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Is That a Booty Call I Hear?

11 Jan

It really surprises me when people tell me that romance is dead.  How is that possible?  Let me tell you about my romantic exchange with Notebook.  You all remember Notebook.  When we last left off we had had a hot make out session in my car shortly after my birthday.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get together during Christmas time, mainly because he totally blew me off.  Fine, whatever.

Then, just yesterday I get a smoking hot email from him.  When I read it, I was sure that he was thinking about our shenanigans back at the wedding in July.  I debated whether not to post it hear, but I’m going to go ahead and do it.  I’m blushing just thinking about it. . .

 Subject: Gordo’s Address

Do you have it?

Happy New Year!!

Okay, so you really have to read between the lines, but it’s there.  Go back and read it again and you’ll see that all of that is code for, “I can’t stop thinking about you and have to have you.”  Knowing that I had to keep the spark alive, I thought about how to respond.  After about 3 hours, I came up with a witty response:

Happy New Year to you.  I don’t have his home address, but I have his email: [email address]

Twenty-four hours passed before he responded.  Clearly he had to be on his feet!  I nearly fell out of my chair when I read the email he sent.  Talk about risque!

 Thank you.

We are totally going to hit it the next time we see each other.

2007: My Year in Review

31 Dec

As we are nearing the very bitter end of 2007 it’s time to reflect on all of the exciting “accomplishments” we all have made.  Here are my top 10:

  1. Made out with my friend’s engaged brother in my car parked outside of a bar in February. 
  2. Started my blog.  Yay!
  3. Started a new family with Michael Kors and my cherry red ipod.
  4. Made out with a gay boy at a charity event.
  5. Did the dirty deed with Notebook after getting all boozy suzy at a wedding and THEN managed not to hurl in front of him the next morning when I suffered from a treacherous bout of the cocktail flu.
  6. Managed to enjoy a family vacation without killing my niece or nephew after being trapped in the car with them for 2 days.
  7. Made out with a loser guy in his yellow Mustang that was parked outside of a bar and then didn’t get all crazy when he didn’t call me.  Oh wait, no, I did get all crazy when he didn’t call me.
  8. Embraced my Mexican heritage by mowing the lawn for the very first time.  I’m so ashamed proud of myself.
  9. Made out with Notebook in my car parked outside of a bar.
  10. Posed for my very first (and probably only) professional photo shoot where they’ll probably choose a picture that shows off my assets (including my fat arms).

Wait, I’m sensing something here.  What’s with all the making out in parked cars outside of bars?  As always, I’m keeping it Klassy.

A Kiss Is Still A Kiss

26 Nov

kissing_in_car

“then I did the simplest thing in the world.  I leaned down. . .and kissed him.  And the world cracked open.” -Agnes de Mille

What is it about him that turns my knees to jelly?  It is unnatural the way that I feel around him, like I’m about to melt into the ground, or burst into flames.  Seriously, he drives me crazy.  We have little to talk about, and there are awkward silences about him, but he makes me flush and want to jump into his lap the second I see him.

Notebook came home for Thanksgiving, and we made plans to meet out for some drinks on Saturday night.  I was tired.  I didn’t want to go, yet I dragged myself out.  I made minimal effort in putting myself together as I was sure that nothing would happen.  I packed the girls in a tank top and tightish sweater (I did notice him staring down my shirt when he thought I wasn’t looking), and threw my jeans on over unshaven legs.  He walked in looking hot, as usual.  He always looks hot.  Always.

He bought me a drink, we flirted with one another, some other friends showed up.  We sat there for hours and I did a super job of not drooling on his jacket or his sweater.  Finally, it was time to go.  He walked me to my car.  It was cold out so I offered to drive him back to his car.  He said yes.  I pulled up in front of his car that he had parked right outside the bar.  He smiled at me and I knew he was going to kiss me.  And then he did.  And we were both sober.  Stone cold sober.

I went back and forth between 3 distinct thoughts: the desire to jump over my center console and straddle him; wanting to melt right into him; and wondering what it would be like if he just swallowed me whole.  He was so warm, his lips so soft, his hands were in my hair. He whispered, “It’s nice to see you,” while he kissed me.  Lord only knows how I managed not to die right then and there.   [My heart is beating so fast just thinking about it all.]

Having had no expectations that there could be a booty call, I was unprepared-I left the house without shaving my legs.  That meant that I couldn’t invite him home to jump into my warm bed.  Damn my unshaved legs!!  Foiled again!

We said good-bye.  We will not call each other, we will not email each other.  And I’m okay with that.  I’ll see him at Christmas time.  I have zero expectations.

A very Happy Birthday to me. . .

Happy Saturday to Me!

25 Nov

I’m so tired.  I just want to crawl into bed and go to sleep.  Is it sad that it’s my first Saturday as a 34 year-old and I want nothing more than to just fall asleep?  Sad or not, it’s not going to happen.  I have to meet people out for adult libations at 9:30.  Maybe I’ll just get all liquored up and make a fool of myself.  Now that’s what I’m talking about!

At least Notebook will be there. . .I can always just stare at him and drool.  That’s worth the 20 minute drive downtown.

Protected: A Conversation Between You & Me

15 Oct

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Protected: How Bridget Jones of You

12 Oct

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Booty Call: Update

12 Oct

I Feel a Sin Coming On...Postcard Set 

Wow, so he’s really trying.  After sending an email to a group of us asking what we were doing this Saturday night, I started getting inquiries from him-only to me.  He’s hot.  It makes my chest burn just to think of some groping.  Why??  Why must it be that time of the month, and why must I have a freaking big ass pimple (stupid, Simone)??

  • Notebook: You around this weekend. . .specifically, tomorrow?
  • CS: I’ll be around most of the earlier part of the day.  I’m babysitting my godson (around 2ish), and then meeting up with some friends for dinner.
  • Notebook: Hmmm. . .I wont’ be up there until mid-afternoon.  Where r u headed for dinner? downtown? maybe i could meet u afterwards for a drink. . .

I want to have him.  Here’s the thing: it’s making me a little bit nervous.  What if the only reason that he wants to get together is to tell me that he has an STD or something?  That would make me kill him!