Midnight Munchies

Have you ever gone to bed at 11:30, woken up a half hour later craving a bowl of turkey chili and saltines?

No, just me?

Freaks.

Dum De Dum...

Not really big on the depth lately. In fact my body is going crazy. I’ve changed my diet and my body isn’t sure what to do without the processed, fried and sugary foods. So my body’s become the equivalent of California weather; sunny and clear one moment then overcast and freezing the next weekend. I’ve lost weight. Eating only 1200 to 1300 calories a day can do that for you. It’s been about two weeks and I have yet to exercise. All in time, Buttercup.

Also, I haven’t had sex in over a year; so doing it again is rather like losing my virginity all over again without the bleeding and freaked out lover. I thought it was a UTI but then it hit me; it’s the sex. I don’t mind at all because I had sex. Yay for the sex.

But I’m sleepy and don’t feel very well. And my friend Steve didn’t call me back. That one hurt.

“Don’t poke the bear in the zoo”

Sponsored by the number 10

Last night, I went to a party, drank the entire apartment and got laid.

Yep, you heard me right. I. Got. Laid.

After one year, four months and four days I can say that my dry streak is over. About fucking time. :)

Kiss My Ass Good-Bye!

I found this box of books from my days as a fundie Christian and must admit that I spent a lot of money being born-again. One book in particular really freaked me out; it’s called I Kissed Dating Good-bye, written by some guy who represents everything I hate in Christian males. I read that book hoping that it would cure my desire to be with a boy who didn’t want to be with me. That I could some how repress feelings and desires for a relationship that didn’t lead to marriage. What that book did to me was give me a warped point of view on dating that I still carry with me today.

I didn’t date when I was younger. I was an awkward, loud, smart, weird teenager who would shop only at thrift stores. Needless to say this didn’t attract the fellas and the boys it did attract were the ones who were too shy to actually make a move beyond friendship. I had a few dates and one real boyfriend who at seven months turned out to be my longest relationship to date. Then I became a born-again x-ian and dating was kissed good-bye.

Without being allowed to date and get to know a guy, all my crushes became very serious intense events in which marriage was the only inevitable goal. I couldn’t just get to know a guy without some divine intervention telling me that he was “the one”. (And heaven help the boy who I deemed hand-delivered by the Alpha and Omega!) This being the case I was a neurotic freak with most boys. Any boy who wanted to get to know me had to want to marry me or else he was wasting my time. But the truth is I didn’t want to get married. It freaked me out on a level I couldn't even recognize until many years later. Yet, I didn’t want to be alone or without male companionship. Sex was a sin and that was the only place dating lead. There was no middle ground. And that damn book just made me feel even worse about my desires and needs.

I look at the book and I want to burn it in representation of all that I hated about that time in my life. I’m radically opposed to book burning, but in this case I’ll make an exception. In the last few years I’ve tried to make up for the lack of dating, but I always will be a little off. A little weird. But hey, I’ve been that way my whole life.

I don’t have anyone special in my life right now, or ever really. I’ve never had a serious relationship, just casual affairs. As I get older I find that I’m a very independent person who must figure out the ways of the world all by my lonesome. The guy I would give my solitary life up for has to be wonderful and love me bunches, because I like being on my own. He would have to be very kind and understanding to put up with me, as well. I haven’t met that guy yet, but I must say that I would be interested in seeing him live and in person. In the words of Sex and the City’s Charlotte, “I’ve been dating since I was fifteen! Where is he?”

Since he’s not around, I figure I’ll figure out my own problems. That way when he comes around (if he comes around, that is) I won’t lose myself in the romantic ideal. The ideal that I formed in my Christian days, that I am somehow incomplete without a man in my life. I can’t blame the church for my flawed concepts of love, but being in such a traditional environment didn’t help. Because anyone who knows me knows that I’m not traditional.

A job, a job, thank the stars for a job!

As I wrote earlier, I have a job! Not working for more than five months, I have gone through several stages from relief to depression to sloth to bored off my tush. When you find yourself blocking out four hours of TV mid-day (2 PM Beverly Hills 90210, 3 PM Oprah, 4 PM Dr. Phil, shut up, it’s a freak show!, 5 PM Gilmore Girls) then you know you need to get out of the house. Plus, my retired father is going through a Navy kick which means being told the navy nickname for everything under the sun. I can’t remember any of them, but I can tell you Navy men like their nicknames raunchy with a side of macho.

Dad’s trip down memory lane also means lots of cheesy old Navy-centric movies, with Lee Majors and the ilk, whoses romantic nature gets my dad a’sentimentalizing. During these movies he sits around, and in between naps, tells anyone in earshot about Navy life. “What kind of sailors are these guys?” he asks to no one in particular. And mind you, my father isn’t a tattooed covered crusty seaman. He’s a college graduate who loves classical music, history, listens to NPR and cries like a little girl at the series finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (“Why’d they have to kill off Anya? She was my favorite.”) Yet, he laughs like a hyena at drunken sailor jokes and will occasionally salute the TV when “Anchors Away” starts playing. He knows he’s being obnoxious, but just can’t help himself. This, like that extra molar behind my upper left wisdom tooth, is something I inherited from my father.

And here’s the clicker, he didn’t even like the Navy! He talks about how fascist it was and how he had to take orders from idiots. I guess it’s like high school, the further away you get from it, the better it seems. You remember the bad times as fondly as you remember the good. That’s what I like about getting older, the crazy voices mellow out to quiet whispers always telling me to look for more. Telling me to look to the past, accept who I am and go on with my life. Telling me not to get stuck.

You'a like, no?

I think I'm going through my Madonna Sex Book, hitch-hiking nude, latex bondage gear, "Justify my Love" phase right now. All I think about is sex and taking lots of nudie pictures of my curvy bod. In fact I'm trying to get in shape so if I ever have to disrobe in front of another horny soul I can strut without worry. The last thing I want is to have my ravishing of a helpless male disturbed by lame thoughts of what my ass look like at any given angle.

I have dreams in which I dream I'm having great sex. Then I nocturnally omit. Yep.

Are you all hot and bothered yet?

Dude, Awesome.

I got a job. I'm going to be a temporary Visual Merchandiser for a major department store. What that means is I'm going to assemble mannequins and put up holiday decorations. And I can wear jeans. Sweet.

Pretty sexy, no?

So, what's the problem?

I have been in the suburbs for about three months now and found that there is nothing to do in the Inland Empire! When you live in the city and do nothing, it’s a choice. I could go to a museum, but I think I’ll stay at home and read. I could go to a bar, but I think I’ll watch reruns of the Gilmore Girls.

Here there is no other option. There is really nothing cultural out here, unless you’re into Native American art or classic cars. On occasion there are some Jazz in the Park events, but that’s just a bit too yuppie for me. I want to go somewhere with an edge that doesn’t include the phrase “All Ages”. I want to go somewhere where I can meet interesting people that doesn’t involve techno music.

I think I am bound to be frustrated. Very frustrated.

What I can do is think. I can read and think. I haven’t really done either in a long time. I’ve gone the easy way for a few years and tried to live up what I “should” be doing with my life:

I should graduate from school.
I should live on my own.
I should meet a nice fella and settle down.
I should find a career and be a contributing member of society.
I should get over my foolish ideas of finding my passion and being balanced and content.

Mind you no one told me what I should be doing. I came up with these gems all on my own, but I have been influenced by the world I live in. It’s like when I’m alone I have an idea of who I am and I like that person. Then I go out to the world and take in all these messages telling me what a worthless loser I am. My problem is that I’d rather believe the messages of the world than whatever I discovered when I was alone.

I think we all want to love ourselves. That’s why it’s so disappointing to go out and find that other people aren’t as impressed. My question is why is that the opinion we carry and value over our own? And over all of those who actually love us?

We all love flawed people. All my friends and family are flawed, but I love them completely and wouldn’t want them to be perfect. Why do we expect such perfection from ourselves? If we all decide to love ourselves as we really want to, then who knows what could happen? Who says we have to believe that our imperfections make the love we have and feel, wrong?

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to Pollyanna my way outta self-loathing. It’s not easy. I’m just saying we should all take a break from the pounding we give ourselves when there’s a major screw up, because it’s not what we should do to someone we love.

And really, come on, we love ourselves. Just stop the façade and admit it.

Because Kathy asked me...

Anyhoo, since I was finally asked to fill out this survey, here you go...


A book that changed my life:
It seems like every book I read changes my life, but if I have to choose then…
The Stranger, by Albert Camus, not just because it was one of the few assigned books I actually found interesting enough to read all the way through in High School. It was my introduction to literature that made me think. Most recently, I would say Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women, by Susan Faludi, because it makes me want to put my feelings of frustration about sexism and injustice into actions.

A book I've read more than once:
Hope for the Flowers, by Trina Paulus. It’s a fable about rejecting what one is “suppose to do” in favor of being true to oneself. It’s kinda hippy-ish, so I have to put my cynical self to the side when I take it down for a read. I also like reading The Stand, by Steven King, because I love that end of the world shit.

A book I'd take with me if I were stuck on a desert island:
This is a stupid question and I reject it outright. If I were to be stuck on a deserted island I would take at least seven books with me. Next question.

A book that made me laugh:
Anything by David Sedaris. Pure Drivel, by the ever sexy Steve Martin was pure comedy. The Dorothy Parker short stories that don’t make me want to kill myself are usually funny…

A book that made me cry:
I had a hard time with this one for some reason. I finally came up with Girlfriend In a Coma, by Douglas Coupland. I’m not sure why it made me cry, I just remember crying. I’m going to have to read it again to remember why.


A book that I wish had been written:
Well, since Tickle His Pickle has been done, maybe Nibble Her Taco?

A book that I wish had never been written:
Umm…Most self-help books seem to be more destructive than helpful, but nothing specific comes to mind.

A book I've been meaning to read:
It’s more like “bookshelves I’d like to read”. Ummm…There’s some classic feminist literature I’ve been meaning to dive into.

I'm currently reading:
Against Love: A Polemic, by Laura Kipnis. It’s about how love is the last institution that we, as a society, have yet to really challenge. We just accept all the Love-Conquers-All crap that is forced fed to us and think we’re lame maladjusted freaks because we actually have to work at relationships. And when we rebel (through affairs and such) we’re deemed as amoral losers. I love, love, love this book and recommend it to all my friends.

And my own bonus question…

A book that was so bad that I threw it across the room after one paragraph:
Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus, by some lame asshat. The hollow thud it made when it hit the wall echoed the sound of my stupidity slamming against my self-respect at even attempting to read this book.

Mr. Right

And I thought my biggest problem was dead batteries.

Good-Freaking-Morning...

I couldn't get to sleep last night, even though I drank half a bottle of red wine. Finally, at 5 AM, I drift off.

I didn't turn my alarm off, so it went off during a dream in which I'm a cast member of Beverly Hills 90210. I didn't even get to make out with Brandon.

Going back to sleep, I dreamed of a crazy man who used a machine-gun to shoot up a dead body until it's liquefied. The image of the puddle in the coffin almost made me puke. (In the dream, that is.)

Then I go to the living room to find that the cat has puked on my cell phone. The regurgitation managed to find every nook and cranny of the phone and most has dried into a cement-like substance.

Needless to say, I'm not taking any calls

Eat my dust, Supergirl...

When I was a little girl, I would play Wonder Woman by putting on my Wonder Woman underoos, red knee high socks and to finish the look, my most prize possession, the Wonder Woman Accessories Playset. (Including tiara, bullet proof bracelets and belt.) I would run around the house saving my stuff animals from harm, making various family members tell the truth by wrapping the Lasso of Truth (a bungee cord attached to panty hose), finding any surface over six inches off the ground to jump off of and spinning around in circles until I could no longer walk straight. I really thought if I spun around and believed with all my heart, I would become Wonder Woman.

Little did I know that my hero was the brain-child of William Moulton Marston, who believes that Wonder Woman "satisfies the subconscious, elaborately disguised desire of males to be mastered by a woman who loves them." Dude was into bondage and open love. Awesome!

Question?

Funny stuff or a waste of time?


Answer:

Both.

Crikey!

Steve "The Crocodile Hunter" Irwin died this weekend. I know he was a crazy muthafucker, but I did respect his effort to protect all the very suprised and grumpy animals he loved to jump on.

Rule of Cuteness #3: an Inquisitive Look

I've been a bit down lately. A bit nihilistic and mildly depressed one might say.

I have to find simple pleasures when I can. You know, grab those moments of calm between the emotional storms. So, when I came across this site posting pictures of adorable animals I couldn’t resist. Just check it out Cute Overload and tell me it didn’t make you smile. (At least check out the Rules of Cuteness!)

Of course, I'd rather be engaged mind-blowing sex with a younger man, but…

I guess...

My score on The Greek Mythology Personality Test:


Dionysus
(0% Extroversion, 46% Intuition, 72% Emotiveness, 52% Perceptiveness)

Although deeply emotional, you are extremely lacking in self-knowledge. You are somewhat needy, and when bored, may become very hedonistic. Your life is a quest for meaning, above all else. You are most like Dionysus. You are primarily interested in serving others, but your efforts are almost always unappreciated. You aren't confrontational, you're often out of tune with your own needs and unaware of the consequences of your own actions.

You are, at heart, a good person. You are very affectionate, and you are very loyal to your friends and family. You are very reluctant to burden others with your own problems, to the point that this in itself can become a problem for the people who care about you. This is a particular of a more general problem. Dionysus sends wave of ruin throughout his personal life. He is the photographer who seduces his subjects. He is the teacher who seduces a student. He is the art student who paints nonrepresentational splashes of color, he is the poet who rejects meter and content. You seek sexual partners more than anything else (this is to exploit the nurturing side of others to help fill your own void). If not sexual partners, this desire to become the object of sympathy with other people can manifest itself in other destructive ways. Stinkfist by Tool explains your condition pretty well. It's very likely that you haven't had many experienced mentors. You don't want them either, because you're the sort of person who rejects criticism and boundaries, but they're also your only hope for reaching any kind of emotional maturity.

Famous People Like You: John Lennon, Mick Jagger, Michael Jackson, Britney Spears, Marilyn Monroe, Hugh Hefner
I'd tell you to stay clear of Hermes, Icarus and Apollo, but you could probably learn something from them. You're least likely to hurt The Oracle, Atlas, Prometheus, and Daedalus, but Atlas and Daedalus won't like you very much.Seek out: The Oracle, Prometheus

Link: The Greek Mythology Personality Test
(OkCupid Free Online Dating)