05.29.08
Fresh Out:
- of energy
- of remote batteries and I sure ain’t getting my ass butt up to change the channel
- of milk, juice, and gatorade
- of get-up-and-go
- of good thoughts to develop
- of tissues
- of stupid soap operas to make fun of
- …now toilet paper
- of clean clothes (that aren’t my nice, saved for special occasion clothes)
- of patience with my mp3 player
- of Advil
- of sick days (good thing I’M the boss)
- of books that I haven’t read yet
- of IOU’s from Scott (“but Bubby please rub my head… it Hurts!”)
- of alcohol (NOOOO!!!) lol
- of empty trash cans
- of Jello and soup
- of ammunition in which to kill Dollar Menus on GTA IV (man, where are those pages of code cheats?!)
- of bad vibes (I sent them all to the producers of day-time television)
- of the dryer and now wrapped around my body
Staying home sick is no fun when your significant other is on an important deadline at work and his sister is out on a “day date” with some dude from the bar.
I swear if she gets over Awkward (see Tears, Beers, and Somebody else’s Fears) this quickly and starts dating Eau de OMG (like that nickname do ya?)
I will have to brain her with my trash can full of tissues. Enough about her. This post is a homage to self-pity, boredom, and snotty noses.
Allergies be Damned!!
05.25.08
Don’t You Know It? I’m A Poet!
As promised, here is the poem I wrote for Skinny Me. She happened to love it, and it seems I have a younger sister now.
Lovers Anonymous
My name is lonely.
I am addicted to you
Your touch, your laugh,
Your voice, your smile.
But you don’t know,
How I yearn for that connection.
I’m impatient.
Can’t wait for my next fix of you.
Obsessed?
Maybe
Addicted?
Definitely
Itching for that next moment.
Restless for that next touch.
Withdrawal is my symptom.
You are the disease and the cure.
Tell me what you think because I don’t know if I even like it. If I get any good reviews, who knows? I may even let Scott read it. He’s not big on poetry though, which is why I love him. There is no hidden meaning or questioning with him.
Tears, Beers, and Someone Else’s Fears
I have another new best friend (who came into town a week early on Thursday)!! Scott’s sister is so much like my high-school counterpart that it’s scary. As soon as we had our first conversation, in the longest car ride EVER out of the airport, I nicknamed her Skinny Me. Skinny Me is 22 years old, is going to college in Kentucky (wtf right?) to be a gynaecologist (or obstetrician) (EEK) , is about 6 feet tall, but weighs about the same I do (i am so jealous!). She has shoulder-length brown hair with pretty caramel and dirty blonde highlights (and a section of bright pink on the underside of the back!)
Anyway, I have named her Skinny Me because of her penchant for tactlessness, mental fumblings, and over-all hyperactive-kid-on-speed energy level. As she talked ninety miles a minute from the backseat of Scott’s truck, I half-listened and half-grieved on how I had realized how much energy I lost as I got older. She’s got a great sense of style because she knew that I was wearing this little pink cotton “smocked razorback” dress from GAP. Also, she was wearing really nice jeans (she confided she found them in a corner of a Salvation Army), a cute pair of American Eagle flats, and a loose-fitting boatneck t-shirt.
The three of us ate a quick lunch together, and as Scott was begrudgingly saying goodbye to his truck keys so we could back to the apartment he pecked my cheek and whispered, “Keep an eye on her please. She’s been under my responsibilty since my parents kicked her out at eighteen.”
He hugged Skinny Me who chuckled. “I’m 22, not 12. You can give her a proper bye without whispering junk about me.”
I leaned against the car and laughed. Scott turned a few shades of red before I caught my breath and pulled him to me, only for him to take it again. *sighs dreamily* His kisses are like drugs to a withdrawn junkie, relieving, wonderful, brain-mixing…
“There you go big brother,” she quipped, earning a playful smack on the arm. Once out of the car park, I snuck a glance at her as I fought lunch hour traffic- sweating bullets because I’m not used to driving anymore, much less a 4×4 monster through crowded Atlanta streets. “You didn’t have to embarass him.” She laughed and turned to face me. “I know, but he needed it. I keep him from turning into one of those arrogant dickheads. But now, the job isn’t solely mine. It seems you don’t take shit either.”
I smiled, not saying anything because I would’ve ended up opening a can of worms to the past that I had closed and buried years ago, which I will go into another day. We went back to my apartment, where we mooned and drooled over our favorite brands and labels on my laptop for a couple of hours. She went next door to get settled into Scott’s bedroom-fresh sheets, vacuumed, clean bathroom, and fresh sunflowers courtesy of me, so I ran (in which I mean I speed-walked like the dickens) down to the store to do a quick check-in, sign for a delivery, and call in employees for my future absences while Skinny Me is in town.
When I got back to the apartment, sweating, barefoot (my flats were creating blisters OK?! lol), and my hair going crazy with the humidity, Skinny Me was sitting at Scott’s desktop PC cleaning out her email and sniffling. Wait, what? is the first thing that popped into my mind. I tried to walk backwards out slowly, but I hit my heel on the doorjam and crashed into the door. “sorry for barging in. I’m back and will be at my place getting dinner ready.”
“It’s ok,” she replied, “Wait just a second I need some advice from a objective third party’s perspective.”
Oh shit, I thought, and I must been an open book of facial expressions that day because she gave me a watery smile and shook her head. “It’s nothing to heavy or anything that you’ll have to keep from Pops.” Aww, she has nicknames for Scott too.
I sighed and told her to come back to my apartment, so we could talk over a glass of wine while I got the chicken meatballs and vegetables ready for the subs I had been wanting to make ever since I saw them on 30 minute meals. However, when I poured each of us a glass, dinner was forgotten. We ended up ordering Chinese because Pops got home late, and Skinny Me and I were a little drunk by the time he got there.
Next post will be what she told me because I even need some help deciphering this situation!! SOS
05.19.08
So Tired Of Everything
My usual pleasant to the point of possibly medicated and chipper mood is MIA. My moods used to flucuate more than an airplane’s altitude when I was younger, but I always chalked that up to my single status and close friendship with alcohol. I spent the weekend playing the new Grand Theft Auto game with Scott because it is FRICKING AWESOME! So what if I’m going on 30 and love video games? We share a game because I’m the best at driving and doing random public massacres in crowded areas while he actually plays to finish the game. lol
Anywho, I woke up Sunday with this cloud over my head for some reason. I sat on the couch in my jammies trying to do work while I was really only surfing the internet for hours on end while Scott went on a run with the dogs. He came back with his shirt thrown over his shoulder, all sweaty and sexy-looking, but I just couldn’t focus enough to make those basketball shorts disappear. He looked at me kind of funny when I only waved at his return, but he didn’t say anything.
To make matters worse, there was some drama going on at work. I had hired a new part-time girl to work every other afternoon. I should’ve known better than to hire anyone who had their phone flashing ever couple of seconds. I’m not having kids…ever. Adoption or foster home? Possibility, but a lot (not all) of kids these days have no respect… FOR ANYTHING! I shot her down for more than minimum wage, and I kind of have a rule against open flaunting of skin. I may wear nice clothes that show off my legs or wear a low-cut top, but no belly-shirts, tube tops, hooker heels, bra tops, backless tops, or booty shorts allowed in my place of business. My store is like a library because of the diversity of the people who come in. I digress.
The new girl, who I have dubbed, Dollar Menu because at the strip club (which is where she’s headed by the looks of it) dollar bills are the main currency, is butting heads with Jesse like they were two male mountain goats fighting over a patch of grass and a female goat. Jesse is around 22, but she has the disposition of someone my age. She is big on respect and manners, so of course mayhem would unfold if the two had to to work together.
Today, I had to break up a shouting match that looked like it was going to turn violent in about half the tine it takes to blink. I had to fire Dollar Menu, who called Jesse a brown-nosing, dyke, ass-kisser. How mature is that?! I sent Jesse home to cool off, but I think she believes that I’m going to fire her. My send-offs may have been taken the wrong way because I’m just too tired to put feeling into it. I spoke very firmly, but remained calm. Usually, I probably would’ve yelled myself red in the face because nothing pisses me off more than dragging your personal problems into my place of business, but my brain just kept telling me that it didn’t care. I need to call her and assure her that she is not going anywhere… even if she wanted to.
I think I need to sleep and get my head all balanced out. I’ll probably stay out of work tomorrow and just rest. It’s really odd-feeling to know that you should be reacting and show emotions, but you just can’t. I feel just like my profile picture, which I don’t think is a good thing. I just want to curl up and forget about the world and it’s problems for a while.
Hope everybody had nice weekends
05.12.08
So Not Twenty-Something Anymore
I’ve been riding on a wave of glee, contentment, and euphoria lately. Our earlier stumbles have repaired themselves, building a stronger structure for love and happiness. Oh… the sex -I mean happiness.
This morning I walked up behind Scott has he was rinsing the toothpaste from his mouth and grabbed his butt. He gave me that look, which seemed to say “Oh no you didn’t,” “You’re gonna make me late for work-again,” and “Who cares about employment,” all in one bam. He then proceeded to chase me around his apartment with the dogs hot on our heels. After he caught me (because I tripped on the couch and bashed my knee into the coffee table) he relentlessly tickled me into breathless submission and left me on the bed red as a beet and holding my stitched up sides.
I got back at him later by wearing a short flower-print babydoll dress similar to the cover-up I bought at Victoria’s Secret, some flat, strappy sandals, clipping back part of my newly cut and highlighted hair, and taking him lunch at work. I thought his eyes were gonna pop out of their sockets in order to follow me around! He shook his head at me when I sat on the corner of his desk and propped one foot up on his chair, saying, “Indecent exposure, Picante.”
I played with the hem of my dress. “It’s only indecent if I weren’t wearing underwear stupid. And it’s only exposure if I drop something, duh.” Then, I started laughing and couldn’t stop. Before I started dating Scott, I never would’ve said something like that to my significant other for fear of scaring them or them thinking I was some kind of easy piece of trash. Having someone who pushes on no matter what you say or do, and he talks to you rather than just you being each other’s bed fellows and coming to each other for that only, means so much more than he may ever know.
This evening when I got home, he was already there, which is extremely surprising. We’ve been eating sandwiches and homemade brownies and snuggled on the couch in front of the tv. I’m gonna have to start going running or go the gym again if I’m going to be able to wear my lovely swimwear.
Dammit! I was so distracted by Skippy’s playfulness that for one stress-free moment I forgot about the aforementioned sister is coming down to visit and meet me. :O I be much afeared. From the pic Scott sent her, she’ll think I’m some young, club-hopping chic who will show her around Hot-lanta. This is either going to be lots of fun or the worst disaster ever. Scott couldn’t have put it any better as he chased me around the house this morning. “You know, I’m not twenty-something anymore,” he puffed, “I can’t be chasing you around this crowded apartment and bend to your every womanly-wiles whim.” Who’s my sexy drama king? LMAO
It’s time for a little ticklish payback!
Mwahahaha
You Can’t Put A Price On Everything…
Just most stuff.
Like this that I found in my laptop bag:
I immediately called Scott, who was laughing as he picked up the phone. “You’re just now opening your bag?” He managed. btw, my computer is fixed now, so YAY
“How did you manage to get this without me finding out?” I whispered, “Are you gay? Tell me now, because no straight man would be able to be able to buy this and get it right.”
He laughed some more, which was really starting to bug me. “I emailed a picture of you to my sister, who lives in Kentucky; you’ve never met her. I asked her to pick out something red, kinds sexy but understated, and for a very hot, but self-conscious woman.” He seemed to back pedal a bit. “I’m not saying that you are self-conscious, but my sister, who’s almost 10 years younger than me, takes sexy too far sometimes. I was just telling her to pull in the reigns in a language she would understand.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Aww, were you afraid that I would get offended by a little skin?” I paused a moment. “What picture did you send her?”
I heard him grin, if that’s possible. “The one from the club that you sent to me.”
I hung up on his laughter, which only brightened my day, but I have been dwelling on the fact that the embarrassing pic may be circling amonst his family as I type. Sometimes, my bursts of confidence seem to bite me in my big butt, that’s why they are spaced so far apart.
The weird thing is… it fits perfectly!
Mwahahaha… He doesn’t know that I had also went swim suit shopping, and I’m not gonna tell him yet. It might hurt his feelings that he didn’t get to come along for the fashion show at the store. How’s that for revenge, bub? lol I bought this green camisole. If I had been a gold digger after his money, I could’ve cashed in already. All I’d have to do is do a little fashion show for Scott of all my best clothes, and he’d have a heart attack. Bam! Down he goes. Alas, Scott isn’t a eighty-five year old billionare with a soft heart for young, pretty women. However, it does makes things interesting when I go shopping.
I used to wonder where I would wear my collections of nice clothing. I don’t go out much anymore, and I SURE AS HELL don’t work in an office where one has to dress up. I could wear sweats to work and it wouldn’t matter. It has led me to he conclusion that I have half the customers I do just because they want to see what I will wear next.
My shoes came in by UPS, and I thought the man would lose it when I plopped down, ripped open the box, and started strutting around in my new heels, shorts, and loose button-up shirt over a ribbed tank. He had THAT look on his face, folks. Kind of made me tone down on the sexy clothes on delivery days.
I bet all the men at the post office, UPS, FedEX, and any other delivery service are gonna fight over coming my way now.
I also bought a cute nighty and picked out a swimsuit of my own choosing and a cover-up that I know will seperate his jaw from his head. It’s so easy to impress men sometimes, ladies. Although we haven’t talked about it-yet- I know that him buying me a bathing suit is the definite green light to plan a vacation. WHOO HOO! I can’t spend any more money if I’m going to chip in any towards it though. Dang it
Happy Mother’s Day to all you mother’s and the aunts that help you keep your sanity
05.07.08
Iz Not Amused
I think I may have a virus in my computer, my feet are hurting like someone stuck a nail under my pinky toes, and Scott seems to find it amusing to help me find real estate ads all over his AND my apartment. Stuck on the fridge, to the toaster, the coffee machine, stuck to the bathroom mirror, and even slid into my laptop. I’m working from his laptop while mine is in the shop (Lol)
After a stressful morning of me rushing around trying to get dressed and get to the store on time, I find an agent’s booklet laying on my shoes. I threw it at him and stalked out. Ever since I told him that I would think about it, he has got it into the deepest recesses of his mind that we are buying a house, and it has taken root, settled down for the long haul. This a little shameful to admit, but I’ve never owned a permanent residence. Leased one, rented many, and helped fix up and sell one, but I never bought and lived in my own home.
Anyways, I digress. I get to work, dole out paychecks, and I boot up Scott’s laptop to find this on his desktop:

That’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t it? aww… He knows just how to make me laugh and feel better when I was feeling more like this:

So much can be said through these new craze sweeping the web! And, I’m caught up in it. I’m not a cat lover, but LOLcats makes me want to get one.
I’m going to eat some hot dogs and soak my feet in warm water. Maybe I won’t find a newspaper clipping in the bottom of the tub. I’m hiding all the scissors and canceling my newspaper subscriptions!
Wave Bye Bye to the AJC!

