Monday, March 31, 2008

I'm as human as the next girl.

Boyfriend. I've got one. As of Friday night/Saturday morning. It might seem too early after my previous disaster of a relationship (I did love the dude, don't get me wrong...he just couldn't love and/or be nice to me so, what's a gal to do???) BUT you can ask any of my very close friendies...we have chemistry coming out of our bloody eye-sockets. And I mean bloody like GROSS but bloddy like British. I know what I'm doing, or GOD I hope I do. He's bad-ass. It's funny since we both had mini-crushes on each other last summer and POW! He's my guy now. I'm his ace. We're really happy and geeked so please be happy and geeked for us. Yesterday morning he woke up and said, "If we're going to spend the next 60 years together, I better bring a toothbrush over".


Tuesday, March 25, 2008

I want to make up for lost time.

Well smack me in my smirking face with a red-hot-poker, I should be ASAHMED of myself! I've been seriously slacking because Jump In The Sac and my little school-girl crush have become mighty time consuming...all in a goooooood, adrenaline-pumping way. Things have been generally rough around the edges recently (I'm sure you can list off my woes on your own: getting sick (twice!), breaking up, school, new job, ever growing bills) but I think they're starting to take a fine-lookin' turn.

So much good, almost orgasmic schtuff is right around the corner and it's going on for miles. Several Pussyfoot Girls shows in April, May, June and our favorite, JULY! Then there's Heavy Rebel, of course, and trips to Niagara Falls and Bristol, TN (let's go racin'!!!). I'm thinking about purchasing The Chevy Metal even if it's way out of my price range because I would look foxy in it and it would allow me to have really BIG hair. I'm making a HUGE school decision that starts next week and MAY change my life. And last but not least, there's a boy. He calls me Cupcake and likes kissing me and he thinks we're as geeky as I do. And I love it. We only started hanging out 10 days ago and I'm smitten. I'm like a school girl. A CATHOLIC school girl, if you catch my drift.

So I'm good. Life is good. Life is BUSY and THAT is good. I'm happy.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Well I never, never, never had to ask before.

I have a crush. I hear that looking at us was "like watching a romantic comedy". Oh God, crushes are awesome and mind blowing and I wish everyone could have them and that they'd last fo'eva. All those weird butterflies in your chest and the pit of your stomach. I hate saying butterflies. So sorority girly. So...I'll say...I have wolves. I have robotic wolves in my chest and the pit of my stomach. I didn't plan on having a crush this soon after my break-up (today would have been our anniversary, by the way, but we didn't make it...which I don't think anyone was too shocked about) but I guess sometimes crushes sort of just show up. Like herpes. But less horrifying. So that's the bottom line. I have a crush. And he makes my heart beat really fast and he likes kissing me and he'll have thumb wrestling battles that make my hand bleed and he has a mohawk I can hold on to and he used the term "snuggle nap". I have a crush and the bile is rising up in the back of my throat. Its rad-ass. Stay tuned!

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Man, I swear she's bad and she knows.

Today, John "Dynomite" Jackson refered to masturbating as "having a Battle Royale with your nether regions". After hearing that, I'm pretty sure I can just puke and die and have zero regrets.

I may have to pause so I can poop. Better put some Justin Timberlake on.

Recently, I heard someone say "Pants-Off Dance-Off" and I loved it. For crying out loud, lyrical genius. People have been saying funny things left and right recently and it's been hitting me square in the laugh-center of the brain. Like rotten tuna fish.

2 days until the St. Patrick's Day Massacre at The Sac. I'm pretty riled up for this show. Sure, my costume hasn't arrive, I need to dye my hair, and there's all kinds of odds-n-ends that need to be done first. But I don't care if I have to show up in a garbage bag slathered in blood, it's going to be a-mazing. Sho 'nuff.

I really only have some to blather. You won't hold this in your brains for the next five seconds. I could talk about my mixed-up, flipped-up life but why? Been at the job a month now. Been broken up for other a month. Registering for summer. Switching majors. BORING.

What's not boring? Johnny and Phoebe. They blow minds for a living.

I have to shower now. I really don't want nayone getting familiar with my scent. It's not cool to have people know when you're about to enter a room. Like this broad I met recently that "marinates in perfume". Not classy, lassy. Going to take a swim in my tub,

I love the following people and by love, I mean, you KICK BALLS:

The Shoe Lanes
Queen B

All winners in my black book. And what a buncha sexy bitches!!!!!!

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Living is easy with eyes closed.

Today marks 120 days until I climb into The Gray Ghost with The Shoe Lanes, Johnny Switchblade and Rocko-n-Roll. In 120 days, I'll be Heavy Rebel bound. I think I'm more psyched about it this year than any previous year and I have the distinct pleasure of truckin' down to Winston-Salem with my favorite people on this filthy planet. I think Carol needs to bring TWO Wacky Packages notebooks to fill with all the genius that will no doubt spew from our mouths this year. Poets, all of us.

And this year...I'll be single-n-mingling at Heavy Rebel. I've always been dating or married or waiting for someone to come aorund or dating again. This year, I'm just going to go and enjoy myself full throttle without worrying about...anything! I'm going to dance these pants straight off these legs! And if my pants come off due to dance, no one can get mad at me! I owe explainations to NO ONE. Unless the folks at the Millenium Center have a problem with my pants-less-ness. In which case, their priorities are all wacky.

So this countdown also tallies the amount of days I'm going to be on the Tommy Bones Workout Program (of course I will continue busting my balls to stay fit, healthy and happy when I get back...but I need to have a goal and HRW is it, yo). Today he came over for my first assessment. I'm flexible, have the proper amount of body fat, have good lunge technique and decent core strength. I can't do ANY push-ups and the amount of time I can do that wall thing...embarrassing. But it will all come with time. I'll let you know the progress I've made on April 5th. I'll be one month closer to wearing my blue shorts with the whales-n-skulls! AS Olivia Newton-John said...let's get physical, mutha-fuckahs.

There's something I want to talk about and I just CAN NOT and probably never will be able to. I'm blushing just thinking about it. It's the Irish curse. The degree of pink of these cheeks sells me out every time. Regardless, holy pancakes. Life is funny and it just keeps getting funnier every time I decide to take the plunge and live it! Spending lots of time with my pallys...absolutely NO transition there, this has NOTHING to do with why I blush for hours-n-hours daily...has been amazing. My BFFs could kick your BFFs ASSES all the way to Hoboken and back! It's total steak sauce to be surrounded by people that support you and think you're tits.

But don't get me wrong. I DO feel those pinchy break-up twinges. Especially at night. It seems like around 4:00am is when I start thinking about things. I'm sure I did the right thing. And I actually KNOW I did. I'm not trying to convince myself. If I'm going to suction cup myself to one dude for the rest of my life, I want him to think I'm tops. My friend Kenny married his wife because he looked at her and knew she was just too cool to let go. How fucking bad ass is that?

So...120 days to Heavy Rebel. 120 days of livin. Take it sleazy, y'all.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

I'd rather leave than ever believe.

Once again, I've been a miserable blogger but honestly, boring you to death is not at the top of my priority list. Yeah, I've got priorities. I've also got a papercut that I sustained at Dick's Sporting Goods. What's it to ya?! Ahhhh...I'm just being nasty and snappish and I need to stop. Truth is, I've put off writing about recent effed up events and I just need to. I just need to flush out my system. It's how I roll. I guess I just didn't want t'o admit that things are the way they are but they ARE. I for sure didn't want to admit that I've given up the fight but I have. I've given up.

I've already blathered on and on about how sick I was and there's not much point in discussing how I still don't feel like I've bounced back. I don't really feel like talking about the issues I'm having in school, how this semester may be a wash, how I'm thinking of changing majors yet again. I've pretty much forgotten about how miserable my old job made me because I am dealing with the nerves of a new job (that's I'm pretty sure I like so far...I'm certainly having fun with some of the people there). It's the last thing that's eating me alive. The "former relationship" thing. The "break up" thing. I just didn't want to blog about another X amount of years down the tubes. 3, by the way. 3 years down the drain.

I'm not going to go into the ultra gorey and painful details. I just can't rehash all that right now or anymore. I think it's difficult to break up with someone if you've dated for 5 minutes or 5 years, whether you were madly in love or not that interested. No one likes to break up. No one is good at it. When I was having some really rough spots with this, someone said to me, "Sometimes it hurts the most when you've doing the right thing". I can't remember who said it and I know I didn't quote you correctly. But you're right. I had to break up and it was one of the hardest things to do. But I was in too much pain and was become unrecognizable to myself. I want ME back. But what hurts is...I know I'm not an EX collector. When I break up...I break up. My ex-boyfriends are not lingering around. Not seeing this person...ouch. I'm dealing with a lot of pain but comes in waves these days.

My mom reminded me that when I got divorced, I couldn't put one foot in front of the other. I just wanted to stop breathing or go into a temporary coma. But eventually, it all got better and I moved on. It's just virtually impossible to see the light at the end of the tunnle at this time. I think I'm handling this better than I have past break-ups. I've tried to be respectful of his feelings but to be firm in my beliefs. I know there was nothing I could have done differently. I was a good girlfriend. I asked for nothing but respect and love. I guess we were just a square peg and a round hole. It smarts. It stings. I have a great support system friends and family are being supportive and not condescending. I was very much in love so the last thing I need is anyone making me feel like this is nothing. And I don't want myself or anyone to make HIM feel like HE is nothing. He knows what he needs to know, I poured out my heart. It doesn't need to be rubbed in. Despite all that happened, the idea that he is hurting hurts me, too. It's so hard.

So right now I'm just trying to take this time to figure out my life. Do some things I miss doing...going to shows, painting, working on Shark Attack! and PFG, having movie days where I never leave the couch, having insane amounts of fun fun fun. I want to rock out and dance and hang out with my pals and the Ol' Kentucky Sharks. I want to spend time in my kick ass house...nesting, I guess. I want to work hard at my job and get school and my health back on track. I want to work out with Tommy Bones and start feeling good in my skin again and THEN I want to wear itty bitty bikinis and short shorts and tight red, plain pants from H&M. I want to hold my head up high like I used to. And eventually...I want to make out. For days.