Friday, June 06, 2008

This isn't really sex. This isn't really life.

John "Dynomite" Jackson once refered to masturbating as "having a Battle Royale with your nether regions". I thought that was probably the most profound and entertaining statement of my lifetime. And I've heard A LOT of mind-blowing things. I do watch Adult Films, from time to time. I felt the need to capitalize that...Adult Films...because to me, they are cinematic genius! I could tell you a story about a girl painted in all silver spending some time with a unicorn and a guy in a ballerina costume but I don't want to set your brain a'blaze. Why all the smut?

Spring Fever is raping my brain!

I can not stop thinking dirty. Not even DIRTY, per say, but I can not stop thinking about Todd. And I'm all filled up with butterflies as if I just met his ass yesterday. Butterflies and dirty, that's what's filling me up right now. I can tell I'm blushing. I can feeeeeeel it! My mouth is dry and my heart is pounding. In fact, one of the things that is occupying my thinking happened just last night. We were chest to chest and silent for a long time, catching out breath and he asked me what I was thinking about (always sex-ay). What was I thinking baout, honestly? I could not tell which heartbeat was his and which was mine. I have to stop thinking. I have to put all thoughts of Todd out of my head or I will not make it through this day. I love that fucking weasel so it's hard to stop. Hard to quit. Think about baseball. Think about baseball.


The weekend looks like it has some potential despite the fact that my big ass is officially in da poor house. After a MAJOR financial set back at home and a major financial set back at work, there is nothing in my wallet but moths. Nothing. Not even a condom I've been harboring since high school. I was supposed to go to the Spook Show but that's been scrapped. After this anal-rape of a week I've had, I can NOT just sit home and stew. I don't want to be miserable and sad! I'm the cheerleader! I'm the fixer-upper! So here's what I'm 'bout to do:

Tonight I am going to sit in the sweltering heat and watch my nephew play baseball. He asked me to come to his game and he's almost 19 so this is most likely his last year with the city. So there I'll be. It's free. Following that, I'm going back to his house to swim because I will be on fire, the water will be icy, and there will be beer and food, care of my sister and her hubby. FREE! And then I will chill...dirty style...with Todd. Friday...check!

Saturday...Spook Show day, sniff...Johnny and I are having our second official drinking contest day! We had it once during that horrific snow storm where no one could go anywhere...yet Tom and Carol managed to walk to a bar, my heroes. The official start time is 1:00p and we're going to see who can consume the most in a 12 hour period. You can pace yourself if necessary. All that matters is who is left standing (or laying or throwin up) in the largest pile of empties. We'll watch movies and eat food. It will be almost virtually FREE. Almost. I am the reigning champ so I intend to win. You'd be stunned how much beer you can consume if you wear pajama pants all day. Gives you room to bloat. Saturday...CHECK!

Sunday is for pure recovery. I'm going to watch the race. I might cook chicken. I might clean my closet. I'll probably be an utter sloth, glued to the tube. Maybe I'll ride my bike. I should probably work on Karen's paintings. I should for sure finish the great basement project of 2008. I should certainly pay a little more attention to my recent head injury. As of right now, Sunday is wide open and oozing with possibilities. All of which ARE or MUST BE free...cause mama in the poor house.

So that's life. Filthy. Lovin' it.

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