It Was Nice

Before he came over, I started getting a bit nervous. I realized that my state of drunkenness the first night we hooked up disabled me from remembering quite how he looked… and the music venue was dark… and it was dark outside, and my room was dark. When he arrived last night, he was even more clean-cut than I thought… perfectly groomed hair… cleanly shaven… crisp white shirt… not in the sense he was trying to impress a girl, but in the sense that this was actually how he was… clean-cut, plain and simple.

Luckily, I had some wine in my fridge, so it enabled us both to relax a bit. We chatted for a while, and he revealed how shy he truly is. I then told him he shouldn’t have told me that because now, he has to make the first move.

And without even a kiss, my pants were off. Well done. He quickly went down on me… quickly as in didn’t waste anytime to get down there, and once down there, quickly finished. Before I could even blink, we were already fucking. It just happened almost too quickly.

I came to find out later that he thought I’d cum. He said, “wow you fooled me… what was all that breathing?” I had to explain that having my clit licked naturally causes light pants, and that he’d be certain if I came.

We then had an educational lesson… I asked if he felt comfortable doing these things…. he asked me for pointers. I told him I liked a finger in the pussy and a hand on the boob all while licking the ‘chine (chine as in vagina). He did that for a while.

Since I was all worked up, but for some reason not comfortable enough to cum after realizing he didn’t have much experience, I asked him if a girl’s ever brought out her vibrator… he said nope, and I brought mine out… used it… got off, sort of… and we went to bed.

Over the course of the evening, I was realizing just how Nice and INNOCENT this clean-cut boy really was…. So before we fell asleep, I started asking some questions – in BAM-BAM-BAM fashion:

Have You Ever…

- Fucked a girl in the ass, NO
- Cum on a girl’s tits, NO
- Cum on a girl’s ass, NO
- Stuck your finger in a girl’s ass, NO
- Licked a girl’s ass, NO
- Had a girl lick your ass, NO
- Had side-sex (sex while lying on your side), NO
- Used any toys, NO
- Used hand-cuffs or blindfolds, NO
- Watched porn while hooking-up, NO
- Pulled hair or spanked, NO
- Had a girl masturbate in front of you, NO
- Masturbated in a front of a girl, NO
- Eaten a girl out from any other position than the traditional her on her back, you between her legs, NO
- Fingered a girl anywhere outside the bedroom, NO
- Role playing, NO
- Gone down on a girl during that time of the month, NO

The NO’s continued… and let’s just say, there’s only one I can say a sorta’ NO to… the rest are all YES’s for me.

End of the story – he’s a big sweetheart… such a sweetheart… totally lives up to his name, NICE GUY… and I don’t believe we’ll hook-up again simply because I like men a little more wild… men who can show me a thing or two… instead, I kinda’ felt like I was taking advantage of this guy… I mean, I’m sure he had fun… I had fun… but I just felt kinda’, well, slutty. Hahaha. I know there are some people out there who get-off on teaching a guy the ropes, but I get-off on having an intense crazy sweaty sucking melee of body parts… he even mentioned that he’s really into CLEAN. Hey, who doesn’t like clean!?!? But sometimes I like to get a lil’ dirty :)

Anyway, as I just told GreenEyes, he’s so sweet that I don’t even want to say a bad thing about him… there really isn’t anything bad to say… we’re just very different… and that’s that. Hooking up again isn’t totally out of the questions… it’s just not a given.

Someone's Gonna' Get Some

Nice Guy and I made a make-out date for tonight. There was no sugar coating. We're being very straight-up about it.... kinda' like, "let's hook-up as soon as you get to my house, so we can go to bed early..." I don't know if it's spend the night at my house 'to bed early' or if he's going home to go 'to bed early.'

I'm having fun fantasizing about it today... i like knowing that someone's hands will be running over my naked body.... someone's mouth will be on my breasts...... and tongue on my....... mmmm.... bare skin... a man's weight... all on my body tonight. mmmm... the sounds of pleasure being had... the breathy 'mmmmsss' that only come from physical contact.

... and i like wondering how it will begin... how will my clothes come off... will he take them off or will i? what will he do first? what will i be compelled to do first? will it be soft and sweet or will it be ravenous and sweaty? will he lightly tug at my hair? oh the possibilities. endless.

let's all thank god that Miss Curious is getting some sober action.


PS - love the comments... particularly where someone told me what was up, "nice guys finish where?" they finish in my mouth, so you're right.... not a bad place to be. J-Do: when are we getting married? Our minds are both fucked... we both love to fuck... and many other commonalities that involve fuck... well fuck, too bad we're both hetero-females. Next time.

Never a Dull Moment

Nice Guy went down on me last night. We ended up meeting at the show, and I was pretty out of it… you know, drunk and high. He’s just a very Nice Guy, and I still know that I’d eat the poor guy alive. He left this morning… when I got to work, I already had a “good morning” email from him… see what I mean!?!?! Nice Guy. I just told my co-worker to call him (since he works with our office) and say, “I hear you went down on Miss Curious last night.” She’s almost 50 and wasn’t prepared to say exactly that… instead she said, “I heard what you did to Miss Curious last night.” That was good enough for me. Poor Nice Guy… he doesn’t even know how much trouble I am.

I didn’t see 5th Paragraph. I kinda’ wanted to just so I could make that scathing remark. Hm. No such luck.

I thought about Mr. Lost His Mind Christian before the show… and because I was born without an anti-impulse switch, I left him a voicemail… it went something like this, “Hi, I’m going to Medeski, Martin, and Wood tonight… I thought about you… remembered the first time we saw them together… that was a wonderful night… I’m going to a lotta’ shows these days… that’s my church like your church is church… I plan on partaking in many sinful activities this evening, so perhaps you should pray for me… hope all is well with you… hope you’re happily married, are you married?… maybe you think a women’s opinion is just as worthy as a man’s these days? I know this message sounds condescending, and it is… but, well… oh…. Um… anyway.”

Nice Guy and I have talked and emailed a couple times today… I’m working on a “friends with benefits” kinda’ deal. I gave it to him straight up… told him all I wanted was an occasional hook-up buddy. He’s guy. He said sure. We shall see.


----- and the show was fucking unreal.... like what i'd imagine heaven to be.... really ------

Just Another Day...

Labor Day Weekend, coinciding with my return from Mexico, marked a mental transition for me… from light to dark… the summer was a wonderful one… plenty of sun and shows… now I have plenty of sun and shows, but there’s just something different… the impending dark days perhaps… spending the light hours cooped up in an office where my only view of the outside is 10 cubicles away through cracked blinds. My trip to Boston and London and Christmas on the horizon can’t seem to raise my spirits.

There’s just this sadness that’s overcome me. I don’t quite know how to lift myself out… I don’t know why there’s such a distinct shift in my mood from the few summer months. This entire month has left me feeling just sad. And I have this grad school plan and all these things I have to be happy about… and have direction now… but shit, I just – I just don’t know.

I don’t even want to write in this blog. I just want to quit… I just want to sit in my chair at home and stare out the window. I miss my family. I miss Midge.

I have this mind… this afflicted mind… a mind that’s perpetually spinning… spinning… “I’ve got to stop spinning… thought I was over the bridge.” – tori amos… It’s why I fall asleep with my headphones on night after night. Escapism. And I wonder, how other people are in their minds. Do they suffer from this neurosis?

Here I am stuck in this mire…

And it’s like clockwork… I feel lonely and disconnected and then I get pissed at myself for even complaining… for ever wanting more… how can I ask for more?!?! I just want to smoke weed to make this go away, but lately even that hasn’t helped… it was great over the summer because I felt great. This summer I felt better than I have in very – very long time. God, I'm just the lamest fucking girl sometimes... and maybe in a week i'll snap outta' this and wonder what i was thinking... shit.

Perhaps because right before Labor Day, I was here…


(What's important in this beach scene is what's missing... people and hotels... our private beach)


(this was our private pool)

I woke up every morning and put my bathing suit on, pulled my hair back, and walked around without shoes… living with such fluidity between the sun and the water… so peaceful… and when I came back, I had a show the next night, but I wasn’t excited, and during the show, I noticed that I wasn't even into it.

I just want to fucking punch myself in the goddamn face for writing any of this… for whining over the same shit.


TONIGHT - NEWS - NEWS - NEWS: I have Medeski, Martin, and Wood…. 2 people will be there… 5th Paragraph, to whom I have no qualms about making some scathing remark… and then, Nice Guy (a work colleague)… I haven’t met him face to face, and I just don’t feel like it… I just don’t want the bother… I certainly don’t want to meet face to face at a show. He’s so sweet – it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with my ridiculousness. And then, the entire reason I know this band is because of Mr. Lost His Mind Christian. Going to that show was one of our best times together.

I had nightmares about the show last night. Nightmares that I’d run into both boys… that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the music and my high… that I couldn’t escape from that which makes me uncomfortable. Luckily The Fillmore is a larger venue… hopefully, I can hide in the crowd… and yes, I will be there ALONE… my only friend who knows them decided against going… and I go to plenty of shows ALONE, but this is the first time where I’ll actually notice that I am, ALONE.

Stayed Tuned for Tomorrow’s Post – Will I See One or Both or None… or will my heart hurt with the loss of Mr. Lost His Mind Christian?

Complain'ism

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so cavalier about the Guns N Roses tickets… yesterday on Craigslist, the tickets were going for way under face value. I decided against buying them from someone beforehand because that meant I’d have to get to the venue early, and you all know me… I wanted to get stoned and walk over on my own fucking time… but wow, I get there and no such luck. I was totally pissed. There were so many people looking for tickets and they were suddenly going for much over face value. And then, like all things (boys particularly), the second I couldn’t get them, I was ready to throw down the bucks - wanted them a hundred times more – but luckily reason struck me, and instead, I called Midge in New York…. He’s a night owl like myself, and I had him check online to see what was happening at all the other venues in San Francisco. Ahh. To no avail.

Since I’d taken a nap thinking I’d be up w/ Axl Rose and Sebastian Bach all night, I had so much energy… so I got pizza, smoked some more and watched Dave Chappelle. Then, I fell asleep with my headphones on, like most nights.


BOYS: still in the dumps about boys and realizing that that’s not the kind of intensity I want right now… as it doesn’t seem to be good intense. And for the first time in a while, I genuinely am just tired of the game. I think I’m going to take myself out of it for a little while… yes, I always change my mind in a heartbeat and never do what I say I’m going to do, but fuck, I just really really really don’t want the headache… ahhhhhhh, when will it ever work though?!?! Will I be 40 and doing this same bullshit dating game… I just want to be meeeeeeeee… and not long for it so much… not feel so lonely without it. It’s weird that I’m so busy and have so many great friends and a great family and this and that… and when I’m still not completely satisfied for whatever fucked up reason, I think that it’s because I don’t have that last little thing, a boy. But then, when I do have a boy, and I’m still not satisfied, I dump him and cry because I wonder if anything will ever make me happy. And I have so fucking much to be happy about and appreciative about, and I’m so fucking lucky in the lottery of life… and yet…

Oh, eternal complain’ism.

Fuck me.

Just Some Things To Say...

Embarrassing to admit, but I think i'm going to try and get a scalped ticket for the Gun's N Roses show tonight at the Warfield... I'm such a dork, but I fucking loved them back in the day... from like 11 years old to 15 years old... GnR and Alice in Chains were my first 2 favorite rock bands. Sure, Axl is fucked in the head and wears cornrows, but it's for nostalgia's sake. Hopefully I can get something cheap... hmm. And oh, Sebastian Bach is playing with him... you know, Skid Row. Wow. I'm so White Trash.

Boys: Still feeling lame about them in general. While I was writing yesterday's post... Kansas text messaged me... it was kinda' sweet. We went back and forth a couple times, and I was sure that I didn't text to his last words that did elicit a reply. But, really, I'm still feeling defeatist and silly... silly like diane lane in under the tuscan sun, where some guy made her yell, "i feel so stupid... so stupid!" while she hit her bed post (adorned w/ a picture of Mary) a hundred times... and then exhausted, falls to her bed. Exhausted.


Shows Coming Up:

(in the next 10 days)
- guns n roses
- everything gone green
- snow patrol
- medeski, martin, and wood
- silversun pickup (maybe)
- download festival (yeah yeah yeahs, muse, beck, the shins)

(october)
- the killers (trendy, i know, but i like the warfield)
- the coup
- the secret machines

GET A GRIP MISS CURIOUS!

I’m feeling kinda’ in the dumps about boys… there hasn’t been some huge event or anything like that… it’s just the little things that have left me feeling like an idiot… like a dumb girl. Like I apparently am so fucking far off on reading boys… and then I spiral downward because I can’t even believe I let them bother me… so trivial… and I just can’t stop feeling so fucking stupid. So stupid...


THINGS ON MY BULLETIN BOARD AT HOME:

- A Newsweek cartoon, that apparently only I think is fucking hilarious as shit!

A picture of a weatherman standing in front of the camera with his pointer and a map of the U.S. behind him… the map has suns all over it… the cartoon bubble says,

“The earth is no longer in a state of global warming… It is now hot.”

- A handwritten quote that I read in Newsweek when I was in Peace Corps… I didn’t have paper, so I wrote it on some old torn envelope, I believe this is Voltaire:

“I disapprove of what you say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it.”

- A card from my little sister… on the front it says:

“ … it was the kind of day that made you want to say big, fat YES to life in general.”



RE: Stingray Post - pissing on the sting is indeed just for jellyfish... for stingrays, one is supposed to put his or her foot (or wherever the sting may have been) in the hottest water one can stand... this apparently neutralizes the sting of the venom, but even this doesn't help much... they say... i unfortunately, was 2 miles away from a car and 45 minutes away from home, so relief wasn't possible for me.... and that fucking sucked ass :) ... the lifeguards told me to keep burying my foot in the hottest sand... this certainly created plenty of work for my dad and his scalpel, trying to scrape out a beach of sand in the gash on my ankle.

A Day At The Beach, Miss Curious Style

Unfortch, my weekend was uneventful. Hung out with an old friend in boys town… met some of his friends that for a minute made me wish I were a 21 year old gay man. No phone call back from Kansas… typical with how this year has gone… sounds defeatist, but I didn’t really care much anyway. End o’ that. I’m realizing there are no male prospects, and I’m suddenly feeling like I don’t really care. I’m a bit subdued now. But good subdued. Meaning, boring blog. Ha!

This is a bit late… with the news of Steve Irwin “the crocodile hunter” passing away due to a stab from a Sting Ray stinger, I thought I’d tell my own tale of having been stung… my sting was, of course, done in Miss Curious fashion… almost seeming unreal, but this is a TRUE STORY:

No one wants tan lines when she’s about to wear a bridesmaid’s dress. I was between jobs and living in southern California. Since I often corrupt my friends, I convinced Thebrick to play hooky from work and go lie out at the nude beach in San Diego, Blacks Beach.

We had to walk almost 2 miles along the cliffs to get there. Once we arrived at the ocean of nude males, Thebrick and I decided to put our towels far from shore to prohibit any voyeurists from getting-off on the 2 topless chicks lying out.

Eventually we decided to take a dip… we were just topless, and I was feeling a bit modest, so I held my boobs until they were covered by water. After some frolicking around, Thebrick decided to go in… I’m a water addict, so I stayed.

Then, I had the fucking brilliant idea to be completely nude in the Pacific… I thought, “wow how liberating would that be…” as I slipped my second foot out of my bottoms, I felt this sudden stab, as though something with a really sharp tooth had bit me… I thought, “oh fuck… did a baby shark just bite me… what the fuck was that!?!?” The water was too murky to see anything… and although I was shocked and confused as fuck, I didn’t want to run back to shore without my bottoms on.

I struggled to get them on as quickly as possible, but the pain from my ankle was growing more intense, so I only managed to get them on all tangled up. At that point, I wasn’t giving a fuck anyway.

When I got closer to shore, my entire leg was completely incapacitated… still holding my boobs, I frantically waved to get Thebrick’s attention because I just couldn’t walk on my own.

Since we’d so brilliantly decided to sit far off shore, she couldn’t see me… instead, every naked man on the beach could. They came running toward me… one person did hail Thebrick… I then had to abandon any modesty and let the boobs swing loose as I wrapped one arm around some strange naked man and the other around Thebrick.

I fell to my towel as the pain grew increasingly worse. The spectacle then drew every clotheless male to circle around me.

There I was topless, leg in the air, panting (a sting causes seizure-like symptoms, that sound like orgasmic pants), and surrounded by flaccid dicks. One man, not the toothless small-dick guy who’d offered me a Budweiser to ease the pain, informed me that I’d been stung by a sting ray. Apparently, the ocean had warmed that summer and it attracted the stingrays, which were particularly bad at Blacks Beach because it was less disturbed by encroaching humans.

If this already wasn’t a big “to do”, it became even more so when someone walked the 2 miles to get the lifeguards… by this time, I’d put on a top and was biting a stick because the pain was more than excruciating.

The lifeguards kinda’ laughed because they kinda’ got the hilarity of the situation – you know two girls trying to go unnoticed at a nude beach… like mentioned in the Steve Irwin story, part of the sting is the actual laceration… it felt like getting stabbed… well, what I would imagine it to be… the lifeguards mentioned it was the biggest laceration, therefore the biggest stingray, they’d seen all summer. They mentioned that the week before a man twice my size got stung by an itty bitty one and was crying like a baby… they were proud that I was just biting down on a stick, calmly saying, “wow, this is the most painful thing I have experienced in my entire life.”

The lifeguards were a couple miles in the other direction and the tide was coming in and for whatever reasons they couldn’t drive me back, so after 2 hours of god awful unwavering pain, I limped back to the car with assistance of some strange man and Thebrick.

My grandparents told me, “that’s what you get for going to a nude beach.”

I haven’t ever gone back. And now, I always think about what’s under the water. And to this day, I still have a little scar that when touched is still very sensitive.

God he's hot!!!!

Well, It Is The Weekend... In My World, A Lot Can Happen In 2 Days

Last night I coerced Jackie-O (we met a year ago after she commented on my blog a few times) into going to Cheers for a long catch-up session, drinks, and hopefully to point out Obsession... He wasn't there, but we certainly indulged in everything else... we had some great conversation with my favorite female bartender... we talked about sex on the period... oral sex with a pad involved... fuck buddies.... casual encounters... cocks... and love. Good times. She tells some good tales... and really got my head spinning - I have been so fucking horny lately - could I ever do a casual encounter.... eeeks, i don't think so, actually I know i couldn't... even I, Miss Curious, would be freaked out. Ah. I just want some guy in between my legs licking my stuff. Is that too much to ask? God, I'm CRASS.

We then proceeded to get smashed. Typical Miss Curious style. And ooh, I often wonder if I corrupt people too much... Jackie-O if you read this, are you okay today? Scandalized? I think that last shot of Tequila may not have been the best idea. Oops! Haha!

I then decided to drunk dial. I thought, "hey i haven't drunk dialed in a while, might as well..." so, Kansas was the recepient of the much coveted spot. I didn't have any overwhelming desire to call... it was just that I could.

BUT THEN, who doesn't pick up!?!?! He doesn't... and suddenly... he's more attractive.

And another, BUT THEN... what am I even thinking?!?!... we just chatted one day to say "hey," and we've been there done that... and really, that's that.

Where oh where can I find my next fix?

In Love With People That Will Never Be...

Happening overnight is actually no fun... my blood's not stirring... not at all. Hmm. I need an alternative. I need something difficult. Someone difficult. "the spire is hot and my cells can't feed..." - tori amos

It's not that I wouldn't hook-up with Kansas should the occasion arise... in fact, I hope it does... I'm in need of some emotionless skin on skin. Hmm. Yes, I think over the next few weeks, I'll see if I can make that happen.


In Other News:

There has been one television show that I have, once again, found myself helplessly addicted to... Rockstar Supernova (last summer being Rockstar INXS). It has all the ingredients of being ridiculous fluff: Tommy Lee, old time rockers from G'n'R (a band in which i was once obsessed, oh my god) and Metallica, Brooke Burke... the reality TV guru Mark Burnett (Survivor, The Apprentice, etc)... Anyway, I FUCKING LOVE (PAST TENSE AS OF LAST NIGHT) THIS SHOW!!! LOVE LOVE LOVE!!! I JUST FUCKING LOVE ROCK MUSIC... LOVE LOVE LOVE.

AND THIS IS THE BOY THAT I'VE BEEN IN LOVE WITH SINCE HIS FIRST PERFORMANCE ON THE SHOW:



I HEART LUKAS ROSSI

So, he's like half my size (I'm 5'8")... but my god, he's fucking huge and passionate on stage... I had some friends watching this too, and if they ever said something critical of him, I'd jump down their fucking throats... It's an interesting personal observation to see such possessive - obsessive traits in me... okay, not so surprising.

But anyway, I couldn't be more fucking stoked that he won. And here's where I get really ridiculous, I AM TOTALLY GOING TO SEE HIS SHOW IN FEBRUARY AT THE OAKLAND COLISEUM... I think I've convinced the owner of my company's partner (convoluted, i know) to come with me... but even if he doesn't go... I'm going alone!!!

It Happened Overnight

I’d say this happened in record time. Relatively unexpected. Miss Curious is getting the stir she wanted. The stir with a boy.

A few days ago I was researching the derivation of a certain word. Coincidentally, the root of this word is Kansas’ last name (I’ll explain why I chose this name shortly). I then began to wonder what he was doing these days. Was he still in California?

Just over 2 years ago, I decided to dabble in the world of online dating for the very first time. At that point, Midge and I did everything together, so we signed up for 1 month of Match.com (embarrassing, I know). I met 2 people. One was moving here from Kansas (he was my 100% match per Match.com). He had a job out here, but wasn’t starting for a while. We talked on the phone every night for about a month and a half. Then he came into town to look for a place to live and meet with his employers, etc before moving in another month or so.

It was then that we met face to face. Things went really well. Since I’m a slut, we of course hooked up. That part is a tad nebulous as we’d had quite a few margaritas to assuage our nerves.

That was the last time we saw each other.

When he moved out here, he was really unhappy, and I was just in a weird spot in general (oh surprise!)… the confidence I was attracted to had left him when he moved… and we just lost touch.

Soooo, where oh where do we reconnect?!?!? I MySpaced him… he replied right away… we sent a couple messages, catching up with each other… he requested me as a friend (so my friends, ask me his name, and you can check him out)… he told me to give him a call… gave me his new number… I gave him mine.

And then who calls me last night at 10:30 pm, the same day!??!?! HE DOES. I did NOT see that coming… I thought the exchange of numbers was merely a courteous gesture.

I was surprised at how well he knew me… I suppose I’d forgotten how much we had talked and revealed about ourselves during our correspondence 2 years ago. It was nice.

Kansas, “I must say that getting an email from you made my day. It truly lifted my spirits.”

Miss Curious, “hahaha. Yeah, I bet I made your day. Whatever!”

Kansas, “I know the cheesiness of that statement is leading you to believe it’s disingenuous, and you’re really not sure if you should believe me… but you should… because I mean it.”

I was slightly taken aback by his candor. It was kinda’ sweet. But I was/am weary of his immediate attentiveness… a call the same night… all these heartfelt nostalgic statements. I remember 2 years ago that while I loved speaking with him and was indeed attracted to him, the jury was still out on whether or not he could kick my ass… and also his world views were somewhat narrow… and not opinions on politics, but just an awareness that there is a world outside of the United States... To have the ability to see beyond ourselves (my blog most likely doesn’t reflect the fact that I often think geocentrically instead of egocentrically)… so it is important to me.

But anyway, that’s just the back-story. I do believe that we will hang out soon.

Our last words:

Miss Curious, “okay gotta run… it’s late.”

Kansas, “oh, I see how it is.”

Miss Curious, “no, that’s not how it is… I could talk to you all night, so it’s gotta’ end somewhere. I’m sure we’ll talk soon enough”

Kansas, “will you be calling me next?”

Miss Curious, “yeah,” pause “yeah.”

Kansas, quiet… “Okay, why don’t you call me when I’m on your mind.”

He said that final thought in a piercing way… if that makes any sense… hmm… in a way where he hoped that he would be on my mind.

YES, FUCK THIS POST

For visceral reasons, I find myself craving more mischief. It’s interesting that I recognize so clearly my unequivocal need for highs and lows. I do believe that such proclivities originate from genetics versus environmental factors… it is, however, undeniable that my penchant for such extremities can be exacerbated by environmental reasons. Can one change his or her nature? Would I prefer to feel music and love and companionship on a more stable level? Or experience them more intensely? But the pain, is then… more intense.

Ew. FUCK my “stream of consciousness” w/ me trying to psychoanalyze once again, why I am the way I am. LA-AME.

Anyway, last week’s interaction, rather lack thereof, with 5th Paragraph only elicited feelings of irritation for about a minute.

Now I seek more feelings of irritation or potential happiness… or highs or lows in whatever way I can get them… and why oh why, does this need always surround these little flings I have with the opposite sex!?!?! But then, at the end of the day, we all know the “coupling-off” bit is in our nature… an inherent driving force that again, we question whether people can actually deliver themselves from such a drive.

OH MY GOD. What the fuck am I talking about (please don’t answer that)!?!?!?!

The short of it… I’m looking for trouble… and trouble with a boy…. And where oh where will I find my next victim?!?!? MySpace is always easy… I’ll consider this for the hundredth time. BARS – difficult, very difficult (1st to find a guy you think is attractive, then to actually talk to him, then find out if he’s single or an idiot – yes, difficult)… so where else? Where else can Miss Curious find him? Aw yes, there is some guy from sorta’ work that asked me to dinner, but he’s not my type… I’d eat him alive. Okay, so that’s still a “no.” (remember him, the “nice guy” that I thought I’d just go out with once… but I just know… I just know that my domineering personality would kill the guy).

Hmm. I suppose “where” is another age old question. Well, FUCK THIS POST… FUCK MY FUCKING RAMBLING… I SHOULD PUT MORE THOUGHT INTO THESE POSTS INSTEAD OF BETWEEN PHONE CALLS AND BATHROOM BREAKS AT WORK… I ALWAYS KINDA’ END UP FORGETTING WHAT I MEANT TO CONVEY.

OH WELL. FUCK.

No Courtesy Back From The Courtesy Flush

Well, well, well... that fucking "time of the month" came oh, 2 weeks early... motherfucker! But, I can certainly attribute the BLUES to that surprise. The mood is definitely breaking.

With that "time of the month," comes the "diarrhea of the month"... eh, I've been in the bathroom half the day... I've had this awful gas too, so when I was doing a courtesy flush (slash) noise inhibitor (that is, masking those clamorous farts), that industrial work toilet of ours splashed back up at me. I hate when that happens... I know what was in that toilet ('cuz it was my own creation), and it wasn't pretty... and then, there it is, my unpretty, splashing back up onto my ass and thighs. That my friends, is the problem with the courtesy flush. Ergh!

This weekend was the definition of MELLOW. I hung out with friends - SHOUT OUT TO MBA-A and BFF. The MELLOW factor had a lot to do with the fact that I smoked everyday. I'm starting to realize that I may smoke waaaaay too much MJ. For now, however, I'm still okay with it. Once I see it becoming a big problem (or bigger problem, hahaha!), I'll have to take a break for a bit. But, I know myself, and I know I'm still cool... I have my eye on it though... hahaha! It's just that Bob Marley and I are completely on the same wave length, "Everything's gonna' be all right..." Everything's so fucking happy.

BLUE Hoo

Things to do on a Thursday Night:

- Terrorize some people on an E-Harmony Date (i wonder how their date ended, hmm)
- Have friend show you her nipples
- Watch friend give a stranger a lap dance
- Discuss sucking cock and licking asshole (trite, I know)
- Bump into your serendipity friend for the 6th time
- Pretend like you don’t know a guy you know
- Try to unzip a sweatshirt that doesn’t have zippers
- Go to sleep

5th Paragraph:

Okay, we’re slamming the door this time. I thought we could be friends (we pretty much love doing the same things), but apparently, him asking me to hang out is okay – and me asking him, “freaks him out!” The email I sent him asked questions that illicit a response. He has not replied. It’s annoying and rude. This time, I will not respond to any random texts or emails or calls I get from him. I don’t want any kind of friendship that is solely based upon one person’s time. So, there is absolutely no point to maintain contact. Bah-bye, again. Oh silly Miss Curious... she's just trouble.


Here. In My Head:

Post-vacation blues (and i mean BLUE... like long face BLUE)... watching my co-workers get wasted last night and getting three-quarters of the way there myself did help... but loneliness is creeping back in... ergh. Fuck.

Debating grad school... never ever thought this would be the case. Can anyone guess for what I'd go? If anyone's applied and/or gone, any tips? how long did you study for the GRE? I don't keep in touch with any of my professor, gsi's, etc... how the fuck do people get letters of rec from the academia world if they've been out of it for 6 years and haven't kept any contact info?

Hm, Wow, Thankfully This Blog Makes Me Realize Things Aren't Really a Big Deal

5th Paragraph:

Uh, the stupid - stupid things I do!!! Anyway, if you missed the week before I left for Mexico, here's a quick update... 5th Paragraph and I ended up hanging out... I told him no expectations - just an evening of drinking a smoking... it went really well... things were chill... he kept moving closer to me... I kept moving further away... no kissing... just some arms around one another, and i went home.

i emailed him before i left for mexico, and when i got back, his reply was adorable... well, one silly little line where he said he'd liked my email and had read it many times... that's kinda' sweet. and of course, i like to feast on crumbs!!!

i had no intention of emailing him back... because really, what's the fucking point!?!? are we really going to get back into this and then i want more and he wants less?!?! Um, NO.

With my mind all made up to just let it go... Tuesday night, he leaves me this message about wanting to hang out that night... I was already out with friends, so I couldn't go, but i was certainly surprised to hear from him.

I emailed him yesterday thanking him for the invite, blah blah blah... and then asking what he was up to tonight... now THAT is what i wish i would NOT have done!!! I should have just thanked him, and if something came up later that i thought he'd be interested in, sure email him...

and i haven't gotten a reply from him... THIS is where i HATE to be... i HATE to be in a somewhat weary position where I don't want him thinking that I suddenly expect us to be best friends and hang out all the time... I know what he wants this time around - nothing more than an occasional friend... now that i know, it makes things easier, but still i ABHOR sitting here speculating as to what he might read into things. And of course, waiting for a response.

Bleh.

Well, perhaps I shouldn't have opened this door... but as I'm writing, I realize that it isn't that big of a deal if he doesn't reply... it isn't that big of a deal if he gets freaked out thinking i have some expectations... so really, why the fuck do i care?!

Forge ahead Miss Curious - Forge ahead! Everything is going to be just fine :-)



What really matters is things a girl can buy:

I was thinking of getting this Fedora... I don't know... what do you think? Would it look good on me?

I'm Back!!!

Although my grandfather was admitted to the hospital the night before our flights to Mexico, we still managed to have some good laughs. (the trip was for my grandfather and grandmother’s 50th wedding anniversary, so the news royally sucked… I was ready to hop on the next flight to Massachusetts… but talked out of it)

Onto the laughs:

One hurricane evening, my uncle and I sat on the L-Shaped couch reading our books with his daughter (my little cousin) watching Malcom in the Middle dubbed in Spanish. Fully immersed in my book, I released a Silent But Deadly Fart. Suddenly, I hear my uncle in his loud firm voice emphatically saying, “Irish Cream (let’s call my 4 yr old cousin this), Irish Cream, did you just poop in your pants?!?! Get over here… did you just poop your pants?!?! Get over here right now… let me check your pants!” He’s yelling at her.

I look up from my book thinking, “wow, she’s 4 - does she still poop her pants?!” Hmm. And then, light bulb – light bulb…. “um, Uncle T, I uh, just farted… guess my farts smell like 4 year olds crapping their pants.”

“Oh.” He replies. Irish Cream goes back to Malcom in the Middle, she doesn't speak Spanish.

More Laughs:

One severe thunderstorm evening, my two sisters, my aunt (NOT pronounced ant), and I all lied on our stomachs, chests propped up by pillows telling goofy stories. My little sister killed it with this story… it just needs to be told… and yes, it is a true story:

My sister’s co-worker from her summer job got a little too tipsy one night. This friend doesn’t typically go home with men she’s met at a bar, but she liked this one and decided to make an exception. They spend the night drunkenly groping one another. In the morning, the guy has to leave early. He tells her to sleep in and let herself out… and to leave her number because he definitely wants to see her again. As soon as she hears the door click shut, she beelines for the bathroom for the classic mound of beer shit.

She clogs the toilet. Frantic, she opens all the cupboards looking for a plunger. To no avail. She then tried the kitchen… and rifled through all the cleaning supplies… still no luck. Little Miss Brilliant, then decides to take two plastic bags and pull the shit out herself.

She holds her noise and dips her bag covered hands in… removes half the shit and is finally able to flush the toilet. She then writes her number down and leaves it by the bed.

She grabs all of her things and jets out of his apartment.

When the door shuts and locks behind her, she realizes ‘Oh FUCK, I left the bag of shit on the floor next to his bed and next to my number.’

Can I say, OH MY GOD!?!?!?! Imagine being that guy – coming home and seeing a bag of shit on the floor!?!?! Imagine that!!! What the fuck!?!?! A bag of shit. I’d move fucking countries.

Needless to say, he never called her back.