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!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
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...."
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...."
Monday, April 07, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
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!!!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
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.)
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.)
Friday, February 22, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
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.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
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".
Friday, February 08, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, February 01, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, January 28, 2008
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.
Monday, January 14, 2008
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.)
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.)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
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!!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Reflections of 2007
Garden Club, somewhere in Phoenix, last night. It’s a woman’s group. A support group. What do I need support for anyway? I have lived this long without a support group, but my beautiful friends have been inviting since, really the first moment I met them. So, I’m there, I’m listening to what they have to say about why they joined the group and how long they’ve been going. It occurs to me that I have had the biggest year of my life, so far. So I’m going to recap, because even though this all happened to me, I didn’t recognize the magnitude of my journey, until now. I didn’t acknowlegde what a full life I have lived in the past year, how much I have grown, how instrumental my openness to life has been in my progression.
2006 was a rotten year. Fighting, complaining, fighting, gossiping, fighting. I decided that 2007 would be my year. “I am turning thirty. I am going to embrace the next decade and remake my life. Redefine my existence.” But how? Just turning thirty won’t be enough, but how things have unfolded surpassed anything I may have ever dreamed.
My thirtieth birthday was spent with my, still and always, best friend D. She rented a cabin for us in Heber-Overgaard, AZ. There was a huge snow storm. We almost didn’t make it before the road closed for the weekend. We woke up on my birthday to a fantastic snow storm. I ran outside in my jammies and played in the snow. My Pagen goddess knew what she was up to when she made my world so beautiful the moment I awoke to my new decade. That day, we met a beautiful couple who run a coffee shop and two young men who, because of car trouble, crossed our path. We drank, played in the snow, drank, ate, drank and has such special times. D, I don’t think you could ever know how important you are in my life and what a perfect beginning to my life makeover you gave me.
A beautiful, painful, hopeful and always rewarding friendship sprouted in March. She is such an amazing woman. I fell in love with her. We had a brief period of more than friends. And a heartbreaking, for me, end to this brief period. I often beat myself up about that. How could I have let my guard down? How could I let myself get so hurt? How could I feel so much, so soon? But I was feeling. I am feeling. I am no longer numb. I wanted so badly to be around her, that I endured many painful hours listening to her talk about all the other woman she was lusting after. I let myself down over and over when I went out with her and one of her girls. I’d get my hopes up when she said the words to me that I could manipulate into what I thought I wanted to hear. Eventually I accepted that we were just going to be friends. In the meantime, she allowed me to enter her world. She taught me things, she let me learn things for myself. She takes me down to the deep and dark and she lifts me up to brighter days. She’s my roller coaster ride. I love her so much, sometimes I wonder if she really knows how much and sometimes I wonder why I love her so much. She continues to break my heart in new and painfully purposeful ways.
I asked HIM to move out in March. HIS first weekend gone, I had to cal HIM back. After that HE lived in HIS office. I can’t even imagine how that felt to HIM. I actually, coldly, don’t really care. HE wasn’t kind to me during that time. For a long time, I felt it was my duty to accept that emotional pain HE was inflicting on me because I hurt HIM first. I initiated the end of the marriage. I gave up hope for our family to be together forever. I still have not really allowed myself to deal with HIM, so this paragraph is short. Suffice it to say that my marriage terminated in 2007.
After E, I had short, meaningless flings with other woman. I learned not to let my guard down. I wouldn’t let myself get close to anyone for a long time. I made out here and there, but I never gave into the temptation of something real. I went to two pride festivals this year. One was here in AZ and the other was in San Diego. In SD, I met and made out with a chic I thought was super cool. We spoke on the phone every day. We read a book together, long distance. She was a breath of fresh air for me. Smart, funny, cute and far away. Far away enough to not let myself fall. Go me!! After another visit to SD, she called me and told me that she was an asshole, a pot head, a jerk and whatever other demeaning thing she could think of. She wanted to push me away. I suppose what she didn’t realize was that I was not anywhere close. I called her out on it. She said she didn’t want to start a relationship, I’m not quite sure when I gave her the impression that I did. Anyway, we are once again on speaking terms. She has stopped what she deems as destructive behavior and is making amends of sorts. I think she is amazing for changing that about herself.
E motivated me to stand up for myself, to advocate for me, to better myself. But how? I was a sexually confused, busy with everything but me, mom of three small children. (Children who I didn’t even really know.) I had an estranged husband, who woke up only to call me names and degrade me. Until one day, I finally snapped. HE couldn’t make me feel anything. I am in charge of my feelings. And HE of HIS. I am no longer responsible for how HE feels or what HE does with those feelings. I signed up for classes, a course of study. I am going to be someone after I am done being a mom, but wait, I will never be done with that. I STARTED SCHOOL!!! Something that was dream with many excuses. I received grants and loans, I studied, I passed. I did better than pass. I exceeded my goals. I earned the highest grade in my math class. 115% overall. I am a smart cookie!! Woohoo!!
I am finally sticking up for myself with my family. I am so tired of being the black sheep because they say I am. I was yelled at one too many times. The thought of unconditional love is only associated with my friends, the family I choose for myself. That is not the way it should be. I should be able to count on my birth family for anything. I have withheld my company and my children. It’s almost more than I can bear. I hate doing this, but I can’t let my children around people who don’t respect my beliefs. I don’t expect them to adopt them for their own lives. In fact I have little expectation for my family. I guess that’s what happens when I get let down over and over.
I met someone. She is beautiful, amazing and so gentle with my tender heart. She accepts me for who I am. She challenges me, she always calls me out when I contradict myself. I have met my match. She has her own convictions and beliefs, she doesn’t need mine.
What will I take from 2007? Everything it had to give me. I have only begun to decipher Jen, but I will continue to be open to myself and the universe. New friends, new challenges, new love. I will never forget my history, my-stand-by-me-through-anything friends, my losses. Everyday is a new journey. Everyday will bring happiness and may also bring pain. I have really begun to observe my patterns and I can choose to change them. I met my children this year and, really, they met me. We are rediscovering each other as I type. Thanks to all of you who have been with me, stay with me or are new to me. You help shape me to who I am and will be. Even those of you who are complete assholes. You remind me why i never want to be unhappy again and why it is so important for me to be kind.
There are four days left in this year and I intent to make each one of them life changing. Who knows who or what will come into my life in that time. So 2008, you will not defeat me, I own you!!!!!! Much love and peace!!!!
* With one day to go, I came out out my dad. He said he already knew. He only had one question, “Is this an experiment?” Ha! It was actually anti-climactic. So now only 11 hours to go, and the world is mine.
2006 was a rotten year. Fighting, complaining, fighting, gossiping, fighting. I decided that 2007 would be my year. “I am turning thirty. I am going to embrace the next decade and remake my life. Redefine my existence.” But how? Just turning thirty won’t be enough, but how things have unfolded surpassed anything I may have ever dreamed.
My thirtieth birthday was spent with my, still and always, best friend D. She rented a cabin for us in Heber-Overgaard, AZ. There was a huge snow storm. We almost didn’t make it before the road closed for the weekend. We woke up on my birthday to a fantastic snow storm. I ran outside in my jammies and played in the snow. My Pagen goddess knew what she was up to when she made my world so beautiful the moment I awoke to my new decade. That day, we met a beautiful couple who run a coffee shop and two young men who, because of car trouble, crossed our path. We drank, played in the snow, drank, ate, drank and has such special times. D, I don’t think you could ever know how important you are in my life and what a perfect beginning to my life makeover you gave me.
A beautiful, painful, hopeful and always rewarding friendship sprouted in March. She is such an amazing woman. I fell in love with her. We had a brief period of more than friends. And a heartbreaking, for me, end to this brief period. I often beat myself up about that. How could I have let my guard down? How could I let myself get so hurt? How could I feel so much, so soon? But I was feeling. I am feeling. I am no longer numb. I wanted so badly to be around her, that I endured many painful hours listening to her talk about all the other woman she was lusting after. I let myself down over and over when I went out with her and one of her girls. I’d get my hopes up when she said the words to me that I could manipulate into what I thought I wanted to hear. Eventually I accepted that we were just going to be friends. In the meantime, she allowed me to enter her world. She taught me things, she let me learn things for myself. She takes me down to the deep and dark and she lifts me up to brighter days. She’s my roller coaster ride. I love her so much, sometimes I wonder if she really knows how much and sometimes I wonder why I love her so much. She continues to break my heart in new and painfully purposeful ways.
I asked HIM to move out in March. HIS first weekend gone, I had to cal HIM back. After that HE lived in HIS office. I can’t even imagine how that felt to HIM. I actually, coldly, don’t really care. HE wasn’t kind to me during that time. For a long time, I felt it was my duty to accept that emotional pain HE was inflicting on me because I hurt HIM first. I initiated the end of the marriage. I gave up hope for our family to be together forever. I still have not really allowed myself to deal with HIM, so this paragraph is short. Suffice it to say that my marriage terminated in 2007.
After E, I had short, meaningless flings with other woman. I learned not to let my guard down. I wouldn’t let myself get close to anyone for a long time. I made out here and there, but I never gave into the temptation of something real. I went to two pride festivals this year. One was here in AZ and the other was in San Diego. In SD, I met and made out with a chic I thought was super cool. We spoke on the phone every day. We read a book together, long distance. She was a breath of fresh air for me. Smart, funny, cute and far away. Far away enough to not let myself fall. Go me!! After another visit to SD, she called me and told me that she was an asshole, a pot head, a jerk and whatever other demeaning thing she could think of. She wanted to push me away. I suppose what she didn’t realize was that I was not anywhere close. I called her out on it. She said she didn’t want to start a relationship, I’m not quite sure when I gave her the impression that I did. Anyway, we are once again on speaking terms. She has stopped what she deems as destructive behavior and is making amends of sorts. I think she is amazing for changing that about herself.
E motivated me to stand up for myself, to advocate for me, to better myself. But how? I was a sexually confused, busy with everything but me, mom of three small children. (Children who I didn’t even really know.) I had an estranged husband, who woke up only to call me names and degrade me. Until one day, I finally snapped. HE couldn’t make me feel anything. I am in charge of my feelings. And HE of HIS. I am no longer responsible for how HE feels or what HE does with those feelings. I signed up for classes, a course of study. I am going to be someone after I am done being a mom, but wait, I will never be done with that. I STARTED SCHOOL!!! Something that was dream with many excuses. I received grants and loans, I studied, I passed. I did better than pass. I exceeded my goals. I earned the highest grade in my math class. 115% overall. I am a smart cookie!! Woohoo!!
I am finally sticking up for myself with my family. I am so tired of being the black sheep because they say I am. I was yelled at one too many times. The thought of unconditional love is only associated with my friends, the family I choose for myself. That is not the way it should be. I should be able to count on my birth family for anything. I have withheld my company and my children. It’s almost more than I can bear. I hate doing this, but I can’t let my children around people who don’t respect my beliefs. I don’t expect them to adopt them for their own lives. In fact I have little expectation for my family. I guess that’s what happens when I get let down over and over.
I met someone. She is beautiful, amazing and so gentle with my tender heart. She accepts me for who I am. She challenges me, she always calls me out when I contradict myself. I have met my match. She has her own convictions and beliefs, she doesn’t need mine.
What will I take from 2007? Everything it had to give me. I have only begun to decipher Jen, but I will continue to be open to myself and the universe. New friends, new challenges, new love. I will never forget my history, my-stand-by-me-through-anything friends, my losses. Everyday is a new journey. Everyday will bring happiness and may also bring pain. I have really begun to observe my patterns and I can choose to change them. I met my children this year and, really, they met me. We are rediscovering each other as I type. Thanks to all of you who have been with me, stay with me or are new to me. You help shape me to who I am and will be. Even those of you who are complete assholes. You remind me why i never want to be unhappy again and why it is so important for me to be kind.
There are four days left in this year and I intent to make each one of them life changing. Who knows who or what will come into my life in that time. So 2008, you will not defeat me, I own you!!!!!! Much love and peace!!!!
* With one day to go, I came out out my dad. He said he already knew. He only had one question, “Is this an experiment?” Ha! It was actually anti-climactic. So now only 11 hours to go, and the world is mine.
Hi Hazel
So I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Iraq and wondering what really happens to us if you go. Is it really an eventuality? You go and my life here keeps moving on, just with an empty bed and an empty, searching heart. Your life, on the other hand, goes in fast forward. Combat training, more computer training, learning a new culture, meeting new people. You change, you grow. As will I, but in more subtle ways. What if you see things you can’t explain? What if your friends die? What if I am not enough to support you when you get back? What if you don’t come back? Four months is a blink of an eye, when it’s through. It will be an agonizing first month, followed by a time of acceptance, then you are back. But, who is coming back?
My chest feels like it is caving in on itself. My stomach is queasy. My mind is racing a million miles a second. My heart hasn’t beat normally since we talked this afternoon in your car. My soul is searching for reasons why I met you now. Why I love you so. What is my lesson? Is it patience? I can patiently wait for you. Our lives will continue, but together? Hopefully. And stronger.
I know I am crazy to be thinking all of this stuff now; it’s not like you have orders to leave. As much un-planning as I do, there is also a fair amount of anxious future planning. I like to fly by my seat, but this seems different. I could have a girlfriend serving a sentence in Iraq, IN A WAR, for Goddess’ sake. So many things about that one statement are so completely unlike anything I could have ever imagined for myself.
You have come out of nowhere; I was blind-sided one night at the Cash Inn Country. You, in your hat, with your newly exed girlfriend, arriving with a girl I am dating. What are the fucking chances that this would blossom into so much more than a bathroom four way (well threesome for me, hahahahaha!!!)? When did love become so difficult? Who would have thought this STUPID war would effect me so much more than rearranging my schedule to protest it?
I just want you to say Fuck You to THEM. Out yourself, it’s your ticket out; but I know I wouldn’t do it. I would stick it out because I signed up for it, with full knowledge of what the job entailed. I will tell you right now though, I WILL FIGHT and PROTEST ‘TIL THIS WAR IS OVER and no other person has to go through these same emotions.
So when I write you, can I pick a boys name to write to you from, so I can send explicit mail? I could be your back home boi friend. Can I tell you I love you on the phone? How often will we get to hear each other’s voices? Can I keep your cologne with me, so I can smell you when I want? Can we have phone sex? Ok, ok, I already know that answer..but I can still ask, right?
I love you babe. In this short time, I have fallen in love. You are beautiful, amazing, patient, graceless (at least on the trampoline), caring, accepting of my crazy ways, funny and my perfect match. My missing puzzle piece. You will always have a little piece of my heart.
I think I can finally sleep now,
J
My chest feels like it is caving in on itself. My stomach is queasy. My mind is racing a million miles a second. My heart hasn’t beat normally since we talked this afternoon in your car. My soul is searching for reasons why I met you now. Why I love you so. What is my lesson? Is it patience? I can patiently wait for you. Our lives will continue, but together? Hopefully. And stronger.
I know I am crazy to be thinking all of this stuff now; it’s not like you have orders to leave. As much un-planning as I do, there is also a fair amount of anxious future planning. I like to fly by my seat, but this seems different. I could have a girlfriend serving a sentence in Iraq, IN A WAR, for Goddess’ sake. So many things about that one statement are so completely unlike anything I could have ever imagined for myself.
You have come out of nowhere; I was blind-sided one night at the Cash Inn Country. You, in your hat, with your newly exed girlfriend, arriving with a girl I am dating. What are the fucking chances that this would blossom into so much more than a bathroom four way (well threesome for me, hahahahaha!!!)? When did love become so difficult? Who would have thought this STUPID war would effect me so much more than rearranging my schedule to protest it?
I just want you to say Fuck You to THEM. Out yourself, it’s your ticket out; but I know I wouldn’t do it. I would stick it out because I signed up for it, with full knowledge of what the job entailed. I will tell you right now though, I WILL FIGHT and PROTEST ‘TIL THIS WAR IS OVER and no other person has to go through these same emotions.
So when I write you, can I pick a boys name to write to you from, so I can send explicit mail? I could be your back home boi friend. Can I tell you I love you on the phone? How often will we get to hear each other’s voices? Can I keep your cologne with me, so I can smell you when I want? Can we have phone sex? Ok, ok, I already know that answer..but I can still ask, right?
I love you babe. In this short time, I have fallen in love. You are beautiful, amazing, patient, graceless (at least on the trampoline), caring, accepting of my crazy ways, funny and my perfect match. My missing puzzle piece. You will always have a little piece of my heart.
I think I can finally sleep now,
J
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Her Response: New Home
I was going to have a couple drinks
But two turned into five
Any other time, I'd have thought myself crazy
For this full-on nose dive
Waters whose currents
were a mystery
Lands unknown
My heart, by a thread
My sleeve, its' new home
But somehow
It beats in my chest
Heavy, Fast
The rhythm making its' way
To my hips and the Rest
Of
My body
Warm, with the meeting of
blue and hazel, alone
Current's back
More familiar now
You remind me to breathe
I had forgotten how
But two turned into five
Any other time, I'd have thought myself crazy
For this full-on nose dive
Waters whose currents
were a mystery
Lands unknown
My heart, by a thread
My sleeve, its' new home
But somehow
It beats in my chest
Heavy, Fast
The rhythm making its' way
To my hips and the Rest
Of
My body
Warm, with the meeting of
blue and hazel, alone
Current's back
More familiar now
You remind me to breathe
I had forgotten how
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