a few men... i left out the adjective "good" for a reason

holy moly! it has been a long time. i apologize to my two whole followers.
let me fill you in.
my dear, sweet online match, Ripped, is still in the picture. although he is not sweet. he is a bad boy. we go together like oil and water. it's been a little over three months. we've done it about 5 times. that is not enough for me.

enter Prep. boy #2 who is clean cut, has a good job and is all set in life. he's adored me for about a year now, from afar, but has always been on the prowl, i feel like. he wants to do it all the time. i'm talking once every 45 minutes. this, i like and can get used to.

i dont know what it is that is giving Ripped the upperhand. he doesn't communicate with me, can't handle his liquor and never formally invites me to do anything. it's like i am supposed to assume that tonight is a good night to sit around and watch tv or that yes, i should meet him at the bar downtown. i don't get it!

it's the challenge i like. the challenge i crave.

i enjoy the company of both. i enjoy the attention. but this is a small town and my double lifestyle may be revealed soon.

i keep hoping one of them will do something really awful to weed himself out. this plan has worked for me the entirety of my dating life. but it's been about a month of back-and-forth.

ripped vs prep

the saga continues

no laughing matter

you know what you don't tell someone on April Fools Day?
you dont text her at 8:30 a.m. and say:
'my ex wife wants me to take the kids for good.'

no, no, no you don't.

this message came from Ripped. things have been going casually well since our first meeting a month ago. but just recently, i sort of got into him.

we texts me all day long at work. all night long when i am at home and all weekend long when i am in detroit. so, we have a pretty great thumb-to-thumb relationship. so this message caught me way off guard.

i thought:
holy crap... here we go again. another baby's daddy. i'll be packing up my things and leaving now. thanks for all of the free drinks.

but... it turned out to be an April Fools joke. something that jolts you is not funny. i told him that thumb-to-thumb.
as i was trying to explain to him why this may bother me, i thought, wow, Ripped doesn't know my history. he really never asked. what the eff?? dont you want to know about me?? or are you one of those selfish dudes?

either way. not a funny joke. now a rubber snake on my toilet seat is funny. kids? not funny.

sexting

people say it like it's a dirty word.
we've all done it.
come on...
you know you have.
i love it! find the right person and it can get you hot under the collar. sext with a a first-timer and it can be entertaining.

on my phone, i have... pictures of penises. pictures of hands on penises. pictures of arounsed penises and pictures of soft penises. (why i would find that sexy, is beyond me.)
i have graphic texts that i pray my little cousins or sister don't find when they scroll to the games.

now, the penis pictures... never really asked for those. especially the soft one, ew. but i gotta tell ya... i love those dirty texts. some i will never get rid of, ever. because they are either:
a- sentimental for whatever reason.
b- tooooo funny.
c- when my friends get drunk at the bar, what is the first thing they want to see? the pics and the texts.

people have been sexting forever. but just now are teenagers getting smart enough to send pictures of themselves in bras to dudes. duh! you just caught on to this? well, now these kids are getting into trouble. and the dirty perves they send these pictures to are getting the ax.

now... if back in the '90s, cell phones, picture messaging and text messaging were available to the naive, invincible suburban teen, i can tell you that i would be totally guilty.

i remember some raucous sleepovers when dares were accpected to run down the street in a bra and p.j. pants without getting caught.

so i say, good luck america. good luck censoring peole's phones. after all, they are private property and if your phone isn't being paid for by taxpayer dollars, then do what you will without headlines.

and i urge you to sext. it's especially fun when you are in a meeting.

another day, another layoff

i would like to dedicate these lyrics to all of my friends and family who are unemployed and have very low spirits. it seems like everyday, someone i know and love (or know and don't love or have once known for sort of forgot about) is losing their job.

This city has lost a certain holds inside
It feels so worn being chained here to this life
I've been around and seen one hundred scenes
Where those who dare to tread the wheel
One day find out what's behind that hill
Spend half a life deciding what went wrong
Trying to find out what took you so long
Until you feel it's all part of some crazy scheme
It conjours in you memories 'til
You discover what's behind the hill

You picked me up and we went for a drive
Into the stained glass cavern of the night
You turn to say, your eyes fixed on the rows
Take me from this place I know
The ruined landscapes that I once called home
I don't know what in this world is trying to save me
But I can feel its hand and it's guiding me in sign
From lives I've tried to lead
To the one that I received

Each painted sign along the road
Will melt away in source tags & in code

courtesy of ...and you will know us by the trail of dead "source tags & codes"

toilet karma

i am a weird bathroom-phobe.

i can't pee if someone is within earshot.
i flush multiple times at the chance of someone hearing.
i try to save my business for home.

so at work... we all share one tiny bathroom. for the most part, everyone keeps it clean. but sometimes a third party will clog it up and not plunge. sometimes that someone is me (not gonna lie!) and i dont want it to overflow or have the chance of someone hearing my date with the plunger.

karma is a bitch.

last week, after a fun date with Ripped (whom, three dates later, is still in the picture) i came to work hella hungover. mouth was dry. head was pounding. i had to go. like, bad. so i waited till no one was around and it was safe.

i get in and realize that someone has clogged the fucker. i flush and plunge real fast. no cigar. give it a few minutes. try again. dammit my head hurts! why isn't this working??

wait a few minutes for someone else to go in. head is throbbing. no luck.

escape from the office to hit the nearest semi-public restroom. wouldn't you know, burger king bathrooms were out-of-service. fuck. go back to work.

wait and wait and wait. apparently no one had any water today. still nothing.

you know that feeling... when your insides are about to fall out and you have to squeeze your butt checks. it was happening.

i had had it. went it and plunged my little heart out. overflow! i tip-toed out of there so no one could hear my heels.

sit.squeeze.wait.

sit. oh no, is that my stomach making the i have to go to the bathroom sound? wait.

maybe it's a girl thing... i don't know. but is it just me or is anyone else really particular about their bathroom reputation?? i feel like a big weirdo.

how does this story end?
waddled my way to my own bathroom.

you make me hot!

while i was hanging out with a bunch of pre-teen girls this weekend. watching dance movies and She's the Man, i realized something. something very important.

channing tatum is fucking gorgeous.

drug me

tonight, i'm going a little crazy.

in a fit of boredom, i tore through my bedroom. folded, stacked and hung all of the loose items on my floor and bed. a huge feat, in my world.
then i was overwhelmed by the amount of stacks and rows of hangers.
so i tore through my closet and bagged up a huge pile of stuff i know i will never wear again, sentimenal attachments aside. (sometimes this a problem for me.) i often get dragged into a memory or a time in my life when i was really happy. not that i am not happy now... but you know. nothing quite says happiness like your early twenties.

i wasn't done with the closet. i swept the floor.

with nothing else to sweep i moved on to the living space. swept the floor and picked up all of the stray guinea pig hay. (that shit is horrible and doesnt get picked up off of the floor unless you bend down and pick it up)

wait.. back up...

as i was sweeping my bedroom floor i thought, shit, my lease is going to be up soon and i either have to renew or have a bigger, better plan b.

so i get online and check out some job site. fuck. nothing. nothing. and nothing. first destination: the dream cities. there was one bite that i do not have enough experience for. so i tried detroit. absolutely nothing in the sinking city.

totally pissed off, i went outside in the pooring rain to smoke. i had to relight twice because it was raining so hard. back inside.

get a call from mom.
how was work?
eh, work.
well, at least you have a job. you are lucky. it's been six months for your dad and we are starting to get a little crazy. someone has to bite.
yeah. i know.
no, i don't think you do.
what do you mean?
that you have a job. a steady job, a 401k you are building and health insurance.
yeah, i know, mom.

back outside. still raining. relit only once.

here i am. totally pissed off, but at myself this time. i have a job. friends and family members don't. but still... i can't help feeling super unhappy with the state of my life.