Tag: ExFiance 2

Lisa’s an Idiot

We are now gong to sing a song called “lisa’s an idiot”.
WHY DO I DO THIS?
WHY!
Paul’s moping about how he has no where or no place to go for Easter, and even though i already made plans to go spend it with my mom and three of my aunts I invited him to GR to go spend it with me and three of my aunts.
The problem is! He’s going to want to have sex.
And I don’t want to sleep with Paul.
I don’t want to get back together with him.
WHY OH WHY did I open my mouth and invite him here?
WHY?????????

On men, me and goals

It talks about sex. and other stuff. Don’t read if you really don’t want to know.
This is NOT about male-bashing. Sorry to disappoint 😉
It’s going on nearly 3 months since I’ve had sex (it actually maybe longer..), but, It feels like forever. And with all the hoopla with me and Paul, it got even worse when we were living together, where I’d stalk him like a cat and he’d tell me I was too aggressive or whatever, so while having sex was possible it didn’t happen enough for me to be ‘satisfied’. That was a status of our relationship. Sex was a mindgame and after 3 years, I wanted just some nice and easy sexors and I sure as hell wasn’t getting any. and foreplay? HAH! HAH. Paul didn’t believe in foreplay. Paul’s words were, who needed foreplay when I was ‘easy’? Uh, sure buddy. www.blowfish.com is your friend, gf.
I haven’t spoken to the boy-who-lives-across-the-sea in almost a week. To some that may not mean much but consider we talked everyday for nearly a year and then well, he gets a local gf and suddenly we do not speak (hence my comment earlier on lj). And I’m not angry because I have to remind myself that I cannot have him anyways, this is my mantra: I CANNOT HAVE HIM. PERIOD. And there are all these THINGS in my head that I must repeat to myself or else I will go insane because I have to recognize the following:

  1. My promise of no dating for a year. Remember? Part of the reason why I moved back to GR. I’ve even cut Danny (local ex bf for those just tuning in) off at the pass for sex because of 50 million issues with him (my god though he still looks good to me). Because I feel like I’m worth more and you know, yah sorry if i’m a monogamous nympho (my term), but wait, I’m not sorry for being me but, you know just because you hit it once does NOT mean I’m always open. I am NOT 7-11 contrary to popular belief. Then Danny did his whole “but i put my life on hold for you” crap and you know, for someone who supposedly LOVES me stop mother fucking whining. I’ve been home for nearly THREE MONTHS and he’s made very little effort to see me. Next.
  2. None of you cocksuckers are paying my bills. In short, I need to kick this OCD habit of staying online, playing video games or whatever because in the end, I AM 30 and I need to get a life and playing game cube, the sims or chatting with the bitches just aint gonna cut it. Yah, it is fun, yah it’s a great relaxer but i have to learn how to say NO and leave when the time comes.
  3. I’m holding out for something better. Even if i hadn’t put this so called invisible chastiy belt on myself, I’d still say no, because you know what, I’m tired of chasing. I am. I’m tired of being the aggressor. I’d like having the guys chase ME for once and I cannot tell you the last time that happened. Certainly not in recent memory. And I want someone more like me. I do. I am NOT a boring or a static person, I mean obnoxious yes, but boring or static? Not really.
  4. I do not feel sexy. This for some reason surprises people I confide this to (and you guys are my closests and dearest friends, even the ones I do not know!). I feel too fat, too tall, too weird, too something. And then what kills me is people telling me how sexy I am. that I radiate sex. One person (who is a big freak to boot) told me that I was their muse for their new series of erotica. I gave them inspiration. I don’t quite know how to handle that, I mean, it is a compliment. I just wish I felt more comfortable in my skin to feel as sexy as I’ve been told that I am. I do. I really wish I could be more confident with who I am, because I know when I DO feel more confident, strange things happen. But lately, I have been blaming it on the new lip gloss I’ve been wearing called Juicy Tubes. Yes, I bought it based on the name but I happen to like it.
  5. The reason why I like boy-who-lives-across-the-sea so much is that I can I can shut him off if he ever pisses me off (he hasn’t really). I can log out of the xyz chat client we are using and go fuck off. I do not have to worry about him showing up at my door unannounced (though i would probably love it). I want/love/like men who are unattainable. That is my weakness. I can “control” them without having to really DEAL with them. I mean, I have my little Henry Rollins and Colin Firth shrines going on over here and that is OKAY, because I can deal with that.because I know fantasy from reality. I do. (Remember if i keep repeating something it will happen!)
  6. I’m a big old softie at heart. Yes, it’s true. Yet something else people seem surprised at (I’m getting a bit annoyed at this whole bitch-on-wheels persona that still seems to perpetuate even if I’m sweet as sugar. I’m trying here to break old habits people cut me some slack). My favoriest movie in the whole wide world is Bridget Jones’ Diary. I’m telling you at the end when she kisses Colin Firth, I’m all over the couch clutching my chest wishing it were me. I’ve ALWAYS been a big romantic and while the rough and tumble set does turn me on, every time I’ve EVER been kissed with that whole “oh hly shit if i don’t kiss you i’m gonna die” look and the whole cupping of the face, i go weak in the knees. THERE IS A REASON WHY EXES HAVE CALLED ME NIAGRA FALLS (separately of course). I should not have to spell this out but apparently I do have to draw a bloody fucking map (or why I started writing an instruction booklet based on me once, well actually fairly recently). heh.
    and finally:
  7.  I refuse to kowtow to the bitter and cynicalness that seems to pervade women in my age group. Yes i’ve had a series of long term relationships. Yes they did not work out, but goddamnit, I knew that I was not going to have a typical life and there is a freedom in that direction and I refuse to be in that age group. Cynical? Yah, I was born cynical and sarcastic but bitter comes and goes and I refuse to be chewed up into that grouping.

as an aside, dropped a note to boy-who-lives-across-the-sea:

 From: "princess superstar"
 To:boy-who-lives-across-the-sea
 Sent: Saturday, March 01, 2003 8:15 PM
 Subject: hey
You mentioned that you were going on vacation or something last week and
 I'm assuming this is why I haven't heard from you in awhile.  But if
not, are you upset with me or something?  All my email to @detroit.org is not
 coming through ...  :)
 Lisa
----- Original Message -----
From: boy-who-lives-across-the-sea
To: "princess superstar"
Sent: Saturday, March 01, 2003 8:29 PM
Subject: Re: hey
> yoyo :)
>
> i am not upset at all, i've just been terribly busy that's all. while
lying
> in bed this morning i thought about how i hadnt spoken to you very much
> lately.. i am sorry. i'm not angry or anything, nor am i (unfortunately)
on
> holiday - i DO however have an entire week off :D
>
> i'll check the gettobooty address in a bit.
>
> how are you keeping?
>
> tata
>
>NAMEWITHHELD
> *smooch*

Then he took off to go out.
WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF.
Because American men are highly fucking boring. hah.
over-and-out

Yes, there is a reason why guests smell after three days

I’m so bloody tired, the mere thought of doing homework makes me want to puke. But with a paper (well, an essay) due tomorrow, a test tomorrow, two big papers due next week and my poli sci midterm also next week, i have to get cracking. I’m not sure how I’m doing it, but I’ve been channeling kethryvis, so fingers crossed it’s all good.
So, I’ve discovered just how much I love my personal space.
Like if space were a man, i’d marry it. Call it george, pet it, etc.
You don’t come over to someones house and bitch about well, everything. If I tell you something such as do not leave my bathroom trash can on the floor as one of my dogs will get into it and smear bloody tampons all around the house, please do what I ask. But no, that was apparently too bloody fucking difficult. Also, if i ask you if you want something from the store, because you’ve known me for a zillion years and you know I drink non-fat milk and eat lowfat/healthy foods, don’t complain when i ASK YOU WHAT YOU WANT FOR DINNER AND YOU AGREE TO WHAT I PROPOSE, STOP BITCHING THAT WHILE IT IS GOOD, XYZ IS WRONG WITH IT. The list went on and goes on.
And it wasn’t just my guest, it was my brother too. My god, my teeth are on edge I’m so pissed off. Yes, I do understand I do not have a job, but I DO work a lot getting these good grades, they do not come easily even if they are level 100 and 200 classes. And you know what else, stop picking on me. Stop making fun of my choices of reading material, music selections, food selections, and DVD selections. the fact that I have faster bandwidth and computer than you do. Stop getting pissed off if you ask me a question that has relation to the Internet and I do not know the answer. Or the fact that my apartment is nicer than yours, that my car actually does not need to be jumped in the morning and that I have enough gadgets support a third world nation. Just because I have something, say OH A TiVo, and I TiVo something for you, this does not mean you can come over when you want, eat my food, and expect to hang out here all afternoon. And stop bringing your fucking dog over here and calling my dogs bitch dogs. Yes, they are 18lbs a piece, but you know, this is THEIR home, and I don’t need your wild beast fucking with them in THEIR home.
I’ve fucking had it with people taking advantage of my generosity. Jesus christ on a fucking pogo stick.
Lets see what else:
Well fuck you to my mother, who, while doesn’t have a job and can’t seem to comprehend that while volunteering might just go against her at her review for SSI, is paying one of my aunts MONEY to clean her apartment. You don’t have a job. The woman is 59yo, let her get money somewhere else.
Fuck you to Paul for calling me up and blaming me for all his problems as to why all the people in NoVa (who, apparently and btw hate my guts) no longer speak to him and everyone is so ‘boring’ and ‘old farts’. Or something.
Fuck you to the ex Danny who states and I quote “I put my life on hold for you”, which I nearly laughed myself out of my chair, really, because you can’t get any funnier than that. And yet who seems to think that since I’m back that I’m now just a “Yahoo IM Booty Call” away. ahaha. Sure buddy. What the fuck ever. Hell would freeze over.
What else, oh well fuck you to boy-who-lives-across-the-sea. It seems, he likes a girl, which is fine. They went out on Valentines day, which is also fine. What is not fine is that we had this huge discussion about the probability that if one of us started dating that we would try and maintain our friendship, and now he’s back to ignoring me, again. Right. Who the hell was I fooling? Myself apparently (plus that super secret dream that i had feverently wished you were going to drop to one knee and declare your love to me was just that, a dream. hahaha. boy i’m so rich i kill myself). And we just had this fucking big discussion three months ago and you know, the whole point of being friends is that it IS a two-way street.
and fuck you too to the internet. Recently found someone I’ve been looking for for nearly four years now and now I’ve realised maybe sometimes it’s better to just leave things as they are — in the past where they belong.

BAH!

hubris

Not sure where it’s coming from but lately I’ve been feeling this need to be totally anti-social. As in, no communication of any sort to anyone anywhere. Not sure where the ideas are coming from, but they are coming fast and they are coming furious.
I recently wrote a letter of a sort of apology to someone recently. It was spurned on by a series of events I had not known that happened until later and yet I was being used as the measuring stick against said events. The letter had been planned in my head for awhile now (prior to the events) — and while i DO understand that this person and I would most likely never be friends again (and I AM fine with that), I just wanted to get off my chest regardless of the outcome because i still don’t understand how the decline began in the first place.
I bcc’d the letter to three people who were close to that person (and myself) and followed THAT up with a letter of explanation of why I wrote it in the first place. Bottom line, I offered the olive branch and whether or not that person takes it is fine, but I did at least try and that should matter for something. But of course I never heard from the person I emailed it to and of course I did not hear back from any of the three. You’re probably wondering, what did you expect to hear? Well, encouragement? Congratulations? Pat on the head? A stick to fetch? Not. A. Thing.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened either and I suspect it won’t be the last either and I suppose it will be my decision for the future.
When Paul and I broke up, initially back in October, no one really believed me and to be honest, I didn’t really expect them too. It was like I said shortly after that in a missive I had written, that I had to be nearly beaten to a pulp (which he THREATENED but did not DO) before anyone would think about coming to my rescue. Now I’ve let him, and moved 700 miles away. In the last year I’ve made tremendous changes in my life from quitting smoking, to quitting a dead-end job, to leaving an abusive relationship to moving back home to starting back in school and in that time period, of all these changes, of which have been positive, I’d thought I’d get a pat on the back. A congratulations. A job well done for making positive choices. Save for a few stragglers and my brother, there really hasn’t been any. Of the over 100 people on the mailing list and 50 odd freaks on my friends list at LJ and who ever reads my website, I only got less than 1/2 dozen emails from random people saying “Congrats!” “Good luck!’ “Best Wishes!” “Bon Voyage!”

Tale of three men

a: boy-who-lives-overseas: I never finished the story I started here. It was — bizarre to put it mildly. We got out a lot of how we felt and he flip-flopped from how “I don’t have time to deal with this” to “Why aren’t you telling me what’s going on!” I said “You can’t have your cake and eat it too you know!” So we talked and he understood where I was coming from and I was actually pretty impressed that he wanted to discuss it — he kept reiterating that he couldn’t expose his soul like I exposed mine and I retorted it wasn’t about exposing ones soul — it was about you know how friendship is two way street. I wasn’t going to take this one way giving any more — screw that. But the friendship feels real — it doesn’t feel like it’s just online based. Bizarre I know. REM is doing a world tour and they are hitting Belgium this June — shortly after my 31st birthday. He asked me to go — if my passports get their act together. This wouldn’t be completely out of the questions — flights from Chicago-Brussels are running 250 RT (and hopefully my fat ass will be a much smaller version for me to sit in couch for 10 zillion hours). But the thing is 6 months ago I would have been packing my bag and saying “I’ll be there in a minute” , but now, I’m scared. Even platonically the idea of going to .be to meet him now does not excite me but scares me, tremendously. I feel like the proverbial dog who got kicked one too many times, and while the experience of going to .eu would be tremendous, I just don’t want to deal with the rejection, even if it is platonically.
b: boy-who-lives-near-me: the exfiancee. one of two, I guess, technically. HAS BEEN GETTING ON MY LAST NERVE. for several reasons (and yes this is soap opera from hell interlude): he lives with his Lisa-look-alike exgf. they are JUST ROOMATES (as he says). Yet, I can’t call over there. I can’t hang out with him without him punching a time clock (I have to be home before Karen is etc) and he is CONDESENDING. God, I never realized how stupid he thought I was. He came over when my stuff was delivered and he sat there being a dick about the damn dresser — about how I had to be careful because there were different woods — I told him I built Ikea dressers before, I can handle it, no biggie, I’ve done almost all the old furniture in my apartment back in DC (which was Ikea based). He kept reiterating about how difficult it was as I was pushing him out the door.Then he picked a fight with me in best buy. About cables. I knew what I had to buy but he kept insisting I get XYZ and he picked a fight with me about me getting a universal remote, because I wanted the 8 unit one and I only have four units that needed a remote so he kept saying “Why do you want the 8 unit one?” I mean for fuck sakes, if i want to spend the extra five bucks for the 8 unit one, it is MY MONEY. Picking a fight is too strong a word, how about kept insisting he was right even though I had told him specifically before we left what I needed and had shown him at my apartment? Right. And then he is the charmer, he IM’d me before I left for the class the other day and said “I thought I’d stop over and bang you before class.” Right. Aint that smooth. I’m just so, disgusted about how this has turned out. I had no intention of sleeping with him but I do/did think he was a close friend and this whole thing has made me feel just, ugh. I told him if he wanted a piece of this he’d have to work for it and he just assumed he would be working it THAT way — uh no , sorry. I realised I’m not even sexually attracted to him anymore — which is a good thing. I’m not even upset, just disappointed. And the kicker? He’s a father. Of a 7 year old. And has YET to tell his parents.
c:the-boy-who-was-the-crush: never happened. met him before i left DC and we wanted, desperately, to go out with each other. But I was living with Paul and even though Paul and I were officially split up, this wasn’t going to work. He came out from left field and sent me a dear lisa letter — even before we had a damn date. I said, apparently, a string of things to him that hit dead on. He emailed me this week. Apologizing. Apparently I was right about him and one of his girlfriends who I knew wanted to date him (i think elvenresistance knows exactly how this whole thing works) and he kept denying how they were just ‘friends’ and she didn’t feel that way (right.)– uh sure buddy. Anyways, that bombed. Big surprise. And apparently a few characteristics i had pinpointed on him were dead on. So I was right. I laughed and told boy-who-lives-overseas and he said “i’m not childish and immature” and i said “no, just pighearted and stubborn”. Glad things with the-boy-who-was-the-crush worked out — even in this way. While I’m still interested, I’ve realised a few things about HIS personality that would have driven me up the wall — like the whole grey area — i mean, i’m pretty much into black/white idealism. There are a few greys, sure, but overall, he’d require WAY TOO MUCH maintance and hand holding and that was something I’m not about to do.
I miss Paul. I miss his company because regardless of the fighting and the arguing and the bs, there were a few good things and I miss those good things. He’s scared shitless abotu the whole dating thing as well, which is kind of funny. But it’s only natural to miss someone after living with them for three years. It was definitely intense.
The end.

in between

Danny and i once got into a playful argument in the middle of Blockbuster a few years back over the color of my eyes. It went along the lines that I said my eyes were brown and he called me out and said they were not, they were hazel. A quick pull to a mirrored post showed that yes, compared to his eyes which were deep chocolate brown, mine
were looking pretty hazel.
But for all sense and purposes, my eyes are brown to me and when I cry, the ring around the irises turn a dark blue and get rather thick, almost as if someone drew a magic marker around the iris itself. there are tiny flecks of green/gold but they are minute and can only be seen when nose to nose. My eyes are not a beautiful hazel like shelly’s but they are, for all sense and purposes closer to a hazel then a brown if you want to get pedantic.
My eyes are like my hair, my life: my hair is neither straight nor curly. Because of it’s texture I have to use ethnic products occasionally to keep it in check. It is apparently soft as people keep wanting to touch it. My hair is also neither brown nor black, it’s closer to auburn if by judging by younger pictures of me were so (and the roots coming in). My eyebrows are black, but I’m the retarded redhead- pale skin, smattering of freckles but not enough OOMPH to make it follow through.
Christmas was weird.
I bought my brother a bottle of Le Male by Jean Paul Gaultier and he was driving my car. Paul was bathed in Obsession and sitting in the back. I was stuck in the passenger seat, head hanging out of the window like a dog panting for fresh air because I was being overwhelmed by the sickly sweetness of the scents. I couldn’t even smell myself (Chance by Chanel). Both of them threatened to cut farts, if that would make me feel better. This is what it has been like for a week. I feel like I’ve been stuck in some sort of retarded boys club between the two of them — they are like night and day. We took Jeff to an Indian restaurant and Jeff decided that the food “got a check at the no box” for while he ate his lamb vindaloo, he didn’t quite care for it. We drove into DC and saw the tree at the White House. I scanned the skies for bombs and missiles.
Merry Christmas.
While I will have a kickass entertainment system I will most likely not have a couch. I have flashes of insight of me sitting in front of the patio doors in my Ikea Poang chair watching the snow fall. The living room, will of course, be empty save for my computers and the occasional animal toy. The entertainment center will be in the bedroom. Guests will be resigned to automatically sleep with me to have a place to sit. Just kidding.
I have laughed so loud today, that Paul threatened to walk out of the restaurant, and so deeply my ribs ached and I started to hyperventilate. I sat on the toilet not even two hours earlier crying so hard my chest hurt. My brother pulled me up and told me to get sweats on. We took a walk around the complex and I had put on my UUNet hoodie, which I had bought for Paul many moons ago and it had shrunk in the washer and now i coveted. I had put a jaunty scarf around my neck as we walked around the complex freezing out asses off, talking about the future. It had snowed a few inches during the night and we were having a real White Christmas, but the wind was killer and cut
through to our skin. We double timed back to the apartment, all the while my brother reassuring me that I had to just play it out and shut the fuck up.
Some things happened that I don’t think Jeff expected to see, namely Paul’s anger. Paul smashed his fists down so hard on the desk my cold cup of coffee went flying all around the desk itself and seeped into everything. A few weeks back, we went out to dinner with Rob and Paul asked me if i was taking the vacuum (or not) and before I could answer, Paul said “doesn’t matter, I’m getting a bagless one” wherein Rob looked Paul and said “why are you being a dick?” A few nights ago, my brother and I sat on the floor sorting cables. cat5 in one box, miscellany cables in a third, spare parts in the second. I took a few unopened packages of cat5 and two power strips. I begged Paul to come and look at the computer closet because I was NOT going to receive a call from him in the future begging for XYZ back. He came in after we had packed that room and we were working on the bathroom and bedroom. “Why do you need two power strips?” “Did you check the other box.” “No.” “If you checked the other box, you would have seen
that I left you two power strips along with the strips for all the other equipment that is currently plugged in.” “Why do you need cat5?” And so it began. He started nickle and diming everything. He who would take no notice of what was being packed (“You are the one whose moving!”), now wants a piece of everything.
I read in someone’s journal recently they do not remember having been loved so selflessly before by someone or at least in recent memory, as in someone who was being attentive to them rather than the other way around. Alisha also said something to me in that same effect when we were hanging out before she left for her holidays about the difference between her current beau and her past beau’s was that she had pursued them and here he had pursued her. It was such a pleasant switch, it knocked her on her ass for a second. I know I need to pull back and regroup, which is fine, but there hasn’t been a single straight thought in my head in the last 6 months and I don’t expect I’ll find it now. Just so that you know.
But I will tell you I’m terrified.
It’s a quandary I debate with myself on as I have hope for the future that one day I will be happy and hopefully that will include a partner of some kind. I’m not so much bitter as much as feeling like the dog whose been kicked around a lot and will now bite at any attempts to befriend it.
My brother remarked last night, as we were watching “Powerpuff Girls: the Movie”, that we were both wearing grey tshirts and red sweat shorts. The other interesting thing is that after many years of proclaiming a few designers worthy to be on my backside, he’s now decided they are cool and has been giving me links to their websites.
There was more important stuff but I need to sleep.
x0x0x0

niche

when i tell people i was almost painfully shy as a child, they choose not to believe it. some of my actions now as an adult seem to speak this need to gain attention to myself, because i always felt like it was never quite there. people would believe anything i told them but the shy bit never caught on, even though it WAS painfully true.
when i was a child, i was already the tallest person in my class. my assertiveness was already showing as i was the one chasing the boys since kindergarten and not the other way around. once at a dinner party, we were to tell something about ourselves and i said when i was five i led some little boys out of kindergarten to the school playground across the street. I was bored with the damn playdoh. the host laughed and said i was too confident for my own good.
But as i got older, i fell farther and farther behind in female development, and not as in physical development but as in that I had no real female friends. the farther i fell, the more wigged out i became. Most of my friends were boys and it was further segregated more so when we were tested academically and I was the only girl who was “chosen” for the gifted program. when there is a dozen students in the class and 1/3 are being considered special, it makes it difficult for everyone else to get along, especially when you are 8. the program was abruptly curtailed.
as i got older, it got worse. i have very few female friends and those I do have, while i cherish them as much as possible, i don’t quite fit in with them. the whole issue of the males seems as daunting then as it does now as it was then because then i just wanted to push them in the mud, and now i want to push them into my bed. The irony is that one of the first things men say when the dating ritual start is how my assertiveness is refreshing but later on it turns into be the problem as we are breaking up. Especially my attitude about sex, apparently I think too much like a man.
But this is not where I wanted to go tonight because I’m terribly sad. I’m not sad because I’m leaving VA (though I’ll miss the friends I’ve made here very much), and I’m not sad because I’m not dating, but what I’m most sad about is that I’m nearly 30 and i still do not fit in.
Everyone has their little niche in life, whether it is as a mother, or a husband or wife. If they knit, read or sew or put babies heads on spikes, they have some sort of common denominator that makes them come together. I don’t have that. I don’t have my niche. I’m a 30 year old single white female who is going back to school, who stands 6′ tall, pierced, tattooed and collects legos. While I’ve been joining mailing lists and looking for local GR groups specifically to expand my interests, I don’t seem to fit in ANYWHERE. I feel like I’m 8 again and in Mrs. Buntrock’s (her real name) 3rd grade class waiting desperately for someone to notice me even though I had been going to school with these kids for years.
most people mistook me for being quiet as being a snob, and in some warped way i was. but this feeling of never quite fitting in has always bothered me and hence how i got nicknamed chameleon by a few high school friends because i floated in and out of all the social groups with ease. i belonged everywhere and nowhere and that’s reflected for most of my adult life.
Paul used to say that, in the beginning, it was great dating me because it was like getting a new girlfriend every six months. Hair, style, clothing: everything changes. But he says he can’t keep up because he never knows who he’s talking to and now all he wants is to date a stupid girl who will just want to be his haus frau.
but i digress.
i am scared and as frightened NOW as i was on that day when i started school for the very first time. as worried as the day i walked home from class with my math book wondering HOW in the world it was going to be possible to learn everything to get into high school. i am afraid of failing, I’m afraid of not doing my best. I’m afraid that I’ll be laughed at or mocked at for being the oldest sophomore in existence. I’m afraid they will talk behind my back.
when i had gone back to college when I was 22, i took the bull by the horns and got involved with the paper and other things. i leapt and i want to do that now, i see me at 22 and I want to do the same thing. I want to grab that moment again. I want to fight those thoughts of being a loser back down to the pit of despair so that they will never bother me again.
I just want to fit in.
—
before i took off tonight for dinner, ben came online and showed me pics from his outing to LOTR. Now the thing that struck me was not that he was obviously having a great time but that he had this fucking awesome scarf wrapped around his neck. the irony is that i love scarves. i have like five i trade off in the winter, from a bright orange boa- like one to a stripey wool one from the gap. what furthered the irony is that Paul has been bitching about his neck being cold since we had that cold snap and i offered him one of my ‘jaunty scarves’ and he kept whining. But this is Paul and i should have already known he would have whined, what the hell was i thinking? a few nights back when we were picking up Xmas presents to finish our shopping, we trolled one of the department stores and Paul couldn’t find the perfect BLACK (yet boring and not-stylish) scarf to wrap around his thick neck. As we walked past the Nautica display, next to it they had these really GREAT JANUTY SCARVES on sale. I mean, these fuckers were awesome. I was like OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I wanted one for myself and had to smack my hand down because i did not need another scarf. I called my brother to see if he had a scarf and lost cell phone reception in the department store, so i walked out sans scarf. It was great seeing ben wearing a jaunty scarf. it made me smile.
Now this is jaunty scarf!
i am, as always,
the gay man trapped in a woman’s body.
x0x0x
PS: I’ll take the male models in the above website, naked and tied with a red ribbon. thanks Santa!

she’s got looks that kill

the setting:
I’m currently sitting on my crappy ass couch in a pair of grey yoga pants + grey tshirt, with all three pugs sleeping on my extended legs. VH1 Classic is on, and right now Motley Crue is rocking out (lita ford was on a few minutes ago and i was rocking out to “kiss me deadly”). It’s 2am.
ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE.
You’re probably wondering “Lisa, why are you sitting in your grey yoga pants watching vh1 classic on a Sunday night at 2am, using Paul’s laptop (which was yours to being with)?”
BECAUSE in the space of a week the following has occurred:

  • Gas lines were cut and we were without heat or hot water for nearly two days, and gas was restored a few hours before the big storm.
  • The tivo has comatosed and is on life support. Thanks to the beautiful Kara, who is uploading an ISO of the backup for v3 for me to download and screw with, it should be off of life support this week. You don’t understand, Tivo IS MY BOYFRIEND. I will skip a car payment to get another one if i have to (and wring Paul’s nuts out in case it doesn’t work).
  • So Paul says to me today “Oh Lisa *lashes fluttering*, we have to use YOUR PC to fix the tivo. I run NTFS on my drives and we need fat32 to do the backup and go ahead and do XYZ and we’ll get this puppy working.” Well, XYZ doesn’t work and what started out as something simple, ends with Paul going “Oh me!” *gasping O face* “I don’t have special torque screwdriver wrench hatchet to take off primary drive so we can divorce the drives” which means my PC is now in parts (which you can view me and the dogs having a good old time at). I plug everything back in and double check all connections, make sure everything is grounded, etc. Boot up. Bios does not recognize either of my cdrom drives or neither of my drives. Hrm. Take out, remove, reinstall, double and triple check. Nothing. I’m so pissed I’m gritting my teeth and shooting daggers at Paul. He does this big ‘sigh’, I tell him to fix it or else I’m going to plant foot into arse and not remove until done so. I go and fuck off. Do laundry. Vacuum. Feed the dogs. Do dishes. Wax the eyebrows. Start on dinner. I come and find him standing up playing GTA4:Vice City and he says super flirtatiously “OH sweetie, I can’t get it to work”. I glare daggers. He pauses game and goes back into the office. As dinner finishes, he comes back out and says “Oh i got one drive working and one cdrw working. You don’t need two cdroms.” I speak through my teeth “Who are you to say if i need two or not?” He just looks at me, blinking like an epileptic watching video games, “Oh we’ll fix it later sweetie. Don’t worry.”

WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO VAL KILMER THAT HE’S WHORING HIMSELF OUT TO NIKON DIGITAL?
ahem, so YAH. So i decide while I’m making dinner, that I want to write a faq about dating myself. Not me dating me, but for others to read to date me. Get it got it? Good. Because I need to come w/ a large warning label in hot pink that says PLEASE READ BEFORE OPENING.
Smashing Pumpkins doing the Fleetwood Mac song “landslide” was bad. Dixie Chix doing the “landslide” makes me want to stick hot pokers in my eyes. Though the one chick has this super cool hair going on.
But i digress.
Btw, I talk to the tv. and the radio. Just so you know.
So, it’s going on later, the Soprano’s are ending (holy shit!) and Paul and I are watching some Real Sex episode on HBO about the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada. I’m like, woah that is fucking cool. They make some crazy ass money and they are so comfortable with their sexuality and I so admire that. I have such a Madonna/Whore complex going on in my head sometimes it’s disgusting. I was telling Alisha about this the other night, that I admire people who are really so comfortable with their sexuality. I’m comfortable with my sexuality but i have this titch of exhibitionism going on and I really want to let her out.
Which is neither here nor there. So we are watching the Real Sex special and I’m saying “cool!” or “wow!” every five minutes, jamming away at my faq (and I just had gotten to the section and me and sex, which was getting REALLY interesting and I was getting supremely horny) when i put my feet down on the rug and i feel something wet. I thought I had spilled my beer (err Ben, I found a lone beer in the back of the fridge :o) and then I think “Oh fuck, what dog pissed on the carpet.” And i step gingerly around and the whole damn carpet is sopped! I scream and jump up *squish squish squish* and go grab towels and the towels are getting soaked quickly and the water is heading towards my pc. I make Paul unplug it and hand it to me and I run with it like it’s my baby to the kitchen and lay it gently on the counter. I also make him unplug everything in that vicinity. The carpet is fastly getting more soaked and it’s also now heading into the hall. I call the after-hours line and the security guy shows up and he’s like ‘yep you have a leak’ (thanks genius) and he says he’s going to get the maintance guy to come and fix it.
We retreated back to the office. I sat in my chair which is now parked behind Paul, Pugsley had jumped up and drapped himself across my chest (I guess he knows a great pair of tits when he lays on them) and I’m burning holes in the back of Paul’s head. He’s like “What did i do NOW.”
Well gee, I have no laptops (both were shipped back to Toshiba to get repaired on Saturday, and this is the one thing i don’t blame him for). My pc is in the kitchen and only half works. I can’t watch tv because when we took the tivo out of the entertainment center he could not be bothered to put things back together. He is sitting there flanked by two PCs and a laptop not giving a shit that I HAVE NOTHING. All my shit is either pieced apart or broken or something.
I continue glaring. Apparently I look the devil incarnate when i do this.
And I kid you not, the first thing I thought about when the idea of turning the water off was “Fuck. I can’t masturbate tonight, because then I can’t wash my hands.”
ahahahaha. Yes well. I have an active imagination. I refuse to apologize for it.
Paul gets off his ass and hooks the satellite box back to the tv so I can watch tv and I click on VH1 Classic as they were doing 80s special and I’m bopping around with the dogs drapped around me watching old def leppard, twisted sister, and new order. Hence why all the music references. Sammy Haggar, still cannot drive 55.
But I’m LAUGHING. I’m laughing because everything is so absurd. I’m grossing myself out because I did not shower today and now i have NO WATER. Paul’s like “oh we’ll just do the ghetto showering (using the water stored in the fridge) tomorrow and you’ll live” and I’m making faces because I’m grossed out by it. I won’t even be able to make CAWFEE tomorrow morning. Fuck, I’m gonna die.
But I’m laughing because the water being turned off till it’s repaired tomorrow is the least of all the shit that is going on THIS WEEK. Even having no heat for nearly two days didn’t top this one.
I’m laughing because in a week my brother has back stabbed me on various things and I had to remove him from my mailing list and now I’m looking for a one bedroom apartment which might be sketchy but I’ve never ever lived alone. I’m laughing because my lawyer calls me and tells me on Saturday that he was unable to sell stocks to put cash into my account and he’s going on vacation on 12/10 and will not be able to get money into the account until 12/20, which was the day I was planning on leaving, which would not be too terrible if it were not for the fact how much stuff gets pulled out from my debit before then. Paul has offered me cash but I refuse to take it because as he said tonight “YOU ARE NOT LEAVING UNTIL I HAVE A CAR”. Oh the fuck I am not! I will be out of here before January 1st and no later and even if that means I go without anything but a car full of goods. You had THREE YEARS to get a car. Not. My. Problem. Kiss. My. Ghetto. Ass. Don’t ask. In my head it sounded like a good idea to stay at the time.
I’ll be spending Christmas alone due to reorganization issues. Again. Paul did this whole spiel Saturday night about how “OH we can stay together for Christmas and XYZ” and then drops this bomb on me while I’m orgasming eating at this awesome restaurant that night that ‘Oh, i HAVE to go home for Christmas blah blah blah’. I wanted to take the coffee I was drinking and toss it in his face. Then he comes back with oh you have to stay through the New Year so that we can have our departing sex. Right. This coming from someone who has believed/accepted or said I was a gold digging whore, that i’ve ruined his life, used him, abused him, drove away all our friends, held grudges, was rude crude and mean. And he wants to still fuck me… Sure. Whatever you say.
——
I’m laughing because I’m dying right now. I’m dying because I’m watching this video for Santana called “Game of Love” and people are smooching and if you gave me a choice between having okay sex or awesome kissing, I’m taking kissing hands down. I’d probably take kissing over most anything actually. It’s everything about the act, the hands, the whole caressing of the face. The whole burning look, hands in the hair. I’m so tired of dating guys who are crap ass kissers and are under this delusion that they are gods in bed. And it’s not just one ex it’s like majority of them. As TLC says “Girls Talk”. So back to this whole kissing thing, it’s a fetsih or something but whatever it is, the whole ritual gets me hot. Especially if the guy has good lips. mmmmmmmmmm. I can go for hours on this little fantasy alone. days even. Hell months even. 😉
and as it’s going on 6am, final note is that i need something answered. I have an online journal. This is my place. My space. My feelings. No regrets. So riddle me this batman, why is it when I start dating someone they are like “OH LISA, you are so UNLIKE anyone else. You are so (insert tired cliche). I’ve learned so much about you via your journal.” But when the breakup happens, as it tends to do, why is it their FIRST offense is this damn journal? ALWAYS. Without fail. Always. Always.
—–
I’ll leave you with my horoscope for today:
Dear lisa, here is your Horoscope for December 09, 2002
People around you might think that you have never matured, lisa, and that you still have the mind of a child. It might not seem obvious at first, but your light-hearted attitude is also a symbol of great wisdom. As others, who have committed to long-term romances, you will find out that you will never lose your light-heartedness.
—–
x0x0x0
leuke schoenen, gaan we neuken?

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