Archive | August, 2009

This Never Gets Old

31 Aug

Things I Did Last Night

It’s comedy, it really is.  Unless you happen to send it to a friend who’s mom died when he was little.  Then, it’s not so funny.  Then it becomes disturbing and might end up in someone having nightmares and the other person crying.

Protected: I Don’t Think You Meant to Write That

28 Aug

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Live the Life You Love

26 Aug

Baltimore is a nice city.  It’s a small town, not really a city.  Back when I used to date Mr. Big X and he lived in Chicago, I would always be reminded of what a small town Baltimore really was.  Flying over Chicago was impressive – it’s like hearing a full orchestra play.  Flying over Baltimore?  More like hearing some 4 year old kid play the damned kazoo.

Still, I have made this kazoo-town my home.  There have been few times where I have been tempted to leave Baltimore.  Typically it’s when some kick ass event is happening in another city.

Another event like this one: Love the Life You Live.  It’s being held at Saks Fifth Avenue.  THE Saks Fifth Avenue.  Why the hell can’t we have something cool like that here?

Meanwhile, I’m pretty tempted to take the day off work and go for at least one of the sessions.  The problem is that I don’t know whether I’d want to go for the Money, Home and Security; Health, Mind and Body; or Cooking, Career, Love and Entertaining topics.  I mean, how the hell do you choose that??

Okay, who are we kidding, we totally know that I’d be going to the second one because they have a sexpert on hand who could probably tell me all sorts of things that I don’t know. 

Damn it. 

Why can’t I just live in NYC??

Live the Life you Love Event Information:

  • September 15th 6:30-10pm
  • October 6th 6:30-10pm
  • November 3rd 6:30-10pm

All events will be held at Saks Fifth Avenue

Just the Tip Tuesday (08/25/09)

25 Aug

When life hands you lemons fuck lemonade.  No, seriously, fuck it.  I don’t want it, it’ll make my stomach feel worse than it already does.  And fuck the lemons while we’re at it, and maybe even life a little.

As I’m in the midst and moping over 3D (again), I’ve had to look for ways to distract myself.  After heading over to my mom’s house last night and pretending that everything was fine (because I refuse to tell her anything), I went home and planted myself on the couch.  I proceeded to waste the next 2 hours watching Vh1’s “My Antonio.”

There is nothing like watching a bunch of skanks make fools of themselves to make yourself feel better over stupid shit you’ve done.  At least my life wasn’t broadcast on national television for all of the world to mock.  In addition to thanking my lucky stars for not being stupid enough to have the desire to go on one of those shows, I also found myself staring at the hot body belonging to Antonio Sabato Jr.

antonio sabato

Dude is FINE!  At 37 he makes many men younger than he is look like little boys.  His body is still hot, and he has that sleaze appeal that some cheesy car salesmen have.  Still, I’d do him – maybe not today because I’m still pathetic and gay for 3D, but someday…

And seriously, fuck those lemons.

What Did You Have in Mind?

24 Aug

“I can do this,” I thought to myself as I was driving over to his house. “It’s nothing. We’ll just do it and then it’ll be over and it means nothing.  I can do this.”  Then I found myself there and my thoughts turned to, “this is going to end badly.”  The talk about feelings and “what are we doing” and “why are you with me” would inevitably come up.  I would have to tell him it was just a casual thing and that we’re both adults capable of this type of thing. 

About 2 months before, I received an email from him.  Against my better judgement, I responded – and that’s how it all began.  “He’s worming,” Foxy had said to me.  “I know that,” I responded and told her that it was nothing.

The emails became more frequent, and soon there were text messages too.  It eventually led to plans to go to the movies.  A month ago I walked into his house and saw him for the first time in almost a year.  I have never felt nerves like that before.  My heart was beating so fast, and I could have sworn that my knees were going to buckle.  “What the hell am I doing here?” kept going through my mind.  And then…we were fine.  We fell back into talking with one another like we once did.  It was light conversation, we didn’t talk about family, we didn’t talk about the past.  It was fine, we were going to be fine.

On the way home after the movie I debated whether/not I was going to go inside his house.  I knew that if I walked in his front door that I would end up in his bedroom.  We pulled into the driveway, and I made the decision to go.  “Are you sure,” he asked me.  I was sure.  I got in my car and drove away.  And then the text messages started again.

My resolve melted.  A week later I was in his house again, and this time I did end up in his bedroom.  It was easy at first.  I would see him for a few hours, we’d end up in his room, and then I would leave.  He would tell me I could stay, and I’d tell him that I should go.  We’d email about the next time we’d see each other again, and that was that.

I kept it to myself so as not to hear my friends lecture me on what I knew was a mistake.  After all, it wouldn’t last long.  Just a few times, and then it would end just as quickly as it began and he would be a memory again.  Claude knew, and then I told Boom Boom.   “Are you insane??” she said.  “I have a bad feeling about this.”  Just like I imagined I would, I received the lecture on this awful mistake that I was making.  “It’s nothing. It’s just nothing,” I tried convincing her.  “You still like him,” she said.  “No!” I protested, I said it was just casual, that it was nothing, that I could just walk away when I wanted. “Then walk away,” she told me.  “But the sex is so good,” I retorted.

He seemed so different.  That insecure, needy guy was gone.  There was not talk about feelings, there were no questions about whether or not I was seeing anyone else, or if Un-boyfriend was still in the picture.  I kept going back, and as I did, I realized that it wasn’t just sex anymore, that all of those feelings that I had once had for him were resurfacing.  I found myself wanting to make plans with him again, future plans with him.  This casual arrangement we had was suddenly not so casual.  This time, I felt like the tables were turned – it wasn’t him having all of these damned feelings, now it was me.

Last week, his grandmother died and he had to make plans to go out of state over the weekend for the funeral.  He came to see me on Tuesday, and he asked to see me again on Sunday.  He asked me to take the day off on Monday so we could spend more time together.  I agreed.  The next day I had an email from him telling me what a great time he’d had and how much he was looking forward to spending more time with me.  I was on cloud 9 – while this hadn’t been what I intended to happen, I was pleased it was going this way.

Then something started to change, I felt him starting to pull away from me.  There was a longer lag time between his responses, his interest had started to wane.  As it did, I could feel myself wanting to clasp onto him and not let him go.  I knew that things were different.  On Friday I told my boss that I no longer needed to have Monday off.  “Everything okay?” he asked.  “Yes,” I lied, “just a change of plans.”  A change in the plans that he made with me, and one in the imaginary plans that I was starting to make for us.

He did not come.  He sent me a text message on his way home asking me if it was okay if he just went home and crashed.  “Do what you need to do,” I responded.  Then he asked me if I was still free on Monday.  “What did you have in mind?”  That was at 8:00 last night and I haven’t heard from him since.

I knew this was a mistake when it began and I knew that it would end badly, but I didn’t think that it would hurt quite like this.  I feel so foolish right now for having allowed myself to do this.  I feel so rejected.  Deep down inside I believed that we still have a chance.  A chance to remedy everything that took place last year.  A chance for some kind of future together.

Above all things, I wish that he still loved me.  That he wanted to be with me.  That he thought about me as I find myself thinking about him.  He does not love me anymore.  God only knows why I would even want this after everything that happened last year, but I did.  I do.  I can’t help it.  I wish I could.  I wish there was a switch I could just flip to make this all go away and not feel anything.  I’ll take numb over this. 

I just want to sit here and cry and tell myself that it will be okay.  I don’t need him.  I know this, I believe this.  But I want him.  I want him so badly.  I keep telling myself that when September comes and classes start and I’m traveling for work, that there will just be a dull pain left behind.  He will not call me, I will not call him.  Things will go back to normal, they will be like they were before we saw each other again.  I won’t spend my day wondering what he’s doing or when he will contact me.  Let it go back to the way it was before I saw him again.  Please just make this end. 

It’s really over now.

Please, I don’t want to hear the lectures.  I feel badly enough as it is.  Do with this as you will, but I don’t want to hear it right now.

The Stages Of Mourning A Relationship

24 Aug

Sometimes it’s nice to know that we are not alone when we’re dealing with a broken heart.  So, my dear friend (you know who you are), this one’s for you.

[originally posted on August 2, 2008]

It’s 3:00 PM and I’m still in my nightgown. I managed to stop crying about an hour ago, and even talked myself into taking a shower. Not just any shower, I actually shaved my legs. And what’s the point, really, as no one will be running their hands down them anymore. Less than 24 hours of being single and already I’m hating it. Stupid green grass on the other god damned side.

Mourning the loss of any relationship is difficult, but the different phases of mourning allow you to heal much faster. Let me take a minute to describe the different stages that you’ll have to get through:

Phase 1: Sobbing Uncontrollably into the Pillow He Once Slept On While Your Dreams For Your Future Slip Through Your Fingers. This is the stage when you have to double your intake of water. After all, all the tears that you’ll have streaming down your face can be pretty dehydrating. In between sobs, it’s required that you clutch the pillow, hoping to get a whiff of his scent. During this time, you’ll also question your actions and wonder if you were just a jack ass and should take it all back. You’ll probably cry yourself to sleep, have dreams of the 2 of you being together, and then start sobbing again when you wake up with the pillow in your arms and the realization that you’re alone and your mascara has probably stained the pillow he will ever use again.

Phase 2: Getting Dressed. This is one of the hardest phases of the mourning period. It actually requires that you find a reason to let go of the pillow, and get up out of bed. I know, it sounds utterly ridiculous. You may even think that you’ve found a reason-like the house is burning down-only to realize that it’s just not worth it to leg go of the pillow and stop the tears. When you are able to finally get up, though, the actual task of getting dressed can be quite traumatic. You’ll have to figure out what to wear that won’t remind you of being with him. If you end up picking his favorite t-shirt or the panties that used to drive him wild, you’ll have terrible flashbacks and end up back in stage 1. Only this time you’ll be holding the panties and the pillow in your hands.

Phase 3: Eating the World. Typically this is the sole purpose for getting up out of bed and getting dressed. During the first stage, you may find that you have completely lost your appetite and can’t possibly think of eating. I’m here to tell you that feeling will go away. In some cases, you may be one of the lucky ones that has food in the house. In the case that you do not, your best bet is to go with some fine food from McDonald’s or KFC. The grease will help speed the healing process-it really will. When you leave your house to get your food do not forget one of the most important staples: ice cream. It doesn’t matter what flavor you get, but you’ll need to eat at least a pint at a time. And none of this no fat or reduced fat shit. You need the fat and calories to help you. Really, you do. Here’s the tricky part with this stage, you can’t let it go on forever and ever, otherwise your body will go to crap. The purpose here is just to eat your feelings and numb your pain for 24-72 hours. That’s it, no more. As soon as you’re done with this stage, you can move into the next one.

Phase 4: Abusing Your Liver. Nothing numbs the pain and stops the crying like a good stiff drink. Spend time with your boys (Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, and/or Jim Bean) or pour yourself a peeptini. Just do what it takes to make you forget how happy you were when he would put his arms around you and kiss your neck and tell you he loved you and that everything was going to be okay and that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Be cautious! Too much abuse will lead you right back into Phase 1, and too many tears are bad for your skin. Being single can be painful enough, being single with too pink cheeks is even worse.

Phase 5: Beating the Dead Horse. This is the phase where you test your relationships with your friends and family. It’s at this point when you talk everything to death, including what it possibly could have meant when in week 3 he told you he thought you were beautiful and then took a sip of his water glass with his right hand instead of his left. Eventually you’ll become bored of telling the same story over and over, or else your friends will threaten to strangle you if you bring up his sweet nickname for you one more time.

As I’m in mourning for my dead in the water relationship, I feel it’s only right to enter into the next phase: eating the world. McDonald’s, and Ben & Jerry’s are all in my future. Who needs 3D when I have these fine gentlemen that can provide for me? There’s one problem with entering into this phase of mourning-it requires getting dressed, and I’m not sure that I’m ready for that step.

Perhaps Whoring isn’t so Whorrible

21 Aug

Maybe we have it all wrong.  Maybe being a hooker really is everything it’s cracked up to be.  I mean sure, you’ve got to handle all sorts of dicks and probably nasty sweaty dudes that smell like cheese, but still.  I’m thinking that there are probably some major advantages to making cash the old fashioned way.

  1. You make your own hours.  No more 40 hour work weeks.  Instead, you can just do some freaky deaky 7 Diamond Hooker things and make the big bucks.
  2. You don’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn on a Monday morning and hope the coffee in the pantry was made on Friday.  It’s possible that you might be sucking on a wiener that hasn’t been washed since Friday, but you don’t necessarily have to do that first thing Monday morning.
  3. You don’t have to be trapped in a cubicle.  Taking it in your backside in the alley behind the Safeway ensures that you get plenty of air.
  4. There’s no need to dress in business casual.  All you need are platform heels, hot pants and a tube top.  That’s gotta be more comfortable than pantyhose in the middle of August.

Sounds like I might need to put my 2 week’s notice in…

Sometimes Sex Jokes Are Not Funny

20 Aug

You know all about my affinity for twss jokes.  They’re hilarious and appropriate for any occasion: birthdays, anniversaries, meetings, funerals, etc.  I even enjoy them in front of my mom because they fly right over her head.  Half the time she asks, “Who said that?”  This makes them even funnier.

What’s not so funny is when she actually does get the jokes.  Or when I have to explain them.

Last night my mom came over to watch the George Lopez HBO special.  We all find him amusing because we’re Mexican and half of his jokes can only be understood by Mexicans.  It’s comedy.  He has this great shtick about how Mexican mothers hate wasting money on hot dog buns.  Instead they just give you a piece of white bread and tell you to put the hot dog in it because “bread is bread”.  My sister and I find this hilarious because it’s EXACTLY what happened to us when we were growing up.  Thanks, mom.

Anyway, we were sitting there watching the show last night and my mom was laughing so hard that I thought she might hurt herself.  At one point, she even farted (horrifying, seriously) – I thought that it couldn’t get worse than that.  That’s when George Lopez decided to kick things up a notch and introduce the raunchy stuff.

It was pretty uncomfortable when he started up with the vibrator jokes.  Even worse when my mom asked, “What is he talking about?”  But this was NOTHING compared to when he started talking about 69ing.  “What is a 69?” my mother asked me.  I think a tear actually rolled down my cheek during my explanation to her.  Then he went on and on about it and was pretending like someone was sitting on top of him and he had vag on his face.  “I don’t get it.  What’s supposed to be happening?”  Christ almighty, it was horrifying trying to explain the position to her. 

Let this be a warning to you: never watch George Lopez with your mother.  You’ll either have to explain sexual positions to her OR be horrified to learn that she knows exactly what he’s talking about because she used to do them with good old pop.

Ugh, I think I might throw up my lunch now.