have another drink...

...or masturbate? it doesn't seem like it should be a hard decision, but lately, i swear...

there was a brief period of time stretching a couple of years where i seriously underestimated the size of my ass.
this disillusionment led to me giving jenndaly at least 5 pairs of really really cute dollar store underwear that wouldn't fit over my ankle. several years later, when she was either too hungover to see the size, or feeling over-zealous about the size of her own ass, she purchased a pair of really cute gitch that allowed her to give back to her skivvy fairy. she thought it read xxs. but it really read 2xL. and it fit me great.

these days, with my weight situation being what it was in junior high, i wonder sometimes if i should have kept all that gitch i gave away. and the super hot black pants. and the prom dresses. and all the awful clothes i swore i would never be able to fit into again.

but i know, deep down, that all i really want are the one pair of gitch that girlface altered. frilly and white, with a touch of flower. she sewed pee-wee's face on the front and printed across them "master-bator"...or something to that something...

would she really believe that my ass is that small now?
would she believe i could get my ass back in sassy?

but i can't run away from who i am...

i've had this fantasy for a while where i go to karaoke with my hair down, wearing a head-dress and a halter top and i belt out cher's halfbreed (see about me) on a horse.
monday night it actually happened. without the head-dress or the horse.
or the halter top, for that matter.
but it was pretty incredible, nonetheless.

thank you to everyone that came out and celebrated my birthday with me. y'all were incredible.

beauty tricks

i woke up this morning and not only had my eye make up flawlessy arranged itself raccoon-like...my hair had magically worked itself into a perfect side pony-tail.

of course my boyfriend isn't here to see it. he's never gonna believe me.

i like to drink you with a little salt and lime...

i can't even begin to imagine how much msg i've consumed today. normally on days like this i will sit around and read the labels of all of the food stuffs i have available to me. i've noticed that it is an ingredient in almost every processed food that i love.

i used to think that it was olives that made me love the taste of martinis. but these days i've realized that it is really the gin and vermouth that i really love. the olives were just decoration and filler.
i used to work with this woman named miss rebeca at a dungeon jazz club. we spent countless holidays together with a lot of partying, internet porn and foghat. miss rebeca could tell you how your drink ranked on the caloric/buzz scale. for example: colorado bulldogs...hi-cal/low-buzz. the goal was to get the most buzz for the least calories.
the cal/buzz rating on a martini is a pretty good one if you leave off the olives and any other kind of filler thing...like juices for flavor and color, etc.

there is still a hole in the wall here at the condo and it's amazing the smells that start to wander in from other apartments. more often than not it's the smell of cigarette smoke in the morning coming in from some other floor. it's definitely not the most appealing smell to wake up to or come home to. but every once in a while there is something else. like, some kind of glade or scented candle wandering in. it has been a weird experience of identifying the memories i have attached with different smells. yesterday it was some kind of air freshener that reminded me of christmas with my mother and jesus christ superstar. a couple of weeks ago it was revlon's outrageous shampoo and high school in germany. but usually it's just that stale smoke smell and it reminds me of walking into a bar before it opens. with only natural light to show you just how dirty the place really is.

i wish i had the motivation to leave the house. but the more i think about it the later it gets, and if i can put it off a little bit longer i'll totally be ready to forget about doing anything other than sleeping.

heard about the letter you wrote me on the radio.

sometime within the first two years i lived in austin i ended up with a roomate named pauly...boom boom for those at casino el camino. boom boom and i met one night when i was in casino, drunk and drinking, ordering a burger. pauly was in the kitchen.
i yelled over the music.

b: "i want a buffalo burger and i want it rare!"

he looks at me. he's a big boy. not some skinny fucker in hip huggers. he is roly poly and tattooed and full of 'tude.
he looks at me. he throws down his pen. he says:

"look. i get a lot of chicks in here sayin' they want a rare burger and then they come back here cryin' to me that it's not cooked enough. are you gonna do that shit to me too?"

i look him in the eye as best i can considering my alcohol intake. i sway. only slightly.

"i want it rare, i want it bloody, i want it to say moo...walk it by the fire."

he looks at me with even more doubt.

"alright, sister, but i don't wanna hear your bitchin about it later."
"you won't."

swear on my mother's soul that this was the best burger i have ever eaten in my life. it melted in my mouth. i walked right back up to that kitchen window and desperately tried to focus on his face while i told him about my burger feelings. "what's your name? i promise i won't forget."

he told me. i forgot it.

months later we ended up living together. he needed a place and i had a dining room. a friendship forged out of booze and burgers and it was a great one. it was like living with a kid. we'd come home late at night and watch e.t.
we'd go out drinking.
we ate wings. we rode bikes. we talked about his increasingly unhealthy relationship with his now ex-wife/baby mama. i reminded him to brush his teeth. to flush.

one day we were sitting in the living room together and i was going through a box of stuff i had moved to texas with. a box full of paper. a box full of pictures and love letters from a man that i had moved there with. someone that was no longer a friend or part of my life in any way. i looked to pauly and asked him...should i keep these?

he looked at me. took a bite of a bologna sandwich and laid it down.

"who is this guy, b? so what? so he wrote nice letters. where is he now? where are you? what contribution is he making to your life right now that makes you feel like you should keep them? do you have a good reason to hold on to them? because if you do, by all means. but why?"

i was shocked.
and i am so grateful.
i burned that shit asap.

when he had a baby i wondered how it was going to be...him having to tell someone else to brush their teeth...
but boom boom laid some hot wisdom on me that day. and more than once over the past 9 years i've had to remind myself that boom boom knew what was up. at least as far as a fucking purge went...i wonder where i'd be now if it hadn't been for boom boom...

body language

from a block away she could tell that they were arguing. she couldn't hear them, but the body language was more than she needed to know that walking past them was going to be uncomfortable.
being in the presence of couples arguing is almost as, if not equally, uncomfortable as being in the presence of a mother yelling at her child in public. she remembered a friend of her's who's mother was an ASL interpreter. growing up her friend learned ASL before he learned english. this apparently proved quite useful in the supermarket when he was getting in trouble. his mother would sign everything to him. never having to make audible a single threat or insult. both parties escaped relatively free of public humiliation.
she thought of how useful this language skill would be for the two she was about to pass. or how convienient it would be if she lost her hearing for a split second. but her ears were open as they walked by...

she said: "well i'm sorry i'm such a fucking loser and a shitty girlfriend."
he said: "oh, come on, hon, you're not a loser."

wow. she really wished she'd been wearing her ipod...

modest flashback

girlface, boyface and the woman sat side by side in the dungeon. barstooled against each other he leaned over girlface and did his best whisper yell to the woman...
"so what's the story with what's-his-face?"
"...well...he's a shit talkin', beer guzzlin', cocaine snortin', womanizing, jaeger shooting, guitar playing asshole...and girlface here is dating him..."
boyface looks at her, the girlface...in all his amazement...he doesn't even have to say it.
she takes a sip of her beer. she orders another shot. she can feel boyface staring her down. she avoids eye contact. it tells him everything he needs to know.
confused and uncomfortable. all three of them.
she's glad she's not alone.