Once Upon A Dream

I went to bed at 11 p.m. last night and stayed there until 11 this morning. It felt good. You know, when your pillow is perfectly comfortable, and the blankets on you are perfectly positioned, and the bird is perfectly quiet…

I left the apartment long enough to go to the dollar store and pick up a few Christmas items. Then I headed to Zellers, where I bought deodorant (reminder to self – Secret is giving you rashes for some reason), and I found a tree. It wasn’t the one that was on sale the other night, but this one should be okay. I didn’t realize until I got it home that it’s one of the ones that has each branch separate, and you have to sort them by size, and then stick them into the ”trunk” one by one, and then fluff them all out. Grr. The old tree was only three pieces, and the branches were already attached.

Anyway, it took me the better part of an hour to put the branches into the “trunk” and fluff everything out. It fits just perfectly on top of my cedar chest in front of the window. There’s enough room at the top for my angel, but that’s about it. And the tree skirt I bought drapes over the beach towel I put under the tree stand, and looks every Christmas-y. All in all, I’m quite proud of the whole thing, done by me.

Not that The Ex ever helped decorate the Christmas tree. Okay, that’s unfair. He helped, but it was grudging, so this year might’ve been just extra-enjoyable because no one was complaining in the background. The tree has 150 lights on it (most LEDs), and all my decorations. It’s a bit bare, but the lights make up for it. I didn’t think The Ex kept that many decorations, but perhaps he has some balls and such. I spent, I think, $60 on the tree, and $11 at the dollar store. I know he’s going to have to spend a fair bit of money on decorations and lights. I guess it evens out.

I ordered my angel from Mindy’s Embroidery on Etsy. She’ll be ivory, with ivory satin panels in her dress, and ivory organza in her wings. Mindy’s mailing her on December 1, so hopefully I’ll have it in a week or so. It feels good that it’s something I’ve entirely picked out, and I have a say in the design, so it’s mine.

I can’t stop staring at the tree. I really like Christmas. I wish I wasn’t spending it alone, but I’m getting the feeling that I’ll be doing a lot alone for quite a while. This coming week, I work, meet with TLG, work, do laundry, go to the TSO with Creep, work, work, work… Christmas is coming and I need the extra cash. But with meeting TLG in there to drop thirty pounds, too, I’ll have no life. *sigh* Could be worse. I could be sitting at home knitting and reading War and Peace.

I’m jonesing for chocolate something fierce. I have been all day, and I’ve resisted temptation all day. It’s PMS, and I refuse to give into my hormones! I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to do it, but I’m thinking of those thirty pounds. TLG is going to do my body comp. every two weeks to help keep me on track. I know I’ll be more motivated once I see those numbers dropping, but until then, damn it, I want a Twix bar…!

Speaking of knitting, I want to take up knitting or crocheting or something. It’s hard, because I’m left-handed and I want to do everything backwards. When I’m watching a movie, I’m generally doing a paint by number. I like to keep my hands busy. If I learned to knit or to crochet, I could be doing something productive, like making a sweater or socks or twelve thousand scarves. We have knitting kits at CM for kids. Maybe I should buy one and give it a try. If the instructions are for kids, surely I can figure it out?

Pants Off

Me wanna take my pants off, baby

The first thing I did when I got home at 4:30 was take my pants off. I was barely inside the door. I think I have a problem.

Woodstock called me at about 7:15 or 7:30 this morning. It was later than I’d expected, but she was trying to give me a chance to sleep in a little. Consequently, I was only half-dressed and not even half-made up / blow-dried when she arrived. We had to kill a little time, anyway, because the OOAKS didn’t open until 10 a.m.. Of course, just before we left the apartment, I switched over my purse. And promptly realized I didn’t have my wallet. How bloody stupid am I? For the second time this year, I managed to lose my wallet. Luckily, one of AM2’s friends had it, and I picked it up this afternoon. Unluckily, Woodstock had to pay for everything I bought at the OOAKS. It wasn’t too bad – I spent… $46 on these awesome little ornaments, and I bought a present for Pretty, and my carmel apple. I bought lunch, so Woodstock wants me to pay for my ornaments and the present for Pretty only. By the time her gas and parking is factored in, we end up about even. I’ll send a cheque with her Christmas card. Tacky, but effective.

Oh, my carmel apple. (Carmel? Caramel?) They used to have this one called “Snowball”. The last few times I went, they told me they’d discontinued it. It’s a Granny Smith apple coated in caramel, white chocolate, and then coconut. SOOO good. Last time I went, I had to make do with a different flavour. It wasn’t the same. But this year, they had one. ONE. I grabbed it. The salesgirl laughed at me when I refused to give it to her to bag for me. There are going to be a lot of disappointed people. Nahnahnahnahnahnah!!! The salesgirl was telling me about the Apple of the Month Club. For four months, they send you two apples per month. They’re always different. It was $107, including the shipping. I might be working two jobs, but not for that. *sigh*

So yesterday around 4:30, The Ex emails me. “Would you find it weird to meet my girlfriend.” I emailed him back, and the conversation kinda went like this:

Blue: would I find it weird to meet your girlfriend? Um. Honestly? I would feel a bit uncomfortable, because I’m being judged, and because YOU will act funny because you always do in that type of situation so I can’t rely on you to help smooth things out or act confidently. You’re either going to ignore me or her, and that’s just weird and rude. Would it bother me in the sense that I’m meeting your current sex partner? No.

The Ex: okay.

Blue: y?

The Ex: because mine has gotten very upset that she thinks that i am hiding her from everyone and that i am not ready to tell people about her. she says that i am avoiding the two of you meeting. she thinks that i have some sort of issues with it. she’s pretty upset right now.

So the email convo went on further, but I think that’s quoting enough about someone else’s life, which I don’t tend to do here. Anyway, it turns out that she thinks The Ex and I still have something going on. Ha ha. She’s already met his parents, so it’s not that he’s hiding her from “everyone”. Her issue is with me. I wish it wasn’t, but it comes down to trust, and I’m not here as some sort of weird freak show puppet for her amusement or to make her feel better. It’s actually a little offensive. They’ve been dating for six weeks. Sure, I can totally see wanting to meet me, but after six weeks? Gimme a break.

And she raked him over the coals about it and wouldn’t talk to him. Naturally, my sensitive Ex was completely bewildered. So I talked to him, because he has no one else to talk to him about it. I know. I can hear you. He needs to find someone else. Shut up. I told him he did nothing wrong. He said something about telling her that he’d talked to me about it and… And I started laughing. I told him that under torture, he could not tell her that he’d emailed me or talked to me on the phone about it. C’mon, buddy, got a death wish? One does not tell one’s current girlfriend that one is discussing one’s relationship with one’s ex-wife. Duh.

Other than that, I’m still talking with someone at Etsy about making me an angel for my tree topper. I didn’t see anything at OOAKS that I loved, and I really like one I found on Etsy. She’s willing to make it with the colours I specify, so I’m happy about that. Sure, I have to order it and pay for shipping, but I’m all right with that.

And now I’m tired as hell. Tomorrow is laundry and groceries, and if I’m lucky, I’ll find a tree that I can put up. I asked The Ex to pick me up one on Friday night. It went on sale at 7 p.m., and I was working. He was busy making out up with the g/f, and didn’t. I don’t know why I’m disappointed. It’s not like the tree was $110 dollars off regular price or I spent twenty minutes on the phone with him making him feel better. Whatever. I guess I’ll see what I can find tomorrow. It’s another day.

Sixty to Zero

Tonight… Ah, tonight. Tonight, I went to a bar with AM2. Actually, it was more of a pool hall. It was a pool hall. It was full of men with grey hair, and women wearing red spandex tops tucked into their high-waisted jeans, their hair teased to the heavens. For a few minutes, I had culture shock, and thought somehow I’d been transported to The Varsity in FSM. Except The Varsity has more… personality. This place even had a Shuffleboard table. And people were playing!

There were eight men playing at two pool tables right next to us. Not a single one of them was under sixty. Around ten-thirty, they all left, to shouts of, “Joe. Joe! Joe? Hey Joe, ya goin’ home now?” No doubt Mrs.Joe was waiting up for Joe to arrive home no later than his eleven p.m. curfew. I laughed. Honest to God, I looked over at one point and thought that two of them were putting in their teeth. Turns out they were eating fries, or something. Who knew?

One fellow walked past our party very slowly, his eyes on the blonde tae kwon do instructor we had with us. She was plenty nice enough, and very slim. A bit teased up, and a bit hard in the face, but I suppose one doesn’t keep a room full of unruly twelve-year olds in check by looking like apple pie. Anyway, said gentleman sauntered past, his eyes flicking up and down TKD. I laughed my ass off, suddenly reminded of being with T. in such a way that it almost hurt. The lead singer from the band did the same thing, which made it doubly funny to me. Anyway, CreepyGuy went and sat across the room, dead-serious in the shadows, and stared at our group for a good forty-five minutes. Clearly he picked up enough liquid courage to come back across the room, because he did approach TKD, and she shot him down hard. At least he had the courage to come over, I said to AM2. Yes, she replied, after he stalked her for close to an hour!

True dat, as Pretty would say.

Anyway, the evening cost me nothing – AM2 paid for my drinks and my cover, and I appreciated those unnecessary gestures. We were out with a group of her husband’s friends, so she brought me along for company. I had a good time, laughing, singing along with the great band, and generally making fun of every other patron in the place. I had to have been the youngest person in the room. The hottest guy was the one in the wheelchair.

Had a conversation with The Ex that I need to write down, but that will take longer than I have. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow (technically today, since it’s past twelve-thirty now), Woodstock is calling me first-thing in the morning and we’re going to the One of a Kind Show in Toronto. I’m going to be tired tomorrow afternoon, not the least of which because I’m still sick and having a hard time breathing. Stupid cold.

To bed with me. More tomorrow.

In The Midnight Hour

The Ex came by tonight and helped me trim Indigo’s nails. It’s impossible to do on your own, and I need someone who’s experienced in holding him still so I don’t risk cutting off his whole toe. The Ex also looked at replacing my headlight for me, but muttered something about a torque screw and left. Enh. It’ll get done eventually.

I don’t feel great, still. I’m so tired. The Upstairsian is home, too. I can hear him on the phone. However, it sounds like #2 is gone, which is good. He was the one who wore his shoes all the time.

I cleaned up a bit when I got home tonight; Woodstock is coming to pick me up so we can go to Toronto on Saturday. I’d like to show her that I don’t live in a pigsty. I need to clean the bathroom, but I usually do that on Friday nights, anyway. (I know, how exciting is that.) AM2 has asked me to go out with her tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to it, but I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’m looking forward to doing nothing on Sunday. Except laundry. Groceries. The usual crap. *sigh*

The customer that I blogged about the other day? We talked again today, briefly. He sent me a message on Facebook. I replied, and sent him a friend invitation. I have … well, yes, I have things to hide, but since my father is on FB, I’m not hiding them there. Customer looks like a cross between The Ex and Johnny. Shocking, isn’t it. Sometimes I dislike being so predictable as to have a type.

Haven’t heard from NJ all week. Maybe it’s lack of sex that’s getting me down. No, wait, that’s a song by Green Day or someone. Granted, everyone and their brother is on vacation this week, so perhaps he is, too.

Is it pathetic that it’s a quarter after nine and I want to go crawl in my bed and go to sleep?

Indestructible

Does anybody besides me think that the lead singer from Disturbed sounds kinda like that kid from Lil’ Rascals with the weird deep voice?

One, I’m catching a cold. No doubt this is Pretty’s fault, since she was sick last week.

Two, someone in the building is cooking. And it smells good, in that sort of smelling-someone-else’s-food-in-my-apartment sort of way.

Three, I texted with Grammar a lot today. An unusual amount for him. I was surprised.

The rest of the day was a bust. I spent it ignoring a veritable tome of emails, while working my ass off to finish stuff from two weeks ago. I hate the fact that my customer service is going down the drain. But there’s nothing I can do about it, short of working too many hours. And frankly, I think fifty or fifty-five hours a week is enough for anyone, hmm? I’d like to take a distance ed course next term, but I just don’t know if I’ll have the time to do it. I’m sort of wondering if I’ll have time to do laundry over the next few months…

I’ve also decided that I’m going to start putting my paycheque in my savings account. See, I can’t do a debit transaction from my savings account without it costing me $5. That’s not a lot, but it sort of turns a $7 meal at Wendys into a $12 one, and that’s just stupid, now isn’t it? So my goal is to put just enough into my chequing account to pay my expenses as they come up, and try my best to keep the rest of my money squirrelled away for a rainy day. Especially now that I have to be paying back my MC for my training sessions with TLG.

I’m going to bed. I’m sick, I don’t feel good, and this is happening. Do you think it’s true that if a butterfly beats its wings, a hurricane starts across the ocean? Everyone at work today seemed very on edge. No one was smiling or laughing; it was a pretty tense, busy day. Do you think … no, I mean, there’s no collective human consciousness, I understand that we’re not The Borg. But … can we possibly grasp the idea, the scent/feeling/emotion that something terrible is about to happen?

Strangers Like Me

Ha ha. I’m thinking of the Phil Collins song for Tarzan, “Strangers Like Me” – as in, these people are strangers, like me. But I think that “strangers like me” as in, for some reason, strangers are attracted to me, also fits. lol.

K. was in the office today. Came by and said hi. Cute, as always. Ah, so cute. Stopped by his desk on my way out to lunch and talked for five minutes. He commented on my “expensive jacket”. This tells me two things – one, he has an eye and can judge quality, cuz my jacket wasn’t cheap, and two, he noticed what I was wearing. The Guy at CM tells me that this means K. is noticing me. I didn’t bother to tell him of last night’s debacle. I keep telling myself not to focus on it, and then I do, anyway. I am pathetic.

Had my employee review today. The Boss was fair, I thought. As much as I might rag on her, she is a good manager, when she chooses to be. She communicates clearly and concisely. She rated me lower on one item than I did, so we discussed it. I explained why I felt the way I did, and she explained what she’d expected. She said that I made a “gallant effort” to change the minds of the guys who rated my technical skills as sub-par. We discussed the Little Man’s office in terms of the way we’d done business there versus Hell’s system. She wrote on my review that I had a good work ethic and that’s why I’d been kept on in this new role. She didn’t really say anything negative, and that’s important. What she says in my review is kept and can be reviewed pursuant to future opportunities.

I don’t know where The Boss stands with regard to The Supervisor, who is who I’ll be reporting to from now on, but I can only hope she’ll be open to hearing my concerns if I’m worried enough to voice them to her. Oh, and the dual-role idea isn’t gonna change anytime soon. There are far more politics involved than I’d realized. I’m a very, very small fish in a big net of issues.

Honestly, I think that The Boss feels I was thrown to the wolves, a bit. That’s nice – to know that not everyone thought I was a bloody idiot.

Other than that, worked at CM with The Guy tonight. Now I’m waiting for my chicken fingers to cook so I can maybe curl up in bed with my book for a while. The chicken fingers are for my salad tomorrow for lunch. I was totally lacking in protein today (soup does not eat like a meal).

I finally mailed the sympathy card for The Ex’s aunt, too. Better late than never. She should have it by the end of the week. That’s all I’ve got. Tomorrow’s another day.

Up

First, go here and read his stuff. His entries are concise and effective, and after yesterday’s entry, I sat there and stared at the screen for a minute or two, wondering how two paragraphs managed to whap me upside the head in such an erudite manner.

Today I worked, and laughed my ass off, then went to a meeting, then went to CM, then went to the gym and met with The Little General (TLG from now on). The working is pretty self-explanatory, I think. The laughing… Okay, this is not funny, and perhaps you’ll find it morbid, but I laughed so hard today I cried and my mascara ran.

There’s a guy at work – let’s call him Steve – and Steve is a moron. Steve is cheap, has a head shaped like an egg, and feels that silence will clearly kill him or us, since he talks all the time. Anyway, around 2:15 this afternoon, Steve announces that Andre Bolchenko is dead (I have no idea what the guy’s name actually was, but this will be suitably grandiose). I had just been on CNN, and hadn’t seen any famous dead guy newsflash. I briefly decided that he must be an opera singer and left it at that. Well, Steve wouldn’t shut up about it. He went on for almost five minutes about Dead Andre. Finally, Moe, who sits directly behind Steve, asks who the hell Andre was. Andre, it turns out, is not a terminated tenor, he’s a former Hell employee.

I’m already smiling to myself, because I’d imagined he was an opera singer, and to me, this is funny. Then Steve will not shut up about the fact that Andre loved animals. Small animals. Small dogs. Squirrels. Raccoons. Especially squirrels. But he’d had a raccoon as a pet. I’m now grinning broadly. Steve walks away. I turn to Moe and politely request that if I die, I do not want my sole saving grace to be the fact that I liked squirrels. Moe laughs. I’m laughing. It’s alllll good. Steve comes back. Still talking about the damn animals. ”He just loved animals. Small animals.” It’s like he had a mental illness and couldn’t help repeating the same words over and over.

Then, Steve decides that Andre had married an Asian woman, who weighed 110 lbs. (yes, he was that specific) and that they’d moved to Asia together. And that the Asian woman was quite a bit younger than Andre. Somehow, this information lead Steve to the conclusion that Andre had been murdered in Asia by his 110-lb. wife,  who clearly had connections to the Asian Mob. At this point, I’m laughing, I can’t even hide it. I’m not sure at this point if Steve is clever enough to keep talking just to watch me laugh. A sales guy walks in. Steve begins to reiterate the fact that Andre is dead. Together, they discuss his age, his Asian wife. Moe sends me an email. It states, “…and he liked squirrels.” That’s it, I was done. Tears ran down my face. I can’t even type it without laughing. “Do you remember, he had a really big moustache. I remember his moustache,” Steve is saying to his sales guy. The whole damn thing is almost surreal. I’m looking around for the camera, while picturing a Czar Nicholas moustache on a really old man with a tiny indiscriminate Asian wife.

A sales guy comes in to talk to me. I try to pull myself together. I’m doing okay, talking about a customer. Moe sends me another email. This one is a picture of a squirrel. I have to excuse myself, and get up and run to the bathroom, where I sob with laughter in the stall. When I get back to my desk, there is a third and final email from Moe. I’m sputtering with laughter again. It states, “here’s what I learnt about Andre. He had a [clipart pic of a gigantic 'stache]. He [clipart of a smiling face] a lot. And he loved [clipart of a squirrel].”

Oh, hilarious.

I went to the Hell meeting (annual wrap-up), stayed long enough to have a glass of wine and some food and be thoroughly ignored by K.) and left. My ego was a tad bit bruised when he said hi to me, ignored me, and then got the pretty brown girl a glass of wine. *sigh*

I met with TLG and bought her ass twice a week for the next four months. It’s costing me A Great Sum Of Money. More than I even figured. Having said that, I did it anyway. I put it on my credit card, as that interest rate is better than what the club charges. She wants me to lose 30lbs. She’s not too concerned about my “lean mass” (meaning muscle) because it’s at 109.4lbs. I’m mostly muscle! That’s good, as a lot of her clients aren’t. It also means that since I stopped working out with her regularly, I’ve only dropped about six pounds of muscle. I know that’s a lot, but since I put on six pounds of muscle training with her, I’m not overly concerned about that small amount. So, the goal is to Lose Thirty By Thirty. I have three and a half months. She’s gonna work my ass hard, she said, for four months. Then I’ll have to maintain.

This feels like the last thing in my life over which I need some control. I’ve control over my finances (a lot of which will be used to pay my damn gym bill!), my family, my personal time… Yeah, I get lonely, but I’m in control. It’s stable. I’m solid. Strong. Independent. And damn it, I made out with a fireman!! lol. Now if I can get control over my body, we’ll be all good. Wish me luck. She said on the days that I’m working Hell & CM, I’m not to exercise but I must keep my calories between 1500 and 1800. Hmm, the “Candy” portion of CM might be out the window. And the days that I’m not working, I spend at least an hour if not two and a half at the gym. I can fluctuate between three days a week at the gym, followed by four days the next week. I shall have no social life. On the other hand, some of the gyms are co-ed, so…

Anyway, today was a busy day. I miss T. and I wish she was here.

Life in the Fast Lane

They had one thing in common
They were good in bed
She said, faster, faster.
the lights are turning red.

Ah, you see? I title it “Life in the Fast Lane” just as TOAD’s “Bad Girlfriend” comes on iTunes. That, I think, is irony. I was quietly sitting in the living room (hah, living room. Whatever. I guess it is a living room), having just climbed out of the bath. I made a pot of tea, put my tea cosy (with the funny little bobble on it) on my teapot, and had settled down in my robe, with an afghan over my feet. Doesn’t get much more Bridget Jones than that, does it? And then I got a text. I figured it was a FB update, but it wasn’t. It was NJ, and then my evening got all shot to hell. lol. The man can distract me just by my seeing his name. It’s actually seeing that stupid little envelope turn white that makes my pulse pound (at my writing site, a “white” envelope means you’re online, whereas a beige one means you’re not). And then he says this or he says that (use your imagination, Chicago. No, dirtier. No, really. Dirtier.) and primal urges come over me. *sigh* I should work on that.

Argh! And here I thought I’d managed to conquer the twisting, craziness that’s been jumping around inside me for days. Friday night helped, but Larry/Barry/Jerry – whatever the supposed fireman’s name was – was pretty much a poor substitute. For what? I’m not sure. For something.

Some days I think I’m ready to start again – ready to have a relationship again. And then NJ texts me or sends me an email or – God forbid – calls me, or Curious1 appears online, and then I think that if I was in a relationship – a real relationship, one that I wanted to have work – I’d have to give them up. It is selfish that I don’t want to do that? I’m not sure.

Sis and the boys came down today. We went to the Steel City Safari. Now, it’s hardly a secret that I hate snakes. If I was one of the contestants on Fear Factor, it would be that whole plexiglass coffin filled with snakes that I wouldn’t be able to handle. But today, I held two of them. It gives me the willies right now to think about it, but I did it. Two of them. An orange Fox Snake, I think it was, and a bull python. And it was okay. It was okay. At the time. Clearly I shouldn’t dwell on it right now, because it’s freakin’ me out a bit. But one more fear conquered, one more display of confidence and bravery. Shedding my skin.

There were also lizards, and iguanas, and a blue-tongued skink. I was told not to tell Nephew3 that it was a “skink” because he wasn’t able to pronounce it, and as much as I might find it funny, others probably wouldn’t when a two-year-old told them that he petted a skank. Anyway, it was a good day. We also petted a two-week old lion cub, and the boys had their pictures taken with an alligator. I played an excellent aunt, in charge of one boy at all times (which one was ever-changing). I even had charge of both of them when we went to the bathroom and Sis got the car at the end of the day.

And you know what? Perhaps the biggest surprise? I didn’t even mind. I didn’t mind! Frankly, that’s astonishing to me. Granted, I know it was only five hours, and they were basically amused the whole time, but I didn’t wish myself in fourteen other places today. It was nice.

Now, I have to go to bed. I meet with The Little General tomorrow night. She’s going to make me wish I was dead, what with her tape measure and scale. I don’t know if she’ll be able to train me or not, but she said she had someone else in mind. I have to trust her. … And of course it depends on how much all this costs. C’mon, I already work fifty-five hours a week, on average. What’s another three or four hours a week at the gym? Bah. T.’s coming home soon… have to be in shape to go running with her!

California Dreamin’

Hmm. Yesterday’s entry is a little… well… drunk. Meh. I’m leaving it up. Enjoy.

We did have a good time last night. At least, I did. I’m not so sure Pretty did, but the sober one rarely does, when everyone around her is drunk. I did not go home with Larry the Firefighter. Larry was cute, Pretty assured me again this morning. Actually, she said he was hot. Apparently, the bar stool wasn’t the first place I saw him. ? When the six of us were going upstairs to Tailgate’s from Liquid Kitty, there was a guy going down. I remember “a guy”. And I remember commenting to Pretty that the guy didn’t know what the hell to do. . . As we went by him, he stopped on the stairs, looked at all of us, looked down the stairs, looked back at us… Poor boy.

However. Larry also told me I had “nice tits” and that we should go somewhere and “fuck”. Oh, and that he loved me. I laughed. Seriously? I mean, I know I was in the bag, but does that crap really work? Is that the best he could come up with? If he’d been witty, things would’ve gone so much better for Larry. Oh, and the yawning – Y A W N I N G - didn’t help his case, either. I don’t think I would’ve taken any guy home last night. I realized I’m really not that kind of person. At least, I don’t think I am. By which I mean, I have no problem with casual sex, but I’m not going to partake with some guy who I met at a bar that night. But, Larry did show me a good time for half an hour. lol.

I couldn’t believe… I mean, I was never a bar person, and I doubt I’m going to turn into one now. But guys just kept looking us up and down. What the hell? I see now – I understand – why they call it a “meat market”. I felt cute and sexy (thank you, NJ!) but it’d be nice if your focus wasn’t directly on my knee-high boots and skirt. (which, by the way, was completely appropriate for office wear, meaning it wasn’t too short)

I texted Sis today, but I haven’t heard back from her. I don’t know that what means. I think she drank about as much as me, but I think she also drinks more often than me. I wonder what kind of shape she ended up in. Hmm. And there was also the drunk texts to Grammar. Oops. That might explain why he’s a little…distant today. Meh. Whatever. How do you classify a relationship with a guy who never wants to go anywhere together, doesn’t want to talk, certainly can’t be counted on for anything remotely friend-like… As he would say, pfft.

Anyway, it’s snowing now. I have on my fleece PJs and I picked up some movies for tonight. I expect it’ll be an early night, despite the nap I took this afternoon.  It would be a perfect evening to curl up with a man… if I had one.

Bullet With Butterfly Wings

There once was a firefighter. His name was Larry. Larry, he was a hot firefighter. Probably Italian or something.

(note to readers: Blue is hammered. Like, so far in the bag she has to squint to see the screen hammered. In fact, she almost spelled hammered as happened. Yeah, honest to God, THAT drunk.)

Larry, he made eyes at Blue as she went to the bar, looking for a beer. This would be her second or… no, wait, third beer of the night. This was on top of the shot (orgasm) and the two tequila sunrises she’d already had. LM ordered a tequila sunrise for Sis, and Sis refused to drink it. So… I did. Good of me, don’t you think? Anyway, Larry.

Larry was at the bar. Larry had a bar stool. I learned tonight that that’s practically fucken gold in the bar world. Anyway, Larry caught my eye. Larry smiled. I smiled back, because Larry was cute (this was independently confirmed by Pretty. He wasn’t just – oh my god spelling is so hard right now – drunk cute, he was actually cute. Larry winked at me. Larry winked at me again. Some other guy stood behind me, and whispered in my ear that he was gonna see that I got to the bar, come hell or high water. And he did. He actually held out his arms to block other people from interfering with me, and he got me my damn drink. Shoulda gone home with him.

Wait what? Sorry.

No, anyway. Larry showed up at my side. Sis, taking a beautiful cue, showed up right then and introduced herself to him. It was brilliant, considering she was more in the fucking bag than I was. Anyway, he introduced himself to her, and then to me, and then she went away. I don’t know where she went. I didn’t care. Larry’s tongue was in my ear. Want to know why Larry’s tongue was in my ear? Because I was wearing a t-shirt, skirt, and fucken knee-high boots, and fucken NJ teased me all afternoon long. To the point that I gave him the link to my blog. Probably regret that in the morning. Right now, I can’t see straight.

What? Anyway. Larry wanted me to take him home. I couldn’t, of course. Sis said I should, Pretty just kept shooting me this, “you know what the fuck you’re doing?” look, and LM said that I could, as long as we went back to his place, but I couldn’t take him back to mine. Despite how totally drunk I was, am, whatever, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just randomly fuck some guy I don’t know. (for the record, I can’t see straight right now). I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take him back to my place and do him. Couldn’t do it. I mean, I clearly could’ve, he would’ve definitely come home with me. 

What made me laugh  more than once was that he asked me multiple times if I’d had any party favours. I was like, what the FUCK is this guy talking about? He commented on how big my eyes were. Then I realized, Larry the Firefighter thought I was high. ROFL. HIGH!! OMG, Me! Who’s never done an illegal drug in her life. It was so funny, I probably laughed like a hyena, while I bit his earlobe and then buried my tongue somewhere in the vicinity of his tonsils.

Oh, I could totally have gone home with him. I think we talked to some guys named Randy and Trevor, too. Randy was the wingman, and was most impressed that I knew what the fuck a wingman was. Duh. Doesn’t everyone who’s ever read MSN know what a wingman is and what his responsibility is? Trevor was smokin’ ass hot, Randy was not. That should’ve been clue enough, but I asked, anyway. Randy looked at me like I’d found the holy grail. This, to me, was really funny.

And then there was Rob and some other guy. And two guys together, whose names were Scott. I’m not sure that was true, but that’s what they said, and Sis was too drunk to argue, so who am I to care? Red, one of LM’s friends, got the phone number for a guy named Tattoo (see how smart I am, to use pseudonyms even when I’m in the bag?) anyway, she got his number. He was hot. He reminded me very much of T.’s Ex. Smokin-ass hot, with a tribal sleeve.

I think I smell like Larry but I’m not really sure.

Enough rambling. Grammar has gone quiet, indicating he must’ve gone to bed. And NJ still refuses to come up here. I’ll have to include some of his comments later. Did I mention that I’m really OH MY GOD type REALLY for FUCK’s SAKE! drunk and can’t see straight? Anyway, NJ teased me all afternoon and by 4:30, all I wanted was to meet him in a hotel room and do incredible nasty things to him. He told me what he wanted, and, frankly, I’m all for it. In fact reading the text of what he wanted caused a bathroom break for me, in order to mop up.

TMI? All right. I’m not going to proof this, I can’t even see straight. Be good. I will be. Fuck.