I'm Such a HO

I felt sleazy. I hadn’t meant to go back there, but sometimes I just want touch, be licked and lick. So really, who doesn’t go back for ex-sex? DV, the ex who recently invited me out of the blue to some documentary premiere with Lucas, Coppola, Eastwood, and the usual… an invite I turned down, he texted me on Friday night and said, “I already know I want you to drunk dial me tomorrow night. Ridiculous, but true.” Back in the day I was an infamous drunk dialer… oh wait, I still have tendencies.

Anyway, Saturday night he brought over a bottle of wine. We talked music for a while and watched some shit show in the background. I’m newly addicted to Listerine Breath Spray, so I sprayed it… and really, not for the obvious reason. I told him it was fun to spray stoned, curbs the munchies. He then uses a line, “you know what it’s fun for?” He then kisses me.

Fine. Fine.

We end up fucking… I wasn’t turned on… he started with the “dirty talk” which, oh so oddly, used to totally turn me on, but now it just felt awkward and forced… I made my “eeks” face as his head went down to kiss my neck.

And then I didn’t want to kiss him anymore. The next morning we messed around a little, but we didn’t kiss. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me either because, really, it was just too intimate.

Ex-sex is so strange because you’re trying to get into it with someone you stopped being into… someone you now see right through and wonder what it was about him that made you hot at the time.

When he left in the morning, I felt kinda’ slutty. Kinda’ like I shouldn’t have done that… that it was awkward and that it was truly just for fucking purposes and not for intimacy… weird.

I soooo understand Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she voiced the rules to Richard Gere that she doesn’t kiss. Kissing is way too intimate. She can fuck for her job as a HO, but kissing was for someone she cared about.

I felt like a HO. It made me realize that I don’t want to fuck just to fuck… that I really do want the next person I sleep with to be someone I really care about. Cheeeeeeeesey, I know. But it seriously struck me.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Let’s talk about 4 am Wednesday. Since I’m pretty awesome, Jackie-O asked me to be her wing-woman at a show where she was going to meet up with some dude. A dude in one of her blog posts that was fucking amazing… so I was stoked to see who he is. Once we met him he ushered us backstage. I could see the appeal. He was hot. He had good style.

We met all the people in the band. Rad. They were up and coming… being promoted by an SF rock station. But young.

At the end of the show, he brought us to the bar to buy us some drinks… and hey, the bartender, a female that I’d chatted with earlier and said “please” and “thank you” to with each drink… came straight for me, and she bought my drink. I chuckled a bit when he said, “you have more pull than me.”

After the show, the party continued back at their hotel… we all got drunk and high and talked shit. We headed home around 3 am, and I had to listen to a hundred songs on my iPod before I passed out.

As fucked up and as much shit as I was talking (like how awesome my bud was), I had some good times… met some new folks… did something different that day.

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND:

I spent some time in the East Bay… fucked DV... watched romantic comedies with a friend… shopped at Amoeba… and went to brunch. Nothing too exciting. Nice though. As I move further away from my feelings for silly boys, I’m feeling comfort again in my independence… of being somewhat (haha) in control of my emotions.

Bizay - Bizay

Promise I'll update soon... I've been crazy busy w/ work... and staying out 'til 4am on a weeknight's rough ;-)... details later!

Don't Touch Me There

As I was cleansing the belly-button this morning, I thought about all the dudes, like 75% of them, who just love sticking their fingers in it. I fucking HATE it. They all think they've discovered some erotic zone... um, not the case for every chick. In fact, that's an immediate turn-off, and we pretty much have to start all over.

Even when I mention that I'm not a big fan, guys hands, fingers rather, still gravitate toward that hole. WRONG HOLE dude!

In fact, I remember a friend (sorry friend, but it just goes with the post) who had some guy actually try to fuck her belly-button... gross-o! Even more weird though - could it have fit in there? Sad motherfucker.

Anyway.

Crazy on So Many Levels

Last Thursday night, big surprise, I found myself once again at Cheers. Sometimes it's just nice to say what's up to Obsession, and he always hooks me up with free top-shelf alcohol. Since he cheated on his girlfriend with me over a month ago (please note: it was unbeknownst to me, I assumed they'd broken-up, I really did), I naturally thought less of him.

I went there thinking I could easily sit on my high and mighty chair now acting above his immoral self.

But then, the second I see him, I'm fucking putty?!?! Ridiculous.

But then, he comes over and literally starts giggling... like he was a giddy high school girl. He really did.

Then I started giggling.

It was stupid. Silly stupid.

And so how the fuck is it that after all these years I still have this crazy attraction to him? I mean, I've had crushes on guys before that I've continued to see over the years, but after a while, it turned into a what the fuck was I thinking?!?!

I've had boyfriends, flings, dated whatever over the years, but everytime I go back there, there's still just a little something.

Anyway, Obsession and I decided to take a shot together, and I saw him drinking more that night than I'd ever seen... I made a comment, "wow, you're really throwing them back tonight."

He stopped and commented, "well yeah, tonight I'm going home to have 'the talk' with my girlfriend. She's moving out by the end of the month."

"Yeah right... I've heard that before."

"Come back next month, and you'll see."

I just rolled my eyes. Because even if he does, it doesn't mean anything. I mean why do I care? Hm.

So yeah, I'll always have an attraction to him, and maybe I'm writing about him or care more right now because I have no one else to think about... so really, who cares - I shouldn't care... and he's made me feel like an idiot over the years.

Whatever.

OTHER NEWS:

Okay, yeah... I'm totally psycho in other ways... I just bought tickets to Smashing Pumpkins for 4 nights. Ahh. But there's good reason... A) They're playing at the fucking Fillmore, small and awesome venue, B) You can only buy 2 tickets per show, and 2 friends wanted to go with me, so I was going to go with each, C) I personally wanted to go opening night, and neither could go that night, so that was going to be my third show... but then, after all 8 shows sold out it 5 minutes (if that long), another show went on sale, and it was earlier than the first night... so I was pissed because the whole reason I got tickets on a Sunday night was because it was the first... then, I naturally had to buy a ticket for that show too... and now I'M OFFICIALLY PSYCHOTIC!!!

And just now, they've added 2 more shows that preceed what I once again thought was opening night... but I just can't do it... because they're cracking down on scalpers, I can't sell my other ticket, so I'm missing opening night... and I'm pissed ;-).

Ahhhhhhhhhhh. And FYI - no, they're not playing the same songs every night.

So I'll continue being Miss Crazy Curious.

I Got Nothin'

So really. I always need something going on... something to keep my mind from thinking about why the fuck the Big Bang happened... needed to happen... and when I have no distractions, it's bad news for Miss Curious because she'll start thinking waaaaaaaay too much.

Let's see. Tall K's going on vacation for 3 weeks, which means my drinking will cut down significantly as will my social calendar... well, maybe not the social calendar.

Fuck. I wish I had some fuck relationship. Some NSA as they call it, no strings attached shit. I wish Flava Flav wasn't such a waste... I wish things hadn't gotten complicated there... it coulda' been fun.

Bleh.

Now what?

Damn.

I'm still at work waiting for my ride to some wine bar where we drink our woes away... where we wonder why the fuck we lose sleep over our jobs and can't get a good ole' regular fuck.

I go to bars and shows and dinners and gatherings, and I have the same conversations again and again.

Can you tell I'm so fucking bored and writing complete stream of consciousness ridiculousness?

On my iTunes, See-Line Woman, Nina Simone

I still think about iBartender. I think about him because for some reason I think I always need to be thinking about someone... again, something else other than the meaning of life or lack thereof.

I think about him now in the beginning stages of some fun relationship where they want to see each other all the time... and get all giddy and shit... and I think about how it would've been cool to have been me... and not her.

I blame it on my freckles and bust.

But then, he was younger than me (or I?)... his age showed often. That's what I have to hold onto to forget about his punkass. Bleh.

And I hate all my clothes. I wish I had tons of money to buy new clothes. Damn.

What else?

Hm.

I've now pretty much decided against grad school... I decided it's too huge of a conflict of interest... yeah, trying to convince people that things matter... that they'll find their "purpose." Borrrrrrrrrrring!

Um.

I need a new goal. What oh what could be my new goal? Goal - distraction... I need somethin', and I got nothin'!!!

Silly me. Typical.

A Mad World

Again, How Can I Complain:

The other night I was chatting with my cab driver, naturally. Since I’m an insane question-asker, we somehow ended up discussing how he tested positive years ago. He then went on to tell me that even worse than finding out he was positive was the morning he woke up totally hung-over and sleeping beside a strange woman. He hadn’t used protection. He hadn’t disclosed his status to the woman. He said – yeah that was hard. He did the “Dear John” letter that clinics will do if a person has trouble telling a person to their face.

But wow, can you imagine?

I simply replied in my Southern Californian accent, “wow, dude… that’s nuts. I can’t even imagine.”

Then we went on to discuss his drug problems and how he finally has it under control. Of course, he mentioned that he still does the occasional bump in the bathroom.

It was an interesting conversation to say the least. But then, he’s not the first person I’ve had that conversation with… the other wasn’t a cab driver.

Anyway, it's just these things... these things in our world... these challenges... this sadness.

Madness and Sadness:

Last night as I was listening to my tunes, I thought about my annoyance that Nine Inch Nails has yet to announce its North American Tour.

This thought then led to thoughts of people swarming amphitheaters, coliseums, stadiums, and expansive lawns all to see this band or these bands.

And when songs like Hurt are played, the thousands upon thousands of people all sing in unison,

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real…

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

People at those shows scream these lyrics… scream these lyrics as though they’re speaking solely to them… that that song was written for them… and they listen to those songs in their rooms at night and feel sadness or anger or hurt.

But when I arrive at these shows, I look around me. People are immersed in conversations drinking their Bud Lights and chuckling and flirting. They all seem happy. Yet, they all sing these sad-sad lyrics. And it's not just the Nine Inch Nails folks... it's all those kids who called in to make Johnny Cash's version of HURT top the TRL charts on MTV.

So then, is everyone hurting? Is everyone feeling alone?

We'll Give Ourselves New Names

Sorry for the boring post... but I hadn't listened to this song in a while, and I'm now reminded as to why I love it... it's a simple song, but oh so sweet... and right now, I want someone to..........

I'll be the grapes fermented,
Bottled and served with the table set in my finest suit
Like a perfect gentlemen
I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick
Where you will sit and contemplate your day
I'll be the waterwings that save you if you start drowning
In an open tab when your judgment's on the brink
I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite
Albums back as you're lying there drifting off to sleep...
I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...
You won't have to strain to look into my eyes
I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat
With the collar up so you won't catch a cold
I want to take you far from the cynics in this town
And kiss you on the mouth
We'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene,
Start a brand new colony
Where everything will change,
We'll give ourselves new names (identities erased)
The sun will heat the grounds
Under our bare feet in this brand new colony
Everything will change,
oOo oOo...

Brand New Colony
- The Postal Service

Why Can't They Like Us Back?

Last night I went out with Tall K after work (For those who asked about Tall K: he’s 6 feet 7 inches, gay male co-worker, I’m his first straight crush, yeay!). Anyway, at about 8:30 pm while nursing some gross drink, I decided to go get food and cab home.

As I’m waiting on the corner, who hops out of a truck with a friend? iBartender. I thought I’d seen the last of him, but I guess it’s a small city, this San Francisco.

He got out of the truck and walked swiftly toward me. “Hi Miss Curious,” he said without hesitation in his stride, and he wrapped his arms around me. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me, but then, maybe that was just me and wishful thinking.

I asked how life was without the old bar… he seemed kinda’ down, but was telling himself those things that people tell themselves to get by… to justify the hard times and reassure themselves that the sadness will end soon.

He then asked, “is the bar the same without me?”

Not giving me anytime to respond, “please tell me it’s not the same. I need to know it’s not the same.”

The tone in his voice was so sweet… he was pleading… pleading for me to almost tell him that everything was going to be okay.

"Of course it's not the same." We briefly chatted a bit more.

His friend was waiting… he ran off, and I waited for my cab.

And you think you don’t care anymore about a person, but then seeing him, hurt just a little.

I stood there on the corner thinking… iBartender, don’t you remember having our lips pressed against one another’s… our tongues touching… your hands cupping my face… why couldn’t we always be like that? always do that? and then, get giddy about our music?

Such a shame.

Unreciprocated affections.

Hm.

Warning: X-Rated

If you’re friends with me or even if you’re not, this may gross you out. So yeah, warning.

The idea of Flava Flav was a casual fuck-pal (I don’t like buddy). Anyway, he was so fucking good at fucking and everything involved with fucking.

Now that I’m no longer actually getting fucked, I just have the memories in which I use for masturbatory purposes.

There is one moment in particular that I’m still using:

It was a workday. Flava Flav had spent the night and needed to be out the door before me, so while he showered I continued to bury my head in my pillow.

I was lying on my stomach with my eyes closed when he returned from the shower. He sat at the edge of the bed and started rubbing the back of my thighs. He worked his way up and moved my unattractive Victoria’s Secret pink and black striped “I love kissing” underwear to the side… I was swiftly aroused… and the fingers were swiftly replaced by the tongue… HOT-HOT-HOT. I LOVE the “from the behind” licking.

Okay, so here’s what I thought was really HOT about the situation, and oddly, it’s never been done to me before… and doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I keep fantasizing about it...

As he’s going down on me from behind, the bed starts shaking. I arch my back to see what was going on, and there he was face buried in my pussy, furiously beating off.

It’s probably so HOT to me because wow, he totally gets off on goin’ down.

Anyway, I sporadically think about this during the day and get all hot and bothered… and I was thinking about it just now; hence, this post.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I clearly did the Online Dating too impulsively… like getting wasted, sleeping with some dude, and being like, “why the fuck did I do that?” the next day… so, I’ve removed myself from the site… I’m just not in the space right now… perhaps I’ll do it later when I find that I can’t get myself into some weird and ridiculous situation that occupies my mind for a week or two.

ON MY WALK TO WORK, iPOD TUNES:

Precious Things (Live Version), Tori Amos
Good Quote: “So you can make me cum, That doesn’t make you Jesus.”

Voices Carry, ‘Til Tuesday

Guess I Was Always Nuts, Awesome!

As I was sitting on my floor listening to the new Tori Amos album, I stumbled upon an old journal of mine. Since it was fucking hilarious to read, I decided to rummage around for some others.

Here are a couple of random entries... I hadn't realized I was such a depressing individual... But then, one writes more during those moments of sadness, so really, I was probably super stoked all the time - LET'S CALL THESE RANDOM BOUTS OF STUPIDITY (well, just the depressing majority):

August 30th, 1994

Lollapalooza was amazing! I have never felt so free! So willing to do whatever my mind and body ever felt! It was as though I lived one night in my life where I didn't worry about society or about the problems I carry around. I felt like a completely different person. Almost as though my true inner self was released for one night.

(THIS EXPLAINS WHY I'M A MUSIC/CONCERT GOING ADDICT)

December 1st, 2001

Sometimes you wonder where you stumbled only to find yourself amidst a truth you wish you hadn't found. You know you'd give anything to go back to the place you were before.

Here you are 23, a college graduate if that even means anything anymore, and you're on this precipice before the rest of your life. You suddenly realize, only now, that every moment up to this point has been your life. That even at this very moment you exist. This is it. This is your life. Sure you have a great job, a great family, wonderful friends, food, shelter, but what next? What now? You've spent every second of every day preparing to live - to live that life where you're so caught up in the living that you don't even realize you're alive. That all the distractions society provides actually work.

What happens when they don't? Where instead you find yourself acutely aware of existence. You look around wondering if others see life through your same eyes. We're all put here on Earth - given consciousness - & just have to live - to make it to the end whenever that may be.

We're given minds that ask all the questions & hearts that long for the answers - but we're given no means to resolve them.

Every morning we continue to wake-up & live that day - we shop, we eat, we gossip - we do whatever it takes not to have any real thoughts.

Tell me I'm pessimistic - tell me to appreciate the taste of a raisin - tell me love makes the world go 'round - I want the distractions - I want your religious answers - I want your peace of mind - I want to be a cow grazing in the fields.

(OH MY FUCKING GOD... MISS CURIOUS - YOU'RE FUCKING NUTS!!! YAWN!)

November 17th, 2003

I wish I liked this pen more... oh well... Hmm... so here I sit at Logan airport - my eyes are dry & heavy. I'm 25? Look at me - legs Indian style, converse with rainbow striped socks, headphones, and bad hair... aren't I supposed to be more sophisticated, refined? More of something I'm not?

I always thought It'd be that way... that one day I'd wake up with something more - living something more - more than this.

Quotes From Isolation In Ukraine 2000-2001:

"Maybe one day I will dance again."
One Day, The Verve

"I disagree with what you say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it."
- I believe this is Voltaire

"Man, what is man? He's just a collection of chemicals with delusions of grandeur."
- Ayn Rand

HIGH SCHOOL TO DO LIST:

1996

1. Clean fish bowl
2. Red Hot Thighs' present
3. Shopping? Layout? (I ACTUALLY WROTE LAYOUT ON A TO DO LIST?)
4. Father's Day?
5. Pack 4 Berkeley
6. Mail Br*&'s B-Day gift at Mail Boxes etc. (I ACTUALLY WROTE WHERE TO MAIL IT?)

COLLEGE TO DO LIST:

1. Clean - Room, bathrooms, vacuum
2. Call - a bunch a people
3. Buy - shoes
4. Remind R&*$y (GUY I WAS SEEING AT THE TIME) - bathing suit and not to see Shakespeare in Love

POST-COLLEGIATE TO DO LIST:

1. Pack - Tampons
2. Tape - Sarah M. Carol King Beethoven
3. Dye Hair
4. Shave
5. Ask Mom about hair products, oxy gentle (ZIT CREAM?)

ANYWAY, I SUPPOSE THIS POST IS MORE FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT... BUT THEN, THIS BLOG IS SELFISHLY FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT... MANY APOLOGIES.

I'm Kinda' Lame, I Decided

I realized this morning that the Online Dating bit was truly a mere distraction... just something to do that day. The emails or winks keep rolling in, and some of them are from perfectly interesting and attractive men, but I have no real desire to make an effort.

So really, I guess I'll just sit here and do nothing about it. Besides, that chemistry thing is impossible to figure out, and you can spend all this time talking online for it only to be wasted time. And then, someone gets hurt... rather, stung, when the other person just isn't interested.

Wow. I really just don't care.

But then, I find myself incredibly bored right now.

Work's slow.

I'm not attached at any friend's hip as I normally am. I'm just kinda' hanging out by myself. Well, not by myself... but just sorta' hanging out to hang out and not connecting with anyone at the moment.

There's been a lot of staring out my bedroom window at the neon Chevrolet sign.

And so, checking to see who's viewed me, added me to their hotlist, winked at me or emailed me is a bit of a fun distraction, but really, what the fuck am I doing?

Bleh.

I'm in that, what next phase?!?!

The Joys of Online Dating

Since clean slates are boring, I decided to sign up for an online dating site. Frightening, I know. But, it’ll keep things interesting for a minute.

Anyway, I’ve now had a few emails roll in, and it suddenly makes sense why some of these dudes are online dating. For instance, why have the subject of your email to me be, “You’re Not Really My Type,” and then, not include in the text of the email something like, “but, you sound awesome…” or some shit like that… instead, you go onto to write pretty much nothing that explains why I’m not your type, but you decided to email me anyway, what the fuck?

And how’s this for a nice first line: “Well, you sound like a snotty little girl. Don't ya?”
Nice try to rouse me dude, but instead all I want to email back is, “go fuck yourself!”

Or how about this one: “If you had to give up either cookies or bacon F O R E V E R, which would you choose and why?”

Um, who the fuck cares?!

Not a question that has me going – oh my god what a clever question… I just don’t know if I can respond with something as witty as that…

But the answer would be Bacon. Hands Down. I hate bacon.

Then there’s the whole “winking” phenomenon. One guy was actually pretty cute… but all his answers were:

“If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be” – In bed with you.
“What items can’t you live without?” You and me and a bed.
"What’s sexy and sexier?" – Sexy is You and Sexier is You and me in bed.

Okay dude… try Craigslist, Casual Encounters

I did reply to one email and not because he said anything particularly interesting… I responded thinking, “he seems like a normal guy… I should give a normal guy a shot, right?” Then, I felt all uninspired and couldn’t think of much to say… so instead I turned out looking like a fucking tool.

And jesus. How is it that I’m already bored?

Guess that’s why I’m online dating.

Body Rubbing

There’s something so adult about having condoms in your bedside table. Since I was having some sex, I moved all my condoms from my little vibrator, lube, and condom Tupperware and put them in the drawer for convenience. The recent fucking was with Flava Flav, of course... and in the beginning he had the condoms in his wallet. He probably thought he was all adult too. It’s funny to think that at the beginning of some night he thinks to himself, better put those condoms in my wallet just in case.

I remember being a young teenager when doing “it” was such a big deal… like going up some chick’s shirt was a huge thing. And the girls who let the dudes reach down their pants were considered Ho’s… at least where I went to school.

And getting to each “base” was some laborious task. Every “base” was discussed amongst friends and those who hadn’t “gone that far” would be all wide-eyed.

Now, guys carry around condoms, and I have them all over my room. Now, we fuck on first dates or fuck our friends or fuck after meeting at some bar. Now guys have tons of chicks sliding down their dicks with relatively no work. A hand-job’s essentially nothing, hardly worth mentioning. Wild.

Sex is kinda’ crazy… I mean we take off all of our clothes and rub our naked bodies against one another and stick our tongues in each other’s mouth… and get dicks shoved up in us. And then, we lick pussy, ass, and cock. It’s weird when you really think about it.

This morning I dropped something behind my nightstand and found a condom wrapper from fucking Flava Flav, and from that, is where this post stemmed.

Clean Slates Are Borrrrrrrring

Okay, so I just may be killing Dolly (The Truth About Cocks and Dolls) for this, but I've decided to sign-up for an online dating site. Eeks. She told me to forgo the MySpace thing, which has been fun for fucking, but never amounted to anything more.

She has 2 dates this week from the site I've too just joined, and I pretty much have to copy her and start "dating" for real? Maybe?

I'm nervous just writing this. I guess online dating's just something to do, right? Ya know, something to make things a little more interesting?

I'm all uncertain about it. Ahhh. Although I have met guys online before actually signing up and paying money for a site is kinda' nerve wracking... one never thinks that she has to meet dudes online.

Sure the stigma of online dating has gotten better, but still... ahhh. I have "eeeks" look on my face right now.

See me trying to convince myself that it's okay.

And plus, I have a happily clean slate right now... do I want to fuck everything up? Do I want to have to deal with the how do I tell him I'm not interested and the fuck, I don't think he's interested and the wow, I totally got rejected based on my photos and rubenesque body type alone or some shit like that.

Signing up for online dating means rejection for one of us is as inevitable as getting my ass fingered again at some point.

But then, hey, I could meet the man of my dreams, right? I guess deep down I don't think it's going to happen that way... but I of course shouldn't be pessimistic... I suppose I'm doing this for pure entertainment value. That's reason enough, yes?

Yikes. Eeks. Shit.

Okay, here I go.

Just a Thought

I wonder if anyone has ever wanted me to be someone else. I know I've lied in bed with someone and wished he were someone else.

And then, I wondered if one day, I'd wish someone else were he.