Okay, apparently they couldn't fit it onto one. (??) What the fuck do I know. I'm the retard, remember? Still worth it, even pieced together. I dun-wanna-nuther YouTube window here. So here's the thingy. (Say, "Thanks, retard." And then say, "Good night, Gracie.")
I once met a man who had been unhappily married for thirteen years. He said to me, "I wish I had met a woman like you thirteen years ago!" I said, "I wasn't even a woman like me thirteen years ago!"
Got a phone call one day at the office. When I told the man on the other end of the line what my name was he said, "Are you related to the Ahlstroms from Salt Lake City?" I said, "No, my grandparents didn't have any children that lived."
Another time, I got an obscene call at that same office. The man on the phone said, "I want to see three women sexually satisfying one another." I said, "Well who doesn't???!!"
I have a friend who is in his fifties. He's in great shape. A young man once said to him, "Man, I hope I look as good as you do when I'm your age!" My friend replied, "You don't look as good as I do NOW!"
I've spent a fair amount of time pleasuring men. One man said to me, "You are every man's dream!" I laughed and said, "I don't want to be every man's dream. I want to be one man's reality."
To those who are in pain today, emotionally, spiritually or physically. The thing about life ~ If you're gonna live it, you're gonna feel it!
My nieces and their friend, George. May all of you have as lovely a weekend as they seem to be having here!
Warning: Do not read this post if you don't like pornography!
So, Purrty Jami and I were talking about body shots. The conversation ranged from jello shots to the generic (hardly generic!) salt and lime with tequila body shots I enjoyed with a few fellas in Park City. NO, I won't be relating that story here.
But all of this really started when I showed Jami a picture of my rack. I've had many requests for a picture of my rack, so for your entertainment (and you didn't even have to ask!) here it is:
Yes, I love my rack. It's very useful, as you can see. Holds my microwave. It's important to be able to heat things up! And it's also very pretty, when adorned with flowers.
The truth is, though, that this really really all started when I sent Purrty Jami (whom I also refer to as Jammie or Jammies) a close-up photo, via text messaging, of my bosom. This picture was entitled, "Jammie Shirt," because I purchased this shirt in the Jammies department but I wear it as a shirt in public! Can you imagine that! I had also shared photos of my feet, face and hand with Our Miss Jenn of Holland on another day. So Jami and I decided to start a new blogging trend. You know, you've heard of Soap Opera Sunday (SOS) and Wordless Wednesday (WW) and Half Nekkid Thursday (HNT) ~ well... this is Body Shots Tuesday! (You can get drunk for this, too, if you like ~ isn't that nice of me to give you permission ~ or, as I like to say, purrrrrrrmission!)
Without further adieu, ladies and gentleman, in the soon-to-be tradition of BST, here is my "Jammie Shirt!"
AND this is my last-friday-shirt, sometimes called "The Oo La La Shirt."
Now, while I was wearing the last-friday-shirt, I drove to Southern California. I was there to get laid. And to move out of my place I've been renting down there. Not necessarily in that order, but yes, it was in that order. Now it's true I can get laid anywhere, ne c'est pas? But not like that! Non non, mon ami!
(Don't start answering me en Francais! I don't speak French!)
Anyway, the point is that I moved out of yet ANOTHER place. My boyfriend met me two years ago. I have moved eight times since then. I think. Seriously, I've lost count. He has never once said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
But no matter how many times I move, I have this feeling of melancholy on that last day of departure. There is a line in a song from the movie, "Evita," which always comes to mind at that moment and I feel exactly like that. In fact, I feel like that whole song. So I'm posting the lyrics here. If I was smart like you guys, I would just put the fucking song here, but noooooooooooooooooooooooooo... it's two a.m. and I just don't feel like figuring that out now.
Another Suitcase in Another Hall
I don't expect my love affairs to last for long Never fool myself that my dreams will come true Being used to trouble I anticipate it But all the same I hate it -- wouldn't you?
Time and time again I've said that I don't care That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through But every time it matters all my words desert me So anyone can hurt me--and they do
Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion But that's no consolation--here and now So what happens now?
Another suitcase in another hall Take your picture off another wall You'll get by, you always have before
Where am I going to?
(My blues-y lounging picture while listening to and pondering the song.)
Now we can only hope that our ladies mentioned above will follow suit, and then the rest of you, I would expect!
Get creative! Don't do dumb "rack shots" like Teri did on the first day!
*Update: So Miss Jenn found some YouTube videos of the song. You can view either or both or neither! It's up to you to figure out which one is so very expressive of the serious melancholy mood I was trying to share. I had to let Jenn advise me how to embed them. Yes, we were embedding at two a.m.! We got pretty turned on.
I was driving southbound on the 5 freeway in Los Angeles yesterday evening at around six p.m. This is crazy, you say? Of course it is. And I make this 450 mile trip at least twice a month! As I drove I watched the people around me. I saw a car going the other direction in which one man (passenger) was laughing uncontrollably and talking on a cell phone. The other man (driver) was completely stoic and looking straight at the road ahead. I thought, Hmm… those two men are having entirely different experiences here in the traffic today. I resisted the sudden urge to yell at the man driving, “Sucks to be you!”
As I drove, and watched everyone get all fucked up and frustrated because they can’t seem to get two or three cars further up in line, I began to wonder. Why is it that we get so angry when we’re stuck in traffic? Why, as two bloggers have recently pointed out, is a double drive-thru conducive to stabbings?
I was perfectly happy in my car, moving at a snail’s pace. But why? Well, I had great music on the stereo. I was comfortable. It was hotter than hell out there, but I had my A/C on. I had a full tank of gas. Now, don’t get me wrong! I was in a hurry, just like everyone else! I very much wanted to get where I was going! After all, I was gonna get laid! This is important to me! But I was okay right where I was, too.
So is that it? Are we all in a hurry to be anywhere but here? Can we not enjoy where we are any more? We seem to have never outgrown that impatient childish question, “Are we there yet?”
I’ve been a lot of places. Which means I’ve been on my way to a lot of places! My father taught me very early on that you should never wait for the merriment to begin when you get to your destination. You should start the fun when you leave the house. That too, is part of the pleasure. We have all read the quips about how it’s the journey that matters, not the destination. And we all know this is really a lie. If I’m getting all dressed up to go to a big event for which I purchased tickets months ago, I’m pretty sure that when I remember the evening, it won’t be the journey that stands out. But the journey can certainly be a part of the lovely, exciting or quirky story.
So here is my conclusion. I say we should just enjoy ourselves right where we are. Because we certainly can’t enjoy ourselves right where we are not! I’m tired of being in a hurry to get where I’m not. Over There is usually overrated anyway.