Oh What A Night!

although i was tired as fuck last night, my ex made me promise i'd go to his show (he's sober, and i am sober around him)... when i got home, i realized that i'd forgotten my keys on my bed (our door automatically locks, so this was bound to happen)... i called my roommate (who pretty much lives at her boyfriend's) hoping i could just take a cab and grab the keys....... no answer.... walked around the block a few times and tried again... still no luck - yet feeling optimistic... then i called every single one of my friends in the city, to no avail!!! who knew that people turn their phones off at night? almost half of them automatically went into voicemail... the others, well, our friendships are over!

i then took a cab to a friend's house who i thought would answer her doorbell... nothing... at this point, the hilarity of the situation quickly dissipated and dejection swiftly took its place... i started thinking of all the dark corners in the city i could sleep, but none of them sounded appealing... and oh yeah, i couldn't stay at the ex's because the girl he just started dating was at the show and visiting from sacramento (he and i are buds and i pretty much ended the relationship, so i didn't give a fuck about that - but i knew he did - afterall, he still thinks we're getting married - um, that's not what i think!).....

anyway, no options.... i cabbed to a hotel... it was going to be just over a hundred dollars... i stepped out of the lobby to take in the moment and deliberate the prospect of spending 100 bucks to sleep for 5 hours (that's like 3 to 4 shows or 2 shows and an eighth) - i could feel the tears welling up... i exhaled and rolled my eyes back to inhibit any obstinate tear that may be trying to touch my unwelcoming cheeks.

it was dark and cold... and i felt so alone... i couldn't believe that finding a place to stay would be so difficult. i was genuinely surprised because there are quite a few people i felt comfortable infringing on their space and time :) ...

luckily New York Midge was on the phone with me for most of the time... and he felt so helpless... we'd laughed for about the first hour, but now we both felt defeated.

with my head still spinning, i began to reconcile the situation... admitting that, okay fine, life's full of unforseen circumstances - circumstances in which we have no control - the only control i have over this is how i react, and it's going to be fine. let me just stand here for one moment and swallow the fact that i have to pay for this room.

and the phone rings. a friend just picked up my message and told me to come the fuck over now... he had a nice little bed all made up for me... and i slept well. well enough.

Today I'm still in my sweaty clothes from headbangers' ball... mascara smudged under my red eyes... and yet, a smile still on my face.

DON'T FORGET - I'M IN MEXICO ALL NEXT WEEK, SO NO BLOGGING UNTIL AFTER LABOR DAY!!!

Why You Love Miss Curious

You pretty much love Miss Curious because she's insane... because you can tell yourself, "what the fuck was she thinking!??!!" and then you feel much better about your ownself!

What did she do this time? Let's refer to yesterday's post... Clearly, 5th Paragraph and I have had minimal correspondence over the last couple of days... yesterday afternoon, I made an impulsive decision to email him:

um, so getting drunk and high tonight is totally out of the question? with no expectations of anything... of ever even hanging out again... just drinking and smoking tonight? hahaha!!! i know you're trying to be an "adult" after the tooth incident, but doesn't being able to drink and smoke any night of the week denote being an "adult"? nothing more to be read into this... merely a 'who would potentially be down for Miss Curious' corruption'? you see, i'm about to head off to mexico, and i don't drink or smoke around my family (although they know i do both), so i'm trying to get some in before i leave!!! hahaha!

I sent this shortly before I headed out the door... and who do I get a phone call from after work?!?!?! That's right he called and said, "I'm totally down... come over!"

And I did.

And his roommate and his girlfriend were there too... the four of us sat around the table and chatted for a couple of hours... I pulled the same shit I had on our first date where I keep moving further away from him just to see if he'll come to me... and he did. In the kitchen he'd put his hand on my back and give it a little rub.... and later on the couch, he rested his head on my shoulder... rubs and touches here and there, and I just acted like I hadn't noticed a thing...

and then I said, "okay I'm going home now..."

"you don't have to go yet..." he replied.

I stayed a moment longer, but I was going to leave... he walked me down the street to get a cab... put his arm around me... we gave one another big hugs... I turned my face, so there was no option to go in for anything. I felt empowered.

It was just a fun fucking night... good conversation - good laughs... I unfortunately discovered more things that I like about him - I say "unfortunate" because I know he doesn't have "those" kinds of feelings for me... I'm sure he likes me just fine... he wouldn't have jumped when I said let's hang out and acted as affectionately as he did.

I knew I could contact him when I didn't care if he emailed me back... I knew I could see him when I didn't care if that was the time I ever saw him. And today, I'm stoked that we had a great time, as usual, and I'm going to Mexico this Saturday to Saturday (YUP THAT MEANS NO BLOGGING UNTIL AFTER LABOR DAY!!! OH SHIT!!!)... and maybe we'll drop each other a line here or there, but really it doesn't matter... I'm just glad things are cool - were cool.

ANONYMOUS' Comment on "An Age Old Question" - nice guys really do finish last. sad. but true. there are nice girls out there, however. i, unfortunately, am not so nice... not yet at least. hm. but maybe i will give him a chance... I told the "Nice Guy" that we could get together after Mexico... we shall see.

My Strength and My Weakness

For those of you who read my now deleted 'work' post about the woman I essentially told, “You’re right, I don’t like you… I don’t like people who speak to me with such disrespect… and I know you walk all over everyone else, but I will not allow you to walk all over me... I don't care who you are - call me back when you can speak like a rational adult (she's in her 50's)…” - I just got flowers from her, HA!

I’m a strong woman in so many ways… but when it comes to boys, aye, my kryptonite is revealed. Fuck me! (i don't take shit from guys... but it's weakness in a different way with them, bleh!)

I held out a while to respond… and actually didn’t even think I would respond at all… but I broke… it was to 5th Paragraph… a week and a half ago he texted me (if you didn’t catch that post),

“Just broke my first tooth in a mosh pit… be proud!”

A random correspondence that I was a bit bewildered by… didn’t think he’d even thought about me since he told me he wanted to have fun w/ no potential commitment… so, Monday, I decided to email him… said something to the effect of, “hey, I’ve been meaning to reply… what happened w/ the tooth?”

He sent his usual essay detailing the entire broken tooth episode, which included a little blurb as to why he texted me of all people… kinda’ sweet… and again, makes me feel like less of a tool for having been dissed by him:

(he was seeing a show at slim’s and broke off some of the enamel on his bottom tooth)

...still, it freaked me out at the time. i spent a while way at the back, telling myself a long lecture about how this was going to be a turning point, i was going to stop getting so drunk and behaving so carelessly, i was going to start acting my age, etc. that's when i texted you... i felt like i had to tell someone, and i was there alone. suddenly you seemed like the best person to notify...

I had wondered why in the world he ever would’ve texted me… it’s still whatever… kinda nice… he’s an engineer, so of course he’d use “notify” in his word choice. It’s still kinda’ “too bad that didn’t work out” I genuinely hadn’t had as much fun w/ a guy I was hooking up with as I did with him, which i think is weird because in San Francisco you think you'd find more men who smoke weed, drink alcohol, see a ton of live shows, and are pretty much up for anything.... oh well.

They come and they go.

An Age Old Question

So there's this guy... we do business over the phone and via-email. We've never met face to face as we're both in-office support. Anyway, we often chat about our weekends and this and that. We've tried catching up with one another at a bar here and there where we'd have friends around, etc. For whatever reasons and lack of true motivation, we never did get together.

Today he just emailed asking if I'd like to go to dinner. The thing is, while I thoroughly enjoy our conversations, I'm pretty certain he wouldn't be able to keep up... and I don't mean that I'm fucking brilliant (or perhaps I do, hahaha)... I mean something more to the effect of me being pretty fucking active and schmoozing and boozing and living for today - dreaming for tomorrow kinda' cliche.

He's more of a "sweetie-pie," and I'd probably eat him alive. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm most certainly the type who's interested in men that could potentially eat ME alive... or at least give me a run for my money.

I'm not really the type who can casually "date"... I'm an either I could love the fuck out of you or it's just not happening... and sure, I think we'd have a nice time, but do I really want to move forward with something I know won't go anywhere and then waste his time?

We've corresponded for about 9-10 months now... a bit irregularly, but consistent enough to know a whole lotta' shit about him.

Should I trust my instincts and not proceed? Or should I give the "nice guy" a chance?

Weekend Introspection That's Oh So Right...

There are more important things to write about than work... so I deleted my last post, and i have to remind myself that it is not my job that defines me and there are people in this world that are disrespectful assholes, and in the end, I just have to feel sorry for them... and I am, I really do feel sorry for them.

So, let's talk about ASS.

Yesterday, I went to hang out at my friend's house. We watched I love the 70's on VH1 and were thankful that we had no idea what the hell they were talking about, phew, we're not that old yet.

Then what else do you do on a foggy San Francisco Saturday afternoon --- SMOKE WEED, of course.

Then Miss Curious starts saying really profound things:

Just as certain as I am that I will die one day... I know that I'll lick ass once again.

And it's true. I will lick ass once again in my life... I haven't licked that many assholes thus far, but a couple. There are 2 reasons licking ass is (as Martha Stewart says) "a good thing":

1. You're intimate with someone you actually care about (rare), and you enjoy pleasing him - if licking ass fits the bill, then hey, i'll do it.

2. It's kind of HOT to do something that has such "dirty" stigma... like it's just "wrong" to lick ass... and then you're with someone that loves sweat and spit and doesn't get grossed out, and you just want to be WRONG with them... yeah, that's hot.

There you have it... thoughts for an introspective Saturday!

A Little Junk In My Trunk

Pal is a word we just don’t use enough… it’s a word that describes the comfy (not comfortable) relationship you have with your teddy-bear and feels like gettin' cozy under your covers on a snowy sunday afternoon or some bullshit like that… anyway, last night I hung out with The Brother.

He’s my Pal. I read the Guardian while he did dishes… in the background we jammed to the CD I just burned him… then we watched Rockstar Supernova (his acquaintance/friend is Storm)... actually watched it together this time instead of calling one another on commercials like the rest of the season.

He’s dating someone new… he called her in the bedroom while I was chilling in the living room… it oddly doesn’t bother me at all… I truly view him in a strictly platonic way, and I’m glad we’re at a point where that’s all good. I even shouted a "hello" to the girl who knew I was over... he's talked about me, but most likely described me as just a "friend," which is true... now.

But then he makes the comment, “I still think you and I are going to get married. I really do.”

Hmm. Interesting. I don’t believe I’ll be able to see him as anything more than a friend. I typically can’t go back once I’ve dated someone. Maybe the occasional bang, but not even that with him… the sexual chemistry in our relationship was just lacking, which is why I initiated a break-up. And now, he's my Pal.

Anyway, we did have one conversation that I’m still pondering. Why do “brotha’s” typically like “thicker” ladies?!?! Clearly our society reveres waif’s and shuns the thicker chics, so why then do brotha’s love them some chunk?

There is the first theory of having grown up with sista’s (yes I’m being totally un-PC as usual) who, he proclaims, having something to hold onto… so it’s like if you’re a military brat who grew up in Japan, and during those formative years all the girls you know are Japanese, so you develop an attraction to solely Japanese women.... so if the majority of women around you while you're in those discovering your cock years all have some extra meat on their bones, then wouldn't you be attracted to them?

So white boys grow up with skinny-ass bitches and learn to love them? Who the fuck decided to put Twiggy on a cover for those white boys to jack-off to? In history, a curvier body denotes fertility, and with propagating being our purpose, don’t you think such traits would prevail?

I dunno’… interesting world where the brotha’s find very thin women genuinely less attractive than those of us bustier ladies. Sometimes it just plain sucks that appearance is so fucking important. Oh the fuck well.

The things we cannot change.

Bad Influence? I Think Not!

Since we can’t rewind our lives and do something over, I decide to do the same thing again, but do it differently this time. This time, I said NO TO SHOTS. Friday night, my friend K and I went to Zeitgeist. We had a few beers and started chatting with some guys who were on a road trip. They offered to buy us some… SHOTS. I said, “no thank you, I say no to shots.” They then did the whole, “c’mon just one… just one itty bitty shot.”

I smiled and held my ground.

“What kind of shot should we take?” He then asks.

Ah ha! Such palpable tactics. But I humored him nonetheless, “Tequila.”

He brought 5 shots… and I was so fucking proud of myself – not one went down my chute… I told them I thought it was hot when guys took several shots in a row. The guy I was talking to then pounded 3 shots… didn’t even breathe between them. I then changed my tune, “did I say hot? I meant fucking stupid.” Okay I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it.

Then off to the next bar… the same one LaSassy and I went to the previous Wednesday. We chatted with our friend the bartender and went home.

In the cab on the way home, I got a text message from who!?!?!?! 5th Paragraph. Where in the world did that come from?!?!

“Just broke my first tooth in a mosh pit. Be proud!”

Perhaps he accidentally texted me… if it was intentional, however, then hmm, interesting. Interesting to know that he took the time to type out those words at midnight… to me… that he felt like I’d want to know. I did feel a slight sense of vindication. That perhaps I wasn’t completely meaningless. I didn’t text back. No plans to. But it was nice to know he thought about me.

Saturday Night: Apparently I was a little too proud of myself for saying no to shots because I decided to make up for the shots with bud and wine and a good hip-hop show at the Independent.

I'm beginning to suspect that I just may be a bad influence on people.

K told me that when she told our mutual friend we’d gone out Friday night, he asked her, “Did you get laid?!”

Bewildered, she replied, “why in the world would you think I’d gotten laid?!”

“Well, you did go out with Miss Curious.”

Hmm. Not sure if I should take it as a compliment… but I will. There’s nothing bad about a good lay.

And so, on Saturday, I proved our friend right… K hadn’t smoked weed in ages, and she decided to that night… and then at the show we met some guys, and she made-out - not laid, but making out's good enough. (I’d also like to note that Green Eyes hadn’t smoked in ages until last month… both people asked me if they could take a hit.)

I like to think that I’m not a bad influence… I’m more open… open for people to do and be who they want to be… Both K and Green Eyes (shit GE if I should delete this, let me know!) had experience in the past w/ bud that left them feeling paranoid and uncomfortable… I like to think that I made a place for them where they could feel comfortable… where they could feel happy... as for wild times on the town - what can I say, I’m friendly… I meet people out often enough… I like to chat… hang out… have good times. Good times were had on Friday and Saturday.

Say No To Shots!!!

I’m still drunk. I took LaSassy out for her belated birthday last night. I can’t remember the last time I was this wasted, oh right… last night. The walk to work this morning was, well… tragic. I tripped several times and unsuccessfully tried to focus on a line in the sidewalk… I should’ve been arrested for walking while intoxicated (a WWI)… I told the office manager we should have a breathalyzer for entry into our work… but then, we both decided no one would get in… that’s why I work here.

Of course I’ve been having a drunk person’s version of deep thoughts this morning…. Like seriously contemplating the derivation of “shortie”… for some odd reason “No Diggity” by Blackstreet was on my iPod… and their use of the word … oh wait… I have to run to the bathroom.

Okay… I’m back.

I knew I shouldn’t drink anymore after my 2 beers at the vegetarian restaurant. Unfortunately, my genetic make-up didn’t allow me to stop… LaSassy and I continued on at Zeitgeist… with the consumption of more alcoholic beverages, I proceeded to talk with several strangers about the merits of NASCAR. I then told them I’d be “that girl” from the bar when they discussed the night before. I told them I understood what I was going to be and that I was quite okay with it… at least I got them to tell me their love stories.

I then went to the bar to get… oh… more drinks… and I started chatting with some guy… I wasn’t attracted to him, so conversation was easier to make… I told him I like how a sideways hat looked on him… turns out he was a plain clothes bartender at Zeitgeist… he bought me a shot… that was the end of me.

On our way out, LaSassy and I stopped to talk to Plain Clothes Bartender… he and I proceeded to get into some heated debate because I was eager to introduce him to my attractive friend LaSassy… but then he told me I was an idiot for unveiling my appearance insecurity and that suddenly I was unattractive whereas before he was into me… blah blah blah… who cares… so I’m not into my appearance… boo-hoo… I’m smarter than I am attractive, so guess that means I’m not super hot. But oh well. I believe I smoked half his cigarette… yes, I quit… but having 3 and half cigarettes in 10 months isn’t a addiction… again, who the fuck cares… He then told me his IQ was 142... I told him my IQ was 152… in retrospect, why the fuck did he even bring it up!?!? And then he told me I made it up because how could mine be exactly 10 points better? Are you kidding me? I should have told him he was right… I did make it up – mine’s not that low. Hahaha!

Back to “looks” -- LaSassy then told me to shut the fuck up… that I really need to get over the fact that I’m not into how I look because how I look is apparently, okay.

Since we’re both so fucking brilliant at this point, we continue on to ANOTHER BAR!!! Bad Idea…

Okay I’m back… just took a water break… finally, a good idea.

I always have to win, so I proved LaSassy wrong when I extensively spoke to some guy at that next bar, and all he wanted was to push me off my barstool and talk to LaSassy… she’s cute… she’s much thinner than I… guys like that… I’m a “type”… I have a strong personality…I think I’m totally rad… and I have a “look”… I’m curvy, I have black hair and the pale skin “look”… fine whatever. LaSassy and I continue this debate.

Ultimately, I’d rather be insecure about my looks than insecure about who I am… so who the fuck cares… I know how guys are… blah blah blah… No Issues here… end of debate. I’m just doin’ my “thang”!!!

End of the night!?!

Nope.

I drunk dial Mr. Lost His Mind Christian. He doesn’t pick up. I then call his house phone. Disconnected. He must be married. Why couldn’t I have loved him the way I should have?

Here I am… one of my bosses just walked in… I said a quick, “hi” and turned back around. Whew. I don’t think he noticed. I’m going to order Mexican food now.

THE 10-YEAR HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

I want to write about this when I get photos… I couldn’t be more bummed that I forgot my camera. My crush didn’t show up… but I got the scoop on him – he’s married w/ the second brat on the way.

Stories of fake boobs, catty bitches, and Miss Curious' inflated ego are yet to come!!!

i'm waiting on pix from the reunion, so i can post them w/ the recap... thanks for your patience... and red hot thighs - hook me up!

FRANKIE SAY RELAX

The "No Issues" philosophy adopted by me, Chicajato, and Green Eyes over the weekend is going pretty well... what is the No Issues?!? It is what the title implies... we always hold onto our pasts... binding ourselves by them... getting called a "dog" in junior high or having our hearts wripped in two by some trivial boy, these things, yes these things, give us "Issues"... and fuck "Issues"... and oh, of course, "Issues" with friends... I had a conversation with someone a little while back... we discussed how all we want to do w/ our friends is go to the movies, grab a drink, hang out... or with a significant other - have some sex, tell each other about our days, and hold fucking hands... at what point does everything get so fucking complicated?!?!?

So why then - why don't we just forge ahead!??! Just say, the past is the past, let's just all hang out... let shit roll off our backs... people are people... we make mistakes, but why put up all these walls or get pissed if someone bails on the movies... let's just try our hardest to be Issue Free... just breathe. People are always going to be assholes... that's not our problem - it's theirs... there are more important things in the world than having a guy call you back 3 days later instead of 2.

FRANKIE SAY RELAX

THIS COMING WEEKEND, OH SHIT:

This weekend is my 10 Year High School Reunion. Oh shit. Tonight I'm flying down south (so no blog updates until Tuesday). I'm gonna' kick it w/ the folks and catch up w/ old H.S. friends... I'm curious as to whether or not my HIGH SCHOOL OBSESSION will be there... I spent 3 full years pining for the guy... we were sorta' friends... my stepdad and his dad played trumpet together in high school and are both doctors at the same hospital... they oddly ended up in the same small town, being doctors and having kids the same age in the same class... Naturally, I thought he and I were meant to be!?!?! hahahahaha!

I heard a rumor that he might be married... why her and not me? In retrospect though, knowing who I am now, would he even be close to what I want?

Well, this weekend will certainly be interesting. I hope he's there... even if he's married... just so I can take a quick look... see if he makes my heart pitter-patter to this day.

As for now, FRANKIE SAY RELAX (please note, it's not say's'... it's just say... please refer to 80's pic of the Frankie Say Relax T-Shirt)

1984 Bitches!

Me and my bag o' beer off to the 1984 Part'ay!!!




I love my co-workers! They make hailing a cab in a hot pink sweatshirt dress all worth it!!!



I heart cocaine!?!? It is the 80's Girl!

And of course... the obligatory "just say no" cookies... thank you Nancy Reagan what a great idea!

Okay - okay... my new favorite phrase.... his shirt is the answer for everything!!! They just don't make shirts like that anymore... what a fucking shame!

A sign of a fucking awesome party!!!