When I wake up, in my makeup

Waking up at 5am has got to go!
I feel drained and exhausted by 3pm everyday, and I want to go to bed when I get home from work. I keep hoping Justin will get another shift at work so that he can go in later, but nothing as of yet. He says they are trying to mandate a new set of shifts so that more people can work the 8-5 or 9-6 hours, but it’s not happening as of yet. I can’t believe I get up at 5am as it is. I love this time of morning. It is so surreal.
The following is not approved for children under 18
As many people know or have rightly guessed, my sex life is pretty open. There seemingly isn’t anything I have done or have yet to do (save me and two men, but I’m holding out for the right guy). One of the things that I like doing occasionally, is having anal sex with my lover. Now, I’m not speaking of him having anal sex with me, but the other way around. (If I need to draw you a picture, it would probably be best bet to go ask your parents about the birds and the bees).
I enjoy sex. I enjoy making love to my partner and I also enjoy being rough and rowdy. Missionary is okay, but not for long periods of time. The more rough it is, the better I like it.
Justin likes being sweet and sensual, so after over 6 months of being lovers, we are still finding a perfect middle ground. A friend of mine telling me about his nine year relationship with his boyfriend tells me that the middle ground take awhile to get to. I’ve initiated Justin in being more open about his likes/dislikes and also finding common ground when we are in bed together.
So the other night, we are getting all sexual and I let slip that I really want to fuck him. I was in the mood for being aggressive/dominating, and having him on his knees. He cringed and said something like “if you really really want to…”. And I said “I do.” But instead of making it more passionate, or working up towards it, it became more of a clinical procedure. First he had to go clean his anal area. Then the lights came on and the candles blown out so that he could see what I was doing. next was watching me put lube on the dildo because he wanted to make sure that I put enough lube on the damn thing.
So there we are, justin on his knees with his ass in the air, cringing like a school boy. I couldn’t stop laughing because obviously by this time I was feeling as passionate as a cat on a hot tin roof. he goes in telling me about how a few years back, he had to have an anal probe due to a serious gallstone problem he had. And that experience left him pretty anal (snicker) about his ass. He said the procedure was painful and he couldn’t sit for an extended period of time.
So i’m attempting to do shove a dildo up his ass, and he’s cringing and making sarcastic remarks. I can’t stop laughing because the whole scene was absurd. Finally, I smacked him on the ass and told him to get up. I put everything away and got dressed. There was no point in continuing our little experiment because i was no longer interested. He thankfully got up and ran to the bathroom for more cleansing.
My ex-lover Alan turned me on to this when we were dating. I had taken a very well lubed finger and shoved it up his anus one night and he screamed in passion. The man was writhing around like a two cent whore begging for more. It’s all about power, for me, to be in control. Of course the whole world knows that se7en (aka Christian Valor Ansieres) was into getting his ass fucked. He told me stories of how he used to jerry-rig dildos so he could back up into them and fuck them himself.
Other lovers that have come and gone from my life were pretty open about it. I found out via extended phonesex/netsex sessions with Jeff that he would have gone for it (never attempted, and don’t really want that image in my head). It’s not something that I require, but if the person wants x and I want z, we should be able to communicate on how to find it. But Justin’s whole behavior was a turnoff, so I wasn’t interested in finding out if he liked it or not.
Of course now, it’s perfect teasing material.

Last night we were sitting on the couch watching “Frasier” or something and he kept attempting on putting his feet on my lap. Justin has big feet (size 14/15’s), and even though he has pretty blue toenails, his feet are pretty calloused from all the exercise he does. I started shrieking about his “nasty” feet (I don’t know why they gross me out, they just do). He finds it damn funny I have ‘issues’ with his fucking feet. he says I should be able to let him put them on me when he wants to. I countered that with “Then you should let me fuck you when I want to.” He agreed to the point and suggested we buy one of those mini-dildos (about the size of a finger) to get him started.
Now that will be interesting, don’tcha think?

Lisa 2000

I’ve been pretty busy. busy enough to not have done the lisa chronicles AND! (drum roll) to actually backtrack the last few days because I think they are pretty darn exciting.
Tuesday: 12.8.98: The Great San Francisco Blackout
As half the world probably already knows, SF had a blackout (pre-Y2k test run?) last week. Cause was “human error.” This “human error” left over 1 million people without power for a minimum of between 4-6 hours. Cellular phones were jammed as people were using those as soon as the lights went out. Traffic was jammed due to no signal lights. One woman calling into an AM news radio station bitching about how SF’s “Finest” should be directing traffic and not giving out parking tickets. I said, quite audibly, that the woman should “shut the fuck up.” I was pms-ing? Or something that day.
We personally didn’t get any power till after 12:30pm PST. This sucked as we were planning on leaving right when the power switched back on. Generators? ha! you can forget it. Ours all died and we were one of the only ISP’s who were having problems. However, by mid afternoon majority of the power and problems were resolved and we were back up and running.
As stated above, many commented that this felt like a pre-Y2k test run. That gave me food for thought for about 10 seconds before I dismissed it out of my mind. Reason? PG&E are looking to lose -a lot- of money for this little fuck up. Claims are being filed due to this “human error.” Do you think they want a repeat of this in a little over a year? No. But we won’t discuss the Y2k problem. It gives me a headache.
It was the one day I was glad I lived in Oakland.
Thursday: 12.10.98: Not So Silent What?
Tonight was Live 105’s not so silent night Christmas party, being held in both San Jose and San Francisco. The SF line-up sucked by in comparison, while the SJ line-up look like it was going to be a rockin” night. I had scored not only free tickets but VIP passes to the shindig. The only bands *I* wanted to see was Everlast and Cake.
But it seemed not to be mine. 🙁    By 4pm that day, we were having some major problems with the computers in the tech area. Coupled with a splitting headache, I gave up my ticket to Jason. Chris was supposed to drive the three of them (Christ, Jennifer, Jason) to the show. By 6pm, I saw Jason and Jennifer still roaming around the office. Turned out Chris flaked (as per usual it seemed), so I got to go -again-. I left work at 7pm, and as we were heading south of SF, I heard the announcer (they were also broadcasting it live) announce that Everlast was up next. I cringed. I looked at the time. it was 7:15pm. The show wasn’t slated to start till 7:30pm! And when did a concert ever start on freakin’ time?!?! So I sat there, slamming my fists into the steering wheel while speeding down 101 as Everlast did his thang. Damnit. I think I frightened Jennifer and Jason. That’s okay though. Jason bought a pint of smirnoff and when we arrived at the show, we did quick shots of it as we walked towards the stadium.
The only bands I got to see were Cake and Garbage. Soul Coughing came up after Everlast and thus we missed their set as we were too busy parking. We walked out during OffSpring, Hole we listened to on the radio (gods! Courtney Love sucks fat dick! Literally.) and Rancid didn’t come on till 12:10AM, right when I dropped Jennifer off at home.
It was a sucky, sucky night.
The VIP passes were cool, but they were serving cheapie beer (bud light) and carlo rosi wine. geeze, even *I* would have served something better than that. No one hung out in the VIP area and they weren’t too strict about checking for the passes either as we walked in several times without them noticing. All it was, was the media hypes smoozing with each other. I had already been there/done that during college.
I’m seriously thinking of writing to tommy boy records and requesting an autograph of my man everlast. This shit bites!
Friday: 12.11.98: Four Hour Tour
I strolled into work late today as I had already worked nearly 40 hours this week as well as having that damn headache from the night before. Found out on wednesday that Computer Currents had their winners for their annual readers poll. guess who won? you’ve got it. Slip.Not won for best isp as well as best web hosting. Gawds! who would have thunk it? As someone once quipped, it seems that either the polls were rigged or someone was on crack. to celebrate, Ted made us take a company picture.
However, all was not lost on me. All the wimmens in the house (and the mens to be sure) dressed up in their finery for the Christmas Party aboard a damn boat that cruised around the Bay. Free dinner and drinks completed the evening.
As stated, most of those i work with dressed up. Me? I wore t-shirt and jeans. I had dressed up the night before and wasn’t about to go stumbling around on a boat, knowing i would be drunk, with a skirt on.
Turned out I was the bright one (gee..). Most of the grrls froze to death while I disco’d my way across the back end of the boat in total warmth.
here is a cumulative listing of the evening:
*Dinner sucked. Made up for it with an open bar that I learned I’m in love with Cosmopolitans and that marchino cherry’s are my best friend.
*We almost went back to the boat dock (called a slip, get it? ha.) because some of our illustrious members were smoking pot and the captain threatened to turn us in to the coast guard.
*I was the life of the party. The more I drink, the more I dance and the more I danced, the more I impressed people (i think). Justin was amused because majority of the mens wanted to dance with me. they were gay, but hey! it’s my ego we are stroking here.
*I almost got into a fist fight with one of the sys admins. he attempts at being condescending by day and submissive by night. thought he was being cutesy when he did *something* (don’t remember) but it pissed me enough to push him and punch him in the chest. damnit, i need to stop picking fights with people. 😉
*They wouldn’t let me go partying with everyone after the tour and no one would drive to freaking east oakland to hang out with me. gawd! my life sucks.
Saturday: 12.12.98: Chaos Manager
Received a phone call this morning from Jason. Seems that Scott (shock shock) didn’t wake up to get to work on time. Sivan called Jason sometime around 10am and I got a phone call short time later. Could I please drive into SF and unlock the tech area? Sure. i had already planned on going into work for a few hours so I didn’t have a problem doing this.
Arrived at work, seeing Carolyn and Sivan hanging out with Jim Lincoln in the reception area. My key doesn’t work. Paged sys admins, no response. Paged ted to my cell phone since no other phones were in use. Jim leaves as I attempt to coordinate the troops. Track down a sys admin who shows up and gets us in. In the interim, contact Scott due to his page but his line is busy for over an hour. bright light bulb goes on above my head as I realize he’s probably on aol. Log into aol and put him in my notify list. bingo! he’s the first one who shows up. I msg him and ask him what is going on: is he going to work or not? he msg’s me back and says that his car didn’t start last night (friday) when he got home from the party and he had to walk back to his house from BART, which was an 1.5 hour jaunt. he doesn’t have money for the bus to take back to bart nor does he know what buses to take. Frustrated, I told him the situation was under control and log off. he emails me begging not to try and get him fired because I don’t like him. Excuse me? I don’t dislike anyone. People get on my nerves, sure, but I don’t expound energy with fuckups. Sorry, that ain’t my style.
I emailed him and said his own actions would be his calling card. i only report them to the higherups.
This is what he did (more or less):
*Didn’t wake up on time to get to work (he had to be there by 7am and didn’t call anyone till after 10am).
*Didn’t make arrangements with any of the other supervisors to take his spot.
*Didn’t attempt to reconcile or bring his ass into work.
I noted to Don Juan what occurred over the weekend since he was in Arizona.
Scott is *not* my responsibility. If the company wants to keep him on after this (and his other problems of getting to work on time, etc) that is Slip.Net’s responsibility, not mine. however, to me, if you value your job and want to make a living, you could at least have a track record of getting your ass -in to- work instead of whining about it to others how you can’t. Geez, I learned the hard way that not to many company’s favor someone who isn’t going to take their job (even if it is with slip.net and even if it is shitty) if they don’t mosey their ass on in on time. Scott was already fired from the GAP because of his constant lates. Doesn’t look too hot.
And this kids, has been another report from the bunker.

keep right

For the most part yesterday, I walked around in this almost hazy existence. There were several minor issues, not including my own personal mental health almost jonesing every five minutes. Somehow I made it through the day, but when I got home from work, I realize “what am I going to do now?” i had made no plans, no questions, no idea of what to do with my free time. I opted for climbing into bed in my pjs and eating ice cream, but when justin bounded in and hopped (literally) on top of me, i could only smirk.
he asked me if i wanted to talk, and i said “no.”
but when he left, i started yelling through the door and he came back in. i talked about how “boring” my life was, and how “dissatisfied” i was with everything. everything that i have already said and rehashed a million times in my head. this stuff isn’t new, by far, however the holiday time is when it hits the most.
justin says living with me is exciting because he never knows whom he is going to “meet” sorta speak in a period of a day. my personality and mood range from up high to down below. in fact, i feel like there are at least three of us who reside in my body (talk about a major oopsie. i almost said “our body”). (i said oops up side the head.) my cats are sneaky. they keep thinking they are going to get outside. but I won’t let them! muhahahahaha.
The word I is a curious thing. Is it even just a word or is it a just a letter? not to be confused with the word eye which is obviously a noun, for it describes a thing. wouldn’t that be horrible if someone emailed me and said that I was wrong? That it was a verb, and adjective or even a proposition? (according to after against around at. before behind below beneath by. down during except for from in into in front of.) For try as they might, they will always be wrong.
A few weeks ago, I was reading a book or watching a movie. I remember now, it was a scene from a movie about Walter Winchell who for something like 30 years did a radio show. One of the characters had commented that you can’t bastardize the English language because English in and of itself is already bastardized. The words we use (at least me, maybe you, sometimes them) come from other languages. Spanish, French, German, Dutch, Portuguese. English is the white trash of languages. God, we Americans are so damn smug. We think the world revolves around ourselves. I don’t see why people bitch about Ebonics. It’s only natural that some sort of mutant language pops up after years of being taught about double negatives, infinitives, proper nouns and the like. I ASKED YOUSE A QUESTION! Dammit girl, youse knows that youse get on my last nerve. For real? For real.
I always wondered what it would be like to go insane. Truly, madly, deeply insane. My reality would obviously not correspond with your reality. My perception of the world would not correspond with your perception of the world. Just call me Queen of Sheba. Or better yet, Cleopatra. She wasn’t conventionally beautiful, but damn was she a strong bitch! I wonder if Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone with the Wind using Cleopatra as a role model. I’ve already raved how Ayn Rand stole most of the ideas in GWTW in The Fountainhead. Ever see the movie? God it stunk. Insert melodramatic music HERE!
Just finished reading Contact by Carl Sagan. Yes, it’s the same book after the movie. Or more properly, it’s the movie that came after the book. Or some such. Anyway, the book rages differently then the movie. In the book, when Ellie is on Vega, she does speak with her father, but, she is given the message that there is a deeper meaning inside of pi. Think about it. Wouldn’t that be cool? That a message is buried beneath all those digits. One friend of mine knows pi to the 6th place. I only know it to the 2nd place. I once asked Michael why pi was so freaking important (really, it’s elementary geometry). Now I know. The whole damn world is revolves around pi. Maybe I should become a “performance artist” and call myself pi. Or call myself “the artist formally known as pi” and have that little symbol action going on. That would be coool.(extra o’s permitted. please step through.)
Or maybe I should just do what I wanted to do in the first place. Be a porn star. Now that would rock. In fact, when I brought this up to several people last week, they all commented they would purchase my movies. That both frightens and disgusts me at the same time.
I haven’t thought up a good name yet. Lusty Lisa or basically anything that begins with the letter “L” (not to be confused with “Elle” which is french) is lame. Any idea’s? You oughta be in pictures.


every morning it’s the same thing.
i get up at 5am while justin flips on the coffee maker to make the coffee i’ve prepared the night before. I fall out of bed to go to the bathroom and put my contacts in. I grab whatever purse i am using at the moment, grab my car keys and a cup of coffee in my Starbucks/LilithFair coffee cup. I start the car and let it warm up. I drive 2.1 miles to the bart, drop justin off and come back home.
Once home, my options of what to do for the next hour or so vary. I either do a chronicle (such as I am doing now), jump in the shower, or write in my journal (the “jezzusican’tbelievesonsodidthat” type of thing). After such, I pick up Darryl in Lake Merrit, spend 1/2 hour cursing the bridge traffic and go to work.
After work, I generally drop of Daniel & Darryl at their respective places, come home at about 6pm. My schedule at night varies on what’s on the tube. Tuesday’s were saved for Felicity, Wednesday’s for 90210 and SouthPark. Weekends are saved for whatever is going on at the moment. Generally if there is a part-tay (we make part-tay) or some such event. This past Sunday, my friend Jason was having an ArtyFarty show. I had wanted to go because I knew Jason did incredible stuff, BUT, I had promised Justin to go play tennis with him. In 40 degree weather, he and I tossed the ball around for about 45 minutes. It felt like hours.
My passion for Tennis had been waylaid by something bigger. I used to love playing tennis when I was younger and even went so far as to take lessons as well as tryout for the hs team. But now, I don’t have the passion I once did when I played. In all honesty, I could care less.
The new rise in price in cigarettes (from about $2.50 a pack to between $3.00 and $3.50 depending on where you go) as well as my own general health is what prompts me to play now. Justin sucks. I’m not so bad. I feel like I spend half my time chasing after the balls he volleys in my general direction. He says that if we don’t play more, he won’t get better. I agree, but in the interim, it sucks playing. I can akin it to going to the dentist: you bitch, whine and complain when it’s not all that painful. At least for me. First I would stall playing. my ankle I would say. sudden flurry of activity causes it to swell and hurt. So we dropped 10 bucks for a slip on brace and that is taking care of. The new bitching on my side? Shoes. My tennis shoes (actually, could be considered platform tennis shoes. they have a 2-inch sole). I need a pair of cross trainers. And this is what I asked for Christmas.
Sometime ago, I had posted to a list I’m on a survey: What do you keep in/on your purse/backpack, nightstand, desk? The answers raged from everything from candles to books to condoms (my nightstand). While it is always interesting on what people kept, i envied the stuff they did have. Candles, doo-dads, night lights: just regular old junk. stuff I would never think of purchasing in a million years. Me? I spend my money on cds, books, purses and shoes. I never think to buy pictures, candles, anything that would make a place more homey. I don’t think of new ways to do things, or creative ways to do things. I don’t write, save for the chronicles, anymore. And I don’t read the books that I want to read. My own passion has been slowly dying due to Justin’s lack of one. This is one of our biggest arguments: he isn’t passionate about anything save football and me. But i feel foreshadowed my own lack of passion now. I don’t want to do -anything- that would constitute making the plunge like I felt oh so long ago. Truth be told, I don’t know why.
I recently asked several friends of mine that got married recently, why they married whom they married. The top answer from both was “the ability to grow” and “they make me want to be a better person”. I don’t see that (anymore) with Justin. His own lack of enthusiasm/passion/drive drowns out my own. I no longer give a fuck about this that or then some.
To be sure, this isn’t something new. I’ve discussed, cajoled, pleaded and begged him on this. he recognizes there is a problem, but isn’t willing to do anything about it. When recently I had asked him about his job at PBI, his answer was “I hate the job, but it’s the best one around”. His answer for everything is that “he knows he’s going to be a great person some day and doesn’t see why he has to hurry”.
To be continued…

it’s clear

Shelly has left the building.
Again, for your perusal, please jaunter through back issues while this page is being updated.
Rock me, Amedaus
So now another whole week has come and gone. My excitement at getting my inbox down to a manageable number has far exceeded my limits. Again. This is why I think email sucks big fat hairy balls. You get daunted, daily, with requests, junk, personal crap, mailing lists, ISP notices. The list goes on and on and on. Even though I have weaned myself off of majority of the high traffic lists I was on, I still get a lot of mail. Most of it is personal now, however, the big trend seems to be in advertisements that are tied in with messages from a company.
For instance, I had recently downloaded a newer version of Real Player (hello person from progressive networks who checks out my site. I see you ;). I had already filled out the request form for them several times. But when I had declined to fill out the form again save my email information, I got bombarded by them via email about how the new G2 Plus would rock my world and blah blah blah. I went back through the registration (yet again for the 100th time) and found (hidden discretely of course) the option to NOT be notified of new events.
See, this is what I don’t get. If someone, like me for instance, has removed a particular program from their system for whatever reason and then has to reinstall it, there should be an option that indicates that “yes, i’ve downloaded this software before and yes, i’m well aware of the benefits of the program is.” I shouldn’t have to be reminded, via email no less, about all the great things that Real Player is. If I didn’t think it was such a great program to begin with, I wouldn’t have downloaded it.
The other option is when I subscribe to information from major vendors (Barnes & Nobel, New York Times, etc) and I -want- to have email sent to me with updates and news articles. I had subscribed to these services several years ago using then, a major account. The account no longer exists. All that does exist is an alias that was placed for me on the system that forwards my mail to an existing account. When I receive information from a company, and it has been several years since my original subscription, how the hell am I supposed to remember that I was subscribed in the first place? That makes no sense! Why keep the visitors coming back if you can’t even bother keeping them informed of new information on your page? If 7 new people are getting on the Internet every -second-, what is the statistic of someone getting a new account without fowarding their email? Probably just as high. Swapping ISP’s these days is like swapping your underwear. People that you once chit-chatted with no longer exist as they have moved on and haven’t even bothered to tell you. I can only imagine the number of bounce messages they receive in the process.
The last annoying thing is when companies email you -constantly- and use third party software to do it. An example is reason.com. I was interested in their website, I signed up to be notified of updates via MindIt! services and I was also interested in the paper version of the magazine. But I started receiving several emails PER DAY telling me that MindIt! had detected a change in Reason’s website. When I would go back and check, nothing had been changed saved for design of the website itself. No new content was provided. This irked me. So I immediately removed myself from their “reminder service” and then cancelled my subscription to the paper version. It wasn’t worth the hassle of getting all this crap on a daily basis.
Maybe it’s just me, but while I like the idea of having my information sent to me via email, I shouldn’t have to be treated like a dimwit, nor should I have to deal with a ton and a half of worthless email. I am (shock shock) an adult and I’m well aware of the choices that I make as when i subscribe to services. I shouldn’t have to be treated like a 2 year old at a fairgrounds when the barker is hawking fish in a bowl when I damn well know that the damn thing is going to die in two days.
The Chewbaka defense: It just does not make sense.
Or perhaps I’m too anal. I’ll let the jury sit out on this one.