i'm convinced that hormones are the spawn of satan.
i stopped taking birth control a few months ago because the current setup i have involves too many hoops to pick up refills, and i haven't had the energy to get a good recommendation. you can't just choose a gyno out of the yellow pages, you know?
anyway, i went back for refills last week and didn't really think much about what the surge of hormones back into my body would do. i've gone months without birth control and it's always a bit of a shock going back on.
needless to say today, i almost started crying at work for close to no reason (no reason would actually be better than the REAL reason, so we'll stick with that) and decided to venture out into the car and get some fresh air.
for whatever reason, i found myself at longs drugs. my reasons for this were twofold: air conditioning as found in drugstores can be mighty soothing for the soul, and i also needed to pick up some things while i was out. seemed a logical enough choice.
after about 10 minutes of wandering the place enjoying the crisp air, trying to get in touch with my center and breathe, i couldn't help but notice the caliber of people who shop at drugstores during the weekday.
as an example: a couple, both seemingly hard of hearing, were arguing at an uncomfortable decibel with each other about trivial details regarding what purchases they should or should not make, like mouthwash and aspirin. The problem was, neither was listening to the other (if they could hear one another at all) and they were two aisles apart. luckily, what i needed weren't in either of their aisles.
maroon 5 faded off the overhead and was replaced by a too upbeat michael mcdonald, and it was clear i needed to wrap this already short visit up if i wanted to leave without incident.
i waited at the counter with my basket while the girl in front of me finished her transaction, and then emptied out the contents of her purse onto the conveyor belt trying to locate her ID. trying to repeat my mantra, i calmly placed all four of the items i needed on the checkout. the identification-challenged baglady continued to scrounge and a woman much too old and tan to be wearing what she chose as an ensemble for the day bolted in the door, stopping abruptly about eight inches from me.
her complete lack of concern for my personal space was dwarfed by her erratic huffing, and every-three-second change in posture. after looking around the place as though panicked, in a deep accent she barked at the checkout girl, "are joo dee only one vurking?"
evidently the answer was not the one our foreign friend wanted, and with every nervous sway, she crept irritatingly closer to me, like i was a star point guard in the final game of the sweet 16. as she got close enough to breathe on me, i closed my eyes in hopes that she might vanish if i hoped hard enough. and then, in a voice that sounded like a cross between a ridiculously fake gypsy palm reader and a female version of sesame street's The Count, she bellowed, "Joo heffgot too bekeedme!"
i realized then, much too late, that longs drugs is not my happy place.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
douchebags love me
so, i get a text message this morning.
recently i had a guy who wanted to take me out (sidenote: his potential dealbreaker - he was on the reality show millionaire matchmaker and he is, as it turns out, a millionaire. he doesn't know i know either of these things. many things are mildly alarming about him, the least of which being that he's very wealthy. there are too many other red flags to list. but i've always said that i would go on any date if asked unless i felt concerned for my safety, which was not the case here. and i'm not perfect by a long shot. weirder connections have been made, i guess. plus, i was oddly excited to go out somewhere and pay our tab myself - i can't explain why.)
at any rate, he asked for my number a few weeks ago, and i gave it to him. and his text to me this morning was, "so who is this again?"
did i mention HE ASKED for my number?
my ability to attract the malfunctioning, bizarre, mentally and emotionally inept men of the earth is increasingly alarming to me. i can only assume that, instead of being amazingly unlucky, there is some characteristic i exude, either consciously or subconsciously, that leads these men my way. or, and i'm hoping this is the case, that this happens to many other women - they're just not dumb enough to admit it to people, like i do freely. i mean, really. why highlight your flaws like that? like i do?
i'm going to have to start charging admission to my disaster blogs. to pay for the therapy.
recently i had a guy who wanted to take me out (sidenote: his potential dealbreaker - he was on the reality show millionaire matchmaker and he is, as it turns out, a millionaire. he doesn't know i know either of these things. many things are mildly alarming about him, the least of which being that he's very wealthy. there are too many other red flags to list. but i've always said that i would go on any date if asked unless i felt concerned for my safety, which was not the case here. and i'm not perfect by a long shot. weirder connections have been made, i guess. plus, i was oddly excited to go out somewhere and pay our tab myself - i can't explain why.)
at any rate, he asked for my number a few weeks ago, and i gave it to him. and his text to me this morning was, "so who is this again?"
did i mention HE ASKED for my number?
my ability to attract the malfunctioning, bizarre, mentally and emotionally inept men of the earth is increasingly alarming to me. i can only assume that, instead of being amazingly unlucky, there is some characteristic i exude, either consciously or subconsciously, that leads these men my way. or, and i'm hoping this is the case, that this happens to many other women - they're just not dumb enough to admit it to people, like i do freely. i mean, really. why highlight your flaws like that? like i do?
i'm going to have to start charging admission to my disaster blogs. to pay for the therapy.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
departure
i had to let the toads go last night. some girl came and took them home with her. it created this distant but familiar feeling - much more diluted because this time, the only human involved was me.
i knew i had to give them up - for the good of all involved. and after i made the decision, i became increasingly more agitated that they were still there - once you're resigned to living without something, it's unsettling waiting for it to happen. you just want it over already, and go into a kind of avoidance mode.
and then, when they're finally gone, there's this emptiness. you spend too much time wondering if you did the right thing. and you know deep down, regardless of everyone else's perspective, that you did what you had to in the end, and that there are some things that you shouldn't compromise away - some things are too important to go without. still, it's hard to be without something that you were sure was going to be with you forever.
it's easier with toads. emotional attachment only goes one way, and they are simple creatures after all. then again, so are we sometimes.
i knew i had to give them up - for the good of all involved. and after i made the decision, i became increasingly more agitated that they were still there - once you're resigned to living without something, it's unsettling waiting for it to happen. you just want it over already, and go into a kind of avoidance mode.
and then, when they're finally gone, there's this emptiness. you spend too much time wondering if you did the right thing. and you know deep down, regardless of everyone else's perspective, that you did what you had to in the end, and that there are some things that you shouldn't compromise away - some things are too important to go without. still, it's hard to be without something that you were sure was going to be with you forever.
it's easier with toads. emotional attachment only goes one way, and they are simple creatures after all. then again, so are we sometimes.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
isn't that shit illegal?
isn’t that shit illegal?
i went on my date last night and was hoping for something either terrifying or amazing to regale you with, because i know you take pleasure in my happiness as well as my pain. but i'm afraid there's no story there. he was polite, attentive, attractive, funny. he remembered things i had told him previously (major point scorer, guys. oh wait - almost all my male readers are married or have been at some point. well, good advice anyway..)in short, there was nothing wrong with him. but nothing particularly right either.
it was nice to play pool and socialize with strangers, threaten the bartender (who had the most amazing array of novelty tattoos i have ever seen) and play pinball.
i drank absinthe, which i have wanted to do since the dawn of time. there was some debate about its recent change in legal status which never manifested itself with any reliable proof. i do know that the bartender made it the way it was intended, complete with ice water contraption and sugar cube drip. and it looked heavenly. and could be one of the most foul drinks i have ever ingested in my entire life. i don't like black licorice anyway, but absinthe tastes like a severe version of liquefied good n plenties. fucking terrible, and worse as it got warmer.
needless to say, i grinned happily while trying to swallow it as i was lectured by a far-too-intoxicated girl who was trying to give me tips on being more demure. it was a sweet intervention, and i know she had my best interest at heart. i didn't have the heart to joust her with my pool cue. i told her i appreciated her perspective and i would take it under advisement.
it's difficult to not be the person that people think you should be. i've been told that i would only be (this) if i did (that) more times than i would like. but if i wasn't all of those things, sarcastically over-confident, feisty, good-humouredly verbally agreesive, i just wouldn't be living as me. and i like me. and i think it's been a while since i said that and actually believed it.
the last several weeks have been nice. the hormones not-withstanding, i spent some time with old friends. i spent some time with some delightful new ones, and it feels nice to have people that get you. especially those who get you even though they don't know you well enough to. quite a refreshing change..
Monday, September 15, 2008
the michael douglas moments
i should have stayed in bed today.
when i have bad days, i wonder whether it's just a matter of hormonal changes or circumstantial. i bet if you tracked my grouchy blogs, they would occur at similar tidal intervals.
between the skunk situation on monday night and a slew of nightmares last night, i feel like i haven't slept in years. and i look like it.
the reoccurring theme about my place in san diego has surfaced again over the last two months, manifesting itself in doubts. truly, i have never felt at home here. san diego feels like i imagine it would if i were being transported around inside an aquarium - lots of stuff to see and hear, but a major sense of detachment. there's so much i love about this city, but i feel like i don't belong. which begs the question, would i feel like i belong anywhere else? is this feeling external or internal?
my lack of socialization is a symptom of my withdrawing every once in a while. my friends are deeply involved in their own lives/families that most of the time, i'm alone. which is great. until those times that i start feeling alone.
it's this perpetual cycle that i create for myself, that i'm perfectly happy with until days like this. hanging out with people all the time is often overrated, and just distracts me from how i really feel. and my time alone over the last few years has allowed me to grow in ways that i wouldn't be able to otherwise.
but deep down, i'm tethered here by a job. and that's really about it. so is that enough?
i guess it's more than i have drawing me anywhere else.
it's weird, wondering whether you're at a crossroads or just second guessing whether the path, which is not as well worn as the you're on, branching off from your current location is just a little devoid of grass and nothing more.
i don't know what i'm looking for. and the things i want sound a lot better than they would be in actuality. and maybe the dissatisfaction just keeps me from being apathetic.
still, i feel like i'm about to relive a scene from 'falling down'.
my date from last week (who canceled on me) texted last night wanting to go get a drink, but my obstinate mood caused me to suggest another day - i don't want to be an afterthought. i was kind, though. more on that later.
my toad has not surfaced, and i'm not sure how long one has to wait before an animal at that stage of the food chain should be declared legally dead.
estrogen is toxic sometimes. and even a feeling you know is temporary feels as rotten as it would were it indefinite. and those are the days you should stay in bed, watch PIR and eat ravioli out of a can.
i just had a coworker hand me a rockstar, and yet another coworker a pair of paul frank bedroom slippers with skulls on them. just putting them on at work makes me feel like mr rogers.
i'm lucky, and i forget that. to be surrounded by so much and not feel a part of it.
and now, a twist on "a conversation i actually had":
sharon's vault of 911 calls, vol 1
male (answering phone in a whisper): uh.. hello?
me: hi, this is the 911 center in eagle county. i'm calling you back because we got a 911 call from your cell phone. is everything okay?
male: oh god.. uh, yeah. my phone was in my pocket. i'm driving.
me: we get a lot of misdials. some phones automatically call 911 if a certain button is held down, like '9'. so if you have your phone in your pocket, you might want to put the keypad lock on.
male: i'm so sorry. everything is fine, i promise.
me: i had a feeling. it was an open line with you singing 'heart of glass' at the top of your lungs along with the radio.
male: (silence)
me: so, good. i'm glad everything is okay. you sounded good, actually.
male: .. you heard that?
me: yes i did.
male: is it recorded?
me: yes, it is.
male: you won't play it back and listen to it, will you?
me: no sir.
male: (pause) you're going to, aren't you?
me: no more than twice, i promise.
when i have bad days, i wonder whether it's just a matter of hormonal changes or circumstantial. i bet if you tracked my grouchy blogs, they would occur at similar tidal intervals.
between the skunk situation on monday night and a slew of nightmares last night, i feel like i haven't slept in years. and i look like it.
the reoccurring theme about my place in san diego has surfaced again over the last two months, manifesting itself in doubts. truly, i have never felt at home here. san diego feels like i imagine it would if i were being transported around inside an aquarium - lots of stuff to see and hear, but a major sense of detachment. there's so much i love about this city, but i feel like i don't belong. which begs the question, would i feel like i belong anywhere else? is this feeling external or internal?
my lack of socialization is a symptom of my withdrawing every once in a while. my friends are deeply involved in their own lives/families that most of the time, i'm alone. which is great. until those times that i start feeling alone.
it's this perpetual cycle that i create for myself, that i'm perfectly happy with until days like this. hanging out with people all the time is often overrated, and just distracts me from how i really feel. and my time alone over the last few years has allowed me to grow in ways that i wouldn't be able to otherwise.
but deep down, i'm tethered here by a job. and that's really about it. so is that enough?
i guess it's more than i have drawing me anywhere else.
it's weird, wondering whether you're at a crossroads or just second guessing whether the path, which is not as well worn as the you're on, branching off from your current location is just a little devoid of grass and nothing more.
i don't know what i'm looking for. and the things i want sound a lot better than they would be in actuality. and maybe the dissatisfaction just keeps me from being apathetic.
still, i feel like i'm about to relive a scene from 'falling down'.
my date from last week (who canceled on me) texted last night wanting to go get a drink, but my obstinate mood caused me to suggest another day - i don't want to be an afterthought. i was kind, though. more on that later.
my toad has not surfaced, and i'm not sure how long one has to wait before an animal at that stage of the food chain should be declared legally dead.
estrogen is toxic sometimes. and even a feeling you know is temporary feels as rotten as it would were it indefinite. and those are the days you should stay in bed, watch PIR and eat ravioli out of a can.
i just had a coworker hand me a rockstar, and yet another coworker a pair of paul frank bedroom slippers with skulls on them. just putting them on at work makes me feel like mr rogers.
i'm lucky, and i forget that. to be surrounded by so much and not feel a part of it.
and now, a twist on "a conversation i actually had":
sharon's vault of 911 calls, vol 1
male (answering phone in a whisper): uh.. hello?
me: hi, this is the 911 center in eagle county. i'm calling you back because we got a 911 call from your cell phone. is everything okay?
male: oh god.. uh, yeah. my phone was in my pocket. i'm driving.
me: we get a lot of misdials. some phones automatically call 911 if a certain button is held down, like '9'. so if you have your phone in your pocket, you might want to put the keypad lock on.
male: i'm so sorry. everything is fine, i promise.
me: i had a feeling. it was an open line with you singing 'heart of glass' at the top of your lungs along with the radio.
male: (silence)
me: so, good. i'm glad everything is okay. you sounded good, actually.
male: .. you heard that?
me: yes i did.
male: is it recorded?
me: yes, it is.
male: you won't play it back and listen to it, will you?
me: no sir.
male: (pause) you're going to, aren't you?
me: no more than twice, i promise.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
fighting the good fight
our lord jesus took away one of my soldiers today.
i have three retarded toads. had. i had three.
darryl, houdini, and peewee. for those who were around for the first toad situation, there were originally only two. no wait. let's back up.
amanda brought me home a california tree frog she found hiding in some plants at the flower shop. i named him larry.
larry was fabulous, but i worried that he might get lonely. so i went to the petstore and bought him two friends, asian fire-bellied toads: darryl and darryl.
during the first few weeks of their cohabitation, i wondered if maybe i was doing larry a disservice by pairing him with two toads. they weren't as smart as he was, they were twice his size, and he didn't really have anything in common with them, aside from a love for crickets and a knack for making weird noises.
so now, my frog larry, had gone from being lonely to being outnumbered, and paired with two toads that had no idea what it was like to live free. his mental strain was evident.
so i swore to myself that i would set larry free, back into the wild where the wind could blow through his hair and he might have the chance of befriending a tarty lady frog whom he could have adult relations with. however, the day before this was to take place, darryl escaped.
it was a horrible day. i woke up to find him in the hallway, mangled but barely alive. i had to kill him with a log in my backyard so he wouldn't suffer. i was crying, so i missed him the first swing. as the second blow made contact, darryl made this horrible little squeak sound that i won't soon forget. and there's me standing in my bra and underwear, having a small, teary ceremony in the flower bed shortly before i called in late to work. later, i found out that though seemingly injured, darryl had displayed his 'defensive' stance in response to the cats in the house, and was in all likelihood in perfect health. right before i killed him. on purpose. for no good reason.
so with larry back in the wild, and only the other brother darryl left, i had to get at least get one more. and because i can be talked into a lot of things, brought the other brother darryl home two new pals, houdini and peewee. they have lived simply and happily until yesterday, when i left their screen propped open and they escaped into the night as i was drinking wine on the phone, doing my best chatty kathy impersonation.
so this morning, panic set in when i noticed their tank and nobody in it.
i scoured the house as much as i could before work, and found little peewee in the kitchen inside a container that was inside a container with other containers. he was like that fucking wood, russian doll that is under like 18 layers of an always bigger doll. i have no idea how he made it as far as he did (and my father, the doctorate of biology that he is, was as completely astounded as i was).
my roommate scott called a few hours later, having found 2 of 3 in his bedroom. i wasn't sure who he found, but i figured that i would look further when i got home from work today and figure out who was still missing.
what i didn't realize was is that the only way i can identify darryl is seeing him near houdini, as darryl is an exact replica of houdini only larger. but when i only had one, how the hell do you tell who is who? without tom, jerry's just a fucking mouse nobody cares about.
anyway, we've got an MIA situation on our hands, and after more thorough scouring, i am no closer to finding hou-darryl. in fact, looking for something that is potentially mobile is awful. at least if you lose a cell phone, you can stop looking in the same place after about 4 or 5 times. but something that moves? you have to keep looking in all the places every time you look. it's exhausting.
i would rather know he was dead and know where he was. in all likelihood, he's somewhere stuck, dying, hungry, miserable, injured, scared, and covered in dog hair.
i hate caring about retarded ass toads. what is wrong with me? i am so weak, i nauseate myself.
anyway, i notice that peewee and his other half are spending time in the waterbowl together, no doubt regaling one another with stories about what their precious hours of freedom on the outside were like. and maybe they will elevate hou-darryl to some lofty, outlaw status. and they will always remember him when they are older and think, "man, what do you think ever happened to that guy? he was so brave."
we all fought the good fight today. i did what i had to do. and there will be no mother of the year patch for my sash. and neither of those two dumb toads left will ever appreciate the care i put into feeding them and making their tank the most fun toad amusement park that i can. i am not their god, or their mother. i am their warden, and they don't understand that their highly controlled life inside is only to protect them from a world that they are not ready for. not yet. not on my watch.
i have three retarded toads. had. i had three.
darryl, houdini, and peewee. for those who were around for the first toad situation, there were originally only two. no wait. let's back up.
amanda brought me home a california tree frog she found hiding in some plants at the flower shop. i named him larry.
larry was fabulous, but i worried that he might get lonely. so i went to the petstore and bought him two friends, asian fire-bellied toads: darryl and darryl.
during the first few weeks of their cohabitation, i wondered if maybe i was doing larry a disservice by pairing him with two toads. they weren't as smart as he was, they were twice his size, and he didn't really have anything in common with them, aside from a love for crickets and a knack for making weird noises.
so now, my frog larry, had gone from being lonely to being outnumbered, and paired with two toads that had no idea what it was like to live free. his mental strain was evident.
so i swore to myself that i would set larry free, back into the wild where the wind could blow through his hair and he might have the chance of befriending a tarty lady frog whom he could have adult relations with. however, the day before this was to take place, darryl escaped.
it was a horrible day. i woke up to find him in the hallway, mangled but barely alive. i had to kill him with a log in my backyard so he wouldn't suffer. i was crying, so i missed him the first swing. as the second blow made contact, darryl made this horrible little squeak sound that i won't soon forget. and there's me standing in my bra and underwear, having a small, teary ceremony in the flower bed shortly before i called in late to work. later, i found out that though seemingly injured, darryl had displayed his 'defensive' stance in response to the cats in the house, and was in all likelihood in perfect health. right before i killed him. on purpose. for no good reason.
so with larry back in the wild, and only the other brother darryl left, i had to get at least get one more. and because i can be talked into a lot of things, brought the other brother darryl home two new pals, houdini and peewee. they have lived simply and happily until yesterday, when i left their screen propped open and they escaped into the night as i was drinking wine on the phone, doing my best chatty kathy impersonation.
so this morning, panic set in when i noticed their tank and nobody in it.
i scoured the house as much as i could before work, and found little peewee in the kitchen inside a container that was inside a container with other containers. he was like that fucking wood, russian doll that is under like 18 layers of an always bigger doll. i have no idea how he made it as far as he did (and my father, the doctorate of biology that he is, was as completely astounded as i was).
my roommate scott called a few hours later, having found 2 of 3 in his bedroom. i wasn't sure who he found, but i figured that i would look further when i got home from work today and figure out who was still missing.
what i didn't realize was is that the only way i can identify darryl is seeing him near houdini, as darryl is an exact replica of houdini only larger. but when i only had one, how the hell do you tell who is who? without tom, jerry's just a fucking mouse nobody cares about.
anyway, we've got an MIA situation on our hands, and after more thorough scouring, i am no closer to finding hou-darryl. in fact, looking for something that is potentially mobile is awful. at least if you lose a cell phone, you can stop looking in the same place after about 4 or 5 times. but something that moves? you have to keep looking in all the places every time you look. it's exhausting.
i would rather know he was dead and know where he was. in all likelihood, he's somewhere stuck, dying, hungry, miserable, injured, scared, and covered in dog hair.
i hate caring about retarded ass toads. what is wrong with me? i am so weak, i nauseate myself.
anyway, i notice that peewee and his other half are spending time in the waterbowl together, no doubt regaling one another with stories about what their precious hours of freedom on the outside were like. and maybe they will elevate hou-darryl to some lofty, outlaw status. and they will always remember him when they are older and think, "man, what do you think ever happened to that guy? he was so brave."
we all fought the good fight today. i did what i had to do. and there will be no mother of the year patch for my sash. and neither of those two dumb toads left will ever appreciate the care i put into feeding them and making their tank the most fun toad amusement park that i can. i am not their god, or their mother. i am their warden, and they don't understand that their highly controlled life inside is only to protect them from a world that they are not ready for. not yet. not on my watch.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
ten truths
Ten Truths
1. I hate heights and bees. And also clowns. And cinnamon rolls. Well, I guess I'm just nauseated by cinnamon rolls. And also clowns.
2. One of my favorites things said to someone else about me was, after I dispatched officers to a call the previous night of an assault in progress with shots fired, one of the deputies said I was, "as cool as the other side of the pillow." Of course, this from a man who violently maced two cats that were fighting outside his bedroom window.
3. I think mispronounced words can be adorable when spoken by adults, like 'punkin', as in the big orange fruit. However, saying things like 'jagwire' and 'nu-cue-lur' will get your punched in the mouth.
4. I think jared from the subway commercials is a pedophile.
5. An important trait in a potential partner is genital alignment. It's the beauty of standing next to someone and feeling their hips against yours (or even better, them being slightly taller, so that you align perfectly when you're on the step above them.) When debating this point, a boyfriend pointed out that everyone is genitally aligned when laying down – clearly an idiot. (sidenote: peter, this is why we would have made an awful couple in college. I mean, I thought you were hot, as did all the other girls in my class. And naturally you thought I was hot because my ridiculously en fuegoness is impossible not to become intoxicated by. But you being 6'8" makes you a poor alignment candidate. Your waist aligns with my chin, which while being beneficial to you, always hurt my neck to look at your face.)
6. Despite the fact that Clay Aiken just fathered a child, he is gay. Absolutely gay. Queer as a three dollar bill. Am I the only one who sees this?
7. I am typically always right – I think that's pretty obvious. Except for when I used to think Steve Perry was hot. And the time I substituted corn oil in a recipe with corn syrup. (syrup, oil? Same difference.)
8. Jerry Seinfeld is not funny. And Scarlett Johansen is not cute.
9. Miller High Life truly is the champagne of beers.
10. I ate steak-umm and Vienna sausages as a kid. And I believe this is why I eat non-meat meat products to this day. Do you know what the first ingredient of Slim Jims are? Mechanically separated chicken. Go to 7-11 and tell me I'm wrong.
(Bonus truth: I don't know my right from my left. I carry around a sharpie in case I need to scrawl an L or a R on my hands.)
So, back to genital alignment. I have a date tomorrow. He's cute, sweet. He's not a perfect speller, but he does have a degree in biology. Who cares if you can't spell when you passed o-chem, right? Anyway, he's in the range of being aligned, though pushing it a little since he's my same height. Could be a deal-breaker. If he looks anything like Clay Aiken, I'm out.
Monday, September 8, 2008
sexy moments in music
i couldn't imagine life without music. i have a soundtrack in my brain that follows me around daily. it has the ability to change my mood in the span of 4 minutes, and it reminds me of times in my life i would otherwise forget about.
i have a lot to blog about - first dates, genital alignment, root canals - lots and lots of things. and we'll get there. but today, the sexiest moments in music.
1. the cars, moving in stereo. a perfect soundtrack to a dripping wet, slow motion phoebe cates.
2. todd lewis (of the toadies. for reference, note his growly scream at 1:48 of quitter off the rubberneck album.) undeniably sexy. makes a first-person song about a rapist/stalker into a turn on. reowr.
3. the voice of shawn smith of brad/pigeonhed/satchel. angelic and beautiful. sexy in the cleanest of ways.
4. gavin rossdale and his circa 1995 live performance of glycerin in the pouring rain. he was drenched as they get. it's nkotb gay, i know. but hot nonetheless.
5. tori amos, crucify, at high volume. 'nuf said.
6. the first seconds of spoon's jonathon fisk. that groan? dear god.
7. danny carey's drum solo on tool's opiate.
8. mike patton in the small victory video. he looks like a post-wedding groomsman who wandered onto a trent reznor video shoot. even after watching the man come onstage (ejaculate, to the layman), eyes rolled back and drooling on himself, i still find that video to be hotter than light bulb filament.
9. tito & tarantula's after dark (from dusk til dawn), expertly paired with a mostly nude salma hayek, feeding tarantino whiskey via a perfectly toned lower leg.
10. that barely audible part of pearl jam's once, a breathy afterthought to end the bridge. i'm not going to spoil it for you if you haven't found it. it's worth finding. completely delicious.
11. m. doughty. choose anything. in fact, i've always said that if i were a stripper, st louise is listening would be my song, hands down.
12. the annoying guitar crunch in radiohead's creep. if you want the origin of that sound, i have a story. it must be told over a beer, but very factual and entirely sexy.
13. prince's alphabet street. really, who isn't a fan of a song about oral sex?
14. night shift, the commodores. don't ask why, i don't have an answer other than, "just because."
15. the deftones cover of the chauffer. come to think of it, every cover on that album is sexy as hell. and i don't even like the deftones.
16. ringfinger, nine inch nails.
17. i can't tell you what a whiny bitch i think billy corgan is, but damned if gish isn't one of the best albums to have sex to of all time.
18. the sunday's wild horses, and the roller coaster scene from fear (also gay, i know. but at least i'm honest.)
19. the knack's my sharona. how did they ever let that song hit the air? so dirty.
20. luna's 23 minutes in brussels.
feel free to add your own. we could get a multi-disc sex compilation going.
i have a lot to blog about - first dates, genital alignment, root canals - lots and lots of things. and we'll get there. but today, the sexiest moments in music.
1. the cars, moving in stereo. a perfect soundtrack to a dripping wet, slow motion phoebe cates.
2. todd lewis (of the toadies. for reference, note his growly scream at 1:48 of quitter off the rubberneck album.) undeniably sexy. makes a first-person song about a rapist/stalker into a turn on. reowr.
3. the voice of shawn smith of brad/pigeonhed/satchel. angelic and beautiful. sexy in the cleanest of ways.
4. gavin rossdale and his circa 1995 live performance of glycerin in the pouring rain. he was drenched as they get. it's nkotb gay, i know. but hot nonetheless.
5. tori amos, crucify, at high volume. 'nuf said.
6. the first seconds of spoon's jonathon fisk. that groan? dear god.
7. danny carey's drum solo on tool's opiate.
8. mike patton in the small victory video. he looks like a post-wedding groomsman who wandered onto a trent reznor video shoot. even after watching the man come onstage (ejaculate, to the layman), eyes rolled back and drooling on himself, i still find that video to be hotter than light bulb filament.
9. tito & tarantula's after dark (from dusk til dawn), expertly paired with a mostly nude salma hayek, feeding tarantino whiskey via a perfectly toned lower leg.
10. that barely audible part of pearl jam's once, a breathy afterthought to end the bridge. i'm not going to spoil it for you if you haven't found it. it's worth finding. completely delicious.
11. m. doughty. choose anything. in fact, i've always said that if i were a stripper, st louise is listening would be my song, hands down.
12. the annoying guitar crunch in radiohead's creep. if you want the origin of that sound, i have a story. it must be told over a beer, but very factual and entirely sexy.
13. prince's alphabet street. really, who isn't a fan of a song about oral sex?
14. night shift, the commodores. don't ask why, i don't have an answer other than, "just because."
15. the deftones cover of the chauffer. come to think of it, every cover on that album is sexy as hell. and i don't even like the deftones.
16. ringfinger, nine inch nails.
17. i can't tell you what a whiny bitch i think billy corgan is, but damned if gish isn't one of the best albums to have sex to of all time.
18. the sunday's wild horses, and the roller coaster scene from fear (also gay, i know. but at least i'm honest.)
19. the knack's my sharona. how did they ever let that song hit the air? so dirty.
20. luna's 23 minutes in brussels.
feel free to add your own. we could get a multi-disc sex compilation going.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
the death of television
i've never been a big fan of tv. but over the last few years, i've loved it. mostly because i didn't watch it, and my memory of it was awesome. but, after a week or so of really watching tv, i realize how much it sucks.
i'm eloquent, i know.
nothing good is ever on tv. i don't know what i expected to watch. maybe a late night episode of aqua teen, or some cool discovery show about serial killers. but all i found were awful infomercials with inventive ways to make quick and easy meals. my earlier claims about reality tv being worthless has been undeniably confirmed.
it's also not a good idea to have television be the mirror of your success or failure. i figured that moving to california, i would end up with a new group of friends, sitting around a couch in a cafe, dinking coffee, talking about our wacky adventures.
but i don't have any of that.
i've also discovered that it's impossible to judge the course of your life against the people you know. it's not fair to you, them, and it harbors bitterness. it's also completely inaccurate to judge another person's life on what you know about them. it's never as easy or as great as you think it is for anyone. and often, they are envious of your life, the one you spend too much time bitching about.
i freaked out at my doctor's office a few months ago. 12 years of aggression in one moment of tears. and he finally listened and said, "yeah, you're right. sleeping that much isn't normal. i'm going to find something to fix it."
they gave me some medicine normally given to people with narcolepsy, and i can't remember a time when i've felt this good, this normal. i sleep 9 or 10 hours a night. it's like if someone changed life to 32 hours in a day. i can't explain how i feel - mad that they didn't figure it out sooner, overjoyed that i have my life back, afraid that it won't last. i'm happy. and a little numb.
i've decided to date online again. i don't know what the hell my problem is. there's a very slim chance of actually finding that weird, unique, jewel of a man online whose magic value has gone largely unnoticed by most women, and who is tired of the simple, boring, beautiful girl that i am not and ready for someone to keep him on his toes.
but, at the very least, i know you, my faithful reader, will benefit from my ridiculous love life tales. they seem to be the ones that get you guys talking. and if i spend an painful evening with a total stranger and will never get that time or lipgloss back, you know that i'm taking you down with me, every one of you.
it feels like things are changing. for the better. i feel like i've macheted-out at least a visible path for myself. i can only see the few meters ahead of me, but i sense something else. good or bad, it will be exciting.
in the meantime, i can't figure out why the oxyclean guy has to yell about everything he endorses. i get tired thinking that love life is somewhere between a hollywood movie and an episode of big brother. i can't even decide which is worse or why i would even want a life like that.
i want my life. and i have it back, at least partially. the rest, i get to invent as i go. and even if it's on my own for a while, it won't be in a coffee shop.
i'm eloquent, i know.
nothing good is ever on tv. i don't know what i expected to watch. maybe a late night episode of aqua teen, or some cool discovery show about serial killers. but all i found were awful infomercials with inventive ways to make quick and easy meals. my earlier claims about reality tv being worthless has been undeniably confirmed.
it's also not a good idea to have television be the mirror of your success or failure. i figured that moving to california, i would end up with a new group of friends, sitting around a couch in a cafe, dinking coffee, talking about our wacky adventures.
but i don't have any of that.
i've also discovered that it's impossible to judge the course of your life against the people you know. it's not fair to you, them, and it harbors bitterness. it's also completely inaccurate to judge another person's life on what you know about them. it's never as easy or as great as you think it is for anyone. and often, they are envious of your life, the one you spend too much time bitching about.
i freaked out at my doctor's office a few months ago. 12 years of aggression in one moment of tears. and he finally listened and said, "yeah, you're right. sleeping that much isn't normal. i'm going to find something to fix it."
they gave me some medicine normally given to people with narcolepsy, and i can't remember a time when i've felt this good, this normal. i sleep 9 or 10 hours a night. it's like if someone changed life to 32 hours in a day. i can't explain how i feel - mad that they didn't figure it out sooner, overjoyed that i have my life back, afraid that it won't last. i'm happy. and a little numb.
i've decided to date online again. i don't know what the hell my problem is. there's a very slim chance of actually finding that weird, unique, jewel of a man online whose magic value has gone largely unnoticed by most women, and who is tired of the simple, boring, beautiful girl that i am not and ready for someone to keep him on his toes.
but, at the very least, i know you, my faithful reader, will benefit from my ridiculous love life tales. they seem to be the ones that get you guys talking. and if i spend an painful evening with a total stranger and will never get that time or lipgloss back, you know that i'm taking you down with me, every one of you.
it feels like things are changing. for the better. i feel like i've macheted-out at least a visible path for myself. i can only see the few meters ahead of me, but i sense something else. good or bad, it will be exciting.
in the meantime, i can't figure out why the oxyclean guy has to yell about everything he endorses. i get tired thinking that love life is somewhere between a hollywood movie and an episode of big brother. i can't even decide which is worse or why i would even want a life like that.
i want my life. and i have it back, at least partially. the rest, i get to invent as i go. and even if it's on my own for a while, it won't be in a coffee shop.
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