We went out a couple of times and I didn't think he even liked me. Yet he kept calling me. And I kept saying yes. By the third date, had yet to even touch me, let alone kissed me.
Snog-rific!
By the middle of our delicious lamb chops, peppers and mushroom pasta(he cooked), sitting in his surprisingly lovely apartment, I was so confused. We have great conversations, barely any awkward silences, and he is very sweet and extra attentive and we do have a lot in common. I even gave him a cute nickname: The Mad Scientist. But I was still all up in my head about things.
Maybe this is too soon to get back into dating? Is this guy the kind of guy I should be dating? Does he show any signs of poor or dangerous behavior? Does he meet the requirement that I set up for myself? Do I even still believe that love is real? If I don't, why am I even here? Then I remember that I'm in this man's house and I'm on a date, focus!
As we got into a lively conversation about film, and I blabbered on and on about technique and movies that reminded me of other movies that reminded me of other movies, he started to rub my neck. (Innocent enough, since I had been complaining about it because of yet another accident I had been involved in...) And then he finally kissed me. A lot.
I got home at about 8 in the morning and after a quick shower I caught myself in the mirror. The snogging gods have punished with me stubble rash. I didn't realize that he was that stubbly! It's been about two days now and my nose, cheek, and all the skin around my lips are bright red and scaly. I looks like I'm been in a cherry pie eating contest. Like I'd been frenching Beelzebub. I'm like a sexy red lizard... or a not so sexy blogger. Whichever.
Like my face, except hotter. Meow.
I have been up and down the internet, digging through medical books and esthetician text books and can't find anything. I was hoping to post, "What to do when you fall asleep on a belt sander" but sadly, I can be of no help. All I can do is say, good luck fellow snoggers. And my best advice? Ask him to shave.
While driving through a legal green turn arrow, some jackass forgot to brake and tboned my brand new car. And again, just like my last accident, this asshole wasn't driving his own car so the car's owner's insurance doesn't cover other drivers. What is the point of paying hundreds of dollars every month if when I get hit I STILL have to pay for the damage done by others? And why doesn't the insurance companies or the law make someone other than the victim pay?
And why can't my insurance company grow a set of giant, hairy, brass balls and go after these
people with everything they have! So far this year, uninsured or under insured drivers hitting me have cost my insurance company over $12,000! (and over $2000 out of pocket for me!) And it's only March! Get out there Mr. Claims-adjuster and brake some knee caps!
I am utterly helpless in this situation. All I can do is sit on my ass and wait for the insurance companies to go back and forth and debate policy terms and definitions of the word 'is' at a snail's pace.
So there goes another $500 and without a car for at least a week and I am praying that it won't be totaled. My brand new car that I've had for 2 months. That still has the new car smell. That is still clean on the inside. That I just put a new CD/DVD player in.
I am so very tempted to exact revenge on the people who keep hitting my car and get away with it. Subscribe them to every magazine I can find. Send them 16 pizzas with extra anchovies. Give out their names and numbers to telemarketers. Post ads in the paper for intimate encounters: only fat, sweaty and horny need apply... But I know my dirty deeds will come back around to bite me in the ass. So I'm stuck up here, on the high road, broke with no car.
Sometimes being the good girl is such a pain in my ass.
Last night while I was slurping Raman (the noodles, not the
guy, you sick pervs) in my bubble bath, reading "The Greatest Love Stories of WWII", I was daydreaming. I've been considering changing careers. The consulting business is getting to be too much of the same for me. And in these hard times, I see my services go to larger and larger companies and the more uncomfortable I get. And I know that my paycheck has come from bailout money once or twice and I'm not totally okay with that.
So there I was, in the tub, considering what I could do.
Pixie's List of Alternative jobs: Travel Writer
I don't think they know either
Small time Editor Researcher World War II "reenactor" Ghost Rubber ducky tester Hammock Crocheter
Ok, so I'm joking with some of those. But how does one start a new career at my age and still pay the bills?
Lane was going to bring him over yesterday. I had his bed, litter box, food and toys are ready for him. And then she called.
"I can't do it. I feel awful." Blah blah blah.
My mother filled me in on Lucky's story and how Lane got him. She had a little girl puppy months ago. She was named Lucy. Lane picked her out and she waited until Lucy was old enough and then the great day came when Lucy came home. On the fifth day Lane got up, went to Lucy's crate to take her out for a walk to find that poor beautiful little Lucy had died during the night. Lane called her mother screaming and crying. What does one do in that situation? Me? I would scream and cry and call my mom too. So she buried the tiny puppy in the backyard, marked the grave with a beautiful stone and made an angry phone call to the breeder.
Long story short, a new baby boy came to Lane. She decided to name him Lucky. And even though she is too busy and feels like she doesn't give him enough attention, she can't let him go.
I do feel for her, I really do... I hope that she can find more time for him and make him happy.
And if so, I'm happy too.
Until our day, Little Harry will have to be just a daydream, a happy memory yet to be. See you then little guy.
My parents dog Buddy will be happy to hang out at my house in the mean time.
It's hilarious and fun and I just learned about it a few days ago.
Sleeve facing is when you take an album cover and match it to your own dimension then snap a photo. It's ridiculous and amazing and I love it. Most of them are pretty damn good too. They put some effort into getting the props and clothing right. Gotta love the dedicated geek.
I love it when the internets comes up with something funny, innocent and totally harmless. It's a rarity. Usually it's someone getting hurt, being humiliated or some kind of sick humor. (Don't get me wrong, I love that stuff too...)
So I leave you with some of my favorite for you to enjoy. For more strangeness, check out sleeveface.com which is the hub for all who love this full contact sport.
Someone found this thing on a ancient Roman merchant ship that wrecked off the coast of Greece in 1900. Can you imagine? Capt. Ahab pulls up a giant piece of metal off the oceans floor and see this? Nuts.
They call it the ''Mechanism'' because no one knows what the hell it is. It's some kind of geared device with 30 parts that moved at some point. I know what you're thinking... it's a big clock. Whoop-de-doo! Except it's from around 100BC which predates clocks by about a millennium. Just to give you an idea of what life was like in that time period, this is when Julius Caesar was a little baby, the Mayans were in full swing in Guatemala and when Spartacus enjoyed his heyday.
Zodiac symbols are found on the mechanism so the common belief is that it was used in astrology there is still much to understand about this amazing discovery.
The pieces and parts are currently part of the National Archeology Museum in Athens.
Go here for more about this oddity. http://www.antikythera-mechanism.gr/
Ok, enough of this personal drama shit. Thanks for putting up with it. Back to the good stuff.
I'm going to get tons of shit for this...
Whenever someone makes a bold, absolute statement, you going to get people disagreeing with you. And by disagree, I mean fire bombing your car.
But I am going to do it. I declare, in front of my cat and all you fine people, that Freddy Mercury is the greatest frontman of all time!
Bon Scott? One trick pony. David Lee Roth? Don't make me laugh. No wait, I'm already laughing. Mick Jagger? Sorry skeleton boy, no can do. Jim Morrison? He was hot and brilliant but fucking crazy. (and stinky)
No, I'm talking Freddie Freakin' Mercury. He was electric, charismatic. He wasn't all that pretty
but his presence on stage made you think he was a god. This man was an openly gay man fronting a band named Queen, preforming in lycra spandex and leather and still rednecks from Podunk county in rural Wisconsin loved them. That's power. He had a flare for the dramatic and it showed in his stage shows.
His voice was so unique and stong he could pull off lines like "Gunpowder, Gelatine/Dynamite with a laser beam /Guaranteed to blow your mind" and "I am a satellite Im out of control/ I am a sex machine ready to reload/ Like an atom bomb about to/ Oh oh oh oh oh explode"
He sang about a superhero named Flash, a classy whore, a battle between good and evil, the game of love and big ass women. Diverse, strange and always stiring.
Their sound is pulled from so many places, from glam rock, do wop, progressive, psychodelic and on and on. They could do anything they wanted, play any style, whatever sounded good and people loved it, ate it up. I mean, Bowie looked up to for crying out loud!
He play Live Aid at Wembley in front of over 70,000 people and his 20 minute performance was voted "Greatest Live Gig of All Time". TWENTY minutes. By '06 the Greatest Hits albums was the number one selling album in Britin. In 2001 they were inducted into the Hall of Fame, two years later in the Songwriter's Hall of Fame(the one and only band ever to be enter into it, rather than just an individual), numerous Guinness Book World Records, Grammy Hall of Fame, and it just keeps going.
Farrokh Bulsara was born Sept. 5 1946 in Tanzania and went to school near Bombay wh
ere he discovered his love of music. The band as we know it formed 1970. Their first big hit was 'Killer Queen' in 1974. Freddie's life was full of ups and downs. The media hounded him about his sexual orientation and health. He had a steady girlfriend Mary Austin who he called his only true friend, but also had a long term relationship with hairdresser Jim Hutton who was with him when he died. There were constant rumors he had AIDS and was on death's door, to which he always replied were false.
You have to remember this was the late 80's/early 90's. People still weren't educated about HIV/AIDS. They thought is was a 'gay disease', that you could get it just by being near someone who had it. The sad truth was that Freddie did have AIDS; he was diagnosed in 1987. By 1991, it was obvious something was very wrong. The already svelte Mercury was even thinner, pale and wasn't seen in public very often.
The last song he recorded was "These Are The Days Of Our Lives". The video for the single was shot on May 30th, 1991. They chose to film in black and white to hide Freddie overall weakened look.
Freddie died on November 24, 1991 at the age of 45, 24 hours after releasing his statement to the public that he was indeed sick. He was the first major rock star to die of the disease.
Tribute statue in Switzerland
There are tributes every year to Freddie. At home in his native Tanzania (where some officals have problems paying tribute to a gay man), in Switzerland (where he recorded much of his music) to his adopted homeland England to his massive fan base in America.
Personally, I love this man. My brother and I would drive our parents crazy listening to the same Greatest Hits tape over and over again. We knew all the words by the time we were in kindergarden. My dad would make us laugh by goofing around to "Fat Bottom Girls". And when Freddie died, I didn't really understand what was going on, just that he was on the news a lot and they played his music videos much more on MTV, which I liked. I miss him. I wish he were still with us.
Can you just imagine the amazing music we might have today if he were?
Sorry for all this personal shit but it's all got me thinking...
The Ex has been sending be a barge of angry emails as of late. I've tried to be calm and speak plainly without getting over emotional. I've tried reasoning and being understanding. I've tried being harsh and blunt. But just like our relationship, I can't help him with anything. He has to make a choice himself.
He's angry because he doesn't think I feel bad enough. (a theme for our arguements, me not feeling the way he thinks I should feel) He's angry because I don't want to talk about our relationship that is so over, over and over again. (which leads him begging for why we broke up and then me telling him again, with tears and yelling. I'm convinced he is continuously trying to get me to 'see the light' and get back together with him.) But I think mostly he's angry because I broke up with him. I just couldn't take it anymore. No matter how I felt, what I did, whatever explanation I gave, it wasn't good enough. I wasn't excited enough, I didn't think about him enough, why didn't I tell him earlier, why was I acting so strange, you never understand how I feel and I always understand how you feel, why can't you be what I need, my actions spoke for me and they say that I don't care enough, why can't you wait for me, you aren't sad enough, you don't share your feelings enough, you shouldn't talk to your friend about our business, I want a girl who is A, B, C, and on and on and on.
The emails go from lashing out for hurting him to him being fine, happy with his new life to him
being sorry he put me through so much, all in a single letter. They are so schizophrenic that I can't make sense of them. He goes from "I don't want to talk to you again" and when I say okay, I won't, he retorts with "Way to fight for us! I must not be worth fighting for!" It's like he speaks another language and in his parallel universe, he makes total sense and I'm the evil ice queen from hell who hates him and doesn't nothing but hurt him.
I should have known. Why are we all such fools in love? And not just cute, silly fools, but dumbass mutherfuckers. I made excuses and held back the truth to protect him when I should have been protecting myself. I should have ended it a thousand times. When he lost his job. When he told me he wouldn't be getting another one unless it was 'up to his standards'. That he never paid a dime in rent. When he would rather play video games than have sex. When he was asking to have more sex after pulling a stunt like that. When he
would start fights, I would apologize, and later think, "Wait, what just happened? I didn't do anything wrong!" Every time I thought, "I should stand up for myself right now" and didn't. That he was jealous and upset that I made more money than him, to that point of overcompensation for his feelings of inferiority. When I would stand up for myself and he would come one even stronger to push me back down. When he delayed the start up of his personal business again and again and again and it never came to be. Every time he made me feel guilty for doing something fun he couldn't do, like go to Paris or the Caribbean. Every time he thought I wasn't 'there' enough for him. Every time he failed to cope with his desperate situation. When he kept certain things secret from me. When he wouldn't tell me what he was doing all day while I was at work. When we would fight, I would apologize and he would still make me pay for it for days. When he lied about looking for a job. Whenever we would argue he would hammer down the same point over and over and over and over until I got so sick of it that I gave in. When he wouldn't let go of things. When he would continuously blame others for the problems in his life. That he thought enough money would solve all his problems. When he refused to move ahead in life. When he blamed me for not being supportive enough during the 'hardest time of his life'. When I was so frustrated with his behavior and he would turn it around and make it as if it were me that was the confused one causing problems in our relationship.
But I knew it was really over when he told me that he knew exactly how I felt about my brother being killed in the car accident. I argued that he would never know; his sister was still alive. He had never been so close to violent death before. He argued that the falling out with his sister was very similar to it and that he has had people he cared about die before. We went back and forth and while he went on about how he knew exactly what it felt like, I knew in my heart that this person was all wrong and disrespectful of me and my feelings, manipulative and that I'm not sure I've ever met anyone so damaged, with so many problems.
It's hard. This is someone I used to care about. But I have to be realistic and take care of myself. No matter what, I know I'm a good person. How I feel and what I think are not wrong or crazy or stupid. I just want to know, why did it take me so long to see it?
And by the way, why now does he decide to fuck with me? Right before my first date back out there this weekend? Someone's timing sucks a lot.
I can flirt and talk up a storm and bend a man to my will.
But with everything that has happened, it has rocked my confidence ever so slightly. Dealing with the breakup, my grandfather getting remarried and my existential love crisis has messed with my head. Now, almost 3 months since the end of my last relationship I have been asked out on a date.
I'm trying to keep my cool...A date?! Oh lord, what do I do?! Do I even want to start dating anyone again? Am I ready? What if I'm not ready and I go out with this guy and he's great? What then? What if he's another freak I have to shake off? What if we get married and have babies with oddly shaped heads???
No! I'm not going to flip out. He seems like a very nice man. I'm just going to go out with him, keep my eyes peeled for any signs of neurosis or mental illness and have a lovely time. And I might pat him down to check for weapons. And do a background check. And bring my own weapon.
I think it was Mel Brooks who said "When a man dies, it's not funny. When a man dies by falling down a manhole, that's hilarious."
Death is part of life and sometimes, you just have to laugh.
So for your pleasure and to secure my place in hell, I give you...
Extracts from the 'guest book' at Queen Elizabeth's (the Queen Mum) funeral
"Whichever way you look at it, it just is not as exciting as Diana". G.Williams, West Midlands.
"No matter how she felt, no matter the situation, she always wore a smile. Just like a retard" G. Hollins, East Sussex.
"It is such a loss, God has shit on our heads". K. O'Neil, Inverness.
"Her death should act as a warning to others who think it is cool to experiment with drugs". E. Franks, Cheshire.
"How refreshing to be able to mourn the death of a member of the Royal family without being accused of being homosexual". J. Fletcher, High Wycombe.
And my personal favorite! "She was a trooper and she never gave up. I remember one time she was visiting a school and I asked her if she would like to make a visit to the cloakroom before she left. 'No' she replied, 'I didn't give in to the Nazis and I won't give in to the bladder'. That's how she was, a fighter, who refused to be beaten by anything. She pissed herself later though,it was sickening". B. Forrester, North Yorkshire.
Those Brits are just funny. RIP Elizabeth. You were a tough old bird and you always had fabulous hats. Bravo!
The quotes were taken directly from www.findadeath.com. Not for the faint of heart at some times but always interesting and I just love Scott Michaels. Keep up the good work love!
I believe in the seemingly impossible. The things that go unseen. The things people might point and laugh at me for, which they have. I believe.
I'm sure there will be many more little blogs about this topic. I'm in love with the strange things in life. But with Halloween long gone and people focus shifting back to less spooky things, I tend to stay in that creepy frame of mind.
I have been fascinated by ghosts since I heard my first ghost story. Things under sheets fly
through the air, shouting "BOO!" and making you jump. As I grew older I read more and more on the subject. There were less 'sheet' ghosts, more apparitions, orbs, spirits walking/floating, talking or turning on lights. Like a thin sheet between worlds, some might glimpse something that shouldn't be there.
There are orbs, spirits, apparitions, EVPs, spiritcoms, "ghostcams"or EVP TVs, mist, plasma or
just a feeling. Some can be easily faked, others not so much. America began it's interest in the other side in the late 1900's, when it was seen by most more of a hobby, less of "communing with the devil". A few hundred years earlier, if you were caught having a seance or even speaking with a spiritualist that would be enough for a hanging. Heck, Mary Todd Lincoln was a huge fan of spitualism and would often spend her money on psychics and hold seances trying to contact her dead loved ones. (She buried her mother when she was seven years old, three of her four children, as well as her husband before she finally passed in 1880.)
We have all felt it. You walk into a space and you get a feeling. You can't prove a feeling but you
know you are feeling something not normal. People walk into places like Auschwitz, the Tower of London or maybe just normal building. I know touring a house my parents were going to buy I got an uneasy, sad feeling for seemingly no reason. On another tour, accompanied by a friend of the family (she called herself "sensitive to certain things"), she stopped on a spot near the office and stated that something wasn't right. Someone had tried to kill herself here. She said we needed to smuge (use sage to cleanse) the house before purchasing it. Good thing we listened. Our first week in the house, our contractor came in to replace the carpet with wood floor. When pulling up the carpet near the office, he called us up to look at the very large, dark stain on the base boards, under the carpet.
There are so many ghost stories out there, none of which can be proven. One after another of the security guards at Alcatraz claim to hear or see things; men screaming out or cell doors closing. Twenty eight men died on the rock, either from suicide (5), murder(8) or natural causes(15).
In 1995, Paul McCarney claimed that while recording with the other two remaining Beatles he felt the presences of John Lennon in the studio.
President Teddy Roosivelt said that he would often see Lincoln in different rooms of the White house.
Vincent Price was flying home in 1958 when he glanced up to look out the window. There he saw, lit up on a cloud like the batman signal, "Tyrone Power is dead". His plane landed and he recieved the news that his friend was indeed dead from a heart attack during a swashbuckling sword fight scene at 44 years old. (Strangly enough, Power held his father Tyrone Power Sr, while he lay dying of, what else, a heart attack when he was 17 years old.)
And then there was June of 2007. My brother had been gone for about two months. I was back at work and having a really bad day. I couldn't stop crying and looking at his pictures and writing him letters. I was a mess. The phone began to ring. I was going to let someone else get it but after the third ring I realized that everyone I worked for was a lazy douchenozzle and picked it up myself. The line was dead. I was about to hang up when I heard something on the other end. It was music. It played the whole song, a song about taking it slow, one day at a time and how everything was going to be okay. Then it hung up. And that was it. Just a little reminder. I know it was him.
I know there is something out there. I don't know what exactly; I don't pretend to know the inner workings of our universe. But I do know there is something out there. I believe.
But mostly, I believe because I must. People die. People I love. People I felt had more to do, who left too soon. People that had no justice or peace. This is why I must believe there is more after we leave. Laugh and call me weak minded. I don't mind. I believe.
Check out these links for me info http://www.alcatrazhistory.com http://www.yourghoststories.com http://www.findadeath.com
I respect you may believe differently. I'm hurting no one with my beliefs so if you're angry or want to argue, write someone else. This is something that cannot be changed in me so please don't try. And you should probably go read a different blog. Love and peace to you my friend.
I'm not ready yet but I wanted to just put it out there. I wanted to let you know the kind of man I want/need when the time comes and I'm ready to start dating again.
Physically Remarkable eyes Medium to full lips Nice skin Nice arms Slightly above average to excellent muscle tone (no gut please) Takes care of his physical being(exercises and no drugs!) Generally "handsome"
Personality Funny (this is a big one) Treats me as if I hung the moon Kind Finds joy in the little things Independent Fully capable Non-aggressive/non-violent Non-narcissistic Social, with good manners Confident but not cocky or 'charming'
Mentally Stable Healthy sexual ideals and practices Healthy relationships with his family and friends Generally positive outlook on life Excellent coping skills Decisive No addicts please
Everything else Financially smart and stable Makes more $ than me Appreciates and loves his family His parents are still married and happy Clean criminal record Has a car that runs, in good shape College degree BA or higher Has a career, not just a job Singe, never married, no kids Someone who is 'complete' without me No military Has his own place, ie not living in with his parents Oh, and if he could not be allergic to cats, that would be great.
I know it's a tall order but I'm worth it. Thanks so much and I really appreciate you and all you do.
Pixie
PS-Good job on last evening's sunset. It was awesome.
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