Stay and Fight or Defect, Then Decide All Over Again In 4 Years

I just finished watching the second to last episode of Queer as Folk. I am trying to pace myself. Much like the Harry Potter books, I will be lost, lonely and longing for months after I finish. Without giving too much away, Pittsburg folks are endorsing or opposing Proposition 14, an action that will essentially permanently take away the rights of gay people.

It’s TV, I am very aware of that; but it’s so much more real when I get an email saying Vote NO on Prop. 102. What proposition is this? It is the real life proposed amendment to the Arizona State Constitution, stating that forever and ever, no matter what comes of federal civil rights laws, marriage in the great, dry state of Arizona shall henceforth be ONLY between “one man and one woman”. http://www.votenoprop102.com (This is also a problem in California. Proposition 8)

In the past I have taken a pretty nonchalant stance on gay marriage. I’ve been in a real life, legally binding (and metaphorically bound) marriage. A piece of paper, I’m sure not recycled, to keep in a safe place and a poured, pounded, buffed piece of metal to show the world I was a spoken for, kept, woman. If all the rest of ya’ll want that, I’ll stand by you, but I’ll be damned if I say “I Do” it again. I revise my stance.

Fast forward to today, this hour, this minute, this second. I am infuriated by what I see all around me. I see complacency of my fellow citizen. I see lazy. I see God in politics. I see an “It doesn’t really affect me” attitude. Guess what? It does. Gay, Bi, Straight, Asexual, however you identify, IT affects YOU, your mom, your dad, your sister, your brother, your future children, your neighbor and your enemy. Civil rights being denounced, stolen, never rightfully given.

The argument against gay marriage? Gays will take over the “sanctity” of marriage. We will change it to fit our sodomitic needs, we will destroy it. The family values* of our country are being threatened.

*Barney the babysitter, online networking for tweens, video game brain death, sexy outfits for two year olds, McDonalds for all three meals on the go, keeping up with the Jones’ by mortgaging and leveraging everything owned [by the bank], promoted familial segregation with a TV in ALL rooms of the house and fear of sex, God and anyone not at least partially caucasian

I’d fight against it too, if I was brain washed into believing those are values of the family.


The fact of the matter is, America, gays are just as likely to raise their families with these same coveted values. I bet, per capita Wii sales between gays and straights are head to head, maybe leaning toward gays taking the lead because soon we won’t be able to walk down the street without a pink triangle band worn on our arm. Identify the enemy, the gay. Right, Herr Hitler?, I mean Mr. McCain [and supporters.] First civil rights, or to the lesser degree liberties, then we burn all the books by gay authors, about gay people, have a gay following or otherwise contain the words “gay”, “queer”, “anal”, “vagina”, “lesbian”, “closet”, or “trans”-anything, in the title, appendix, table of content or the text.

You think I am overreacting? Maybe not.
Civil rights have been fought for and obtained with shaky success over the years. The arguments for not granting these rights have been just as absurd as they are now, if not more so. One really good reason for the repression of the African American was that they had smaller brains. They could not make educated decisions, therefore should be forced to live in poverty and less than humane conditions. It takes someone very special to come up with, and stand by, this argument. Then along came the brave handful of people who said, “Gee, I wonder if we gave these second class, not-quite citizens, an education, their brains might grow as big and pink as ours.”

Thus begins the decline of American values. Oh wait, in fact, our society has actually benefitted from giving to our fellow person what we as the privileged white folk were always accustomed. The victories were slow to come but added up, land ownership, marriage, voting rights, spit sharing at water fountains, education. And whitey has not died yet.

Women. Our only purposes in this life are to serve men, continue the patriarchical blood lines, which we have no name claim to and cook and clean after them. We also have smaller brains, therefore, from the beginning of time to the 1920’s, we were not able to articulate politics and in the 60’s, began have free reign over our own bodies. In fact, we are still fighting over the uterus. A battle that should be commenced. Neither side wins, but both sides are piling casualties. Today, women are not allowed to be slaughtered by our government or another country’s on the front lines. Does our blood not bleed as red and profusely as a mans?

Once thought of as insurmountable, now labeled victories. We shall prevail.

Did you all notice God is actually running for president of this great country? (I puked in my mouth a little.) I have. Every issue this election is focused on, is ruled by the hand of God. Abortion. It’s God’s will that all babies are born, some unwanted, some unjustly planted and some terribly deformed, but, still, born. Gay marriage. God set down laws in that little book, written by a man, about who could get married. Iraq War. According to Tom DeLay, a very honorable man, indeed, “America was created by God to spread the Gospel; to spread the word of Jesus Christ and to propagate Christianity.” There you have it, we can and shall (by means of a silent nuclear threat) convert, I mean liberate, all oppressed Iraqis. (And Koreans and Vietnamese and Iranians. Turns out there is mass genocide in Africa, but the diamonds are being smuggled successfully, so no invasion there. Humanity effort, what?)

Here I want to bring up our soldiers. A country has a military for defense,although nowadays, that’s quite a medieval effort, since we have a missile pointed at all other countries on the new world map. Ours is mostly for invasion of countries who threaten our democracy, well, wealth, really. A person joins one branch or another, with the promise of money, travel and and an education grant (which may or may not be granted in full), is sleep, food and basic need deprived into compliance, then sent away with orders to kill and die for what is “right”. A choice one makes when they join. I defend that choice.

On top of the aforementioned choice, gays and lesbians make a further choice. To join a straight military and hide their crookedness. The problem is when their sodomizing and pussy licking ways are discovered, they are punished severely. Let me make mention that if a heterosexual gets caught performing fellatio, cunnilingus or acts of sodomy with an opposite-genitalialed person, they receive a slap on the wrist. These acts are forbidden by our armed forces, our government. Even in private. Even by hetero’s. So the punishment should be the same. It’s not.

As a side note, approximately 12% of the military is estimated to be gay or lesbian. Of that 46% of those discharged are woman accused of the propensity being homosexual. Does the male dominated military feel threatened by the up and coming female soldier?

As I am sure we all know, gay people have smaller brains. They cannot be trusted to be in the military. They might give away top secret information. (I think that means I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby is gay, since he leaked the top secret identity of Valerie Plame.) Did you also know that gays can be blackmailed easier, their “gayness” exposed if they don’t give up that top secret info. My argument to that is if the gay were out of the bag, there would be nothing to blackmail. Duh. The government did conduct a study that showed gay people were no more likely to be blackmailed than straight people, but that has been repressed for further investigation.

“The morale of a whole unit would decline” if someone who has proven to be strong, smart and trustworthy, is found to be gay. A gay person who survived the same basic training and self loss, with her/his head held high and proud, like the hetero next to her/him, is unwanted in this military.

The military’s 1993 policy on homosexuality in the armed forces, is “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, or as I like to refer to it DADT. What about the straight people? Why can they tell? I hear the argument frequently that you may be gay, but why to you have to tell the world? I might ask you the same question. You may not wear a button that says straight, but the music you blare from your hummer says it all. Hetero love songs clog the airways. Who says I want to see you kissing in public either? (I actually don’t care who kisses whom.) It’s all the same, though. So I say either everyone is forced to be conforming robots, or everyone is let to be disciplined humans, who conduct themselves professionally and privately.

I just solved DADT. And the children haven’t suffered a bit.

How can we strengthen family values? Tear down back yard fences, dissolve the medias fear-based oppression by only getting news from foreign, more-reliable-than-domestic sources, turn off our TV and go outside, learn and use another language, even English, so you can speak fluently with your neighbor, let go of the long held notion that white is right, eat better food that you and your family grew together...the list can go on and on.

This government, for the people, by the people, has only one kind of person in mind, he’s RICH and WHITE. Our citizens are oppressed not by our government, but by our own, individual apathy. By law, each one of has the right to speak up for our beliefs without repercussion. Get loud. Fight for what you know is right. Even if I don’t agree with you.

Stepping down for now, but never shutting up!

M'i Yllaer Nwod Thginot

I think I finally have to admit to myself that I am depressed. Not Prozac depressed, not even St John’s Wort depressed, but I am definitely not myself lately. I have to get out of this, like now! I really hate the way I feel.

I’m up all night and trying to hold it together for my boys the next day. I sometimes don’t even leave my room all day. Sometimes not even my bed. I disgust myself.

My boys are feeling my funk. Today, for reasons of attention and slight curiosity, I suppose, A2 and K, peed on each other, dumped applesauce on each other, spilled so much water out of the tub it was ridiculous and then preceded to stick their fingers in their buttholes to feel when their next poop would come. Normal kid stuff? The sugar I let them have? I don’t know.

My diet is shit right now too. Went back to having a little dairy in the diet; I was on a whole foods plant based diet for two years before February. I hate the way dairy makes me feel. I also added more and more sugar back and it seems I can’t stop. I did stop for a week, then I fucked it up again. I used to be a stickler for 5 or less ingredients in the processed foods I would buy. Now I buy whatever.

I don’t even want my phone on. I don’t want to hear from anyone. I don’t want to try and pretend I am cheery. I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to be alone. (With three midgets, that’s never the case, so why do I even bother wanting, really?) I force myself to be in social situations. The more I don’t want to do something, the harder I push myself to do it.

At least when I am alone in my room, I am productive, or my brain is. I read. I finished four books in the last four days. Two I started before last Friday and two I started and finished in a matter of hours. One was a romance novel. At least it was a lesbian romance by a decent writer. The sex scenes were worth reading two....or more times.

Check this out. I have a decreased sex drive!? I feel nauseated typing those words. The last time I had a low sex drive was when I was pretending to be a happy straight girl. No worries ladies, I am not going back to that. I just know that’s one of my signs that things aren’t good. If I think about sex, my body reacts, but I think I am cured of ensexilitis, that’s for sure.

I keep thinking I am going to have a shitty, lonely future. And I think I am thinking it into happening. Like The Secret says, the powers of attraction are strong. And I am attracting negativity in great amounts.

I just suck. I can’t stand myself. There’s not much else I can/should say.

Except, for some reason I am never out of words and my brain just won’t shut off.

HE told me today, HE is ready for the divorce. HE has all the paperwork on HIS desk. HE has found a lawyer who will help for free and HE is ready to move on. Quite a shock to me. You see, this man, if you will, has never taken initiative to do anything. So either HE grew balls or HIS girl is pushing HIM.

So I started all of this, I know. And I am so much happier finally being out. But I’m not happy now and HE is. HE has the right to be happy; in fact, me finding myself could possibly have been the best thing to happen to HIM since I came into HIS sorry life. (Interject a whiney voice here.) But it’s not fair.

How could I let this funk get so far that I am now a slave to it? How can I see the light? How can I sleep again? If anyone has a suggestion, I would love to hear it. Please.

Between The Guard Rails

One thing I will never get to do is run my car off a cliff. Only because I’d die. I imagine the pure feelings of fear, joy, that sinking, falling feeling in my stomach, like in a fast elevator going down, the sound of the wind around my car and the ear shattering crunch of it hitting the bottom. I think of the feeling of my whole body collapsing down on itself. Lumbar into thoracic into cervical, my skull resting five inches lower. Do you think I could hear my bones being pulverized? Or do you think it would all happen so fast? I would be a pile of mush in the end. There’s no way I could live to tell about all those feelings, so I just have to imagine.

From time to time I think about driving down the freeway in reverse. Or the opposite direction of traffic. Dodging cars and semis. Weaving and winding, my heart racing, car horns blaring, angry words mouthed at me from windshields, the occasional fist out the window.

It’s nice to have an imagination. It’s safe.

Unlike love.

Love is all these sensations. Falling, yelling, fear, adrenaline, going in reverse, rapture, ear shattering, bone crunching, body collapsing; and that’s just the falling part. Heart pounding, dry mouth, shaking hands, that moment before you fall or jump or drive your car between the guard rails, when you realize what’s happening. Once you’re in that free fall, there’s no way to stop and no belt to hold you to your seat.

Or, that’s how I remember it.

In the end, you don’t think your crumpled body and failed heart will live. Feels like you will never, ever recover, your heart immobilized, your senses numb, your energy shut down to the possibility. Love eventually resolves though, but, who would ever want to fall again after a trauma like love? But you do, I do. And thus begins life again.

Why do I do this to myself? I’m not in love now, not even close, fighting hard not to be. Jumping from a cliff sounds better, there’s no recovery, no cycle to begin again.

Not Needs

I have a confession. I had sex with T, just a few days ago. It was convenient, easy, comfortable, what have you. Saturday night, she was too drunk to drive home, just like the three previous nights in a row. She called and I offered to let her crash at my place. In my bed; because of all those reasons listed above. I haven’t slept so well in three months. Today, I went to a bbq that L and L had at one of the L’s houses. T was there.

We kissed. We held. We took pictures. L1 was saying something I couldn’t quite hear cuz of all the water in my ear. It sounded like she was telling T to get over herself and get back together with me. Like I said, I wasn’t quite hearing things right, so I waited til T and I were alone and I asked her.

T told me that L and L would like to see us back together. We are so cute together and made for each other and blah blah blah. I asked T if she felt that way and told her that I didn’t. I feel that we are much better off apart.

I know we are, so why am I up and thinking about this. I know I could let myself fall into this again, no problem. Why? Same as why I stayed with HIM. Same as why I don’t want to start over. Fear. I am afraid of having to get to know another person. I am afraid of letting go of fleeting moments of comfort. I am afraid of loving someone. I am afraid of hurting or being hurt. Again and again and again until I get it right. I am afraid I will never get it right.

When I got pregnant with A1, ten years and nine months ago, HE and I had a plan. I was going to get an abortion. I would terminate the pregnancy, in cold medical speak. Easier on the brain to say it that way, I suppose. I, in my silly science loving ways, started to research abortion. What happens to the mother, but more importantly, to the baby, fetus, zygote, embryo, what have you.

I was thorough in my research. I saw images and read stories, both good and bad. I read I would go to hell. I read that I was killing a baby. I read that I had every right to control my destiny and not only did I have that right, but I should exercise it at my will. I read about every procedure. Then at a book store, I saw what my “baby” looked like at 10 weeks. And I put it all together in my head. The choice for me was clear.

When I told HIM I was keeping the baby, I also told HIM that I didn’t need HIM to stick around. I chose to have this baby and HIS dreams should not be put on hold. I could not and did not want HIM to be stuck with a kid. HE had a future in art ahead of HIM and I did not want to be the person to slow HIM down. HE chose to stay with me.

The last sentence of that story is important. HE chose it, but in my heart I know that I chose for HIM. I chose not to have that abortion. I chose to forgo my dreams and slow HIS down.

My point is that I can’t do this to her. T. I can’t make her want to be a step-mommy. And I think that if I wanted this relationship to resume, she would do it. But what would I be taking away from her? How many of her dreams would she forgo just to be with me? I already wrecked HIS life, I can’t do it to another unwilling participant.

There are other reasons for not getting back together. Her drinking is a huge problem for me. She’s not an alcoholic, just a weekend binge drinker. She can’t just have one. She needs to get drunk. I am tired of trying to stop her from driving. Today, we had to stop her from doing a flip into the (shallow) pool. I don’t want to be another person’s mom.

I brought that up to L and L and one of them said maybe she was drinking this much because she misses me. Hello guilt, how are you today? It’s ridiculous, I know. I’m not to blame for her drinking and I know the L didn’t mean it that way.

They said that maybe while she was in Qatar, on her deployment, she would get some perspective. Just a tiny flame of hope flickered in my heart. But I am afraid for all the wrong reasons, that this small fire is relit. Hope is like luck, really just serendipity.

Oh the deployment. Four months with her gone. These last three months since we broke up have flown by. Like crazy fast. I know the months she’s gone will fly, but with how many incidences? Things happen, people meet people. What if when she gets back, there’s nothing between us?

What I really want right now is to have T in my bed. To be the girl that MsJ had her lip bit by, in an intimate kiss. I want to be certain of the future. I want to be safe. None of these things are reasonable wants in my world, but I guess that’s why they are wants, not needs.

Epiphany (Read Previous Post First)

Ok, so twice this same night I opened my laptop and twice I pinched my legs. Dumb.

Well, JLB, you struck gold, my friend. I think with a few more therapy sessions like that, I might have a long and satisfying life.

1:44 a.m. the call comes in. JsM is up to her silly shenanigans again. Oh the wayward gay boy gets swooped up by our lady with short hair. JLB just wants to check with me to make sure she’s not the only one who thinks it’s crazy. And I don’t, because I would do the same. And maybe that’s what JLB is looking for. To make sure JsM isn’t crazy.

Anyway we get to talking about what MsJ said to me on the phone tonight. Good stuff in the previous blog, if you’re interested. We talked a little about how that was crappy and JLB agreed with me that MsJ had plenty of other friends to talk to about that. It actually didn’t have to be me.

Subject changed to KK. “What’s going on with that?”

“She’s just perfect. She wants to be in the mountains. She’s in tune with the earths’ energy. She doesn’t think I am cooky when I talk about ghosts. She’s just as earth conscience as I am. Not vegetarian, but was and knows the struggles. So what’s wrong with me? Two months ago I could have...and probably would have, fallen deeply, madly in love. But now, my heart is closed.”

And then when the words came from her mouth it hit me like a ton of wool yarn. (Weighs the same as a ton of bricks, but somehow doesn’t seem as painful.)

(I was just interrupted my my drunk sister and her best friend. K was laughing so hard I thought she was having an asthma attack. Last time her bf spent the night and they were this drunk, K woke up the next morning naked, with a trail of clothes leading from the bathroom. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.)

Anywho, back to the grand awakening. She said maybe it’s just not the right time for the two of you. [KK] Maybe that’s what MsJ was thinking. This girl’s perfect, why isn’t it happening with me? It might be a little naive of me to think that really is the reason, but it makes so much sense.

The thing is KK is perfect for me. I’m just not in the right frame of mind. It’s not the time for us. I want to know her. I want to hang with her. I want to teach her how to play cards. I want to enjoy a friendship with her. (I won’t lie, I wouldn’t mind fucking her.)

MsJ is good. She was never dishonest with me. She is always gay-forward. I didn’t really appreciate it until tonight. I didn’t realize how convoluted I have been with KK. I told her I didn’t want a gf, but that’s just silly words when I make out with her drunk.

I have to tell her most of this. I have to tell her how she is perfect for me in a bazillion different ways, but in a different time. Maybe next month, maybe next life. (I really hope I come back a lesbian. It’s the most fun and love I have had in all my lifetimes. I think...)

I wonder if this is really what MsJ was thinking. This will sure make it easier to be her friend and to stop beating myself up. It’s just not the right time. I actually believe these words for once.

Thanks JLB and thanks JsM for being a total dork and driving a drunk gay boy to the next bar to sober before he drove home. Without you, JLB wouldn’t have called. And without the gay boy’s motivation for getting drunk, JsM wouldn’t have had to drive. And perhaps the bad timing of love was the gay boys motivation. Full circle. Why not? Then the universe has harmony again. At least to me.

(No. I didn’t smoke before I wrote this. It’s hella late. 3:21 to be exact. The tea at Piezanno’s must be heavily caffeinated.)

Did This Convo Really Happen?

Hell of a fucking day, really. Ending in a black out. God’s joke on me. “You had your air conditioning for a week, now I shall smite you!!” At least the rain cooled things down to a balmy 94 or some shit.

MsJ and I talked today. The boys wanted to say hi to her because they just got back home. So weird now with all this noise. So anyway, we talked and the subject of E and JLB came up. I knew right away where the conversation was going.

She asked if I was pissed about them having a relationship, with E and I being ex’s. I corrected her and let her know that E and I are not ex’s, never were together. I told her that I hated the relationship and it made me uncomfortable for oh so many reasons. All the while I am waiting for her to get to the point.

She couldn’t/wouldn’t, so I just came right out and asked, “Why? Is St upset about you and Js?”

She said, “I wasn’t gonna bring it up, cuz I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Well, fucking duh, it hurts! Stupid games. I wonder if she knows she plays them. I know I am not her only friend. Why’d she need to talk to ME about it? I know some of it had to do with the E/JLB disaster, but Jesus. Anyway, I hope she finds what she’s looking for in Js.

This story kinda segues, maybe, not really, into a myspace novel I got today from NC. She’s H.O.T!!! Makes my blood warm. She said that she bets I am a very loyal friend and alot of other nice stuff.

That I am. I would literally give anyone the shirt off my back and my last penny. And I feel like a fucking sucker for it every time and yet I go bare chested and penniless more than clothed and rich.

Most times this doesn’t bother me, but lately it has started to grate on my soul. What am I getting from all this? Just heartache and people who don’t deserve to have me in their company. Shitty girls who let me think they like me, then really maybe not. Fair-weather “friends”. (Friends is in quotes because I know they aren’t really friends, by the true definition of the word, but we all say we’re friends. You know?)

I am pulling away again, people. I am having a hard time understanding you all. You talk about not wanting the drama, then you invite it. That’s you, MsJ. I am just trying to figure things out, like, hibernation when you get a gf. That one really bothers me. And why the perfect girl could come along and I am not the least bit interested. Why do I, all of the sudden, want to be alone most of the time?

My electricity just came back on. So, tonight, at least, I have my true friends, Emmitt, Brian, Mikey, Lindsey, Mel, Ted, Justin, Vic and Debbie. They don’t give two shits about what’s happening with me, nor do they burden me with their shit. Why? Because they resolve it before the episode is over. If not the episode, then the season. (Except Ted who ended Season 3 in rehab and begins Season 4 still there. Just a hint for those who have no clue what I am talking about...QAF.)

At any rate, I’ll be around. Not going away completely, just trying to sort my brain out. We’re a mess right now.

Shout out to the new straight girls I met tonight, Sho and Ji!!! You two were funny as hell and I promise to write a whole blog about how there doesn’t have to be penetration to have sex. Stop thinking only cock. There are so many more creative and fulfilling ways to have sex. In the mean time, google that shit. There’s oodles of info out there!!

Hot New Yumminess

Holy Cow I am emo lately. I am sorry for all of my faithful readers. I have slept, now, two nights without Tylenol PM or Xanex. Don’t fall asleep ‘til 3 in the morning and I am dragging my ass out of bed at 9, but I am trying to get a handle on things.

I have been immersing myself in alot of music. Getting excited about new bands and new-to-me musicians. Allison Miller is one of the new-to-me people I am interested in. She’s a drummer who plays with some of my favorite musicians and spoken word artists, such as Ani D, Melissa Ferrick, Erin McKeown, Alix Olson and Andrea Gibson. (Geez, I look like a homo or something!)

Well, Erin and Allison have formed a band called emma. Yes, lowercase. They describe themselves as electronic/ambient/minimalist. And indeed they are. The only place I have found a sampling of emma is on myspace.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=179469515.

So worth the listen. Between Allison’s amazing drumming and Erin’s yummy voice, I can’t get enough. I have written to them and asked for a release date or some way I can purchase a cd, as they are independent and unsigned. As soon as I hear back I will let you all know. Oh, also, they are both super hot dykes!! That might be some of my infatuation. Since I am kinda ho-ish.

This is an Ani D video, with lots of Allison drumming and did I mention she sings too? Fucking HOT!!!! Would you look at those dimples!!!



This is Erin McKeown. Do you think if I beg, she will write me a song and I’ll find the love of my life? It’s worth a try.



I would be half mad to try and find a video of emma on youtube because there are a million and one videos with Emma in the title and I just cannot look through them all. Plus I don’t think there are any right now.

So go to myspace people and get out of whatever funk you are in by looking up hot girl musicians. Hopefully you are not like me in wishing your mother would have forced you to do something musical. Happy Saturday!!

The Measure

MsJ asked me why I can’t just be alone. Why do I feel I need a girl in my life? I told her I don’t need anyone. I am perfectly capable on my own; which is true. I can run a household. Hold a job. Go to school. Parent. All of these things single.

But who cares; if I don’t have someone who cares about me, cheering me on. Oh yeah, we can bring my boys into this conversation. They won’t give a shit that I did it on my own for at least another 15 years. Maybe longer. They won’t validate me until I don’t need validation anymore.

I want to be motivated, I want to be loved. I want to share my achievements with someone. I want to share my life. I feel so alone. Nobody cares anymore. I don’t even care anymore. I’m just a robot doing what’s right for them. Watching everyone else in my life find love and validation.

They deserve it, but so do I. Where’s mine? So I sit alone in my room, crying, again. Wishing. Longing. Having a hard time typing because I am exhausted. It’s 10 to 2 in the morning and I am wishing the sun would rise again, so I can be tired in the light of the living. So I can talk to someone.

Any distraction will do. Housework makes being alone easier. Even if I am the only one who appreciates it. Even if I only get a brief moment to talk to someone who has way to many other things to do, like work or kids to care for. Instead of me who is worthless. No job. No self worth. Definitely no worth to anyone else.

I know I am closed off to you MR. On purpose. You don’t want anything to do with this life I have. You are too young to be wasting your time on me. If it’s anything, I am closed off to anyone interested. It’s too much for me to start over and begin to explain why I do the things I do. I just can’t do it right now.

So this is definitely a pity party for one. I’ll get over myself or I’ll be very convincing. Maybe I need to reconsider how I measure my self worth. Maybe I need to find some self worth before I can measure it.

I am going to try to sleep without drugs tonight. I have to go feed the dogs in the morning. I am going to spend the day by the pool and pretend that it’s what I want to be doing. When really all I want is to sleep, be held, be loved and be validated.

Ice Cream Woes

In case my faithful readers in AZ didn’t know, Ben and Jerry’s is on sale at Fry’s. $2.27 a pint. Now I know I shouldn’t have bought four pints but I couldn’t choose which flavor I wanted. I guess it won’t be so bad if I don’t eat all four tonight. Right?

It’s two a.m. and I am still awake. But what’s new? Last night I slept without drugs. Tonight I don’t think I will be so lucky. How long will I be praying for daylight? Not just tonight, but how many nights? How many nights do I have to lie awake and think?

I know I need to do things, like the dishes and clean the snake cage; is that what’s keeping me up? Maybe it’s this weird girl situation. Yep. That must be it. They all say let her go. Stop thinking something’s gonna happen. It’s so strange. I’m not pining. I’m not wishing to see her.

I talked to her tonight like I always do. She said she ended romantic things because she felt smothered by me. Smothered! Me. I mean, how did I smother her. Text? Maybe I answered the phone too often. I was way backed off. I gave her the space she asked for. She started propositioning me, not the other way around. I maintain that she scared herself, but that being said, I don’t want to be a fool. I don’t want to know that she didn’t really like me.

Because she told me she did. She said it was true. She still says it. I think she feels safe now that she thinks I’m dating KK. Although nothing is happening there, it could. KK likes me. She really cute and funny and we are alot alike. I said all of this to MsJ and she said, oh no, it’s not really good to have so much in common.

I’m so confused about all of this. I’m so conflicted. All I really want I to sleep.

Exhaust

I am so tired I probably shouldn't be writing this at all. MsJ finally told me today that she had to stop dating me. Fine, I said. And finally. I'm so okay with this. What I wasn't okay with was the stringing along. She still wants to talk everyday and hang out. Just not romantically. Whatever. Girls mystify me. Boys are so simple, either they are happy or they're not. When they're not, you turn on a little porn and the world is right again.

Girls have to think. They have to...process. Then they have to stew. Finally, they get back to you with an answer. When did life become so complicated? When did dating become the Dr. Phil show?

Anyway, I'm just about the singlest I can be right now. I think I will be alright. I also think that when Ms. Right comes along, I will know and fight like hell to keep her at bay because I can't love anyone now. I just don't have it in me anymore. You ladies want to much. Anybody want a fuck buddy?

I should rephrase, anybody whose air conditioning is working want a fuck buddy?

I won my own wet tee shirt contest last night.

Let me explain. It’s about 105 degrees in my house at any time. My air is out and has been for the whole summer. I usually don’t turn it on til June 1st anyway, but not this year. I dump water on myself or take a shower and get in skimpy pj’s without drying every night before I go to sleep. Also, I take sleepy pills. It’s really not as bad as it seems. I think.

I am living in the house alone for the next three weeks. My kiddos are thankfully with my parents right now and onto HIS parents for the next two weeks. Hopefully I will be able to pull some funds together to fix this thing.

I have tried everything I know to fix it, which isn’t very much. I rewired from the thermostat to the inside unit, but that did nothing. My dad is coming into town tomorrow to help me, but he knows about as much as I do. I am not feeling optimistic.

I’ve been alone in this heat for six days now. Sweltering and quiet. I have been cleaning, sweating, writing, masturbating and talking to myself...a bunch. I talk to myself to motivate me, to make me stop crying, which I have been doing alot too, to tell myself I look pretty today. You name it.

Alone is a weird place to be. I am trying to have an open mind and open heart about it because it’s scary. MsJ is still around, but only through text or phone. Haven’t seen her since Sunday. The thing is that we have talked about things and we are right back where we were. A confusing place to be, really.

She likes me. She’s afraid of what may come with me. I’m afraid I am doing something wrong all the time. I want to see her this week, I have picked up my phone several times and texted her to come to the Mercury game with me tonight, but I keep erasing the text.

If I ask her to go, will she think I am desperate or want to see her all the time or will I scare her away? Is she fighting to keep me away as hard as I am fighting my urge to want to hang? And if I don’t ask her, will she think I don’t want to hang? I hate being in my head so much. The thing about talking to myself is that I can lie to myself or make truth hurt less. I can tell myself what I want to hear, but my head knows the difference.

Something else I have been questioning is how much all this torture is worth. Don’t I deserve someone who wants to see me? Or is this the universes’ way of telling me to slow the fuck down? Learn to be alone.

I am going to Flagstaff Pride this weekend. Going with a group of friends, none of whom are friends with MsJ. That leaves possibilities open for me. I really want to fuck and I love out of town girls. They are easy to get what I want and never see again. But is Flag far enough away? Only two hours.

Then there is MsJ. I really do like her and I should have enough sense to wait for her to come around, right? I’m not committed to her in any way, but fuck, I like the girl. I just want to fuck and be fucked, is that so much to ask for? Probably. There’s a plan for me. I sound like some religious freak!! Ha!

I am going to see Chris Pureka at Flag Pride. My now-not-so-secret fantasy is that she and I go back to her tour bus for a romp! Fat fucking chance, but really, I can dream. And dream I do. In my dreams she’s neither an exclusive top or a nellie bottom, but I get to do all the fucking. Her shirt’s unbuttoned but not all the way off, her jeans pulled down for just enough room for my hand. TMI, but I don’t care. I mean, who reads this anyway?

phone sex

you asked me what i wanted to do to you
you caught me off guard
it was all in my head, but the surprise stopped my mouth from moving
my wheels were spinning
and i was swimming in your sex
you were lying there
my hands were caressing the length of your spine
exploring your hips
grasping your ass
i pulled you closer
i flipped you on your back
pinned your arms above your head with one hand
gently bit your nipples through your beater
your soft breath urging me downward
my free hand moved from clutching your waist
to tugging your shirt off
your back arched, pushing your hot wet sex against mine
i moved down with my mouth on your body
i smelled you, i wanted you more than i let on
i hoped you couldn’t tell
your shorts were pulled off in one powerful tug
there you were in your naked beauty
begging
it took all i had to just tease you
because i was teasing me too
your breathing turned to moaning
when my face was so near your tumescent clit
my breathing haphazard
my heart in my stomach
my stomach caught in the moment
that first taste, that first gentle lick
whimpers of ecstasy
you pulled my hair when i bit your hot tip just hard enough
my finger hovered scarcely inside
you hungered for the ascent
my tongue working circles
my hand wet with your cum
i slid inside
deep
you scratched and grabbed
you pulled, you steadied your hand on the headboard
i hit that place
that place that makes you cum hard and fast
you came
once
twice
three times
your cum on my face
on my hand on the sheets
you scratched my back til it bled, red lines welted
i came too
the night fragrant with you
the night sweltering from our bodies radiating
the night only half over

why bother anymore?

why do i let myself fall? she really is great for me. and i am great for her, so wy is she doing this to me? better yet how could i have let this happen. i hate myself right now. i hate that i let her get a little close. i hate that she said things. i hate that i believed her. as short as two days ago she was calling me sweetie. she took it to the next step and i followed suit. i suck. this life sucks. i hate everything today. it’s all shit. my world is crumbling. why did i get to meet her parents? why did she send me all these texts? why did i think that she really liked me? because she said she did. and stupidly believed her. i stupidly thought what she said was true. i stupidly listened to my friends. fuck girls. there’s something wrong with each and every one of us. we all suck and it’s too bad woman are sexy, because if they weren’t i wouldn’t feel so bad about living this life alone. fuck it. what’s 30 more years of doing everything on my own. destiny that i have to be alone. there’s not one woman out there who can be my mate. i hate that i trusted myself. i hate that i let myself be happy. i hate i told her she was beautiful. she is, but i wasted a breath. she’ so special to me. the amazing, perfect woman. one problem, me. oh i got the i’m an asshole, i’m a jerk speech. It’s her not me. like i haven’t heard that before. then the text, “and i hope i haven’t ruined anything cuz i’m a jerk.” what happened to me that i became unloveable? was i ever? will i ever be? i hate this life. i hate that she did this when everything is going all wrong anyway. at least nobody will know what tears are for what.

today is day two of my road trip that i’m not on. the one i should be on but i told T i was seeing someone and got uninvited. please end this all. i just want to sleep forever. i don’t have the strength to continue.

Big Fat Horny Beast

I have this really serious problem. Ever since I started enjoying sex, that is when I started sleeping with women, I want it like a teenage boy. I can be reading a book on entomology and BOOM, sex on the brain.

Ensexalitis. I think I need a shunt or something installed. Like her cock or finger or her tongue....oh her tongue....roaming, licking, sucking...JESUS! Do you see what I mean?

Sexaholic, except not slutty. I just think about it ALL the time! I know you all are thinking, well J, just masturbate. I’ve been, kids. I think it only makes it worse. Single for 5 weeks and I just can’t contain myself! Someone fuck me already!!!

I suppose I could just go to the bar and get a little public bathroom action, but how tempting does that really sound? (Not that I wouldn’t do it, but with someone I know, not just some random girl. Although, that sounds HOT too!!) Holy Horny, Batman!!

Nighttime is the worst. Laying alone in my bed. Touching myself, wising my hand wasn’t connected to my own arm. Wishing the scenario wasn’t just in my head. Wishing her kisses weren’t figments.....Been sleeping for hours, awoken by her caress on my hip and the gentle brush of her lips on the back of my neck...when I stir she doesn’t wait, she just thrusts her fingers in, her palm hitting my hot spot. Sweaty and slippery wetness....

Holy fuck! My breathing is out of control. My brain is out of control. My vagina is out of control. This post must end so I can wipe my wet puss. TMI, I know, but hell, I’m sharing all this with you, might as well share the end result.

The Secret To Life is Nudity

I am having such a hard time getting motivated to clean my house. It all seems futile and just a huge waste of time. The only room in the house that is almost always clean is mine. And I spend all my house time in it. I love my house. I used to spend gobs of time in other rooms, but I just can’t handle the clutter any more, so I hide.

Todays goals were to not be late getting kids to swimming, to wash the dishes, to take the kids to science center, and to mop the floor. All while doing the other normal feeding and keeping tidy crap.

It’s 8, it feels much later than it is because I spent a good hour crying and stupidly wondering if it is my burden to be alone for all eternity. (It’s not. I just sometimes feel sorry for myself and can’t see the light.) I laid on my bed and started talking myself into mopping in the morning. Texted MsJ for a little motivation and while waiting for her text I got out the supplies and told myself to stop being an asshole, I would feel much better when the kitchen was clean.

Then an angel came down from heaven and told me to get naked. Of course, naked housework! I felt like I was onto something, but didn’t know the magnitude of my divine epiphany ‘til much later.

I went and told K, my sis, what I was doing, so in case she came out she wouldn’t have a heart attack. She implied with her next statement that I was going about this all wrong, “You need to wear heals.” She handed me a pair and there I was in four inch black, patent leather, open toed heals and nothing else, mopping my merry little self to pure relaxation.

I decided to buy a curtain rod and make a curtain for my front door window and every night clean in the buff. I feel so good. I feel so accomplished. I feel so nude. Guess I better get dressed now, not all things need to be done naked.

Someone

I saw you in an dream.
I saw you in a flannel on the porch of our small A frame cabin
I saw you chopping wood and adding to the pile
I saw you hiking with our kids, telling them stories from your childhood
I saw you preparing a meal for 6 with me
I saw you taking a mid-afternoon skinny dip in the crick, your back muscles rippling
I saw you lay them down to slumber, with a kiss and hug to each one
I saw you come to me, with love and laughter in your eyes
I saw your chest rise and fall and I fell into rhythm with you

I felt you caressing me under the covers
I felt you press your body to mine, hardened nipples, supple breasts
I felt your quick breath on my neck
I felt your heat radiating from your core to your fingertips
I felt your soft kisses on my wanting mouth
I felt your hand explore my hips
I felt you quiver when you discerned my moisture
I felt your hard bites on my thighs
I felt your world explode in pleasure

I heard you tip toe softly out of the room
I heard you hum a soft tune while you made your first cup
I heard you greet our four legged friends
I heard your contemplative silence in awe of the sunrise
I heard you welcome the world into your heart
I heard you tell the neighbor how happy you are
I heard you regard the sun as mighty
I heard you tell our babies to still their thoughts and listen to the world around
I heard you whisper “I love you” into the soft breeze

I see your loving soul
I feel your genuine warmth
I hear your words impressed on me

Dyke Drama

Monday Afternoon

I told T about MsJ. She totally freaked out on me like I thought she would. She was teasing me about MsJ being my girlfriend. I told her she wasn’t but that we were seeing each other very casually. Silence on the other end of the phone. Mind you readers, I did not plan on telling her over the phone, especially when she was driving. It just happened. She told me that she had to get off the phone because traffic was heavy.

Less than a minute later she called back. She told me that she wouldn’t be meeting me for coffee, nor was I still invited on the road trip she is about to take. I figured all this already. She also said she couldn’t believe I had moved on so quickly. It’s been four weeks since the final break up. “Final break-up” being the important statement here. We have been teetering on separation since she freaked out at the Easter backyard camp out.

She hung up on me again. I thought she was really pissed at my calmness, boy was I correct! When she got home she called me again and told me to fuck off. She was mean and sarcastic. I told her that the conversation would end until she could speak to me with respect. That lasted all of two minutes. She couldn’t help telling me to fuck off several more times.

Now the thing is, she’s hurt and angry. She’s also, sadly immature in expressing her feelings. I feel really sorry for her. And I feel really sad that I have caused someone so much pain; I say this even after what comes next.

Text from T “You obviously only care about yourself. I should have kept you rebound material like you were supposed to be in the first place. Fuck you. FUCK YOU!”

Holy cow!! I didn’t respond. It’s a harsh text and I am not sure if she is trying to hurt me or just vent in a big, stupid way. At any rate, I don’t really feel hurt by it because I know it’s not true. She really love(s)(d) me.

Tuesday Morning

I am exactly where I need to be, I need to be exactly where I am. I am a blessing manifest....

“Hello”
“Did you go on myspace last night?”
“No, why?”
“Ummmmm...” Trepidation in the wavering voice of JLB.
“Oh, no. What did she do?”
“It’s her blog. Don’t read it. It’s really upsetting.”
Well, of course, now I have to read it. “Does it have my first and last name?”
“No.”
“How personal are the details?”
“Do you want me to just read it to you?”
“Yes, please.”

Because it’s her work, I won’t post it, but it was really very will written. The title is very catchy. It’s called....wait for it.....wait for it.....”Dear Jen, Fuck You”. Good, right? Now don’t be jealous, somebody could write an awesome poem about you someday too. The whole poem rhymes. I actually like it. Maybe I’ll get her permission to post it on here so all of you can read it. I better give it a few days though. She seems kinda mad.

Alright, that’s enough of my sarcasm. Actually most of what I just wrote is true. She’s a fantastic writer. She is evidently hurt by my calmness, as was cited in her poem.

I am a pretty even keeled person. I do better under high pressure. I stay very calm and take an authoritative position. Which is how I was yesterday. For me to tell her about MsJ and hurt her all over again, was really scary. I knew it would hurt her, I knew she would say the things she did. I could have waited until after the trip, but I think that would have been worse.

I hope she gets perspective soon, so we can get around to having a friendship. I guess only time can tell. All you praying folks, send some up to heaven for her. The rest of you can send her some healing thoughts and energy.

Two Weeks Ago

Two weeks ago it was mutual. Two weeks ago it didn’t hurt. To me it was real and logical. I think to you it was just words. I took those words to heart. You asked if I needed a break and I answered honestly. You seemed to accept my honest answer without question. Was that because you didn’t believe me? Was it because, in your mind, it couldn’t possibly be true? Remember when I told you my biggest fear was hurting you? Well, that time has come. I am so sorry you hurt so bad. I am so sorry I am the one causing your pain. I am sorry you think I did this so I could go make out or fuck some other girl.

The night we met, who knew we would be together this long? Who knew we would share our lives for a time? I have been thinking, would I give that up just to know you were happy at this moment? Maybe, but probably not. We learned and grew. We shared amazing experiences and taught each other about love. I learned new ways to love a person and to accept love.

This space in my chest that was a heart is aching and burning. I want so badly to go back to the beginning and feel that bliss, the whirlwind of happiness before the realities of our lives set in. Before it became clear that I am bound to my house, to my kids. Before the possibility and, now, eventuality of deployment snuck in. Before sex was an issue. Before my wash machine broke.

You are loving, supportive and so much fun to be around. To me, your smile lights a room. Your eyes sparkle like stars. I want this to be enough. Do you think I will come to my senses? Do you think I can see that we really do have a future? Maybe we do, but you are right about not prolonging the pain. You are right about there being no grey area right now. Perhaps through time, I will see that I made an error. If that time comes I will have to deal with your possible rejection. Another blow to a weakened heart. If that time comes and I am willing to take that chance, I will also be ready to accept what comes.

Please know that I love you. Know that I never had any intention to hurt you or make you sad. Know that I am hurting too. My pain and yours. And yours is deeper to me. I have hurt for so many years that my pain is a dull constant, one that was gone for a good portion of six months. I have only caused great sadness to a few people and the sickening pain I feel from you is acute. Know that our close friendship is something I hold dear and never wish to lose. Know that my love is true and real. Know that you are important to me.

I Didn't Do It

I am sitting at the souper salad, alone, writing this, feeling rather forlorn and probably looking pathetic. I don’t feel pathetic, just a little defeated. I’m thinking about ice cream and obese people. I am trying not to eat sugar again and succeeding. Until now. If I have sugar, I blow my no sugar for the week. If I don’t, I miss out on calories, caramel and a crappy mood tomorrow. But peanuts, oreos and sprinkles, oh my. Oh, stop self! Now I’m being pitiful!

Over My Head

Our six month was six days ago. It came and went without recognition. I know I thought about it, I’m sure she did. We had plans to go to a nice dinner. But instead we broke up for good, I think. I feel relief and sadness. Not so much sad for the relationship because what made us strong as a couple is what will keep us strong as friends, but sad that this is another person who couldn’t be my partner. When I look ahead and see my future, aside from the sustainable farm and nifty holistic business, I see living with someone, sharing responsibilities, co-parenting and really talking through decisions. Not just me making them and someone going along out of disinterest. Just by my very nature, she can’t be that person. She is neat and tidy. She never wanted kids. I’m a spontaneous freak, I’m overwhelmed with other shit, my house comes last and I am a mom. Do these things make me the odd one out? Is she out there?

I am attracted to women for so many reasons. Forget the physical for a moment, I know it’s hard, but try. Women are so much more logical and posses the sense of reason. Any woman I would be attracted to, whether friend or more, would be capable, intelligent, able to articulate an abstract thought and have a broad sense of humor. (She’d also have to be able to keep up with me. I’m a fiend! For fun, good music, laughs and great sex.) Anyway, a little off track. I am sure there is someone out there for me who fits my criteria and wants kiddos.

In return, I would be a shitty house-girlfriend, a slut in the bedroom, a true and loyal friend, a great camper, a spontaneous road-tripper, a sappy movie-watcher, a butch handy-woman, and a great mom.

T is so many of these things, not spontaneous and rather annoyed by my spontaneity, as I am to her rigidness. I am so afraid that when it comes down to it, she’s won’t change into the partner I need. Not that she should. She’s beautiful and amazing the way she is, but I think she would be much happier with someone with less baggage. It may not feel like it now, but I think she will be relieved when it finally hits her how much freer she can be without the confines of my motherhood. I want to keep her in my life for a long time to come. I want to see her truly happy, the way she was at the beginning of us.

I hope she wants the same for me. And I hope she can forgive the hurt I am causing her right now. I think what we are doing is the right thing.

If I Were Interviewing Me

Last Thursday night, JLB and I went to Cherry Bomb. Dirty Phoenix wants to interview us for ourchart.com, about how far Jeanette and I have come since October. She kept saying it was sexy how butch I have become. I’m not sure I am. Not on the outside, at least.

How long have you been out?

Me: Exactly somewhere around a year and a month. That’s not too exact, but I’m drunk, so who the fuck cares.

Where were you before?

Me: Thinking about how I could be dead without my kids blaming themselves. I was married to man. Actually I am still married to him. We co-habitate, he hates it. I just don;t care enough to give it hate or love. We have three kids together. Boys. All boys. Being married seems to scare the girls away, but that’s who I am.

Tell me about the you before the gay you.

Me: Pretty much the same. Take charge kinda gal. I always have had a secret longing to have someone take charge for me for once though. Like someone who knows how my brain works and can take logical control and make a decision every once in a while. I like to fix shit; if I don’t know how, I learn quickly. I was and am laid back. I am not a jealous person. I was a sloppy dresser because I was already married and had nobody to impress. Turns out, I like to impress myself and shock my friends with my clothing choices.

When did you first suspect you gayness?

Me: Audra Valaro, 7th grade gym class. Great tits. Still does. (Well as of three years ago.) People ask why I love AZ so much, it’s because 6 month of the year are bathing suit season.

Why’d it take you so long?

Me: Mormons. I grew up in Mesa. Aside from Salt Lake City, the biggest Mormon community in the world. Well, maybe. Anyway, there was little opportunity. Although the more people I meet and re-meet, the more I realize were homos.

How is it being a gay mom?

Me: I prefer queer. Being a mom is great. Dating and motherhood seem to collide. I am very weary of the women who are way into kids. I don’t want them around just cuz they want kids or like mine. I have had to explain, more than I have really wanted to, that I am a person first and a mom second. Just like if I was an accountant, that would be my job, not my persona. And that really goes both ways, the woman who is freaked about the kids and the one who is drawn to them.

How many kids do you have?

Me: I have three boys. Three of the most beautiful, amazing, smart, witty wonderful children ever put on this earth. They re 9, 8 and 5 (in late May).

You mentioned earlier you prefer queer; why is that?

Me: I think sometimes gay gets a bad rap. Not that I am afraid of gay or fighting for the right to be gay. Really, I’m just a little tired of fighting. Queer is a more tame, all encompassing word. I am supportive of those who identify as gay, I just like queer.

Do you consider yourself butch?

Me: Hmm...(chuckle) Let me see, is wearing a dress butch? Sometimes I like the way the wind feels on my yoni. I do wear pants and shorts more often than not, but I like to feel sexy in a dress too. (I have been know to wear sequin panties from time to time.) On the inside though, that’s a different story. I like to hold the door, fix the appliances and change my own oil. I like my hair short and I like to be dirty, like camping. I think that if given the opportunity, I would be a fantastic top, but I do have my nelly bottom times. I really like my puss sucked and liked and fucked! So really, I don’t think I fit into this category. I’m a J. Let’s start a new category. Oh I forgot, I really like the more butch girls to date. A little boi on boi action!

It’s getting late, any last thoughts?

Me: I think I should go to bed soon. I’m beat and I have to work tomorrow. Peace, love and big hugs. Don’t rush this life. It may be a while ‘til you get to the next one.

What Are You Going to Hell For? Random Anonymous Spurts of Sin.

I polled several people at my local coffee shop and I took advantage of the drunks at the bar next door, then later friends on the phone (also drunk). Some of these are mine. My REALLY good friends will be able to pick them all out. No worries if you can’t pick them all out, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, just that I didn’t remember til now!! Don’t ask me to tell you who said what, because I would never. That’s the point. I’m like a priest and if you’re lucky....I will absolve you of your sins, my child.

~Thinking about Down’s syndrome kids when I see the crosswalk sign that says “Slow Children”
~Burning ants with a magnifying glass
~Accidentally killing a kitten in the dryer
~Loving retarded people for all the wrong reasons (Not sex, dumb ass)
~Having sex in my friends (plural) bed
~Having sex in my parents bed
~Looking at porn on my parents bed
~Masturbation
~I love midgets
~Pooping in the pool and blaming on someone else
~Wanting to lick my gf’s butthole, baby
~Losing my virginity at 13 to a 16 year old in the chapel of church camp in Estes Park, CO
~Having a 4some at a trailer park public shower when I was 14, the girls were 21 and they thought I was Irish
~One night stand on a bench in front of office max
~One night stand in New Orleans, she made me take my cross necklace off
~Gave a BJ to my boyfriend in the back seat while my mom was driving
~Watched my mom’s porn
~Used to fall asleep listening to Dr Ruth, when I was 6
~Stole 20 bucks from a homeless dude once, I was homeless at the time
~Had sex with my parents.......Russian exchange student....a lot
~Stealing from the store I worked at
~Having sex while my friends were having sex on the next bed over
~Cheated on a college assignment
~Told girls I was gay, so I wouldn’t have to date them
~I’m a lesbian and I hate Ani D
~Had sex in my sisters bed left the condom on her pillow
~Faked orgasms with my last gf
~Ended an 11 year relationship between two guys. The one I fucked before he went to prison, the other while the one was in the slammer. Fell in love with both...dropped them both when they fell in love with me.
~1st (5) gay experience(s) were with my girl cousins’ boyfriend. No worries, she’s a lesbian now and he’s in prison.
~My last gf hit a cat in my car and killed it. We drove away.
~Kicked my friend’s chair out from under her in the cafeteria at school. She fell on her ass.
~Paid my sister to make my bed every morning, took the money out of her piggy bank to pay her.
~Told my sister bird shit was a tootsie roll, she ate it.
~Once treated my sisters infected earring hole with dog penis cream.
~Used my parents mini van for “work purposes” when I was really meeting people I met on the internet.
~Cheated on my husband.
~Worked at a restaurant, when someone just wanted a smoothie, I accepted the money, as a tip.
~I knit while I drive.
~Used to give my sister swirlies.
~My barbies had better sex than I ever have, until now, baby!
~I only played with dolls that shit themselves cuz they were more masculine.
~I thought about fucking women while HE was fucking me.
~I used to give him mercy fucks and call them “Fuck Fridays”.
~Accomplice to adultery
~Breaking the law
~Smoking crank at my parents house.
~Lying and cheating in general.
~Saying God Dammit in church.
~Gave my brothers’ wedding speech while I was I high on coke.
~Fucking a dude in the Amsterdam parking lot, halfway out of the car. I was supposed to be following a chic home...
~Ended three hetero marriages with kids by fucking the wives....I still love all the kids.
~I used to spank the dolls my mom made me because I hated dolls.
~I licked my cousins vagina in the sixth grade.
~Sometimes I wish I had a penis so I could fuck my gf with it.
~I used to make Ken sodomize Barbie.
~I used to give my Barbie dyke haircuts.
~I only went to church cuz my grandma bought me donuts.
~Had sex in the church my sister-in-law got married in, in the room she got dressed in


Leave your confessions in the comments if you dare or drop me an email and I will post them for you. It will feel a whole lot better to get these things off your chest! We’re all going to hell on a short bus and I’m driving!

You Were Wearing What?

Popped that vicoden pretty late. Things didn’t really get started until later in the evening. Drag shows are fun, but the best part is how many broad spectrum butch types come out to play. Lots of eye candy. Yum yum. I think we all get the point, the girls are hotter when the kings are out!! Everyone is drinking around me and I start to get thirsty. “Ok Andy, just two Kamikozes.” ($1.50 shot special) The first one goes down nice and fast, the second is touching my lips when my ass starts vibrating.

It’s K, my sis. She never calls when I am out at the bar, so I know it must be something. I’m not prepared for what is about to unfold. She’s sobbing. Her car was hit from behind, the other driver fled and she’s hurt and confused. B drives me to help her. I called my mom on the way and my mom called my dad.

When we arrive, she is out of the car and shaken. The car is a total loss, the ass is dragging on the ground. Two hot cops, like ten not-hot cops. The chic cop standing with K was blonde and way cute. Being as I was not sober, I may have said rather loudly that the cop was super good looking. The Blonde Cop (BC) asked K for her registration and and proof of insurance. “In the glove box,” K said, “I’ll get it.” BC explains it is her job to get that stuff and for K to stay put.

K turns to me, fear in her eyes, “I left a blunt in the car.” Shit, K! K’s shaking in her boots now. BC opens the car door, goes for the glove box, then sniffs, keeps sniffing, then the flashlight starts roaming. Seats are being pushed forward. Compartments opened. Ah-ha!! Bingo, BC finds what she’s looking for. She also pulls out the paperwork. She calls her Sargent over for a sniff.

“Hello? Hi, Mom.” “Was she holding?” “Uhhhh...yes...” “Shit, how could she? Shit, why? Shit, Fuck, Dammit K[‘s whole first name]. I have told her time and again not to drive with that shit!” (What we should all understand is that, just like the old PSA of the early 90’s, we learned it from watching you Mom. Both my folks are pot smokers. My mom is more functioning than my dad, who is a giggler. “Uhh, hang on Mom, Dad’s on the other line.”

“Hello?” “J, it’s your dad. Was she holding?” “Ummm....yeah.” “Shit, J, why was she doing that? Doesn’t she know that this kind of arrest could ruin her life?” “I’m sure she does, Dad. Listen, Mom’s on the other line, can I call you back?” “Call me as soon as you know what’s happening...”

“Mom...?” “I’m here.” (Yucky, stern, “her” voice.) “What’s happening? Is she getting arrested, I have told her time and time again, Do Not Carry That Shit Around. Tell her I said that.” “I can’t really mom, she’s talking to the cop.” “Oh my god, oh my god.” I can just read her thoughts, ‘How will I explain this event of my white trash children to my sisters and brother? How did I fail my girls? They are pothead, lesbian whores. How could my girls fail me. I brought them up to be ladies..’ “Uhh, Mom, I’ll call you back.”

“They let me go. BC said she and the sarge would let it go, pretend they didn’t see it, but no more smoking in the car.” Ok, does this shit really happen in real life? I guess so. (Unless they’re about cockroaches, my stories are non-fiction. Who knows why some people get off and some people blow .01 over the legal limit? It’s a mystery.)

“Hello?” “Well?” “Hi Dad. It’s all good.” “What do you mean, It’s all good? Is she getting arrested?” “No...., it ok.” Seriously, I don’t know how much more clear I can be high on Vic, adrenalin and alcohol. I don’t know how much K told the BC about what she was really carrying. Hang on Dad, Mom’s ringing in...

“Hello?” “Well?” Jesus, maybe I should just three way. “She’s fine. It’s all good.” “What do you mean?” “I mean, they let it go.” “How is that? They just let her go? Well, why?” “I don’t know, I don’t think I should ask.” Shit I forgot about Dad on the other line. Hang up, hang up, call you later when I have more info.

BC- “The tow truck is here, you want to get any thing out of the car?” K needs her CD’s out of the center console. I get them...the blunt is still there!! They left it. They really did pretend not to see it. The luck of the Mexican-German-Dutch, I suppose. “K, do you need your coats?” I yell across two lanes. K thinks about it. Before she can answer, Sarge, says “Ask her if she wants her blunt.” I almost peed my pants right then and there. “I’m not gonna yell that in front of you, besides, I already know, Hell Yeah she wants it. She just got rammed in the backside!”

I am not sure if B will ever hang out with me again, but I am sure he laughed his ass off this night. We get what we can out of the car. On the way to B’s car, Mom calls..again. She’s asking me all sorts of questions while K is trying to tell us what BC said. Then, K, not knowing Mom was on the phone, says, “The best part is, when I got hit, all I was wearing was my panties, high heels and my coat.” Holy fuck!! “I don’t think you want me to tell Mom that.” “Shit, that’s Mom on the phone?”

Mom, “Blah, blah, blah, bla....What was she wearing? Tell me she did not just say only her panites...."

Anniversary Thoughts (April 3)

Today is my wedding anniversary. Anyone remember last year? I took E to a hockey game and didn’t even remember it was my anniversary until I got home and saw the gift on my bed. I still remember, HE got me, the newest Post Secret book. It was sitting on my bed with a card and a note.

HE was so full of hope for the future. HE wanted so badly for our marriage to work out. I think now HE knows that it just couldn’t, that I couldn’t go on any longer, I was ready to just be dead.

This year, for the first time ever, I remembered without having to be reminded weeks before hand and without having to look on the silver champagne goblets. This year, also for the first time, I got HIM a gift. Less of an anniversary gift and more of an, “I’m sorry.” gift. I’m sorry I didn’t take into account HIS dreams when I followed mine. I’m sorry I didn't think about HIS feelings when I wanted to heal my wounds.

That being said, would I still choose the path that I am on now, knowing what I do today? Yes. Yes. and Yes. I finally belong. I finally fit my body. I know what my needs are and I can attend to them. My head isn’t such a jumbled fried mess anymore. I would hope I would be more sensitive to HIM.

I Won I Won

So I entered a writing contest about a month ago. I won. I won I won I won I won I won!!!!! Who would have thought? I am so excited. The professor running the contest called me about 11:30 this morning and told me. He said I would have to read my piece aloud on April the 22. I started panicking, “Which piece won?” You see I entered in the Sex. poem and I am bold, but bold enough to read that out loud...not sure about that. He laughed and told me my fiction piece was the winner. (Conspiracy Theory Proven) I said, “Good. Not sure I would have enough guts to read the poem out loud.” He said the content of the poem was why it couldn’t win. So really, I won two of the three categories. But sex is still too scary, I guess. I feel on top of the world right now and really nervous!! I will practice reading every day. If anyone wants to come, it’s on April 22, at Gateway Community College. 40th St and Washington. The reading starts at noon. Holy cow!!!

Captured and Logged

Sitting at T's dorm on base and looking up some research for my gender projects paper. I am using free wireless connection from the bar that's on base. I just looked up Sugarbutch Chronicles, hit enter and WARNING!!!! DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!!!! The 56th Squadron does not authorized this type of website. My "session information has been captured and logged". Dear goddess!!!!!! Whatever shall I do? Cuba just allowed it's citizen's to have cell phones, but they are communist, so all is explained, but we are in the US. Where are the rights? Fuck this place. Fuck a government who can claim freedom and yet still oppress it's people. Fuck the 56th and all it's tyranny!!!

There's So Much to See

I'm not even sure where to begin. It's not been a long time since I wrote, just since I posted. School's been a fucking busy mess. I started a new class, English 102.

Fuck. The nasty ass guy behind me keeps sucking his bugers up his nose. If he were one of my kids, I could tell him to get a kleenex, but what's a girl to do in this situation? Maybe he didn't have no mama to learn him that sucking mocos up your nose is definitely not polite. Plus I have this thing with bodily noises. I can't stand most of them. I really like the sound of a fart though, in case anyone was wondering. Jesus, make it stop!! I can't even write about tolerance, which was what I was about to articulate, without being temporarily intolerant.

Maybe prayer is a good idea. "Dear Jesus, please plug up this guy nose, so I can stop hearing his wrong noises. And while you are around, grant me the strength to be tolerant to nose sniffling." Whew. That felt great!! So, back to what I was saying...

Yes, composition class. I hate writing about what is not in my head. I have to have time to wrap it around my soul. That's why, I feel a little alright about this class. I get to choose the subject. I have chosen to argue the wrongness of gender as a binary system and I have a gazilion thoughts, from my everyday experiences to watching my gf question the very existence of hir on this earth.

I think I need to start with my friends reaction to an article in The Advocate about an FTM having a baby. Obviously this man, and yes he is legally a man, (I have alot of thoughts on that alone) still has his uterus and vagina. My online moms networking group caught hold of the article and had some strong and ignorant views and also some intelligent and insightful. I guess, unless you have had cause to think, read, talk about trangenderism, you don't. I do. I live in a world where I know FTMs and MTFs and people who want to transition, people who don't feel complete in their own bodies, people who are afraid to be themselves, for fear of ridicule, persecution, and possible homicide. Here are some of the comments:

Let's start with the title of the thread.. "Speechless"

I have to question this. What is it you are afraid of Jenny? Are you afraid that this man somehow de-feminizes you? And for that matter what is femininity? The clothes you wear? The haircut you style every morning? The household chores you perform? The scent you adorn? The job you have? The way you sit? Your biological parts? Your "maternal instinct"? Your ability to have a baby? Who chose for you that those things are feminine? You were raised in the image of your mother of what is femme, what is ladylike, what is acceptable to THIS society. Break that mold, think outside the box a little.

"I consider myself to be very progressive and open minded, so I don't like to admit that it kind of creeps me out."

Again, Jenny, what are afraid of? Stop thinking about it and let it be.

"He's got all the right parts still to carry a baby, weird and awkward as it might be..."

What is weird and awkward, Chris? The newness? I have to agree with Karen MS that pregnancy is biological, not social. When we give so much attention to something as biologically simple (and complex) as this, we fail to normalize it. A uterus is meant to be the place in the body where fertilization and nourishment of a fetus takes place. This man has a uterus, why not use it? You did. Does it matter what your haircut or body type is?

"I just don't like the 15minutes of fame aspect to all of it; makes one wonder the motivation about the whole thing to some degree."

I think this statement, by far makes me the most uncomfortable. Do you know what kind of planning had to go into this? How many pro's and con's had to be weighed? When a born-as-woman finally comes to grips with the fact that she doesn't like what she's looking at in the mirror every morning and finally has the courage to do something to change hiroutward image to reflect hir inward feeling, ze has already thought about the societal repercussions of such a decision. Then to have to come back and think, wow, I am capable of carrying this child, but what could happen to my family? This man could be KILLED, his wife, his child, could be KILLED for something so biologically right. So as far as 15 minutes of fame, unless this guy is a sociopath, he doesn't have a want to die. Would you put your family in danger without thinking, thinking and rethinking? I am sure fame is the opposite of what this guy is looking for. I wouldn't be surprised if he has received many death threats already.

"Pregnancy - as a biological, rather than social issue - may seem different. But if women can chose their biological destiny and choose not to have children, is it so wrong for a man to want to? Personally I think if we could accept people anywhere on the spectrum of sexuality rather than trying to assign them space on the two ends, the world would be a happier place."

I have to say one of the more well-spoken comments of this thread. And without leaving out Karen BF, I agree with you that some straight, sensitive men would love to feel a baby kicking inside of him.

"other than uterus what other parts are still available to help with the birth part or will c-section be required?"

Jeanette touched on this a little. A lot of FTMs don't get "bottom surgery". They do get their breasts removed and take testosterone which increases the size of the clitoris:

"[This effect is permanent] Amongst the first noticeable changes is clitoral enlargement, to varying degrees in all men. There are reports of between 3 and 8 cm when erect and sensitivity increases. For some men, the size becomes sufficient for penetration with a female partner (Gooren, 1999). If receptive intercourse is part of an individual's sexual behaviour, vaginal intercourse can become difficult and painful as the vaginal tissues usually become drier, less flexible and more fragile. If an unexpected blood loss occurs from the vagina at any time, the individual should immediately report this to the treating doctor for investigation." From ftmaustralia.org.

A strap on can do the trick with minimal invasion and no surgery. One might argue that one can't get pleasure from sexual intercourse because one is not bodily attached to this "cock", but I have to ask you ladies, do you get pleasure giving a blow job? Do you enjoy the noises, movements and ecstasy of your partner? I would venture to guess that you do, or else you wouldn't do it. I love taking my partner to that place. It feels just as good, but in a different way. At any rate, this portion of my rant is not to turn anyone on, (me included, so I have to stop now), but to show you that there are ways to get around that "bottom" surgery.

The rest of my point is that this man still has all of the biologically necessary organs to carry and birth a child. Breastfeeding is another issue.

My last thought is on what makes this man a man. How is it that lack of breast tissue and an increased amount of testosterone can make someone a "man"? Who decided this and why did the rest of us agree? Not that I don't think he should have the right to be married and share in those special rights, but why doesn't the rest of the queer community have those same rights without having to alter our bodies to get them? Food for thought my friends.

If we can drop the "normal" attitude and just see the world around us as multicolored, as so many of us can see it as multi-ethnic, and accept what we see, then what is "creepy" becomes "normal".

Can someone help me down from this soapbox, I'm lonely...

I think at the beginning of this post I had more specific life issues to talk about, but now I am lost on those. Until tomorrow, my friends.

And PS, praying may have done the trick...No, wait, it was my headphones that finally drowned out The Sniffler.

Dear Mom

I’m gay. Yes, happy...but more like I like to finger fuck and eat pussy. I know you know, but I thought you’d like to hear it from my mouth. I know, my poor Grandmother is rolling in her grave.

I can’t say that. I don’t even like the word, gay. Gay upsets my stomach. Except when it doesn’t, like when I know my life is right and I am happy. So I say queer. I like queer. It means odd, or an offensive name for a homosexual male, according to my mac dashboard dictionary. I prefer the first definition, since I am not male.

You did nothing wrong. In fact, I would say, You did something right. You raised a woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to get it. I know what it takes for me to be happy. I am working on obtaining a life that fits my needs. I am a strong, somewhat over-independent person. So thank you.

Dad asked me if it was just a phase. I told him I didn’t know because I was too afraid to tell him no. I can never see myself with another man for the rest of my life. I don’t like trying to figure out which emotion a man is exibiting by his blank face. I don’t want a scratchy chin tearing up my own when I kiss. I don’t want to worry about explaining logic to another man. And I don’t want to be fucked by another messy dick ever again.

See, Mom, this has been going on for quite some time. Farther back, it seems, every time I think about it. I remember even telling you in high school that I was a lesbian. You said, in your exasperated, sarcastic, “whatever” tone, “Ok, Jen”.

So, take two. This time’s for real. I have a girlfriend. I have introduced my kids to the notion that loving whomever makes you happy is good and right. I am out to my high school friends and my mom’s club, other parents at my kids school, my sisters, my dad and one of my cousins. So, why did I take so long with you? Fear, mostly. Fear that I would have to explain myself and justify my actions to you, which I don’t, but would still feel compelled to do.

I can’t stand the thought of you crying and saying, “How could you do this to me?”, like you did when I told you I was pregnant. That time, I needed you, this time I don’t. That time taught me to rely on only me. Can’t listen to some bullshit about your family are the only people you have, because it’s not really true. Well, maybe in families where the main topic of discussion isn’t juicy gossip about other family members it might actually be as you said it should be. Alas, not your family, which also happens to be mine, but I have removed myself from your gossip circle of hate.

Although, somehow, by me coming out to you, I have once again entered the circle because I know how the family works. One of you gets upset and goes and riles the rest, then you recruit more of this war’s veterans and begin a battle, but this time, you are fighting yourselves, because I will not participate.

The ideal would be for you to ask me questions. I’d rather not too specific, but I can deal with a little pink in my cheeks. I will answer and be honest, what do I have to lose, but that which I have lost already. I would love for you to be happy for me, without having to think about it. I want you to accept me for the person I am and always was, JLVMC.

(This is practice for the real thing. I am hoping to have my wits and guts about me in the beginning of March. Wish me luck. Of course I will post the real thing when it happens.)

Help Me!!

I am entering a creative writing contest. It's my first time and I want to know which blogs you think I should enter for the fiction portion and non-fiction portion. I have few in mind, but if any of you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them. Just leave me a comment. I need to know by next Wednesday. Lots of loves!!! J

Rat Bastard

NEVER pose the question “What more universe, what more?”. Because the universe will answer you back with a vengence. All this shit keeps coming at me....seems more than my fair share. The wash machine, the electrical, the drains and leaky faucet in the bathroom, the really mean ex, the chewed through pipe in the kitchen. Chewed through by a rat, mind you. The job thing not working out. I just couldn’t fathom anything else, I mean really, how much can a girl handle before she wants to jump off the Tempe Towne Lake Bridge? Oh wait, is asking that the same as asking the aforementioned question? Goddess, I hope not! Let me just set this up a bit...

Driving towards home, but not going home. Had to get the dog license renewed. HE calls. Am I headed home? No. Will I be? No. Could I? What do you need Mr. P? (Mr. P is my new name for him, less negative than the Fat Man.) Just am I going home? NO! Well the house is being broken into and the police need one of us to be there before they take the K9 unit in and search for the man they believe is still in the house. What?

So that’s where this begins and really where it ends. Glass all over. Amelie, my dog, is alright, really scared and not much of a guard dog, but ok. (I believe, had we been in the house at the time of the break-in, her behavior would have been more aggressive. She is a very loyal doggy.) The snakes were ok. My windows and a door, not so much. Noting was stolen, but a small bit of my sanity and faith in humanity.

Forgot to mention, the K9 shit in my house. I couldn’t figure out why the police were taking out my kitchen garbage, until I put two and two together much later. I am not sure what they are feeding that poor animal, but even with all of our new ventilation, that stench was overwhelming for way too long.

So let this be a lesson to all of you, my friends. Always follow your gut. Never lock your doors if you cherish your windows. And NEVER, NEVER ask such a loaded question of the universe. She WILL answer you.

I'm Scared

There is so much transition in life anyway without all this inner transition. It’s been almost a year since I left my husband and started dating women. It took me nine months to feel like I could possibly be loved and love again. In that time, I stirred up my family, I taught my children who you love shouldn’t have anything to do with genitalia, I started school, where I do my best to excel, I have watched my ex fall in love with another and give up on all house responsibilities and I let down my guard and learned to feel again. Now I am adjusting to having a significant other, being in love with a woman, who, for the most part, I feel is just a person. One two occasions, I have been conscience of the thought that the person I am in love with is a woman. Those times aren’t when I am fucking her, but when I am in this moment of pure bliss, staring into her smiling, almond shaped, hazel eyes. I am not questioning myself; more like I’m in astonishment of how right I feel. I always laugh out loud then have to explain to her why. Both times I have asked the retoricle question after my spoken thoughts, “You know?”. And both times she says in her beautiful sing song voice, “Baby, I have always loved women”. She doesn’t know where I am and I can accept that. You see, though, it’s much harder for me to accept that I don’t know where she is. This is unknown territory for me. Starting at the shear beginning of this being my first queer relationship, leading to the present question of gender identity. Things are moving slow, the way I like them, so I don’t really notice change, but change is looming. In all forms. HE is moving out. I have to get a good enough paying job to support my household and put Kbaby in daycare. I HAVE to put Kbaby in daycare. The dynamics of certain friendships are drastically changing. And now this. From Saturday night on, I will be wondering, until she has a definitive answer for me, how to fuck her. What pleases her. What she really wants and if what I was doing before was more for my benefit than hers. My life has been changing so much in the past year, will it ever even out? Will I ever feel like I am not falling, drowning, choking, wishing for a fast end to the madness? I am trying to be patient and watch things fall into place, but much like Tetrus, when one piece fits perfectly, another odd shape falls from the sky and I only have a few short moments to turn it and move it to fit into the best place. If I miss, even by one block, I have to compensate for the mistake until that misplaced block dissolves into many separate lines. I don’t know how many more misplaced blocks I can handle. I am being swallowed by the great ocean of life.I am not discounting all the daily blessing, or maybe I am. Right now, all I can see are my hardships, I get reminding glimpses of good here and there. When that happens, I am overjoyed, I feel whole again and I remind myself to remember those times, recalling the song that was on, the people I was with, the thought that popped right before the smile did. Am I capable of just seeing the good and letting the minute sliver of bad roll on passed as just another challenge in my amazing life? I hope and I strive for that. Good thing striving is enough for right now or I don’t think I would be alive. So day by day by day by day by day, I will endure this life. I will challenge my boundaries. I will fall hard and struggle to get back up. I will rejoice in the love all around me and make more when I feel there is not enough. These are things I can do. I am scared, but I can choose to confront my fears, and I do.

Gender(Fuck)ed

I have a spanish test today. The test covers some nouns and their gender. In most languages, all nouns have gender. German, Spanish, Latin and so on. For once I am happy to be an English speaker. No gendered nouns. "The" covers all nouns. If "the" can cover all nouns and people are nouns, proper or not, why can't we do away with gender? Are you wondering where we are going with this? I think T is on a the brink of an intense gender journey. It's been building. In just the short 4 months we have been together, I have watched it progress. I love her and I will support whatever decisions she makes about her body. Not usually being a future thinker, I have found myself, as of late, wondering where this type of transition will leave us. I am in the midst of reinventing myself, as it is. I keep thinking a day by day approach is warrented and I know that's what I will end up doing. I wonder by some things that she has said or written lately, if what I do when we're fucking, is what she wants me to do with her body. Are there parts I should refrain from? Most of you will say, "Why don't you ask her?". I asked. And she doesn't know. And I don't know. And no one else could possibly know. I want to honor her body, mind and soul. I want her to be completely comfortable with me. I want her to know, I support her. She can just be "the".

I Had A Dream

I dreamt last night that I was prego....with HIS child. Yuk!!! It would have been my fourth, it was a girl. Anyway, I selected a mom to adopt her, which I later decided not to do. The dream is really nothing compared to my feelings when I woke up. I feel really sad that I will never have another child. I wasn't ready for the first two, and the third I have such an amazing relationship with. Not that I don't have good relations with A1 and A2, but it's a little different. I also feel that because of my age when I started having kids, that maybe, I make mistakes or do things that REAL mom's don't do; like honor my needs. I have definitely covered these thoughts in previous blogs. Should my life be solely about their well being and happiness? At any rate, getting back to the dream feelings.. If I had another kid, would I screw that child up as much as I may be screwing the other three. I mean, I'm not like a real mom. I like to go out drinking on any given Monday thru Thursday and Saturday night, I don't want a conventional job, I smoke a little weed, or sometimes a lot. Then there are social aspects, having a queer mom. They don't know many other kids whose mom's kiss other woman. What kinds of questions does this bring up? What kinds of hurts? Teasing, harassing, anything? And what kind of shit will they take from their dad for me? Is this the only reason I want to have another child? NO. I want to raise a girl, but it's not really in my stars to do so. I guess I am doing exactly what I tell T not to do, project on the future. Who knows what will happen in the future. I'm just being silly. My kids are great and I hope I tell them enough how much I love them. I know they know in their guts, but I think they should hear it at least 37 times a day. I know they will grow up being more strong, open-minded and tolerant than most people could ever dream of being. Maybe my girlfriend is the girl I will end up raising!! Haha, babe. I'm kidding!!

Sex. Pure. and. Simple.

I can't keep my mind off her.
I want to bed her.
I want to fuck her til Kingdom come.
I want to feel my fingers glide in out around.
The silky wetness.
I want to taste her on my tongue.
I want to press my hand against her hip.
I want to feel my body warm against hers.
I want to kiss her neck and lick her supple belly.
I want to bite her thighs and relish in the marks.
I want to feel her in between my legs, pushing slow hard fast.
Sucking, biting, clawing, breathing.
Heat and sweat.
Moans and screams.
She grabs the pillow in her teeth.
No need to quiet yourself my girl, I would whisper.
We move to the shower, hot water, hotter kisses.
The passion, the wetness.
My foot resting on the edge of the tub.
Fuck me, I breathe. Fuck me now.
She lingers before she thrusts.
That first ascension into me, reminders of pure intoxication.
She holds me up, strong hands on my low back.
I shiver, weak legs, cum thick as night.
Shudder, spasm, nibble, fight the urge to give in to delicious sleep.
Back in bed she straddles my hips, slow, deliberate pivot.
Cunt to cunt, eye to eye, one thought.
Each other's bliss.
She falls, back arched, cognizant, satisfied.
Her mouth wet, she licks her lips.
We fall into each other's arms, enraptured sleep.
Sound, rhythmic.

Conspiracy Theory Proven: Cockroaches Have a Secret Longing to Kill All Humans

Do cockroaches want to crawl under my covers and kill me? Do they want to live in my ears, like Claire Dane’s character on Brokedown Palace? And kill me? Do they want to scare the be-jesus out of all human kind? (Be-jesus, not unlike the Bedazzler, can make you see stars and sparkles. Also, it may make your jeans truly unique, but that’s a report for next week.)

I believe the answer to all these questions is YES. In fact, the very name cockroach means suck your soul out through your ear. ‘Cock’- To suck ones soul right out of their very existence and ‘Roach’ - A nuclear war surviving creature in it’s own species and genre, who would prefer to eat ear wax, if at all possible. Also, likes to be real warm under blankets, hence the term, “Snug as a cockroach in a blanket”.

To understand the little known insect-of-it’s-own-species/genre, you must first examine it’s anatomy. It is brown, first off. Things that are brown are pure evil. Other brown things include, dirt, stretched vaginas, like on porn (not mine), shit (also not mine, and it don’t stink) and rotten bananas. It has long head receptors, called alien antenna. These so called feelers are actually transmitting radio signals to the former planet, Pluto. The Plutonese use these detailed transmitted room descriptions to prepare 4th grade dioramas of Earth-being’s dwellings, especially pantries. Cockroaches have an outer, crunchy, like Jeanette’s blog, shell. One would think this is a protection mechanism, but think again, mi amiga. This hard outer covering is to remind crickets who is bigger. Cockroaches are like the Mexican gang from The Warriors, while crickets are like the Puerto Ricans. The roaches are just jealous that the crickets are musically talented. (Cockroa-chez, come out and play-ay-ay!!) Or is it West Side Story? Wings. Need I say more. It is unnatural for a walking bomb shelter to fly.

Onto the innards. Now, while I have never dissected a cockroach with a scalpel, I have squished, thwaped, crushed, and bug sprayed their guts out. It is white. We all know know white is a pure color. White roses mean, “I think you’re a virgin, let’s hump”, white snow has not been tainted with urine and white washing was a highly coveted project that children paid dearly to experience in Tom Sawyer, a fantastic book by the late, elaborate (long A sound), great writer, Samuel Clemmins, better known as Mark Twain. These entrails, if you will, being white, as they are, cannot be used as shampoo, lotion or semen, for baby production. Although, they do have the viscosity of all three of these liquids, and can therefore be used as glue, thereby eliminating the deaths of wild horses in Montana. This tapioca-like substance shines and shimmers, which brings us to the be-jesus question.

As stated earlier, be-jesus is like Bedazzler. Guts are shiny and shimmery, henceforth, a cockroach can and will scare the living be-jesus out of you, especially if you end up wearing some. Cockroaches do not have hearts, if they did, they would send flowers instead of visiting.

Roaches come in many sizes, from the very minute Flour Weevil, to the Sewer Roach, which can reach sizes up to a 33 long in men’s denim wear. If your roach is wearing Guess?, remember that the sizes run a little small and your roach could grow to reach maximum capacity. Despite the size of a roach, it can fit under and in anything. And I mean anything. Get food for your dog, come out with a roach. Want to do homework in your bedroom, get interrupted by a roach. Move a paperweight on your desk, drop it on your toe, because there was a LIVE roach under it. This phenomena is known as “Do-whatever-the-fuck-I-please”, another reason ‘cock’ is in the name.

So now that I have proven my theory, what to do if you come across one of these entities. First, do not panic. I have done that before and it results in an asthma attack, where there were no previous signs of asthma, a weak bladder, delirious behavior, like shrieking and dancing from big toe to big toe, while water rolls uncontrollably out of your eyes, and the strong urge to flee the scene, never to return. Take a deep breath and yell, “You’re my bitch! Die bastard, die!!” Quickly, run to the place where you keep the can of spray poison, grab it and run back to the scene. Point the hole of the spray away from you and toward the cockroach. Depress button for way longer than really necessary. Watch the evil-doer meet Peter at the gates of Heaven, only to be cast downward. Then splat flat with your favorite color Chuck Taylor’s. Don’t forget to have handy, at all times, a nifty craft project or broken plate for gluing, thereby, once again, reducing the needless murders in Montana.

I thank you for your attention and swift resolution to this problem. May your sheets stay empty of unwanted brown spots and your craft projects be aplenty.

Hey Fat Man!!

Why do you constantly want to pick fights with me around your girlfriend? You don’t have to prove the size of your dick to us. (Un)Fortunatly, we both are in the know. By the way, if you keep eating like that, it will be harder to find your dick. No worries though, a man really isn’t measured by the size of his cock, but by how he treats his family, how he provides for them, how he shows love for them. There, my for-custodial-purposes-only friend, is where you really lack. I hate to say it, but being a man doesn’t really fit your boy-size body. (Oh, by the way, I cut the footies off your jammies this morning. The hole left by your machete for a toenail, was un-mendable.) So stop picking fights with me. I didn’t do anything, but walk up onto the porch while you and your gf were talking about something amazing like Justice League or Batman or world peace. (I threw that last one in to be funny..) It makes her uncomfortable, which is why I don’t fight back. Also, I find your third chin a little distracting because it and the second one flap together and compete with the visual space that is your mouth and I can’t figure out where the words are coming from. Congrats on the chin pubes though. Where’d you find a place that would implant leg hair onto so many layers of face? Anyway, have a good night. As always, hope your dreams are full fuzzy unicorns and buxom babes in leopard print.

To You: Excerpts From Anne Sexton

Love? Be it man. Be it woman.
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and can’t be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief. <– Anne Sexton

I have learned so much over the last nine months about myself, my world, my life, my behaviors and my connections to them all. I can tell you my journey has only just begun and will only end when I die. I measure my life in what I envision will be said about me after I die. My legacy, I suppose.

(Totally incomplete, but as I stare at it, I can't remember my train of thought, so I end it now. Unfinished.)

Soft, Loud, Obnoxious, Appropriate

I am truly alone in this world. And that’s okay. I have a wonderful girlfriend. I have three beautiful boys. I have a D. I have a home and friends I can lean on. My life is complete. So what am I getting at? I am alone in my thoughts. Nobody else is in my head. There are not many mind readers in my realm. Therefore, I must learn to be clear in what I say, what spews from my brain to my spout. It’s not that I don’t think about what I need to convey, I think I over-think it. Then I vomit words and I have to clean them up before I can really get to the core of what I am trying to say. Sometimes, I feel like I should stop talking altogether, like Chuck. (Amazing Grace and Chuck, an awesome 80’s movie) Of course, Chuck stopped talking in protest to nuclear warfare. That’s beside the point. I am learning. My life is a journey. I remember being a kid and speaking so softly that my teachers used to have to tell me speak up. Then, when I finally found my voice, my family liked it better when I was a mute. Not to mention that I mostly didn’t think before I spoke. I am blunt; bet you didn’t know that. So then I had to learn that there is a time and a place for certain words, comments, suggestions and the like. Now here I am, having learned all these lessons, and now I must learn to just process enough, not over-process. I have to learn to be concise and eloquent. I won’t always make sense, but I will certainly try. Oh, except here, on this blog. It’s my place to ramble, to spit out whatever is on my mind. This is my lesson of the month. I should write a lesson learned every month, although, I think I may be learning them more frequently, since I am open to suggestions!!