I just confirmed for myself that this blog exists for a good reason. I hung out with some old Junior High schoolmates last night. I was okay at the time (probably because I was drinking), but now it makes me feel weird. I get this feeling like I don’t really know who I am when I’m with them. Naturally that’s crazy. I do know who I am, don’t I? I’m just a regular person who feels the same thing other people feel. I’m just a little bit insensitive sometimes. Isn’t everyone? I say things that are offensive sometimes. I often think they’re funny. Hell, they ARE funny! I just feel like there is so much I can’t say around them because they don’t think the shit I say is funny. That brings me back to my friend (what are we calling him? OMG or something stupid like that. OMB says that if I’m the only one laughing, then it wasn’t a joke. I asked, “What if I meant it to be a joke?”
“You didn’t.” He stated, rather matter-of-factly.
Is that true? Do I say mean things and then laugh in the person’s face after insulting them? Do I secretly want to insult people but cover it up with humor to make it seem harmless? Who does that? Do I really care so little for other people that I don’t give a damn who gets hurt? The strangest and most disturbing part of this train of thought is that I don’t know how to answer those questions. People tell me I’m a nice person all the time, but those are mostly the people who don’t know me that well or people that I love. Yes, I said love. I mean every kind of love. I wouldn’t torture the people I love, would I? Yeah, maybe. That is how I was raised. If you can’t punish those who love you, who can you punish? Sure that may be sick, but at least I’m not in denial about it like most people.
Then there’s the whole gender gap thing. Men find it endearing to heckle each other roundly. Women just…well, I don’t really get women. As a woman, that probably makes me some kind of weirdo. However, that is the plain and most honest truth I could ever speak. I DON’T GET WOMEN. I don’t understand what they expect from friendship. I expect my friends to:
pick me up when I’m stranded
calm me down before I do something irrational that may land me in jail or on Jerry Springer
provide me with a place to sleep if I need to spend the night
tell me when I’ve done something wrong, ESPECIALLY if I didn’t catch it myself
be honest and direct as much as humanly possible
expect the same in return
With most women I meet and try to be friends with, I can never really figure out why we’re friends. In other words, I don’t get the feeling that I can count on them for any of the things I listed above (or that I could even feel comfortable asking). With men, you know where you stand. It’s not a guessing game. When it comes to friendship, it really shouldn’t be. Seriously, life is hard enough.
Maybe I’m just mocking people and getting some selfish jollies out of it. Whatever the case, I’ve obsessed over it all damn day and I’m pretty much tired of thinking about it. I’ve already determined that trying to be more sensitive is not going well for me, so I’ll just resign to believing that those who are too sensitive to be my friends will just go away and find others to coddle them.
In the meantime, I still need to figure out some way to stop being so closed off to the world – emotionally. I’ve shrouded myself in aloofness so much that it has now been over six months since the last time I was even kissed. I’ve made no moves towards changing. In fact, I am more solitary with every passing week. With the exception of those I see every weekday, I don’t really socialize at all. Sure I go to clubs and dance, but rarely with anyone that I don’t already know and never with anyone showing some interest in me beyond that dance. It has come to a point where it makes me feel uncomfortable when I’m being pursued now. I dread that moment when I have to tell the guy to back off. The way I socialize with people is so often misread as purposeful flirting that I try to avoid more than polite interaction.
I sometimes fear that I will turn into a hermit, but that’s just crazy talk… isn’t it? Maybe it’s the moodiness from this traumatic and disgraceful BP oil spill that is now in its 53rd day. 53 DAYS!!!! It’s tragic. It’s the worst thing that we (humans who use and develop technology) have done. I’m ashamed of myself for being a dirty human. I am ashamed of us as a species. I suppose this is not the best frame of mind to be in when one is looking to rediscover themselves socially. Six months may as well be six years if it's not meant to be.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
what a shitty day
I'm nauseous.
I felt the same way yesterday. I left work two hours earlier than I normally would so I could at least be at home while feeling weird. I did five loads of laundry instead of resting. Oddly, that made me feel much better. How one person living alone piles up five loads of laundry is beyond me. I'm not a lazy person. I guess I just keep myself too busy.
My appetite has been really strange. One minute I feel like I'm starving, the next I'm busying myself with another project that takes me an hour or longer to finish without even thinking of food. After I eat I feel so full that I want to throw up, and it goes on like that for hours. I had a late dinner last night. I woke up sweaty and close to vomiting several times. I thought I was getting sick, but I felt relatively healthy and well rested when I got out of bed at 6:15 this morning.
I've been breaking out in hives every day for almost two weeks, regardless of whether or not I take my 24-hour allergy pill. The pill is getting more and more ineffective it seems... either that or my stress level has become so high that throwing an allergy pill at it is more of a pointless ritual than a treatment.
The center of my stress is money yet again. I've never been good with money. Having all these bills is just making that truth more evident. I'm going to have to stop volunteering for things because I simply cannot afford to keep eating out and buying fuel for unnecessary driving. If I don't spend my entertainment money frivolously, I end up just giving it away! I tell myself that no matter how much I have to stretch the next dollar, helping someone is always worth it. Money is transient anyway. There is enough for everyone. All we have to do is share it. Is someone going to share this stress with me too? How about the nausea?
I really have no room to complain. I have a comfortable apartment, a nice car, good food in my fridge, caring friends to keep me company and a parade of interesting men with jobs and personality asking me out (even without any promise of sex). I have a cush job at a great company that thousands of people would cut their right hand off to work for. So what's with the sourness? And it's not just me - morale around this whole place is shot to Hell. What is happening? I hope it's just the alignment of the planets or some crazy shit. I will be extremely relieved when this cranky phase passes.
Yesterday I was so desperate to be rid of the blues that I almost called an ex to end my abstinence - for no other reason than for it to just be over. Then I thought again about the personality issue. I don't want to deal with any of that. Men like to say that they can have emotion-free sex, but it's a damn lie. No one can do that unless they have a whole lot of it with a whole lot of different people - then they can fool themselves into believing that they feel nothing when what they really feel is confusion. If I were to die tomorrow, I would not regret abstaining. My life isn't missing much. That is the real issue. If I believed that an intimate relationship had some other purpose or benefit in my life than just being a physcial outlet, I would pursue one. At this time, I would be hard pressed to believe that. I suppose it is this elusive "soulmate" people speak of that I am either searching for, waiting for or perhaps even thwarting. I'm not sure what I'm doing as far as that is concerned. I like to believe that I hold some innate knowledge buried inside me would start tingling or set off an alarm when I meet "the one", but seriously... who does that?
Oh well. The good, no GREAT thing is that I am writing again. Please, Fates be kind, let this lead me into rewarding adventure. Get my mind off of these trivialities and back to wandering curiously beyond doldrum.
I felt the same way yesterday. I left work two hours earlier than I normally would so I could at least be at home while feeling weird. I did five loads of laundry instead of resting. Oddly, that made me feel much better. How one person living alone piles up five loads of laundry is beyond me. I'm not a lazy person. I guess I just keep myself too busy.
My appetite has been really strange. One minute I feel like I'm starving, the next I'm busying myself with another project that takes me an hour or longer to finish without even thinking of food. After I eat I feel so full that I want to throw up, and it goes on like that for hours. I had a late dinner last night. I woke up sweaty and close to vomiting several times. I thought I was getting sick, but I felt relatively healthy and well rested when I got out of bed at 6:15 this morning.
I've been breaking out in hives every day for almost two weeks, regardless of whether or not I take my 24-hour allergy pill. The pill is getting more and more ineffective it seems... either that or my stress level has become so high that throwing an allergy pill at it is more of a pointless ritual than a treatment.
The center of my stress is money yet again. I've never been good with money. Having all these bills is just making that truth more evident. I'm going to have to stop volunteering for things because I simply cannot afford to keep eating out and buying fuel for unnecessary driving. If I don't spend my entertainment money frivolously, I end up just giving it away! I tell myself that no matter how much I have to stretch the next dollar, helping someone is always worth it. Money is transient anyway. There is enough for everyone. All we have to do is share it. Is someone going to share this stress with me too? How about the nausea?
I really have no room to complain. I have a comfortable apartment, a nice car, good food in my fridge, caring friends to keep me company and a parade of interesting men with jobs and personality asking me out (even without any promise of sex). I have a cush job at a great company that thousands of people would cut their right hand off to work for. So what's with the sourness? And it's not just me - morale around this whole place is shot to Hell. What is happening? I hope it's just the alignment of the planets or some crazy shit. I will be extremely relieved when this cranky phase passes.
Yesterday I was so desperate to be rid of the blues that I almost called an ex to end my abstinence - for no other reason than for it to just be over. Then I thought again about the personality issue. I don't want to deal with any of that. Men like to say that they can have emotion-free sex, but it's a damn lie. No one can do that unless they have a whole lot of it with a whole lot of different people - then they can fool themselves into believing that they feel nothing when what they really feel is confusion. If I were to die tomorrow, I would not regret abstaining. My life isn't missing much. That is the real issue. If I believed that an intimate relationship had some other purpose or benefit in my life than just being a physcial outlet, I would pursue one. At this time, I would be hard pressed to believe that. I suppose it is this elusive "soulmate" people speak of that I am either searching for, waiting for or perhaps even thwarting. I'm not sure what I'm doing as far as that is concerned. I like to believe that I hold some innate knowledge buried inside me would start tingling or set off an alarm when I meet "the one", but seriously... who does that?
Oh well. The good, no GREAT thing is that I am writing again. Please, Fates be kind, let this lead me into rewarding adventure. Get my mind off of these trivialities and back to wandering curiously beyond doldrum.
Monday, April 19, 2010
good karma and blah blah blah
I’ve been avoiding this blog lately, not for any particular reason (other than being sick of repeating myself). I’ve been out to a few parties but none so great that I would need to go through highlights. I finally popped into Levende East, Oakland’s counterpart to the one in SF. I was impressed by how clean it is. The interior reminds me of Tamarindo, a nouveau-Mexican restaurant just around the corner from Levende. This Old Oakland area has been transforming into quite the trendy spot magnet. One could say that the whole of downtown and surrounding areas has gentrified quickly. Ugh, I hate the way that word sounds like such a good thing. What it really means is that the original culture is being replaced by cookie cutter businesses which could exist just about anywhere. I do think that a lot of these new restaurants and bars are really cute, but they don’t have much character. I’m a fan of anonymity, but if everything is the same shade of grey it sure makes life boring.
I doubt that anyone I have met so far is the next big thing in my love life. I’m even starting to doubt that the next exciting thing in my life will have anything to do with love. I’m circling martial arts again. I do this every few months. When the money isn’t holding me back (like it is right now), there will still be the fear of looking like an idiot. One of these days I am going to realize that I’m really an idiot for letting fear stop me from going for it.
The highlight of the weekend, which just speaks to how uneventful it really was, was when Twin Peaks and I, upon returning from Levende, found a young woman semi-conscious on the curb outside my apartment. We took her upstairs and she passed out on one of the futons. I took her to BART the next afternoon. We didn’t make much conversation. I didn’t push the issue since I’m not interested in making friends who don’t have enough self control to get home on their own.
I’m going with OMB on his “recovery ride” again this week – this evening. I’m secretly hoping it starts raining before I go to meet him. Last Monday was such a humbling experience. I’d better make sure I have enough water anyway. I’m not canceling unless it rains.
I doubt that anyone I have met so far is the next big thing in my love life. I’m even starting to doubt that the next exciting thing in my life will have anything to do with love. I’m circling martial arts again. I do this every few months. When the money isn’t holding me back (like it is right now), there will still be the fear of looking like an idiot. One of these days I am going to realize that I’m really an idiot for letting fear stop me from going for it.
The highlight of the weekend, which just speaks to how uneventful it really was, was when Twin Peaks and I, upon returning from Levende, found a young woman semi-conscious on the curb outside my apartment. We took her upstairs and she passed out on one of the futons. I took her to BART the next afternoon. We didn’t make much conversation. I didn’t push the issue since I’m not interested in making friends who don’t have enough self control to get home on their own.
I’m going with OMB on his “recovery ride” again this week – this evening. I’m secretly hoping it starts raining before I go to meet him. Last Monday was such a humbling experience. I’d better make sure I have enough water anyway. I’m not canceling unless it rains.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
the daily grind
I awoke this morning at 2AM with a runny nose and then again at 5:48 sneezing. I stayed in bed for the remaining twelve minutes until the coffee was ready. Now I am sitting here drinking my morning cup with a box of tissues, hoping that the sneezing and nose running will either stop or lessen so I can get this day started. I have my bike bag and gear by the door ready to go, but I get the feeling that I need to stay out of the elements and drive. If the nose dries up before it’s time to leave, I’m riding. Screw it!
This has been happening on and off for about two weeks now. Usually the symptoms go away midday and return in the middle of the night to disturb my sleep and/or make my morning an endless internal dialogue about the wisdom (or lack thereof) of going to the office. The sneezing fits are brief but violent, leaving me groaning, hunched over and breathing through my mouth. This has been screwing with my already questionable mental state by burning through my PTO hours. On Monday, I sat here and did almost a full day’s worth of work from home, which I will not get paid for since I signed a contract stating that my participation in the 9/80 work schedule makes me ineligible for telecommuting. I have more work that needs to be done today. I am not using vacation hours just to sit at home and do that work for free. I don’t have a fever therefore I am going to work. There’s also the matter of finishing up the kitchen cabinet job over at the Berkeley Food and Housing Project. It’s only a couple of hours work, but who else is actually going to show up and get it done?
I think my body is telling me that it needs more than eight hours of sleep a night to kick out this cold virus. Now all I have to do is find those extra hours each day. Getting home after 8PM isn’t helping. I realized when I was on the phone with KB last night that I needed to multitask almost everything that I needed to do in order to get my ass in bed before 11PM. I still only made it to bed by 10:30 (giving me almost 7.5 hours had I slept solid through the night). How do people with children do this? It’s insane!
This has been happening on and off for about two weeks now. Usually the symptoms go away midday and return in the middle of the night to disturb my sleep and/or make my morning an endless internal dialogue about the wisdom (or lack thereof) of going to the office. The sneezing fits are brief but violent, leaving me groaning, hunched over and breathing through my mouth. This has been screwing with my already questionable mental state by burning through my PTO hours. On Monday, I sat here and did almost a full day’s worth of work from home, which I will not get paid for since I signed a contract stating that my participation in the 9/80 work schedule makes me ineligible for telecommuting. I have more work that needs to be done today. I am not using vacation hours just to sit at home and do that work for free. I don’t have a fever therefore I am going to work. There’s also the matter of finishing up the kitchen cabinet job over at the Berkeley Food and Housing Project. It’s only a couple of hours work, but who else is actually going to show up and get it done?
I think my body is telling me that it needs more than eight hours of sleep a night to kick out this cold virus. Now all I have to do is find those extra hours each day. Getting home after 8PM isn’t helping. I realized when I was on the phone with KB last night that I needed to multitask almost everything that I needed to do in order to get my ass in bed before 11PM. I still only made it to bed by 10:30 (giving me almost 7.5 hours had I slept solid through the night). How do people with children do this? It’s insane!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
to Hell at the speed of light
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
6:20 AM
Today’s journal entry will also be a blog. Let me remind myself of that before I start naming names.
I stayed home sick yesterday, not because I didn’t feel up to going to work but because I was sneezing and blowing my nose so frequently that it would only make my coworkers paranoid. Today I am still sneezing, but I can’t bear to spend one more day in this apartment. Duty calls.
As an ambassador for the company’s community service program, I research nonprofit organizations and make arrangements with them for my coworkers to come and help them out. My coworkers seem appreciative enough. However, the enthusiasm and excitement they demonstrate is embarrassingly short-lived.
Today we have a small group going out to a halfway home for adults with mental disabilities to refinish their kitchen cabinets. This group originally consisted of a foreman, my counterpart in the community service program, and twelve team members. In the past two work days, I have had half of the team cancel, and I have been unable to recruit replacements. Now, I must also go and be on this short-staffed team and recruit help in finding us (and the residents of the home) lunch while the kitchen is being updated. I had planned on doing that task myself, which also has had its pitfalls. With all the local box lunch caterers requiring over 48 hours advance notice for an order, I assumed that I would spend at least a couple of hours just getting the lunch together. Now I have to try and find someone else to do it for me. I don’t have time to be angry about it, but next time I am not going through all this.
It’s really a symptom of the degradation of our society. There is no value in a person’s word anymore. You can say anything and never back it up, and it doesn’t matter. Case in point, you can say, “I do” and be single again in less than a year. This is what we have “evolved” into.
6:20 AM
Today’s journal entry will also be a blog. Let me remind myself of that before I start naming names.
I stayed home sick yesterday, not because I didn’t feel up to going to work but because I was sneezing and blowing my nose so frequently that it would only make my coworkers paranoid. Today I am still sneezing, but I can’t bear to spend one more day in this apartment. Duty calls.
As an ambassador for the company’s community service program, I research nonprofit organizations and make arrangements with them for my coworkers to come and help them out. My coworkers seem appreciative enough. However, the enthusiasm and excitement they demonstrate is embarrassingly short-lived.
Today we have a small group going out to a halfway home for adults with mental disabilities to refinish their kitchen cabinets. This group originally consisted of a foreman, my counterpart in the community service program, and twelve team members. In the past two work days, I have had half of the team cancel, and I have been unable to recruit replacements. Now, I must also go and be on this short-staffed team and recruit help in finding us (and the residents of the home) lunch while the kitchen is being updated. I had planned on doing that task myself, which also has had its pitfalls. With all the local box lunch caterers requiring over 48 hours advance notice for an order, I assumed that I would spend at least a couple of hours just getting the lunch together. Now I have to try and find someone else to do it for me. I don’t have time to be angry about it, but next time I am not going through all this.
It’s really a symptom of the degradation of our society. There is no value in a person’s word anymore. You can say anything and never back it up, and it doesn’t matter. Case in point, you can say, “I do” and be single again in less than a year. This is what we have “evolved” into.
Monday, April 5, 2010
the blahs and the boy Billie Holiday
It has been one anti-climax after another in my life as of late. I joined a dating service. That lasted about ten days before I deleted my profile. The guys who contacted me were just plain creepy. I’d rather take my chances out on the street. I guess you could say that I’m prowling again, but not with any zeal. From where I’m standing, the chase really seems to be the best part. What am I to do when it’s over?
I’ve talked to a handful of exes on the phone in the past couple of weeks, and I am soooo bored. Maybe companionship isn’t really what I’m looking for. I tried going out to the parties, and now I am bored with those again too. I’d probably do well with another backpacking trip, but I don’t have the vacation time to do it this year. I also really want to do something completely solo. Man, if I won the lottery I could just put on my backpack and go…
I did manage to see a great jazz show last Thursday at the Asian Art Museum’s “MATCHA” mixer: http://www.asianart.org/matcha.htm. The singer was Coco Zhao, nicknamed “the boy Billie Holiday”. The nickname sounds rather ridiculous, but I assure you this was one of the absolute best jazz shows I have ever been to. Shanghai Jazz pays homage to the golden era of jazz here in the 20’s. Coco sings some traditional jazz standards and also some Chinese folk songs to jazz melodies
His voice… I wish I could sing like that. His voice is beautiful and full of emotion. I knew when I agreed to go with Puppetmaster that I would end up staying out past my bedtime (and inherently succumbing to the cold I’d been fighting all week), but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. I wish I knew of another Coco show so I could go and see him again.
There’s something new at MATCHA every other month, but the next one I am excited about going to will be the Japanese Ghost Stories on October 28th.
I’ve talked to a handful of exes on the phone in the past couple of weeks, and I am soooo bored. Maybe companionship isn’t really what I’m looking for. I tried going out to the parties, and now I am bored with those again too. I’d probably do well with another backpacking trip, but I don’t have the vacation time to do it this year. I also really want to do something completely solo. Man, if I won the lottery I could just put on my backpack and go…
I did manage to see a great jazz show last Thursday at the Asian Art Museum’s “MATCHA” mixer: http://www.asianart.org/matcha.htm. The singer was Coco Zhao, nicknamed “the boy Billie Holiday”. The nickname sounds rather ridiculous, but I assure you this was one of the absolute best jazz shows I have ever been to. Shanghai Jazz pays homage to the golden era of jazz here in the 20’s. Coco sings some traditional jazz standards and also some Chinese folk songs to jazz melodies
His voice… I wish I could sing like that. His voice is beautiful and full of emotion. I knew when I agreed to go with Puppetmaster that I would end up staying out past my bedtime (and inherently succumbing to the cold I’d been fighting all week), but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. I wish I knew of another Coco show so I could go and see him again.
There’s something new at MATCHA every other month, but the next one I am excited about going to will be the Japanese Ghost Stories on October 28th.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Turning 30 Again
Thought I was going boarding for my birthday, but those plans fell through. Somehow I still managed to scrape some entertainment together.
Last night, The People party at The New Parish was fun. The music at that party is always hit and miss, but it gets better every month. The patrons are good-looking. The men look as though they’ve put some thought into their clothing, but they also dance AND they’re not gay! I was talking to this woman out on the patio about that. We had a good laugh about the “and they’re not gay” comment. She said that she had seen her ex-boyfriend enter the club about twenty minutes prior and was nervous about how the night was going to end since she has a restraining order against him. I told her that she better be careful. A few minutes later, I ran into Killa B who was still looking hot as ever and now sporting a full lumberjack-style beard. I spent a relatively short time talking to him. I left him with Twin Peaks to go to the bathroom and when I returned he had moved on. I bumped into him once or twice more, but nothing exciting. ..Not that I was expecting anything. He gave me this weird look, but I don’t really know how to translate it because, well, it’s weird to run into your ex at a club. He could just have been feeling tense about it or something. It didn’t bother me to see him. I actually felt quite good about it.
Friday night was Triple Crown. David Harness didn’t go to Miami for the Winter Music Conference as he usually does, so I was lucky enough to have him spin for my birthday weekend – GO ME! Anyway, the usual suspects were there. He attracts the same people over and over again. I suppose I too am one of those people. That music was also hit and miss. That was a strange night for me because I barely drank at all. I’d planned on spending the night at a friend’s house in the city, but he was completely wrecked and couldn’t have given me directions to his house if his life depended on it, and my backup couch host was M.I.A. I didn’t want to get all messed up and have nowhere to crash, so I just made the best of it relatively sober. One of my dance floor buddies wanted a ride across the bridge, so I figured I’d hang out since I didn’t have anything better to do. I had a three hour nap that afternoon.
Thursday, now that was fun! I started the evening off at “Help the Healers”, a benefit for Doctors Without Borders at the Blue Macaw, where Tia Carroll sang a Happy Birthday song – the only song I danced to while I was there. There were a bunch of blues dancers there that night, friends of Emily’s (she had also performed). I felt a bit intimidated by them. I’ve never had a boyfriend who knew how to partner dance, and I’ve never had the nerve to learn it on my own. They were really good and having so much fun. I wished I knew how, but did not want to learn on the spot.
Twin Peaks and I left the Blue Macaw to go to the Aries Birthday Bash at this party called Pacific Standard Time located at Eve Lounge. I think I paid for two drink s that night – I probably had six or seven. I lost count. The bouncer at the door of Eve had a face like the guy from Ninja Assassin. He had shoulder-length hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a black suit and black shirt with a red tie. In my head, I was all over that. He gave me a free drink ticket. I asked him if that ticket would get me into the back room where the real excitement was. I did mention that I lost count, right? Anyway, that was probably the most fun I’ve had on a dance floor in YEARS! We even did the electric slide! Yeah, that was a good party. They played hip hop flashbacks and some good dancing R&B tunes. My quads were on fire, but I kept going until I was too tired to move. On the way out, I told that bouncer that he was hot “like the guy in Ninja Assassin but without the scars”. He then showed me a couple of his scars. I told him that it wasn’t the same, but that I’d like to come back and flirt with him another time anyway. He says he’s there every Thursday. Maybe I’ll see him again in a couple of weeks. I haven’t decided if that’s a place I can enjoy by myself. Oh yeah, he also cupped my ass. I hesitated to write that because those guys are not supposed to touch female patrons, but it’s only harassment if it’s unwelcome, right? We don’t want to get a guy fired that we plan on potentially seeing again. Details… When I woke up the next day, it occurred to me that the scars he showed me could be stab wounds, considering their size and location. I also came to the realization that the movie star and the bouncer are not the same person. Therefore, I can’t expect to see a movie-worthy body when that black suit comes off. I don’t think Mr. Hot Asian Bouncer is eating clean and working out 6-8 hours a day. I still think it could warrant further investigation though, and I do have a soft spot for bouncers. I think it’s because they make me feel protected. I always flirt with them. I dated one once. His name was Will. He was another hottie. Years ago I frisked one at this club called Du Soleil. He said that he could lose his job if he touched me while on duty, but he invited me to “check him for weapons”. Yeah, that was a good night too. It makes me laugh just thinking about it.
Ugh. My back is covered with hives right now. This is day #3 without my allergy medication. I keep forgetting to take it before I go to bed. I can only take one per day, so it has to be at a time when I know I will be home every day. I’ve also been sneezing a lot.
Hmmm. I wonder what I would look like after eight months of eating clean with 6 hours of cardio and 2 hours of weights, 5 days a week. That’s what the guy Rain did to prepare for that movie. Eight months is a long fucking time to go without chocolate, bacon, sugar, pasta and just about everything else I enjoy eating. No thanks! Hell, if I did have that kind of willpower I could be a damn movie star too! Eight months... Yeah, that’s a long time. He did have a really great body though. It may just be worth it. On the grand scale of things, eight months really isn’t that long, right? Yeah, sure.
Last night, The People party at The New Parish was fun. The music at that party is always hit and miss, but it gets better every month. The patrons are good-looking. The men look as though they’ve put some thought into their clothing, but they also dance AND they’re not gay! I was talking to this woman out on the patio about that. We had a good laugh about the “and they’re not gay” comment. She said that she had seen her ex-boyfriend enter the club about twenty minutes prior and was nervous about how the night was going to end since she has a restraining order against him. I told her that she better be careful. A few minutes later, I ran into Killa B who was still looking hot as ever and now sporting a full lumberjack-style beard. I spent a relatively short time talking to him. I left him with Twin Peaks to go to the bathroom and when I returned he had moved on. I bumped into him once or twice more, but nothing exciting. ..Not that I was expecting anything. He gave me this weird look, but I don’t really know how to translate it because, well, it’s weird to run into your ex at a club. He could just have been feeling tense about it or something. It didn’t bother me to see him. I actually felt quite good about it.
Friday night was Triple Crown. David Harness didn’t go to Miami for the Winter Music Conference as he usually does, so I was lucky enough to have him spin for my birthday weekend – GO ME! Anyway, the usual suspects were there. He attracts the same people over and over again. I suppose I too am one of those people. That music was also hit and miss. That was a strange night for me because I barely drank at all. I’d planned on spending the night at a friend’s house in the city, but he was completely wrecked and couldn’t have given me directions to his house if his life depended on it, and my backup couch host was M.I.A. I didn’t want to get all messed up and have nowhere to crash, so I just made the best of it relatively sober. One of my dance floor buddies wanted a ride across the bridge, so I figured I’d hang out since I didn’t have anything better to do. I had a three hour nap that afternoon.
Thursday, now that was fun! I started the evening off at “Help the Healers”, a benefit for Doctors Without Borders at the Blue Macaw, where Tia Carroll sang a Happy Birthday song – the only song I danced to while I was there. There were a bunch of blues dancers there that night, friends of Emily’s (she had also performed). I felt a bit intimidated by them. I’ve never had a boyfriend who knew how to partner dance, and I’ve never had the nerve to learn it on my own. They were really good and having so much fun. I wished I knew how, but did not want to learn on the spot.
Twin Peaks and I left the Blue Macaw to go to the Aries Birthday Bash at this party called Pacific Standard Time located at Eve Lounge. I think I paid for two drink s that night – I probably had six or seven. I lost count. The bouncer at the door of Eve had a face like the guy from Ninja Assassin. He had shoulder-length hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a black suit and black shirt with a red tie. In my head, I was all over that. He gave me a free drink ticket. I asked him if that ticket would get me into the back room where the real excitement was. I did mention that I lost count, right? Anyway, that was probably the most fun I’ve had on a dance floor in YEARS! We even did the electric slide! Yeah, that was a good party. They played hip hop flashbacks and some good dancing R&B tunes. My quads were on fire, but I kept going until I was too tired to move. On the way out, I told that bouncer that he was hot “like the guy in Ninja Assassin but without the scars”. He then showed me a couple of his scars. I told him that it wasn’t the same, but that I’d like to come back and flirt with him another time anyway. He says he’s there every Thursday. Maybe I’ll see him again in a couple of weeks. I haven’t decided if that’s a place I can enjoy by myself. Oh yeah, he also cupped my ass. I hesitated to write that because those guys are not supposed to touch female patrons, but it’s only harassment if it’s unwelcome, right? We don’t want to get a guy fired that we plan on potentially seeing again. Details… When I woke up the next day, it occurred to me that the scars he showed me could be stab wounds, considering their size and location. I also came to the realization that the movie star and the bouncer are not the same person. Therefore, I can’t expect to see a movie-worthy body when that black suit comes off. I don’t think Mr. Hot Asian Bouncer is eating clean and working out 6-8 hours a day. I still think it could warrant further investigation though, and I do have a soft spot for bouncers. I think it’s because they make me feel protected. I always flirt with them. I dated one once. His name was Will. He was another hottie. Years ago I frisked one at this club called Du Soleil. He said that he could lose his job if he touched me while on duty, but he invited me to “check him for weapons”. Yeah, that was a good night too. It makes me laugh just thinking about it.
Ugh. My back is covered with hives right now. This is day #3 without my allergy medication. I keep forgetting to take it before I go to bed. I can only take one per day, so it has to be at a time when I know I will be home every day. I’ve also been sneezing a lot.
Hmmm. I wonder what I would look like after eight months of eating clean with 6 hours of cardio and 2 hours of weights, 5 days a week. That’s what the guy Rain did to prepare for that movie. Eight months is a long fucking time to go without chocolate, bacon, sugar, pasta and just about everything else I enjoy eating. No thanks! Hell, if I did have that kind of willpower I could be a damn movie star too! Eight months... Yeah, that’s a long time. He did have a really great body though. It may just be worth it. On the grand scale of things, eight months really isn’t that long, right? Yeah, sure.
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