Big Too Little

2009-05-26T15:44:00.001-06:00

I'm tired of feeling inferior or stupid because i can't get anyone to bite. the problem is that i let myself fell superior and smart when i do. i keep forgetting it's as much about the calls coming in as it is about my abilities. i hate the day after every holiday.

2009-05-25T12:47:00.001-06:00

Testing 1 2 3
-SB

Revisit, in Hopes of Inspiration

2008-04-23T11:30:00.002-06:00

LAYER ONE: ON THE OUTSIDE

Name: SamSam
Birth date: May 3, 1984
Current Location: Work, Downtown. That's about as descriptive as I can be without getting in trouble.
Eye Color: Grey-blue most of the time. Remember the Crayola called "cadet blue"? But there's also a little gold ring very close to my pupil and when I've been crying, they turn very blue. Crayola called it "cerulean".
Hair Color: medium brown where it's growing out of my head, with some hints of copper on the bottom half.
Righty or Lefty: Righty, like most serial killers, but not Jack the Ripper, so there. (I still love this answer)
Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

LAYER TWO: ON THE INSIDE

Your heritage: Mut/mongrel. I know there's some German, lots of UK and some African. The boy thinks there's some sort of Norse descent in there somewhere, too.
Your fears: Pain.
Your weakness: Alcohol, sometimes. Anyone who makes me feel beautiful and loved. Friends.
Your perfect pizza: The Pesto Primavera from The Flying Pie, still. Whether there's a link over there, still, I'm not sure.
Goal you'd like to achieve: I still want to make enough money to live the way I want, but I also want to like my job all of a sudden. And of course to make my relationships work and last as long as they can. Maybe starting to think about having kids, scary.

LAYER THREE: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW

Your thoughts first waking up: I wish I could cuddle and be warm like this for another 5 hours.
Your best physical feature: I like my smile and my eyes. Other people tend to like my tits.
Your bedtime: Whenever I fall asleep. Since I walk to work now, most of the time I try to be in bed before 2pm.
Your most missed memory: If I couldn't remember them, I wouldn't miss them, right?

LAYER FOUR: YOUR PICK

Pepsi or Coke: Coke.
McDonald's or Burger King: Burger King.
Single or group dates: Single. But I don't really date. The boy and I like to go out and be social, but that's not really like a double date, now is it?
Adidas or Nike: Converse, really.
Lipton Tea or Nestea: Either. I really dig Good Earth, right now.
Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate ice cream, vanilla milk.
Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino is coffee.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU...?

Smoke: "Oh, funny. I just stopped filling this out for awhile so I could smoke a cigarette." That's what I said last time, and it's actually true this time, too. Weird.
Cuss: Like a sailor. But I still don't like the word "cuss".
Take a shower daily: No.
Have a crush: Yeah. Hardcore, actually.
Think you've been in love: I think I am right now.
Like school: I loved it while I was there, but I dread going back.
Want to get married: It's not important, but I don't really hate the idea. I've never desired or pursued or even fantasized about it, really.
Believe in yourself: Abundantly.
Think you're a health freak: No. Never in a million years.

LAYER SIX: IN THE PAST MONTH HAVE YOU...?

Gone to the mall: No.
Been on stage: Not a proper one, but I have performed.
Eaten Sushi: "Yeah. And I'm going again next weekend." How odd that this exact answer also applies. Strange how some things never really change and some things change a lot.
Dyed your hair: No. (Like this. I quit coloring my hair about a year and a half ago. It's a trip.)

LAYER SEVEN: HAVE YOU EVER...?

Played a stripping game: Yeah. It's called "I'll take your clothes off and you'll take mine off as fast as we can". The game that comes after is even more fun, though.
Gotten beaten up: No.
Changed who you were to fit in: Yes, but not in years.

LAYER EIGHT: GETTING OLD

Age you're hoping to be married: I'm not really hoping to get married. Under certain circumstances I would consider 50 an appropriate age.
Age you want to die: I don't know. I'm pretty sure no one really wants to die.

LAYER NINE: IN A GUY/GIRL

Best eye color: Now that I have ample experience with all of them, I find I have a preference for blue, but I still like genuine eyes, regardless of color.
Best hair color: No real preference here, except I'm creeped out by light blonde hair.
Short or long hair: I don't care as much about this one either. As long as he has a healthy attitude about his own hair, it could be no hair. I don't care (The one exception is that patchy, nasty, clumpy hair that looks like mange. And also, if it's obvious he spends more time on his hair than I do on mine, what's the point?).

LAYER TEN: WHAT WERE YOU DOING...?

1 minute ago: Taking a smoke break.
1 hour ago: Eating the leftovers of a Fiesta Taco Salad with chunks of steak and avocado ranch dressing.
1 day ago: Working and then having a few drinks for $2 Tuesday. And eating a delicious jerked pork roast with veggies and apples.
1 week ago: Spending the day in bed, wrapped up with The Birthday Boy and getting wasted before noon.
1 year ago: Working at Qwest and hanging out with that same birthday boy. Spending all day in bed on occasion, then, too. Maybe we're not monogamous, but we certainly are committed and apparently long-term. This freaks me out a little.

LAYER 11: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: my life right now.
I feel: tired. And poor.
I hate: money. And how fat I am right now.
I hide: Thin Mints from myself.
I miss: Getting a full paycheck.
I need: To make more money.

Two Truths and a Lie

2007-09-27T11:17:00.000-06:00

The way this game works is pretty self explanatory. I tell two truths and a lie and you have to guess which is the lie. We see how well you know me and you get to know me better. Genius, huh? Let's play...

1 - My immediate superior at work gave me $20 today to pay the cab that drove me to work because I was late and he didn't want me to lose my job.

2 - I wear a size 4 pants now.

3 - I have a boyfriend, for arguably the first time ever in my life.

Okay. If you guessed they're all true, you'd be right. I suppose we were actually playing 3 truths and a lie, since the lie was that I was gonna tell you a lie. I tried; really, I did. But my life is so awesome today, I can't help but share. And that's pretty meaningful since I haven't written since the last lie about the new weblog I was gonna start.

2007-08-20T13:56:00.000-06:00

It's not that I'm sick of writing, I just can't find abything to write about at the moment, and that's never really a good sign in this world on the web, is it? I can't even bring myself to write about sex enough to get the other page going well. Damn

Fascinating

2007-08-08T08:17:00.000-06:00

I had a crazy weekend, and I've realized I am way too open about who I am on this page to actually talk about the wild things I do, so now I'm going to start an anonymous weblog to document all the insane shit I do that I do want to talk about, yet don't want people to know that I specifically do it...Does that make sense?

Alright Still

2007-08-03T08:25:00.000-06:00

I'm still sleeping with the same boy, over 6 months later. Wierd, huh?

Articulate

2007-06-15T10:35:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking a lot about my last post, and haven't been able to wrap my head around how to articulate what I wanted to say. Ultimately , it's this: I love to play. I agree with Boy that kids play on a playground and adults play in the bedroom. (Which ties in brilliantly elsewhere, remind me to tell you later) I play rough. I like biting and hair-pulling and ropes and being taken from behind while I'm halfway dressed and calling the cab company. I like being with a guy who likes watching me squirm.

But play is play and life is life and life isn't supposed to be as rough as play. I never really understood the difference between dogs play fighting and real fighting until last week. But having my hair pulled and my dress ripped and having my arms pinned to my sides by a strong guy, and not being turned on by it...I never would have understood that either, until last week.

Last Night

2007-06-05T11:20:00.000-06:00

I got a call from Erik, an Australian guy I was friends with right after I got out of college. He's been living in Seattle and doesn't get to Boise very often. He has a rental here, but I've never been to it. I thought I was going to last night, but all I wound up seeing was a ripped dress, blood and the underneath side of a bush. (I wasn't physically hurt or raped or anything, just a little bit in hysterics)

The odd part was that I couldn't help but think about Boy. He had told me not two nights before all about how when I complained or showed that I wasn't physically enjoying something he did, it almost made him that much more turned on. I sent him a text that said, "Thanks for liking me. I'm done" before I remembered why I like him back. I wound up crashing on his couch, because I called to apologize and he made me stop by before I went home. It's a little endearing that the sight of me clutching my dress to my chest to keep it from falling down makes him shake uncontrollably.

For me, the difference between rape (I wasn't raped) and sex is mutual consent after the act. I know that's a little bit duh and a little bit incorrect, but I truly believe when you know someone well enough and you trust someone completely in that context, if you have a relationship that is founded on honesty and openess, that person may very well know what you want sexually more than you do. And ultimately, sometimes it's rape when you say yes and wish you had said no. Don't get me wrong. Actually don't get me at all. No one's reading this anyway. What's the point of being eloquent? I'm actually gonna ditch this tirade, just leave it at, "You don't know what I'm talking about because I didn't finish my thought process"

Not so Comfortably

2007-05-25T11:54:00.000-06:00

I have somehow lost the ability to laugh or cry. I hate my numbness. I hate having to be around people in an effort to assume a posture of normalcy. I'm going to cash my check tonight and take a long walk to nowhere and cry. Maybe I'll go swing on the swingsets at Animal's Body-Part Park until it gets dark enough to take off my clothes and get lost in sensation. I need to sense or feel or reel in some sort of something. Because I never feel anything anymore if it's not panic.

I'm trying to keep myself in crying mode. I'm thinking of friends I've lost, friends I thought I was going to get back, but am not, friends I've alienated, lovers I've hurt, lovers who've hurt me, lovers who continue to hurt me without knowing they're doing it, my inability to tell them...my inability to be sad is the saddest thing I can think of.

And don't get me wrong, it's not that I want to be depressed, I want to be anything but this. And this is some sort of terrifying limbo where I feel constantly on the verge of oblivion.

***
I walked last night to Boy's house, not realizing I was doing it until I was halfway there. I got up and wished it had been raining and walked out into the middle of Harrison Blvd and laid down on a median to watch the dusk lengthen and stretch the trees until I couldnt tell the difference between sky and life. And the cars were driving by so fast and the lights were on. It wasn't right. So I got up and started walking around the backroads and wound up there.

I hate needing company. Tonight I'm trying to avoid it. But I want to get elegantly wasted. Shit. I need to prove to myself that I can do at least one night with no company. Maybe tomorrow.

Never Felt It...

2007-05-24T17:34:00.000-06:00

But I do hope I will:

GORECKI
If I should die this very moment
I wouldn't fear
For I've never known completeness
Like being here
Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you
Still in my heart this moment
Or it might burst
Could we stay right here
Until the end of time
until the earth stops turning
Wanna love you until the seas run dry
I've found the one
I've waited for

All this time I've loved you
And never known your face
All this time I've missed you
And searched this human race
Here is true peace
Here my heart knows calm
Safe in your soul
Bathed in your sighs
Wanna stay right here
Until the end of time
'Til the earth stops turning
Gonna love you until the seas run dry
I've found the one
I've waited for
The one I've waited for

All I've known
All I've done
All I've felt was leading to this
All I've known
All I've done
All I've felt was leading to this

Wanna stay right here
'Til the end of time
'till the earth stops turning
I'm gonna love you till the seas run dry
I've found the one
I've waited for
The one I've waited for
The one I've waited for
Wanna stay right here
'Til the end of time
'till the earth stops turning
I'm gonna love you
till the seas run dry
I've found the one
I've waited for
The one I've waited for
The one I've waited for

Sex

2007-05-21T17:31:00.000-06:00

It seems that's all I ever write about anymore. Does it drive you nuts yet? I don't think so, because you all don't read it anymore. I miss you guys!

Horrible Daughter

2007-05-14T12:38:00.000-06:00

I'm a terrible daughter. I didn't even call my mother yesterday!

It Looks Like...

2007-05-11T17:52:00.000-06:00

Instead of getting laid, I'm gonna go hang with my mom tonight.

Get Better

2007-05-08T10:53:00.000-06:00

I subscribe to the "work is work" philosophy. I honestly believe that the most I have in common with people I work with is that we walk the same square footage of carpet every day. Ultimately, when I have to take an engagemnet survey and it asks "Do you have a best friend at work?" I can honestly say no. And odds are, I never will have a best friend at work, unless I start a business with my best friend. Even then, work would be work and friendship would be friendship and very rarely the twain shall meet. Catch my drift?

(Please, actually, catch it. it's been drifting out there for ages and, as anyone who's ever treaded water will tell you, that gets tiring really fast.)

But for once I've found someone I like to hang out with who happens to work with me. He's one of the coolest guys I've ever met, at work or elsewhere, and I think he knows I adore him. And hopefully he digs me too. You never can tell. I rejoiced at the news that he and I would be on the same team for the up and coming shift change. And we just got moved around. His desk is two away from mine. Were he here I's be able to merely stand and see the back of his perfectly shaped head. (And yes, I did intend for that to be creepy. I don't know if his head is perfectly shaped or not. I'm just trying to give him some quality attributes other than just being fucking awesome and having met Blondie. Twice. I remember everything. Well, not the shape of his head.)

But he's ill. I haven't seen him for too long. I miss him. If there were anything I could do to help, I'd do it, but I haven't heard. If he were to, say, email me at firstname.lastname@company.com, I could give him my phone number in case he needs anything. I'm just saying. I want him to get better and I want him to get back. Soon.

Dear Number Two,

2007-05-07T17:26:00.000-06:00

I know you might have sex with her, and that really isn't a problem. What is a problem is that you might have sex with her without a condom, which means you and I can't have sex anymore, since I don't want to use a condom when I have sex with you. Period. So please, if you find yourself preparing to do anything involving penetration with her tonight, or any night with anyone for that matter, please use a condom with them, so you don't have to use a condom with me.

In words that might mean more to you, if you have to use a condom when you and I have sex, you're gonna have to live without the oral break between positions, because seriosuly, have you ever tasted latex? Gross.

(By the way, I know that second paragraph sounds like I might be willing to try intercourse with you without a condom, but if it's not great in other ways, I'm really, really gonna miss you)

Witty Words to Get You Laid:

2007-05-04T15:09:00.000-06:00

"Sometimes it's the day after your birthday and you're lying in bed at nearly noon next to a man with a large erect penis and you think to yourself, 'Why am I masturbating?'"

(Cue strangely joyous laughter and shortly thereafter, sex will commence. Good luck!)

Turn Off

2007-05-03T12:07:00.000-06:00

I need to start losing weight again and stop thinking so much. Stop getting this knot in my stomach of fear and nausea whenever I think about even the remote possibility of getting involved with anyone. Stop even considering getting with someone. And I told someone that last night...

Actually we both kind of told each other at kind of exactly the same time. Apparently we both thought the other was getting a little too attached, which is interesting because I thought he was getting too close because he kept saying things like, "should we go public with our relationship?" and, "this is what love tastes like." He thought I was getting too famliar because I...well, did the exact same thing I always do. (I instigated kisses and sex of all kinds and lounged around his house naked, except for when I was wearing a leash. It's really that good.)

But we are both right. We've been spending too much time together. It's really not healthy, physically or monetarily. So I'm cutting back. Not cutting OFF, but I'm gonna stop thinking about it, now that the stuff is out there. I have a lover and that's it. We both know it and I can officially stop caring what he says about love and dating and all that shit. Well, I'm allowed to. I just hope I can, as I have a tendency to overthink without thinking about it.

By the By

2007-04-26T12:23:00.000-06:00

Don't tell me to take a cab to a boy's house by telling me you will drive me to work in the morning if you don't intend to answer your phone in the morning.

Around and Through

2007-04-25T10:49:00.000-06:00

So I have gotten really good at not being with Boy 1. I proved it to myself (and fortunately enough, to him) last night when he came by to tell me the interesting news...Well, he said he had some news I would love. It was that Rebecca texted him. Wow. I'm shocked. Thanks, Firsty, for that bit of stunning news. (Please read with excessive sarcasm, thanks) I didn't actually say that, I just feigned a little middling interest and then went back to talking to Boy 2 at the bar.

That's right, I'm really bad at not being with Boy 2. I got spent the night at his last night, which was a bad idea, as I spent all my cigarette and food money on a cab back into downtown. And I can still taste and smell man. Even though we didn't have sex. Apparently, getting under someone to get over someone else puts you in a position like this.

(Except that I actually slept with Boy 2 long before I even met Boy 1 and I didn't intend to use Boy 2 to get over Boy 1, he just helped a lot, not by taking my mind off it as much as just giving me a little bit of perspective. The hardest thing about just sleeping with a guy like Two is that he's such an amazing person, it's hard to retain that distance, although it is inescapably necessary. Damn.)

Over(t)ly So

2007-04-24T17:47:00.000-06:00

I think way too much for my own good. And I'm gonna hurt myself.

Here's what I know, Boy 1 (of "old-woman-loving fame) is calling up to ask me out for a drink and Boy 2 (of the "just-found-out-he's-a-daddy" club) is still calling me beautiful.

But I don't think it'd be smart for me to be with either right now.

Plus, Boy 2 plays pool and has been trying to get me to play, and he's a bit of a know it all, so I'd get real pissy real fast, but I think I just might find a lonely, secluded pool table to play with and reteach myself how not to lay too much english.

Cupdate

2007-04-18T10:28:00.000-06:00

There has been very little mention of the whole dating thing with Boy, except that he said he was "trying to love me". I had told him I was broken, and he responded by being exceptionally wonderful. At which point I, of course, got prickly and unfair when he complimented me. and he said, "I am just trying to love you." But it was similar to last time in that he sorta just said it as he was walking out of the room and I was drifting off into tear-streaked sleep. (Well, the last incident was laughter, this one was tears. Sue me.) So I got up and asked, "What did you just say?!" It was kinda surreal. I feel like I'm in a movie. I told him I did love him. He said he loved me, too. And then added, "more than you know."

So the question is: Is it foolish for a broken girl to hook up with broken-for-now Boy? Even if he's broken for a reason and for awhile, as opposed to my being broken forever and just because I'm me? Can a sometime-broken guy break me further, or would I be in danger of pushing him closer to broken-for-good?

On a lighter note, should I start playing pool again?

Hindi

2007-04-16T11:45:00.000-06:00

Apparently I'm going to start blogging in Hindi now.

Not really. I just think it's funny, 'cause of the fact that my white, middle-American filter said, "Why the fuck would anyone want to blog in Hindi? Are there that many Hindi bloggers out there? I mean really?" I'm such a wasp...

Anyway. Here's the fast and quick version, since I'm sick of talking about it.

Rebecca is the mother of a good friend of mine from high school. (And by good friend, I mean I wouldn't run the other way if I saw her walking towrd me on the street. Unless she was with her mom, but I'll explain that in a sec.) She's a hairdresser, so when she offered to give me a flapper bob for New Year's Eve, I was thrilled. And she raved about some boy, some 24 year old boy that she was sleeping with. When I went in for my appointment, she told me about how he stole her lingerie and a miniskirt and was an idiot and she had made out with a theatre designer much closer to her age and was very hungover (reassuring when you're getting your hair done, let me tell you).

Anyway, not 3 days later, I was hanging out in the bar and started a friendly conversation with Jake, the man sitting next to me, very cute, kinda funny, drinking a beer and about to go to the same concert I was going to go to. We went together and started hanging out every dayand sleeping together and my friends started calling him my boyfriend. Here's the weird thing. He is the twenty-four year old lover who stole the clothes. Rebecca said (to Jakein text form) "the cow says moo. do you like that? you make me sick" and later, my personal favorite, "how's the grand canyon?" She's 48 and she's less mature than my 16 year old sister. I pitied her more than anything else.

But then she came up to me one night wasted at the bar saying I needed to dump Jake, he was an asshole and the other night when he told me he was at home, he was really fucking her (and I quote, "no, Sam, really fucking me all night long." Classy). Anyway. I told her it was no biggie. I didn't care who Jake fucked, I knew he was an asshole, which is why I always referred to him as my lover and not my boyfriend. Although before Papa's best friend died, I was starting to get caught up in it.

And the woman has ignored me ever since, except for a drunken apology and a slur on Jake, who I still consider my friend, although I can't have sex with him any more, since it makes him act all weird and shit, which is a whole other story.

Anyway, well before I met Jake I had what I thought at the time was a one night stand with a guy I saw at the bar all the time. We became sorta friends in passing, and the one night stand has turned into a bonafide on-again-off-again stand of indeterminite length, which may have taken a bit of a hop into the dating realm last night, when he told me "maybe we should just date each other." Actually it went like this:

Me: (inane conversation, drunken giggling)

Him: (more inane conversation, funny laughter)

M: (laughing at his funny laughter)

H: Maybe we should just date each other.

M: (more inane conversation)

H: (mass inanity, how many times can we use that word?)

M: What do you mean "maybe we should just date each other"?(!)

H: We shouldn't talk about this like this tonight when we're drunk.

Exeunt, with flourish

The End. As in WoW! I don't know how I feel about it. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm scared and I hope it doesn't come up again. But I know if he doesn't bring it up, I'll have to. Becase I'm a talker througher and rational to a fault and I know that I need to weigh the options now, and if saying no to dating means never being with him again, I have to say yes...Does that mean I want to date him, or just that I don't want the good thing to end? Is that the same thing?

alpha

2007-03-20T17:23:00.000-06:00

I hate the new Blogger. That said, my website will probably not be around much longer. I'm sure they don't take kindly to people saying that. I'm just trusting Google not to be evil and wipe my blog off the face of the internet. Like Accutane wiped the pimples off the face of my sister. I'm in quite a mood today and confused about the whole friends and lovers business.

Just a quick update, Jake had sex with the old woman again and it was actually okay, because if you remember correctly I had demoted us back to friends and lovers, but he's all depressed and shit. We still have sex on occasion. Anyway, I'm trying really hard not to make it more or less than what it is, but it's hard when he asks how to get to my mom's house and gives me a look that says, "I wanna fuck you on her laminate floor."

Winter

2007-02-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

It hasn't been autumn for a long time and I'm sick of the autumn look, so I think I'm gonna make a wintry look, or maybe a springy look as wishful thinking.

What do you think?

Bad Day(s)

2007-02-05T09:52:00.000-07:00

I'm not a good girlfriend, so I'm relinquishing the title. I am just going to try and be a good friend for a while. I never really have been before, and maybe that's the key to being a good girlfriend, really. I've really been hating this the past few days...

Anyway, the news is that I haven't had sex with Jake for almost a week. In fact, I haven't even made out with Jake for almost a week. And the past few days I've been dying for it. And the worst thing is that I could have had it. I ran into two guys last night who I know wanted to have sex with me, and I was approached by three other men to start converstaions. I was like little miss popularity.

And I thought, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

And I saw, "I don't have to be alone tonight."

And I realized, "I don't just not want to be alone; I don't just want to be with someone. I want to be with someone specific."

And then I felt more alone than before.

And then I sat and talked with Ryan about sext messaging and talked to Lawrence about the scifi movie he wants to make, and really, all those feelings passed.

The point is, it's hard not to be a whore.

Part Deux

2007-02-02T14:59:00.000-07:00

(Thanks, K-La)

1. YOUR SPY NAME: [middle name and current street name]

Joe Fort

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: [grandfather/grandmother on your father's side, your favorite candy]

Anna Heath

3. YOUR RAP NAME: [first initial of first name, first three or four letters of your last name]

S Bail

4. YOUR GAMER TAG: [a favorite color, a favorite animal]

Red Kitten

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: [middle name, city where you were born]

Joe Nampa

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: [first 3 letters of your last name, last 3 letters of mother's maiden name, first 3 letters of your pet's name]

Baioonbon

7. JEDI NAME: [middle name spelled backward, your mom's maiden name spelled backward]

Eoj Noopsrehtiw

8. PORN STAR NAME: [first pet's name, the street you grew up on]

Odie Bloom

9. SUPERHERO NAME: ["The", your favorite color, the automobile your dad drives]

The Red Peterbilt (or The Red 1500 or The Red Malibu...They all just sound like cars)

10. YOUR ACTION HERO NAME: [first name of the main character in the last film you watched, last food you ate]

Clementine Bagel

Survey

2007-02-01T15:09:00.000-07:00

I feel like doing one. I'll have to look for one. More later

Hospital

2007-01-30T17:11:00.000-07:00

I found out this morning I actually have a boyfriend, now. An official title. I've never had a boyfriend before. He told me he loves me, that I make him happy, that I'm pretty, that he's lucky to have me in his life. And this afternoon he found out that his grandfather is refusing traetment at the hospital in favor of home hospice. So the day I got a boyfriend is the day his papa (which warms my heart coming out of his mouth, because papas are a very special thing. I should know. I lost mine in 2005) has decided to go home and die comfortably.

The point is, I love the idea of having a boyfriend. I love being in love with this guy. And I am. I fell for him pretty hard, pretty fast. I love the feeling of importance. I love that he notices little things about me that I wasn't really aware of before. I hated leaving him to go to work today. I hated seeing him hurt. I hated knowing how he felt and not knowing for sure at the same time. And all of a sudden I think I may actually understand the difference between a fuck buddy and a boyfriend. And that's it. The only difference is that wanting to make them as happy as they make you. Maybe this is that mother-children love thing I don't get either. That "i-feel-pain-when-you-feel-pain" feeling. Weird. More about this later.

I can't go, I'm a horrible friend.

2007-01-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

Actually I'm a horrible employee, and I will lose my job if I leave early today. Son of a bitch. I'll be out in early March. I promise.

Portland

2007-01-23T10:47:00.000-07:00

Ah, I'm torn. (And I'm not apologizing for not having posted for nearly a month; deal with it. I've been really busy, and now I'm posting at work to waste time, further solidifying my fear that I will not pass my final exam and I will be looking for a new job next month)

In recent news I received an eviction notice in the mail, but I'm ignoring it, because my landlord was too stupid to send it with a receipt, and I have to move out within three days of receiving it, and I never did, to her knowledge, so ha. I'm glad i just recorded that in print, because now she knows i got it, if she ever found my weblog, which she won't. Anyway. I've sent in my 30-day notice with a veiled threat to report her to the housing authority for the mold problem, the leaky ceiling, the fact that she sent people in to knock holes in my walls and hasn't had them fixed for over a year now, and for my apartment always smelling like pot and I can't have any. Fucking jobs. The people above and below me smoke out all the time and since I have holes between my bedroom and both stoner apartments, I have to deal with that shit all the time and that really messes with your ability to abstain, right? I guess that last one is probably not such a good argument to take to the authorities, but still.

So I'm slowly packing up all my shit and trying to move into the apartment across the street, since I hate moving if I have to use a vehicle. It blows.

Also, hey, I've been dating a guy for almost a month now, which is weird. I still don't refer to him as my boyfriend, but he kind of is, I guess. Or at least my friends say he is. I never really understood the difference between a monogamous fuck friend and a boyfriend, so I'm not necessarily a good one to ask. I don't introduce him to people as my boyfriend, and he doesn't call me his girlfriend, so that may be an indicator.

Just in case you're wondering, I'm not going to say anything about maybe going to Portland this weekend, because nothing's set in stone. I kinda have to figure out this eviction thing first. Shit. But I may be in Portland on Saturday afternoon. I certainly hope so. I need money, though. Shit. Grrrr. (Insert a whole string of expletives here. I'm sure you can imagine.) I hate rent. Not so much the musical and only a little bit the movie, but a whole lot the actual paying of a landlord for the ability to have a leaky roof over my head.

Yes, Adam, there is a Santa Claus...I mean, I do understand. I miss both parts of you. And K-La, I miss you like bleeding from my eyes. (Not I miss you like I miss bleeding from my eyes, which is not at all. I mean missing you feels like bleeding from my eyes. I need to know when you'll be back on this side of the country, 'cause I get two weeks vaykayshun. And I need to see you. Hopefully I'll see Adam on Saturday. Adam, what are you doing on Saturday?)

PS

2006-12-25T11:22:00.000-07:00

Jason Mulgrew is probably a walking STD conglomerate, (what with all the ass he gets, apparently in a one-night-only capacity, he's probably a medical miracle) but I'd still probably have sex with him after four drinks, if it weren't the first night I ever met him, because I don't do that anymore. Mr. Mulgrew is decidedly not reading this, but if he were, I would still leave this post up, because I'm too lazy to take it down and because I want him to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that if we ever wound up on the same side of the continent for more than a week together, I'd hunt him down, get some kiltlifter in him and have my way with him. But I'd definitely make him wear a condom. Not because I'm just safe like that...I mean, I am just safe like that, but even if I weren't, that boy probably has (what would Gareth say?) knob rot (ha) like you wouldn't believe.

I also love Gareth, but I wouldn't have sex with him or the actor who plays him. Because 1)Mackenzie Crook is married and 2)I mean, come on...Gareth!?

The date

2006-12-25T11:14:00.000-07:00

I need a cigarette. Hold on. I gotta try and get 'em all in before next week...

...Insert seven minute lapse...

The date was lame, not much more I can say. I met this guy on a Wednesday, we hung out for a few hours. The he called me back on Thursday.

...A bit of a side note here...guys never do this. If you are a guy and you're reading this, (which is highly unlikely, unless you're Adam) you ought to know that the number one way to impress someone you want to date, or even just fuck, is to call them the very next day. I'm not saying it's the only thing you have to do; there's a lot involved in conveying interest. But for the record, calling the next day avoids a lot of that nonsense. It says, "I'm still thinking about you," and there isn't much more appealing to someone who wants to be pursued.

I don't know about all people, but I can say that for me, what holds me back from dating is my deep-seated fear that he's really not interested. So I'll just put it out there that a next-day call-back makes me think he's not just bored. I'm not just someone to fill his time and his bed; he likes me. Even if it's not true, the message is clear. I know a guy who gets more ass than anyone I know, and his first move is always the next-day call-back. I've even heard him say, "I really don't have anything to talk about; I just really wanted to talk to you." Isn't that sweet? Doesn't it melt your heart and your barriers? That's the point. Get it?

(Hi, Adam. I don't mean to shortchage you, but you probably already know this, seeing as how you're very good at interpersonal relations, and I really can't imagine you not having figured this out.)

So anyway, this guy calls back the next day and asks if I want to go out on Sunday. I said yes and we set up to meet at The Neurolux at 8pm. We did and it was fine, except it was just like hanging out with a friend. No subtle flirtation, no buying of drinks, no compliments. And then he proceeds to explain this fuked up situation with this girl at work and how he really just wants to be friends right now. I am okay with this. (One thing you'll all already know about me is that when I'm not going crazy, I'm pretty fucking easygoing).

Anyway, we just talked for a couple hours, set a tentative friends-only date to watch Spinal Tap, as it's prerequisite to a friendship with me anymore, and he went home early. I went and sat with other friends of mine, who had been waving at me all night and met 3 or 4 other guys, one of whom was very promising, but I'm not getting my hopes up.

Anyway, the night wasn't a waste, just a weird experience. And one that I likely won't have again, as I am predicting the next guy who asks me out on a date will actually want to date me. This date tonight doesn't count, because he asked me before I made this prediction, and I'm pretty sure it'll end exactly the same way. Friends-only. Story of my fucking life.

-

Happy holidays to all of you, or if your religion doesn't have a holiday in this part of the year, well, I'm pretty sure you're not reading, because only two people are, and they both celebrate Christmas. Sorry, Hindu ghost reader.

Meanwhile...

2006-12-16T16:41:00.000-07:00

I don't know when I'll be able to sit down and write again, but I thought I'd let you all know I have a date tomorrow. A real date. I've never really had one of those before where me and a guy who likes me go out in public together. Isn't that exciting?

I'm Sorry

2006-12-07T20:18:00.000-07:00

Hello. I feel bad about not updating in so long. Like Steve at The Sneeze, except slightly less annoying because I don't think there are hundreds of people who check my weblog every day to read something hilarious. Good thing, too. 'Cause I got nothin'.

I'm sitting at my mom's house and there's a guy over here who wants to date my mom. His name is Jeff and he's a doofus. That's pretty much the only word that fits. He thinks glue sticks were invented sometime this year. He doesn't understand "why the blacks always wear those big necklaces". He is laughing at a nature show about white water rapids in Idaho. Hello? We live in Idaho. What's more, this guy actually owns and drives a jet boat. Why is he watching...Oh, nevermind. It's not worth being condescending to someone who doesn't understand that you should type and spell check your cover letters when you apply for a job. It's also not worth being condescending to someone when they can't hear you. And he will basically never in a million years read this, so fuck it.

Anyway, yes, I am quite alive and very well. Just got a job with a major telecom company, about which I can say nothing, due to the fact that I'd then have to kill you and I don't really know how to kill someone. And I'm too lazy to look it up and too cheap to hire a hit man. It'd be a huge fucking mess.

I also bought some shit and had a few crushes on a few different guys. Same old stuff.

Also, the whole Spider thing happened, but I'm still not gonna talk about that yet. I'm still embarrassed and terrified about it.

2006-11-18T17:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, I swear I am not trying to avoid talking about my future family, but my whole real family is sitting right behind me so I can't swear or smoke or talk about anything that indicates I'm not a virgin. But speaking of that, remind me to tell you about Spider and the dagger, too.

You Really Can't Go Home

2006-10-30T13:51:00.000-07:00

I'm upset with Bon Jovi for being so fucking stupid as to misinterpret one of the most accurate statements of all time. You can't go home.

Come on, man. It doesn't mean that you can't go back to your house or your family. It says that you can't go home, Jon. Think about it. Think about the way that after you made Slippery When Wet, the kids from your neighborhood all looked at you differently when you "went home". Do you still live in that industrial neighborhood where you grew up, dude? Do you even really want to go home? I mean, I know you're all "Jersey" and shit, but I promise you, Richie doesn't wanna go back where he came from. That would mean forfeiting the right to fuck the likes of Heather Locklear and Denise Richards.

You sound like a retard more and more every time I hear you sing this song, so let me point out exactly what this means...

Every day that I age, work, live, I get farther away from "home" as I came to know it as a child. I still have my mother's phone number at my childhood house listed as "home" in my cell phone, even though my house hasn't been hers for nearly three years. I think that home will always be this house, this family, my mother and sister. I may get married and have kids someday (more about this later, actually), but even then, part of me will be imagining home as the place where I was a child.

When I was just out of college, I really did try to go back, but I was a drinker and a member of the workforce. I paid bills now. In this place, which will always be home, I am not who I was, so it isn't what it was...Does that make sense? Think about it. You may go back to your home, but once you leave, you are visiting a place so entangled with memories, it's a ghost home. Once you leave, home becomes something you can't go back to, but something you strive to create for the rest of your life.

Basically, Jon, you need to understand that...well, the song blows and it's annoying as shit. Take it off the radio, please.

Three Reasons my New Job Rocks

2006-10-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

A little background:

Starting when I dropped out of college I worked at an inboundcal center for two years, only to be fired on thanksgiving because they accused me of drinking on the clock, which I did not do. It was fine to leave because I hated the job and was intending to quit in January. The shitty thing was that I was fired and have to disclose that information at every new job I apply for. Since it's my only real experience, I have a hard time glossing it over.

After that, i worked as a telemarketer. Enough said, I believe.

I have been working at a temp agency since May, and I have been dismissed from both of my last two assigments. The first for my imperfect driving record, the second for throwing a phone book at a patient. I don't feel like explaining the injustice here, but I will because the guy hadn't taken his Xanax for two weeks and seemed to mistake my taking out a phonebook to look up a number as my throwing it at him.

I get accused of all kinds of shit, and apparently I look like the kind of person who throws phone books at the mentally disabled while sloshed at work.

I just got a new job in a call center (inbound, thank god) just down the street from my house. There are maybe ten reps here, only two team leaders. The company sells hundreds of thousands of downloadable products eery day and we ten handle all the customer support. That said, let me say what I adore this place and I'll work here 'til I retire or move away, if I am so lucky.

1. The company subsdizes the vending machines. What I mean by that is, the powers that be think 75 cents is a ridiculous price to pay for a can of soda, so they pay extra to the vending machine company to have the price for the employees lowered to only 50 cents. The company buys a third of my customary lunch soda for me. Beautiful.

2. Tomorrow we are turning off the phones in the busiest part of the day to have a judged costume contest with all of the phone reps, meaning no one will have to watch the phones or miss out on the fun. There are prizes and games, and we all get paid to sit around and drink coffee and vote for the greatest halloween costume for an hour, while the customers wait. Why? Because it builds morale.

3. Wednesday is the big BSU game. This time, we get off an hour and a half early (instead of taking morning time) and get paid to hang out and tailgate for BSU. And it's real tailgatingwith a grill and free beer and also prizes for most spirit. Basically, if I dress up, I get something rad, just for wearing blue tomorrow. And I get something rad anyway, which is being paid to drink free beer out in front of the company where I work with great people who are currently grilling me a hot dog. Hell Yeah.

Of course I could list a million reasons why this company is great, mostly that I like the work and it likes me and the people I work with are not stuck up prigs or mental patients. But these are favorite three things of today. I'm looking forward to the rest of the week. And here's hoping I'll still be hung over when I pick up that first during work beer on Wednesday. That'd more than make my Halloween.

If you'll excuse me, I have to go get paid to smokea cigarette for tewenty minutes and drink my Mountain Dew, purchased at 33% off.

2006-10-25T13:16:00.000-06:00

Ask me how pissed I am that I'm not in Seattle? Actually, don't, 'cause I'll just cry about missing what would have made me love Christmas again. And that's a tough feat.

Somebody I know needs to go see Rufus and Martha singing with mom on December 7th, because there's no way in hell I'm gonna make it.

Fuck.

2006-10-24T00:10:00.000-06:00

I developed a gnarly case of strep throat on date night. Of course, I still went and saw the band with a boy and we had a couple drinks afterward, but I paid for it on Saturday morning. $93 dollars, in fact. Why do I have to pay a Physician's Assistant 63 dollars to stick my tonsils with some cotton swabs and come back ten minutes later to tell me I have the very thing I told him I had before he made me almost yak up three aspirin? Because Emergency care clinics are bitches, that's why. And what's worse is that my whole face and neck hurts. And the worst is, I was contagious all weekend and it still hurts to spit and I sure as shit can't swallow, so what fucking good am I to the boy now? If I didn't accidentally infect him with my least favorite disease of all time, I'll get a call on humpday and that mother fucker is licking my tonsils and I don't care what color they are at that point, dammit.

Anyway...

The reality is, I can't drink while I'm on antibiotics, and if there's one thing I take seriously, it's my health. It's a good thing you can't see me here, sitting in my mom's living room at midnight in dirty clothes with a ashtray full of cigarette butts in front of me, huh? I'm going to be extremely good for another 6 days, because I should. And I need to prove to myself that I can.

I sould like a muppet, but having your uvula squeezed between two golf-ball-sized tonsils will do that. My sister made a lot of fun of me tonight, bless her heart. She doesn't get to do that very often.

This is drivel and the point I was trying to get to was that I made a promise to myself to be good. And I was good, for the most part. And here I am, punished with this ridiculous swelling and pain that makes being bad oh so tempting, b8ut completely inadvisable. Why did I not get sick the whole time I was living like Zelda? Why, when I finally decide to straigten up, does my body drop this shit on me? I mean, I can understand my body getting sick as a warning that I'm flushing my life down the barmat, but as a reward for my foresight and diligence? What the hell?

Here's my theory: when I'm too wasted to function in a way that'll make my parents proud, my body is too toxic to foster disease. It's like, I should have gotten strep before, but that bacteria couldn't find a place to root. Everything was already infected with alcohol. Then I decide to cut back and I left myself wide open. Really. Only a few sober cells. Three days not drinking was enough to make enough space for a reall illness to take hold. I wonder if cirrhosis is as painful as strep throat...if not, I'm going back to the old ways, my friends. And how.

In Response...

2006-10-20T15:03:00.000-06:00

...To being able to "find men so easily"...

I think this is part of the reason why I have a hard time refusing encounters with guys. I spent so long not being desired. So long wanting and not being wanted that now that it's becoming a two-way street sometimes, I find myself incapable of saying no. I mean, I think to myself, "I shouldn't do this." Then that little me in a red halter dress pops up on my shoulder and says, "Hey, remember when nobody but creepy, ugly guys wanted you? You want this guy and he wants you." That halter dress is fucking irresistable and looking down at that little sexpot only serves to remind me how sexy I am all of a sudden...

Sheepish

2006-10-19T12:03:00.000-06:00

Well, that went out the window real fuckin' fast. I shouldn't have made my resolution so goddamn difficult on the day I was destined to meet that guy from last night. (Who has first and last names I know, is an engineer, and sat on my couch listening to Kurt Elling with me for twenty minutes. Hopefully he's taking me out on Friday. I swear, I really did try...)

Band (And Other Stuff) Update

2006-10-18T13:53:00.001-06:00

I don't know if I mentioned before that this band sleepover thing happened at my mom's house, because I was housesitting and watching my 16-year-old sister at the time. I thought about not telling my mom that I had the band spend the night at her house, but I thought better of it. I mean, she'd've found out anyway, really. And I didn't think it'd be a huge deal. Boy was I wrong. I told her and she was very disappointed, which is pretty run-of-the-mill for me. The weird thing is that it fed into a "you're drinking your life away" speech I was in no way expecting. Apparently she spent the week thinking about my life's goals and my habits and all that stupid shit that I haven't shared with her but she thinks she knows anyway.

Afterwards I went home and went out to the bar. I sat with my friend, who also happens to be a doorman at my favorite bar. He's a pretty regular fixture in my drinking life, but I've never seen him outside the bar. I have a bit of a crush on him. Anyway. He said he thinks I need to be alone for a while.

The point is (and here's where it becomes more of a life update than a band one) I do tend to offer up certain parts of myself to avoid offering up others. I'll have sex with someone to keep from getting romantically involved with them. Now, I know my friend was just projecting a little bit, because he does the same sort of things as me. But honestly, I need to take some time off of being this party girl. Not for my mom's sake, but for the sake of my important relationships. I need to forego drunken conversations for real ones. One-night stands for one-year ones. Buddies for friends.

Here's the plan. I'm cutting back on the nights I go out. I almost always hit the Neurolux every day, but I'm going to start doing humpdays and weekends only. And if my friend starts bartending on Mondays, I'll switch to Monday afternoons instead of humpdays. When I go out to the bar, I will not bring anyone home. Period. I will actually not have sex again until I am actually on my way to being with someone. And by that, I mean I have to know them. First name and last name. I have to know what the do and like and we have to have seen each other outside of the bar. And they have to take me out. And by that I mean, we have to have gone out. (Not necessarily that he pays or picks me up or some stupid shit like that, just, you know, going out. Even just for drinks. Pre-arrangement, friends.) He has to be someone I can talk to about stuff. Someone who will come over and watch a movie or listen to music. Not just fuck me and leave. I will see my friends in some other context than late at night, wasted. And if they don't want to see me in any other way, they're not my friends. That may even include my doorman friend...Sad.

I don't know how else to accomplish this self-imposed solitude without going crazy. I need this social aspect, but I can't let it be my safety net, you know? I need to remember how good it can feel to be vulnerable.

Not Much, But Here's This...

2006-10-16T01:33:00.000-06:00

A band rolled through on Friday. I had never heard of them, but I went to the show, 'cause, hey, that's what I do. They were looking for a place to stay and I had extra beds, so I offered and they accepted. Today I found this on their myspace page:

Hello Internet. Mike here, assuring everyone that the pizza horse still has a pizza face, houseboat be damned. I just tried to mentally prepare for blogging ... seeing as we haven't updated since before the Howie and Sons rock show/pizza eating contest ... and I quickly realized that I've actually been on tour for two months. Some sort of time/space anomoly, clearly. I'm going to forget like fifty people/places/things. Minimum.

Ok, I definately remember this morning. We had breakfast at the house of some friendly strangers. Bacon. Thick slices. Delicious.

California. Quite a state. We played on the radio with the supremely rad foks at KCPR, hung out with Brilliant Red Lights in Sacramento (and somehow met Zach Hill's cousin/new guitarist of Hella) ............... Cinemechanica requires excitement. MONTANA. I must go hit drums. Tour = get bored fast, get excited fast. I suck at blogging. The end.

mike

Okay, I took out a bit. It was where the dots were. Anyway, the point is, they mentioned me. Yay! That just goes to show. You may wind up with eleven less eggs and a pound of bacon missing. And, like 20 tortillas you're never going to eat. Because who knew the rest of the world didn't like them as much as you? But the point is, if you have the space, taking in a band for the night is a great thing to do with your evening. They will appreciate the hell out of it. You will find yourself wondering if they washed their asses with their own soap or if they used yours. Best of all, you will know you saved some nearly starving, dearly talented young guys from a night in their chomo van on the side of the road. Or worse, from a night spent on the long, mind-numbing road from your town to the next, which in my neck of the woods is a good ten hour drive on only fat tire and left-over show energy.

Guys, if you're reading (which you're obviously not, so what's the point?). I'm glad I could house and feed you. I hope all my friends would do the same. Don't forget me when you're famous. Oh, and thank me in your liner notes. Seriously.

Hush Hush

2006-10-12T21:49:00.000-06:00

The last time I worked in a call center I made a promise to myself I'd never do it again unless I had to. This month I broke my promise and went back to work in a real inbound customer service center answering email and taking calls for a large online retailer.

The great thing about the company is that they don't make or ship any products because they're all digital (e.g., eBooks, website access, software dowloads, etc.). What that means for the company is that nobody knows who we are. What it means for me is that I only ever have to deal with refunds and email. I get an email or a call for a refund and I give a refund and send an email. I get an email or a call for tech support and I send an email to tech support. Cake.

The shitty thing is, nobody knows who the company is, so we get lots of people calling in pissed. And every call center gets lots of people calling in stupid. And I'm not good at that. And I've forgotten how to be nice to stupid people. And I have never gotten desensitized to it. I worked with stupid people at every phone job I ever had before and it always amazes me.

Mostly, though, I've forgotten how to be quiet in a phone room. I talk loudly; I laugh loudly; I walk and move and type loudly. And worse thanall this, I have a sarcastic remark for every caller, every email and every fax that some dumbass graces me with, and not everyone wants to hear it.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job and my company and my coworkers and it's past the two week mark and the job hasn't turned to shit. We played Pictionary in a meeting today for thirty minutes and my boss guessed 'speed suit', for chrissakes. I love the place. And I don't actually let the people get to me. Really I don't. But I do have a constant air of disapproving superiority. And, as with everything else, I'm loud about it.

So much so, that my team leader, who sits next to me, said to me today, "Lets try not to use all our words today, okay?"

Okay.

I can't wait until they move me to another seat. I hope I sit by Denzil. He's the only other rep on my team who bitches as much as me. We'll start a vastly superior club. A sarcastic and snobby, real-english-speaking, no-internet-scams club. We won't disband until...we get fired for being smug assholes.

God, I've missed me. Welcome me back.

Sex On The Brain

2006-10-11T23:20:00.000-06:00

While I was perusing The Bouncer's website tonight, I came across this. Now, I understand his point, and I'm all for making it easy on you guys. But the truth is, you have to make it easy, too. Seriously, don't read on if you don't want cold sex talk for a second.

My biggest "sex as a workout" beef comes from spooning. (First of all, if your cock isn't huge, this position is not going to do you any favors. It doesn't affect the feel of your girth and it sure as hell makes peter seem shorter than we may know he really is. If you're not gonna put it in my ass, I don't even want to think about having sex this way. No, you cannot put it in my ass. Don't even ask.)

In almost any other position I can think of, it is completely natural for my body to push against you when you push against me, so why pick this position where I have to think like hell to get this rhythym down? Is it just me, or does every body naturally want to push forward when the person spooning you pushes forward? And in order to maintain any arousing form of depth, I have to put my hips in a position that makes me feel like an out-of-shape belly dancer, and you can't even fucking see me. Here I am holding in my stomach, spreading my kness just so, arching my back, turning my ribcage and undulating like mad while trying to anticipate the next thrust. You just lie on your side and pump? Fuck you.

Actually, I advise against it, because it's not that great a time.

Now, personally, I don't mind it if the guy is really laying on top of me in the missionary position. It makes it easier for me to bite him or scratch his back or pull his hair (or any of my many tyrannies of the bedroom that I use to symbolize that I want them reciprocated in kind). Also, I'm a big girl; I can take it. Maybe you big, buff, tractor-tire-flipping types need to look at the girls you're fucking. If she's a head and shoulders shorter than you and as big around as your forearm, you got problems with mish. That's just life, man. Get over it or choose someone who isn't gonna break.

But hands down, best position is your standard all-fours, I-would-say-doggy-style-but-I-hate-that-terminology position. First of all, if you and I fall into traditional man-on-top as soon as we have our clothes off, there is nothing more exciting to me than the look on your face or the hitch in your stroke or the little noise you make when I lean up and whisper, "Flip me over. I want you from behind." It's neat that you can slap or bite me from here, but I got nothing on you. I like that your testicles slap against my clitoris (and I couldn't think of any other way to say that without sounding like a porn star). I love that you can touch most of my body from here. I adore the fact that if you don't think to touch me, I can touch myself from here. And best, is when you touch me, so I can reach back between my legs and touch you. And I love that you never seem to expect that move...Damn...I need a boyfriend.

He could put it in my ass.

Odd?

2006-10-10T23:24:00.000-06:00

No one reads this weblog, for real. I, when I am lucky, have one consistent reader. And yet, someone spammed my comments today to try and let me know how I can make $900 a day taking surveys online. Really? Now, I work for an online retailer and I know better than to pay someone to tell me how to get paid to give my opinion. But I just want you to know, K-La, I deleted the spam so that you won't get duped into jumping into said foolishness. Really. I know get-rich-quick schemes seem like they're real, but they're not, babe. Don't fall for it, okay?

About Something, 'Cause I Can't Think of a Damn Thing to Say

2006-10-10T17:11:00.000-06:00

The point is, I think I can't be terribly unhappy for any length of time because you are only allotted so much unhappiness in your life and I used most of it when I was in college. I mean, the length of your life is basically predetermined; that's something you can't control. And you can't really control how happy you are, you know? You just can control your outlook. Decide to get in a good mood and get in a good mood, you know? That's the best you can do. But being in a good mood doesn't make you happy. Happiness is that inability to keep from laughing 'cause you have to smile so big. So maybe you are only allowed to have so much really sad moments and really happy moments in all your life and if you end up in a very sad-heavy situation you have to ration it for the rest of your life. I mean I haven't been depressed for more than two days since I dropped out of school, and the further I get from that experience, the less time each one of those episodes takes. That's my theory...for now.

Maybe the bottom'll drop out someday, but I love my life while I'm in it, you know?

The Original Situation

2006-10-06T17:34:00.000-06:00

Please read this before you read "The Situation as I See It"

The Situation

The Situation as I See It

2006-10-06T17:32:00.000-06:00

My "Crackhead Pete" is actually named "Child Molester Terry"...I put my mother's sister's son in jail and suffered the wrath of my whole family for it. There are some who still don't talk to me because of it. He "fooled around" with me when I was 8 years old, and my mom kicked him out of our house (he was living with us at the time) and decided at the pleas of her sister not to press charges. 'He was in his early twenties,' she said. 'He was a good Christian boy; he was just experimenting; he felt horrible about it...' When I was fourteen, he admitted to molesting another cousin. Her family refused to press charges and I decided to stop the disfunction. And I had to testify in court the things he did to me, which still embarrass me to talk about, and were terrifyingly dirty to talk about at 14, and in front of people. In front of my family, actually, who all sat on his side of the courtroom. And I had my mother and my state appointed advocate.

He's still in jail.

On a happier note though, I will never forget what it felt like the first time someone told me it wasn't my fault. It was like I was allowed to breathe for the first time in four years. I was eighteen the first time I heard that. I think people expect that you already know it wasn't your fault it happened. And the truth is, even now I'm not sure I actually believe it wasn't my fault. But thinking to myself, "It wasn't my fault" is a lot like that first time, every time. It's refreshing. I'd say it every day to myself if I thought about Terry every day. Which I don't.

So I guess the point is, my family is full of "Crackhead Pete"s. They're all irrational and stupid. Because, yeah, it's not like I'm standing up for myself or protecting my young family members from the years of shit I had to endure. I'm picking on Terry. I'm turning against my family. And a little boy isn't allowed to experiment in my world. It's forbidden.

Well, fuck you. Here's the real deal, kids: You can experiment on me because I'm strong and I can hold my own and I will deal with it and make myself ten times better than you could ever have hoped for me to be because of and in spite of the shit you put on me. I'm that way. But you will NOT (read:abso-fucking-lutely NOT) put that shit on my sister or my cousin or any other little girl while I have the power to stop it. Because at twenty-eight, it's not experimentation, it's a fucking perversion, it's incest, it's destructive, it's disgusting, it's a million and a half things I will take on myself but will not ever watch you put on someone else, while I stand idly by. You need someone to press charges, because my uncle won't stand up for his daughter? Fuck yeah. I'm there. And when that sick motherfucker walks into the courtroom and sits behind the man who took his daughter's innocence and glares at me like I'm the one breaking up the family...

Fuck, I need a pitcher. (not a belly-itcher)

Proper Stalker

2006-10-05T17:10:00.000-06:00

Ah, I have reader back. Yay! A proper stalker.

I just finished work and her's what I have to say about it: I am losing my mind. Today I had a single cup of coffee and a small piece of cake and that's it. No crack, for real. No Mountain Dew, no Red Bull, no aderrall...And I'm acting like a fucking adhd case.

I'll explain, in the course of writing that blurb above, I was distracted by three hairs I had to pull out of my head, a cute guy who came out of the stairwell, an ugly guy going into the stairwell, the thought of my neighbors, my keycard and eight cents on my desk.

Oh! I have to go print something off. This is not an exaggeration. I am dead serious. NUTS! (I love nuts, lets go ride bikes, for real I've been like this all day at work. And I told a caller that she could buy a slim jim at jacksons.)

Here I Go Again

2006-10-03T22:39:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, when I was in college, long before I became the failure you see before you, I had a weblog (Vic's Fro, aptly named for the large and ridiculous head of hair sported by Victor Garber as Jesus, long before he became Jennifer Garner's spy dad on Alias) I wrote to remind people back in Boise of me. To let them know how I was doing, you know? Then, when I dropped out of school, I wrote New Fro (Still a pre-Titanic Victor Garber reference, but revamped. Old ideas die hard) to keep my college friends informed of my dropout life. Of course, neither endeavor really paid off, as no one ever read either anyway and I spent a lot of time addressing my posts to "reader", as I assumed there was probably one, somewhere. Usually K-La-La. Hi, K-La-La.

Anyway. I miss it, and I have a job now, and a few blossmming addictions to go along with it. And what makes for better writing no one reads than an addict behind a keyboard at a perfectly respectable hour, seriously considering going to bed at 10:30 PM because she has to work tomorrow? Add to the mix that she's at her mom's house, sober and too lazy to get up for her cigarettes or a beer, and there you have another pile of stupid weblog slop that seems to permeate the internet nowadays.

At least I can say that back in the days when GMail was born, and introduced exclusively to "bloggers", I stole the name 'youngfart' before you had to add shit-tons of numbers to the end. That's how long I've been around. And I've been boring for longer than that. Fucking deal with it. I'm an original, and every wannabe with a boring blog is copying me. And yes, I did friendster before I did myspace, so everyone on myspace is a follower, too. And I was refusing to put my picture online since before I knew what photobucket was. And then I found out, and I started putting pictures of myself online...because then I could. And don't go looking for a template that looked as autumn awesome as mine, 'cause you won't find one, 'cause I colored it in myself. Dumb fuckers.

Okay, I'm just acting bitter now. I really should go to bed, 'cause I have to work tomorrow. And I'm walking. You know all the environmentalists on bikes and shit? Fuckin' copycatters.

From NewFro

2006-09-02T00:00:00.000-06:00

Back in the day, I stole this from K-La and I'm surprised how many of these things still apply. I italicized the ones I kept from then:

10 REALLY RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME

1. I love the way thermals look on me. I think they're more sexy than a few of my really low cut tops.
2. I have never had a vocal lesson in my life.
3. I think about the cost of luxuries in terms of alcoholic beverages. Would I rather have the My Morning Jacket live album or three gin and tonics? (answer? The album. I'm not a total alcoholic, you know)
4. I met Brian Setzer on a street corner in Boise. That's where I meet all the rich men, wink. I told him he looked like Brian Setzer. He said, "Yeah, I'm Brian."
5. I would have sex with James Spader, even today. Probably Jeff Goldblum, too. Definitely Ian Kerner. And if you're a woman and you don't know who the last guy is, you should.
6. I think it's horrible that there isn't a funny word for vagina, but there is for penis. There's no female equivalent for weiner and that pisses me off.
7. I have sex dreams that are unpleasant.
8. I get scared applying for really good jobs.
9. I still a coat that used to belong to Adam (from the vacationalist) in my living room closet.
10. I am dieting to reach a misses size 11/12. The last time I was in that size was the summer of my fifth grade year.

9 WAYS TO WIN MY HEART

1. Let me catch you staring at me. I makes me feel awkward and beautiful at the same time. Butterflies...
2. Draw on me with a sharpie. I find myself inexplicably attracted to men who do this. Because both of the guys who've done this to me are men to whom I would not have normally been attracted, and yet, here I am just slobbering at the thought of them.
3. No matter how much you dislike it, don't tell me that the music I listen to is dumb or meaningless or sold out. Better yet, ike it. If I feel like we have this in common, I will be yours for longer than I should be.
4. Make me laugh.
5. Make me feel beautiful. Touch me when you don't have to, show me you're not with me just because you're desperate.
6. Touch the sides of my ribcage, right under the band of my bra.
7. Hug me for a long time. Press your hips against me. That's hot. As a matter of fact, press your whole body against me while we hug. Hold me long enough that all the skin you're touching gets hot. Damn.
8. Make something for me. Yes, just something. Spelling my name with the garden hose would count. Spelling it with urine would be borderline. It depends where you wrote it and whether you wrote my whole name or my nickname.
9. Dance with me. (I want to be your partner, can't you see? The music is just starting. Night is calling and I am falling. Dance with me.)

8 THINGS I CARRY/WEAR EVERYDAY

1. Dr Feelgood (benefit)
2. Chapstick
3. SPF 30 face and body moisturizer (Oil of Olay)
4. Bra (preferrably push-up)
5. Flats
6. Cell phone
7. debit card
8. cigarettes

7 THINGS THAT ANNOY ME

1. People with runny noses, especially when it's quiet time.
2. Stupid people. Period. I forgot how much I hated them until I started working Customer Service again
3. Commercials that act like infomercials. Just because it's only a few seconds instead of 30 minutes doesn't mean I'm not gonna change the channel, get it?
4. When I say stupid things and I know I am smarter than that.
5. Emeril.
6. Underwear.
7. When guys ask me where they can find a girl like me, but what they mean is, "Where can I find a girl like you who is also pretty". Fuckin' bastards.

6 PLACES I'VE VISITED

1. The Precious Moments Chapel and theme park
2. The Tom Mix Museum
3. Wall Drug Store
4. The Prairie Dog Village
5. Nowata, Oklahoma
6. Hoots Highway Cafe

THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE

1. Meet Adam Green.
2. Streak in London.
3. Dance/play/make-out in a public fountain.
4. Sing in a nightclub.
5. Buy myself an eternity band.

4 THINGS I'M AFRAID OF

1. Not doing any of those 5 things.
2. Thinking I am better than I am, having been lied to all these years.
3. Eating real food at Dairy Queen.
4. Being an alcoholic in a bad way.

3 THINGS I DO EVERYDAY

1. Pee.
2. Smoke.
3. Check my email.

2 THINGS I'M TRYING NOT TO DO NOW

1. Grab another beer. But I'm definitely going to lose this fight.
2. Masturnate. But I'm pretty sure I'm gonna lose that one, too. As a matter of fact, I'm gonna do that right now. Well, after I finish my beer.

1 PERSON I WANT TO SEE NOW

1. KLaLa. And that's not just reciprocation of her saying she wanted to see me. I miss her so much it makes me want to run to Boston. If I knew I wouldn't lose my job, I'd just take off and do it.

I Don't Usually Do This, But...

2006-09-01T00:00:00.000-06:00

LAYER ONE: ON THE OUTSIDE

Name: SamSam
Birth date: May 3, 1984
Current Location: My mother's house in Boise, ID.
Eye Color: Lots of different shades of blue, depending on the day.
Hair Color: dark red brown today, but I'm thinking about coloering in blue for Halloween.
Righty or Lefty: Righty, like most serial killers, but not Jack the Ripper, so there.
Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

LAYER TWO: ON THE INSIDE

Your heritage: I don't really know. A lot of English-speaking European countries and some German, but one of my ancestors signed The Declaration of Independence, so I'm beyond A Tree Grows In Brooklyn in my americanism.
Your fears: Heights mostly. Also, becoming an alcoholic.
Your weakness: Alcohol, sometimes. Anyone who makes me feel beautiful and loved. Friends.
Your perfect pizza: The Pesto Primavera from The Flying Pie. There's a link over there.
Goal you'd like to achieve: I want to make enough money to live the way I want.

LAYER THREE: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW

Your thoughts first waking up: I'm not going to share them, except the music was The Dandy Warhols, which is always really nice.
Your best physical feature: I like my smile and my eyes. Other people tend to like my tits.
Your bedtime: I don't really have one.
Your most missed memory: I have lots. But mostly I prefer to make new ones, like hanging out with the skater boys yesterday afternoon...

LAYER FOUR: YOUR PICK

Pepsi or Coke: Coke.
McDonald's or Burger King: Burger King.
Single or group dates: Tough call. I'm not a traditional date kind of girl, so either way goes pretty well for me. If it's an oficial date, though, with someone I'm dating. I'd rather have it be single most of the time, so we can end it without seeming rude, you know? Does that make me sound like a whore?
Adidas or Nike: Converse, really.
Lipton Tea or Nestea: Java Garden Treat. I'm so indie. Check me out.
Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate ice cream, vanilla milk.
Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino is coffee.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU...?

Smoke: Oh, funny. I just stopped filling this out for awhile so I could like a cigarette.
Cuss: Yeah, but I call it swearing. "Cussing" is, like, so second grade.
Take a shower daily: Not usually.
Have a crush: On at least three guys right now. I'm totally boy crazy lately.
Think you've been in love: Sure. I've just never been loved, really.
Like school: I like that I'm not in it.
Want to get married: Not really.
Believe in yourself: Abundantly.
Think you're a health freak: No. Never in a million years.

LAYER SIX: IN THE PAST MONTH HAVE YOU...?

Gone to the mall: I don't know. I don't think so.
Been on stage: Not for acting, but I sang once...
Eaten Sushi: Yeah. And I'm going again next weekend.
Dyed your hair: Lots.

LAYER SEVEN: HAVE YOU EVER...?

Played a stripping game: No. I've watched lots of them.
Gotten beaten up: No.
Changed who you were to fit in: When I was in elementary school, yeah, but I haven't cared about that shit since I was in eighth grade.

LAYER EIGHT: GETTING OLD

Age you're hoping to be married: I'm not really hoping to get married ever.
Age you want to die: I don't know. I live so bad right now, I'll probably live forever as punishment.

LAYER NINE: IN A GUY/GIRL

Best eye color: The color that compliments looking at me and actually seeing me.
Best hair color: The color that's on thick hair.
Short or long hair: long enough to wrap my fingers in, but not long enugh to put in a ponytail, for the most part. Or bald. I love bald heads on hot guys.

LAYER TEN: WHAT WERE YOU DOING...?

1 minute ago: A minute before I started filling this out I was reading it on K-La's livejournal.
1 hour ago: Watching Casanova on Masterpiece Theatre. It was fucking awesome.
1 day ago: At the bar all day Saturday. It was awesome.
1 week ago: I don't know. I'm not good at that. I was probably in bed...No, I was here at my mom's house with my siste, 'cause my mom was out of town.
1 year ago: I was working at AllWest and hatiing it, trying to hang on 'til Christmas so I could get my bonus. 'Cept I got fired in the end of November. Fuckers.

LAYER 11: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: my life right now.
I feel: tired. And poor.
I hate: money. And how fat I am right now.
I hide: stuff I don't want my mom to find if she drops by unexpectedly.
I miss: people from college. And my debt free days. And theatre.
I need: to walk to work tomorrow. So basically, to go to bed.