I love them all a ton, they have someone to run to. I used to run to Midge. Now I’m just tired.

"Hi, this message is for Clark."

Boring doesn’t last long for Miss Curious… as you can see from the note my friend wrote Friday night,

“She Got Cut Off.”

It hasn’t happened since I was 18, getting cut-off, that is. I normally cut myself off by hopping into a cab and barfing my brains out in the comfort of my own home. And c’mon. I know San Francisco bars. And this bar. This was an alcoholic’s bar. People don’t get cut-off at this bar.

Friday night started with the obligatory post-work weed at a friend’s house. Then some red wine with all my gay boyfriends in the Castro. Then more weed. And then, The Transfer (the actual name of the bar.)

I sort of know the bartender… he’s friends with my friends… and this bar has sort of become my new Cheers. Anyway, this bartender sort of bought me a drink or two. And I sort of complained about it being too sweet. And the bartender sort of got mad that I was complaining about a free drink. And my bitching and moaning sort of didn’t stop there.

And then I shouted the bartender’s name for another drink. He sort of didn’t look at me and just sort of motioned “CUT” with his hand.

Then I definitely realized, “oops. I just got cut-off.” Naturally, my friends were entertained and proceeded to write notes as shown above.

But But But… I don’t think I was as obnoxious as I’ve been at bars in the past or even close to as obnoxious as people I’ve seen at this bar… who could barely stand up. I could fucking run. I wasn’t even hung-over the next day, which made me realize I was way more high than I was drunk.

So So So… none of my friends really know why exactly I was cut-off. It’s a bit of mystery. I think the bartender hates me. They think he was trying to help me.

This morning we discussed the idea of leaving at message at The Transfer, “Yeah, hi, this message is for [Clark] (pseudonym for the bartender)… this is Miss Curious from Friday night… yeah, Friday the 7th… I understand that I was cut-off, and I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this. If you can please call me back with some details, that’d be great.”

(Jackie-O, you remember Clark, no? It's your name for him by the way!)

i've been uber busy lately, so sorry for my boring-ness... i'll write more soon!

Shallow?

When my roommate (who is awesome) told me she got back together with her boyfriend, who she’s been devastated over, my first thought is: Does this mean I can’t smoke weed in the house?

She’d originally told me not to smoke when he was around because of his job… but when he wasn’t there, she didn’t care… she used to be a daily toker.

I Have Only One Bag, Thank You

Insomnia. Torture. From this I’ve suffered for the past 3 nights. I thought my mind would be at peace after the whirlwind of March. Not the case. Not quite yet.

Thursday night. Midge’s going away party. At Cheers. I played Stressed Hostess for half the evening, when unexpected guests appeared… and not enough cancellations. Nonetheless, I was able to decompress as people came and went. I made my toast. I don’t think many people understood where it came from.

“Here’s to living out of one suitcase.”

Midge only took one suitcase to New York. That’s respectable. Very respectable. We all weigh ourselves down with too much. Physically and mentally. We don’t make moves like he made. We just keep doing the same thing. The easy thing. With all of our “things.”

There was no crying in front of Obsession. In fact, he sort of rubbed me the wrong way. Nothing I can put to words, but just vibes. Weird vibes. There was no crying in front of anyone. For me, February 28th was the most difficult day. His last day of sitting behind me for 8 hours. His last day of 5 breakfasts and lunches every week. That was a hard day.

At the end of the night 5 of us were left standing. And we began our night. Dancing to Madonna at the Beauty Bar… hopping in a cab to the Cat Club. More Dancing. Miss Powerhouse Curious came out to play. She’s basically a Rockstar. It was a party. Not a sad sentimental affair. But a party to wish him the best.

And that was that.

And some other friends picked up where he left off. Getting me drunk and high Friday night seeing our friend’s band. Getting me drunk and high Saturday afternoon. Toasting to FUN.

Crashing on Sunday.

No sleep since.

Mind never stops spinning.

I hate my mind.

Sometimes.

I just want to keep toasting to FUN.

NO Wasted Life.

Work on one suitcase.

Philosophies By Which To Live:

Who Cares?
That Never Happened.
It Is What It Is.

AND A HUGE SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS' AMAZING SUPPORT - LA SASSY, SPECIAL THANKS!

SEE PHOTO BELOW (from left to right: weekend drunk cohort Ms. K, Miss Curious, & old co-worker)