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.

normal behavior

one of the many and i mean many joys of trucking to work every morning is getting in, grabbing some coffee and getting your Urban Word of the Day, courtesy of Urban Dictionary.

today's word: inbox rot

definition: To neither accept, nor decline a friend request from someone on Facebook or Myspace. Used in situations when you don't want to accept someone's friend request, but you also don't want to be rude by declining them.

i do this ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL the time!!! it is so comforting that there may be more people out there like me.

i've got a few facebook friend requests rotting away in my inbox. some have been there for months at this point. others just got there.

a few examples:
1- a bitch from high school who never spoke to me. she was too busy giving the basketball team blowjobs.

2- a girl from my professional life who i don't really like. something tells me she is up to no good.

3- Brooklyn's best friend. i would have no problem adding him, i've known him for about ten years, too and have a great cordial relationship with him. but when i am not even friends with Brooklyn on facebook (because i think his status updates would kill me) it seems sort of awkward to friend his bff.

so away they rot. collecting dust. becoming internet worm food.

crap, i left my machete at home today

do you know what i absolutely hate??
i hate when you take a coveted vacation day on a friday for a nice long weekend. you come back to work semi-recharged. well, not recharged and full of energy, but calmer.

as you are waiting for your computer to log you in and warm up, a co-worker approaches you all frantic and asks, "did you read my email?"

um, no asshole, i haven't read a single email. (the rest of my responses vary from reality to the venom i was spewing in my head)

oh, so you didn't read it, did you.

did you hear a word i just said?

well, i need you to send out this press release like five minutes ago.

ok, well when i see it, i will send it out.

also, what was with that email from our client asking for that document?

um, i told you guys on thursday before i left that you would have to send it out friday because i wouldn't be here.

well, i didnt hear anything about that.

of course you didn't, that would require thinking and doing.


happy monday, everyone. can i go home yet?

and i shall answer

it's hard to imagine being on the receiving end.

on the dating site, a hot little number with all of his hair, teeth and pride posed the question:

"would you rather have an OK house and expensive cars or an expensive house and OK cars?"

good one.

"my, that is a very good question. a bit refreshing, too. here's my answer. although i do love a slick, stealthy car, i would go with spending serious money on a house. a house can be made into a home. a house can become the shell that houses some of the best memories a person can ever have. like cookouts with the family, christmas morning, dinner parties, etc. as with a car, you can't personalize it, you can't have thanksgiving dinner in it and it certainly won't stay in the family forever -- except for some isolated cases."

the next day response?

closed.

since the cars were so important to him... i can only imagine in which area he is lacking in life. haha. jerk.

big date with Ripped tonight. i will report back.

when expectations rise by the minute

short. (no one is above 6 foot)
republican. (you know where i am going with this)
gray hair.
raybans.

my matches have been awful. i specifically have my match credentials set to 25-34. i must have disappointed the online dating gods and now they are trying to teach me a lesson in passing judgment.
"what the eff! she closed another one! what a picky bitch.pull out the big guns, boys"
or
"ladies and gentlemen.. we have an over-crowding cat lady in the making. she will find shit in her shampoo before she finds a mate. let's fuck with her."

click. click. ew. close. click. this one isn't so bad. click. no fucking way. close.

well, i found one. although a little short. he is cute. he is a democrat. likes good music. and has a masters in urban planning. which, coincidentally, is just what i want to go back to school for.
we shall name him Ripped. because, ladies... this man is ripped. (yeah, i myspaced stalked him. but you are asking for it if you don't put your profile on private.)

so for the past week or so, we have been having these great "you've got mail" type of conversations. pondering the world. talking music. and more importantly talking about ourselves. i race home and check my account for new messages. check my account before i go to bed. check my account while brushing my teeth in the morning. and i can't help but feel a little excited about Ripped.

but... as with all online matches... you never know what you are going to get until it is sitting across a table from you while you stir your vodka-tonic nervously. i have high expectations with this one, folks. high. and he is ripped. and as with all women who feel a little self-conscious about their beyonce butt, it's not always pleasant to date a man who is in better shape than you.

and let's say the veil of disappointment is lifted from my head and placed onto his. will he think i am dishonest because i may not look entirely true to form from the pics i have posted on my profile? i dont have any recent ones posted. the most recent is from '07. that is when i felt hot. i was happy. and in bridesmaid mode so my hair and skin were perfect and i was tan, for fear of three seperate bridezillas.

because i don't feel like myself anymore, i am afraid that i don't look like myself anymore. so i just hope the disappointment doesn't carry over.

because if this person can make me feel as giddy and as happy has i do over a few silly messages, then there could be some hope, here.

the vetrianno print posted has nothing to do with anything. i just love it and wish it was summer.