The dog park always leaves me feeling like a horribly unqualified dog owner. Maybe this is because my dog spends a good twenty minutes of each visit trying to hump the various other dogs that he is engaged in play with. I would not mind the humping if he allowed the other dogs a proper go, but he is highly hypocritical when his turn comes to be on the receiving end.
I spent our time there shouting things at him that made the other dog owners giggle behind my back. "Do you not understand that I am leading by example?" I asked. "I do not hump the other dogs in this park, so you should not hump them either!" I threw a tennis ball in an effort to distract him and, thankfully, it worked. "I do not know what I should do," I confessed to one of the other owners. "He seems to have found something he is good at and is sticking with it. I just don't know that it is the kind of hobby I can lend my support to."
The dog happily returned with the ball in his mouth and dropped it at my feet. Unfortunately, before I could even bend down to pick it up, he was at it again. The brindle boxer, whom my dog was so enthusiastically showing his moves to, stood their proudly, seemingly oblivious to the attention my dog was lavishing upon his back end. "Dog," I pled. "Please!"
"Do not worry," the boxer's owner reassured me, patting my shoulder. "Chev is just too slow. It is really his own fault."
While I appreciate her concern for me, I cannot see how what she says could possibly be the truth. Whenever I have been subjected to unwanted/unwarranted humping, never have I thought "If only I had been faster!"
2/24/2007
2/20/2007
but i don't think it bothers me
He acts like a baby when he is sick. This is probably why it baffles me that his whiny voice actually triggers my heart to melt just a little.
"I do not know why I am still sick," he tells me. "I have been doing everything right." It takes several minutes before I am able to get him to confess to washing his cold medication down with beer.
"What did you expect?" I sigh. "You are supposed to be drinking lots of fluids."
"But beer is a fluid," he argues.
"Water. You are supposed to be drinking lots of water." His forehead is warm and, despite the sweat that is soaking his sheets, he is shivering.
"I think I am dying," He groans.
"You are not dying," I assure him, running my hand across his back in slow circles. "You are just an idiot. I am going to get you a glass of water."
I shake my head at the disarray of his apartment. It is clear that four other males cohabit the space. As I walk back into his room, I catch sight of the panicked face he is making. Oh, god. There is going to be vomit. He vaults out of the bed and pushes his way past me. The sounds of his retching lets me know that he has made it to the bathroom in time. I take a minute to mentally prepare myself before I join him in an attempt to offer up a little bit of comfort.
There is what appears to be a clean washcloth sitting next to the bathroom sink and I quickly grab it, running it under the cold water before I crouch down next to him and wipe it tenderly across his forehead. "I am going to run you a bath," I tell him. "It is going to feel cold, but that is only because you have a fever." His head is resting against the porcelain of toilet, a brave move in a dwelling where the inhabitants rarely look before they aim, but I think I see him nod.
The bathtub is surprisingly clean and barely requires a wipe down before I start to fill it. His head is now resting on his forearm, on the edge of the toilet, and his eyes are closed. If I didn't know better, I would say he looked peaceful. As the tub finishes filling, I rub his head and tell him that I need him to take off his pants.
"You have been waiting years to say that," he accuses, as he rises to his feet.
"You caught me. I have spent the last seven years just waiting to catch you feverish, wreaking of vomit and completely helpless. Do you need my help, or can you get into the tub on your own?"
He smiles down at me and, without warning, pulls his pajama bottoms down around his ankles. "I better not catch you looking," he warns, stepping into the tub. "My virtue is at stake."
As he lowers himself down, I toss the washcloth at his head. "Cover your virtue with that," I instruct him and I exit the bathroom, in search of a clean towel, before he can respond.
It is another hour before I leave. Rubbing his stomach and tucking him into bed, I lean over his head and reach for the extra pillow that is scrunched up in between his mattress and the wall. "I just saw all the way down your shirt," he giggles.
"Wonderful," I sigh, deciding that he no longer needs an extra pillow. "Call me tomorrow morning so that I know you have not perished during the night." And with that, I leave him.
Sometimes I feel like I've entered into a sexless marriage that I didn't entirely agree to.
"I do not know why I am still sick," he tells me. "I have been doing everything right." It takes several minutes before I am able to get him to confess to washing his cold medication down with beer.
"What did you expect?" I sigh. "You are supposed to be drinking lots of fluids."
"But beer is a fluid," he argues.
"Water. You are supposed to be drinking lots of water." His forehead is warm and, despite the sweat that is soaking his sheets, he is shivering.
"I think I am dying," He groans.
"You are not dying," I assure him, running my hand across his back in slow circles. "You are just an idiot. I am going to get you a glass of water."
I shake my head at the disarray of his apartment. It is clear that four other males cohabit the space. As I walk back into his room, I catch sight of the panicked face he is making. Oh, god. There is going to be vomit. He vaults out of the bed and pushes his way past me. The sounds of his retching lets me know that he has made it to the bathroom in time. I take a minute to mentally prepare myself before I join him in an attempt to offer up a little bit of comfort.
There is what appears to be a clean washcloth sitting next to the bathroom sink and I quickly grab it, running it under the cold water before I crouch down next to him and wipe it tenderly across his forehead. "I am going to run you a bath," I tell him. "It is going to feel cold, but that is only because you have a fever." His head is resting against the porcelain of toilet, a brave move in a dwelling where the inhabitants rarely look before they aim, but I think I see him nod.
The bathtub is surprisingly clean and barely requires a wipe down before I start to fill it. His head is now resting on his forearm, on the edge of the toilet, and his eyes are closed. If I didn't know better, I would say he looked peaceful. As the tub finishes filling, I rub his head and tell him that I need him to take off his pants.
"You have been waiting years to say that," he accuses, as he rises to his feet.
"You caught me. I have spent the last seven years just waiting to catch you feverish, wreaking of vomit and completely helpless. Do you need my help, or can you get into the tub on your own?"
He smiles down at me and, without warning, pulls his pajama bottoms down around his ankles. "I better not catch you looking," he warns, stepping into the tub. "My virtue is at stake."
As he lowers himself down, I toss the washcloth at his head. "Cover your virtue with that," I instruct him and I exit the bathroom, in search of a clean towel, before he can respond.
It is another hour before I leave. Rubbing his stomach and tucking him into bed, I lean over his head and reach for the extra pillow that is scrunched up in between his mattress and the wall. "I just saw all the way down your shirt," he giggles.
"Wonderful," I sigh, deciding that he no longer needs an extra pillow. "Call me tomorrow morning so that I know you have not perished during the night." And with that, I leave him.
Sometimes I feel like I've entered into a sexless marriage that I didn't entirely agree to.
2/17/2007
pages from my journal
The following are a collection of entries from the journal I have sporadically kept over the years. The sentences appealed to me and may or may not have been taken entirely out of context in their transition from paper to interweb:
I jumped into the pool, fully clothed. It was cold.
1/16/04
Is it bad that I cannot remember his name or what he looked like?
7/02/04
There is something beautiful about the highway at night. Well, at least after you've been smoking pot there is.
12/16/04
If my life were a song, I think it would be something by ABBA. A melody that is chipper and up-beat with lyrics that are surprisingly somber. My life is the music of a 1970s Swedish pop group.
4/28/05
It reminds me of the time, when I was four, that I burnt a hole in my sisters winter coat with a sparkler. Did I want to set her on fire? I am not entirely sure.
12/30/05
note to self: telling strangers about situations that may cause you to lose control of your bowels is not a good way to break the ice.
6/19/06
I miss you most on cold nights. Who will keep my feet warm now?
2/10/07
I jumped into the pool, fully clothed. It was cold.
1/16/04
Is it bad that I cannot remember his name or what he looked like?
7/02/04
There is something beautiful about the highway at night. Well, at least after you've been smoking pot there is.
12/16/04
If my life were a song, I think it would be something by ABBA. A melody that is chipper and up-beat with lyrics that are surprisingly somber. My life is the music of a 1970s Swedish pop group.
4/28/05
It reminds me of the time, when I was four, that I burnt a hole in my sisters winter coat with a sparkler. Did I want to set her on fire? I am not entirely sure.
12/30/05
note to self: telling strangers about situations that may cause you to lose control of your bowels is not a good way to break the ice.
6/19/06
I miss you most on cold nights. Who will keep my feet warm now?
2/10/07
2/07/2007
Almosts
My cat has spent the past fifteen minutes staring at a nondescript spot on the wall. Every few seconds, he cocks his head to the side, as if to further examine the spot at which he stares so intently, and proceeds to swat at it. When swatting has failed, he moves on to scratching. I wish he'd find himself a better hobby.
- 2/5/07
The moon was full and bright in the night's sky, illuminating the dog sitting calmly on the steps. I stood just inside the door, keeping watch over my charge, in awe of the moonlight's beauty. Snow is always at its most beautiful at night.
- 1/31/07
I used to get called to the vice-principals office weekly in high school. "You miss so much school," he would tell me. "Do you know that, on average, students' grades drop 1% for each day they are absent?"
"Clearly this is not true," I laughed. "That would mean that my average would be well above 100%."
"That is the thing," he whined. "You are defying these statistics. Imagine what your marks would be if you stopped missing so much school."
I merely shrugged in response. I have never cared what my marks could be. I merely focus on what they are and how much effort I have to put in to get them where I want them to be.
My high school biology teacher once told me, "You may be able to miss school like this now, but you'll never be able to keep this up in university." I think I have subconsciously made it my mission to prove her wrong.
- 1/24/07
When you receive an e-mail from a close friend that reads as follows:
Yo, are you dead? Where are you? I have called your house so many times I could be qualified a stalker. Don't make me break in there through a window.
Call me.
It makes you realize that you might have been more than slightly neglecting your social duties.
- 1/20/07
Last week I broke the cardinal rule when using a public washroom: I took a dump. Upon entering the washroom, I did a thorough search to ensure that I was alone before proceeding to a stall that was far away from the door. After carefully covering the toilet seat with one-ply, toilet paper that rivaled sand paper, I took a seat and began to move my bowels in ways that should never occur in public.
Upon exiting the stall to wash my hands, I realized that, at some point in time during my bowel movement, someone had joined me in the bathroom. With all my straining and gas, I had lost my ability to multi-task and keep an ear out for the door. Naturally, I washed my hands and took off out of the bathroom at light speed.
- 1/15/07
- 2/5/07
The moon was full and bright in the night's sky, illuminating the dog sitting calmly on the steps. I stood just inside the door, keeping watch over my charge, in awe of the moonlight's beauty. Snow is always at its most beautiful at night.
- 1/31/07
I used to get called to the vice-principals office weekly in high school. "You miss so much school," he would tell me. "Do you know that, on average, students' grades drop 1% for each day they are absent?"
"Clearly this is not true," I laughed. "That would mean that my average would be well above 100%."
"That is the thing," he whined. "You are defying these statistics. Imagine what your marks would be if you stopped missing so much school."
I merely shrugged in response. I have never cared what my marks could be. I merely focus on what they are and how much effort I have to put in to get them where I want them to be.
My high school biology teacher once told me, "You may be able to miss school like this now, but you'll never be able to keep this up in university." I think I have subconsciously made it my mission to prove her wrong.
- 1/24/07
When you receive an e-mail from a close friend that reads as follows:
Yo, are you dead? Where are you? I have called your house so many times I could be qualified a stalker. Don't make me break in there through a window.
Call me.
It makes you realize that you might have been more than slightly neglecting your social duties.
- 1/20/07
Last week I broke the cardinal rule when using a public washroom: I took a dump. Upon entering the washroom, I did a thorough search to ensure that I was alone before proceeding to a stall that was far away from the door. After carefully covering the toilet seat with one-ply, toilet paper that rivaled sand paper, I took a seat and began to move my bowels in ways that should never occur in public.
Upon exiting the stall to wash my hands, I realized that, at some point in time during my bowel movement, someone had joined me in the bathroom. With all my straining and gas, I had lost my ability to multi-task and keep an ear out for the door. Naturally, I washed my hands and took off out of the bathroom at light speed.
- 1/15/07
1/22/2007
Animal Cruelty
"It is like killing one bird with two stones," she tells me.
"Wait. Two stones? Why would you use two stones? Are you really that mean?"
"What? Wait, no."
"I mean, the first stone would likely be fatal, so what is the second one for? I think a second stone would just be overkill. You are cruel," I told her.
"But, that's not what I meant!" She cried, "I meant to say 'kill two birds with one stone.'"
"Oh, I see. So now you want to take out a whole family of birds. You are sick. What next? Babies?"
"Wait. Two stones? Why would you use two stones? Are you really that mean?"
"What? Wait, no."
"I mean, the first stone would likely be fatal, so what is the second one for? I think a second stone would just be overkill. You are cruel," I told her.
"But, that's not what I meant!" She cried, "I meant to say 'kill two birds with one stone.'"
"Oh, I see. So now you want to take out a whole family of birds. You are sick. What next? Babies?"
12/23/2006
Grab Bag
"I've been having unprotected sex with many strangers as of late" I told him. "I am trying to catch a variety of diseases, as well as accumulate a large pool of potential baby daddies. Not that I would choose to become pregnant by any of them, but so that when I mistakenly do my story will be much more attractive for Jerry Springer or Maury Povich."
- 08/11/06
The cigarette produced a scattering of orange embers as it hit the road. There was something beautifully frightening about the whole thing.
- 28/11/06
At first, I was glad to have my sister back in the country. I'd missed her, sort of, and I'd stopped having those nightmares in which she was eaten by angry camels. Soon after I returned to my parents house, I realized that my sister had left something behind when she returned from Africa. That something was her ability to flush a toilet. I'd initially thought she was just trying to conserve water. I applauded her effort, even though I was more than a little grossed out when the bathroom started to smell like urine. I decided that I would let it slide. After all, it would not kill me to flush the toilet upon entering the bathroom. The next day, however, my sister broke the cardinal rule of water conservation in a shared bathroom. That rule, obviously, being the strictly upheld "If it's brown, flush it down."
- 15/12/06
"I hate guys who are just attracted to me because I am Asian" she told me one night. "It is like they have Asian fever. They think Asian women treat them better and are more submissive." The thought made me laugh. "Submissive" is a word that would never cross my mind in association with her name.
A few weeks later, when my parents' puppy was jumping up excitedly in an effort to lick her, I would tell her that she is the first Asian person he has ever seen. "I think he might have Asian fever" I confessed.
- 17/12/06
"We are having a party" I declared as I burst through the front door. I have found, through experience, that it is better to make bold statements rather than ask permission. "We will celebrate the baby Jesus and I will get tanked in front of close family friends and people that you go to church with." Parents love it when you do that kind of stuff. I anticipated a poor turnout and because of that I made sure we invited a shit load of people. When they all showed up, I was both confused and elated. Did you know that people will bring you presents, even if you do not ask for them, when you throw a Christmas party?
- 22/12/06
- 08/11/06
The cigarette produced a scattering of orange embers as it hit the road. There was something beautifully frightening about the whole thing.
- 28/11/06
At first, I was glad to have my sister back in the country. I'd missed her, sort of, and I'd stopped having those nightmares in which she was eaten by angry camels. Soon after I returned to my parents house, I realized that my sister had left something behind when she returned from Africa. That something was her ability to flush a toilet. I'd initially thought she was just trying to conserve water. I applauded her effort, even though I was more than a little grossed out when the bathroom started to smell like urine. I decided that I would let it slide. After all, it would not kill me to flush the toilet upon entering the bathroom. The next day, however, my sister broke the cardinal rule of water conservation in a shared bathroom. That rule, obviously, being the strictly upheld "If it's brown, flush it down."
- 15/12/06
"I hate guys who are just attracted to me because I am Asian" she told me one night. "It is like they have Asian fever. They think Asian women treat them better and are more submissive." The thought made me laugh. "Submissive" is a word that would never cross my mind in association with her name.
A few weeks later, when my parents' puppy was jumping up excitedly in an effort to lick her, I would tell her that she is the first Asian person he has ever seen. "I think he might have Asian fever" I confessed.
- 17/12/06
"We are having a party" I declared as I burst through the front door. I have found, through experience, that it is better to make bold statements rather than ask permission. "We will celebrate the baby Jesus and I will get tanked in front of close family friends and people that you go to church with." Parents love it when you do that kind of stuff. I anticipated a poor turnout and because of that I made sure we invited a shit load of people. When they all showed up, I was both confused and elated. Did you know that people will bring you presents, even if you do not ask for them, when you throw a Christmas party?
- 22/12/06
12/17/2006
Jesus was a sailor
I do not remember my first kiss.
I realized this as I sat in the car next to my friend Nina and listened to her talk about the loss of innocence that comes with aging. "Remember when it wasn't about sex? When there was no pressure? Everything was so much more exciting then. Everything was so much more intense,” she said.
Of course, she was right. Nina is always right.
I tried to remember a time when things were that innocent, and, while I can come up with a few instances now, at the time I could not think of one.
Is it wrong to want to return to that time? Just the idea of holding hands was enough to make your heart pound inside of your chest and threaten to explode. I cannot seem to remember a kiss that was not laced with an ulterior motive. A way to get from point A to point B.
Cosmo told me that if you do not sleep with a guy by the third date he will start to lose interest. While I have never considered Cosmo to be the authority on anything, it terrifies me that this could be true.
I realized this as I sat in the car next to my friend Nina and listened to her talk about the loss of innocence that comes with aging. "Remember when it wasn't about sex? When there was no pressure? Everything was so much more exciting then. Everything was so much more intense,” she said.
Of course, she was right. Nina is always right.
I tried to remember a time when things were that innocent, and, while I can come up with a few instances now, at the time I could not think of one.
Is it wrong to want to return to that time? Just the idea of holding hands was enough to make your heart pound inside of your chest and threaten to explode. I cannot seem to remember a kiss that was not laced with an ulterior motive. A way to get from point A to point B.
Cosmo told me that if you do not sleep with a guy by the third date he will start to lose interest. While I have never considered Cosmo to be the authority on anything, it terrifies me that this could be true.
12/12/2006
Robot Santas and Dildos
The house on Spruce St. is shining like a beacon in the dark. We cannot help but float closer and closer to it. The rumour is that it is lit each year as a tribute to their deceased son, but I have never heard an official story. Their neighbours don't even try to decorate their houses anymore. It seems fitting, somehow, that all the other houses lay in darkness.
People flock around the house, taking pictures of overjoyed children, filled with wonder. A robotic Santa sings songs filled with voyeurism and threats. The children, oblivious, continue to clap their hands in amazement as they dance around him. Hard as I try, there is no disguising my fear of androids. My eyes never leave robot Santa; If he tries something, I will be ready for that robot freak.
Later on, we are walking next to the lake talking about everything and nothing. "It counts if there is oral sex or if someone gets fucked with a dildo,” she says, giving her answer to a question I posed months ago.
"I just always wondered if there was a definite moment when it could no longer be considered fooling around anymore. With heterosexual sex it is pretty well defined. It is fooling around up until the point penetration occurs, but with lesbians there is not necessarily penetration. Could a lesbian, after mistakenly spending the night with a gross looking girl, say 'thank god we only fooled around’, or is there a distinct line for lesbian sex too?"
People flock around the house, taking pictures of overjoyed children, filled with wonder. A robotic Santa sings songs filled with voyeurism and threats. The children, oblivious, continue to clap their hands in amazement as they dance around him. Hard as I try, there is no disguising my fear of androids. My eyes never leave robot Santa; If he tries something, I will be ready for that robot freak.
Later on, we are walking next to the lake talking about everything and nothing. "It counts if there is oral sex or if someone gets fucked with a dildo,” she says, giving her answer to a question I posed months ago.
"I just always wondered if there was a definite moment when it could no longer be considered fooling around anymore. With heterosexual sex it is pretty well defined. It is fooling around up until the point penetration occurs, but with lesbians there is not necessarily penetration. Could a lesbian, after mistakenly spending the night with a gross looking girl, say 'thank god we only fooled around’, or is there a distinct line for lesbian sex too?"
12/05/2006
And I don't even know his name
"Which of these binders is cooler?" He asked me, holding up two elegant looking binders, one in either hand. I studied them both for a minute. One was pure black, with the college insignia on it's upper left corner, while the other had an aged, red leather feel to it.
"It's hard to say," I told him honestly. "They are both very nice."
He nodded his agreement, "I know, it's so hard to choose. Wait, what about this one?" He asked, grabbing another binder out from the shelf. Truth be told, it looked like a cheaper version of the first one, and none of them were spectacular.
"No," I told him, "the red one. The red one is cooler." He slowly put back the cast-offs and then turned around and smiled at me. It was a winning smile. It was the kind of smile that made my heart beat just a little faster and caused the butterflies located in my stomach to start flapping their wings.
"Thank you for your help," he said shyly. "I could never have done it without you."
We both stood there for a minute, smiling at one another, before finally continuing on with our tasks for the day.
Three minutes in the campus shop and I was smitten.
I found it hard to concentrate on my midterm a half hour later. I kept wondering what kind of odds I had at running into him again. I promised myself then and there that I would start spending more time at the school once the new semester began.
"It's hard to say," I told him honestly. "They are both very nice."
He nodded his agreement, "I know, it's so hard to choose. Wait, what about this one?" He asked, grabbing another binder out from the shelf. Truth be told, it looked like a cheaper version of the first one, and none of them were spectacular.
"No," I told him, "the red one. The red one is cooler." He slowly put back the cast-offs and then turned around and smiled at me. It was a winning smile. It was the kind of smile that made my heart beat just a little faster and caused the butterflies located in my stomach to start flapping their wings.
"Thank you for your help," he said shyly. "I could never have done it without you."
We both stood there for a minute, smiling at one another, before finally continuing on with our tasks for the day.
Three minutes in the campus shop and I was smitten.
I found it hard to concentrate on my midterm a half hour later. I kept wondering what kind of odds I had at running into him again. I promised myself then and there that I would start spending more time at the school once the new semester began.
11/25/2006
Now, if he would only stop peeing in the sink
The President always has to be the center of attention. Forget that today is my birthday; there is no occasion when it is acceptable that someone else receive more attention than the President. If, for some unknown reason, someone does start to upstage the President, he steps it up a level.
His newest trick: peeing blood.
2 AM, I stroll in my front door and make my way to my bathroom to shower off a long night of pre-birthday celebration. It is only after I have taken my glasses off, and placed them on the bathroom countertop, that I notice the pools of yellow, with red swirls in the middle, resting at the bottom of my sink. The President had been urinating in the sink (and took a dump in the bathtub), but I had assumed it was because I was slacking on my cat box cleaning duties (which I am fairly confident the dump in the bathtub was about). It now looked as though the President had been urinating in the sink due to the relief the cold porcelain provided him as he did his thing.
The next five hours saw me calling every vet listed in the phonebook, before finally deciding that my city was useless and the best plan of action was to drive to my parents’ house so that El Presidente could see his regular vet.
Long story short, after examining a urine sample from my cat (the collection of which is easier said than done), the vet determined that he merely had an infection. An infection that, due to my speedy detection, merely requires two pills a day and should be gone after a week.
It may sound incredibly lame, but the best present I got for my birthday was the news that my cat was going to be fine. The flowers I got were a close second though.
His newest trick: peeing blood.
2 AM, I stroll in my front door and make my way to my bathroom to shower off a long night of pre-birthday celebration. It is only after I have taken my glasses off, and placed them on the bathroom countertop, that I notice the pools of yellow, with red swirls in the middle, resting at the bottom of my sink. The President had been urinating in the sink (and took a dump in the bathtub), but I had assumed it was because I was slacking on my cat box cleaning duties (which I am fairly confident the dump in the bathtub was about). It now looked as though the President had been urinating in the sink due to the relief the cold porcelain provided him as he did his thing.
The next five hours saw me calling every vet listed in the phonebook, before finally deciding that my city was useless and the best plan of action was to drive to my parents’ house so that El Presidente could see his regular vet.
Long story short, after examining a urine sample from my cat (the collection of which is easier said than done), the vet determined that he merely had an infection. An infection that, due to my speedy detection, merely requires two pills a day and should be gone after a week.
It may sound incredibly lame, but the best present I got for my birthday was the news that my cat was going to be fine. The flowers I got were a close second though.
11/19/2006
Sunday Confessional
Revenge, I have learned, is far from sweet. It is bitter and saggy, and looks a lot like a shocked, naked eighty-five-year-old woman. As I stood there, on my roof, I wondered if this is how she felt every time she had looked out her kitchen window only to see my naked, white ass.
- 11/18/06
Sometimes, I truly feel that I was born to hold signs high above my head, or maybe just directly in front of me, for a living.
- 11/17/06
Later, I would realize that frantic, rough sex with a relative stranger does not make your problems disappear. Instead, it causes your period to come five days early and leaves you walking like a bow-legged cowboy for the better part of a day. The thing about one night stands is that I inevitably find myself, at the end of the night, sitting on a foreign toilet, head in my hands, wondering what the fuck I was thinking in the first place and hoping that I have enough money left in my wallet to call a cab.
- 11/14/06
As I was re-enacting a scene from Flashdance (forgetting for a moment that I have never actually seen Flashdance), naked, in my bathroom mirror, I glanced towards the window and saw my elderly neighbour staring at me with her mouth agape. I stopped for a minute, panting slightly, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, finally, I thought "fuck it. she should be used to this by now." and continued on my adventure as a lonely steel worker whose dream it is to dance.
- 11/13/06
I am chasing the dog around the house, with a straw stuck up either nostril, when the doorbell rings. I pause, briefly, to consider who it might be. I am generally so content being a hermit that I sometimes forget I have friends.
- 11/11/06
"But why would someone name a secret crime organization 'the Foot'? It does not sound the least bit intimidating." I whined.
"You are just complaining because you dislike feet in general. Be quiet and watch the movie." She told me sternly.
And she was right, I do dislike feet in general.
- 11/09/06
No matter what any one else may tell you, the grapevine is an acceptable move to bust out at the bar.
- 11/04/06
- 11/18/06
Sometimes, I truly feel that I was born to hold signs high above my head, or maybe just directly in front of me, for a living.
- 11/17/06
Later, I would realize that frantic, rough sex with a relative stranger does not make your problems disappear. Instead, it causes your period to come five days early and leaves you walking like a bow-legged cowboy for the better part of a day. The thing about one night stands is that I inevitably find myself, at the end of the night, sitting on a foreign toilet, head in my hands, wondering what the fuck I was thinking in the first place and hoping that I have enough money left in my wallet to call a cab.
- 11/14/06
As I was re-enacting a scene from Flashdance (forgetting for a moment that I have never actually seen Flashdance), naked, in my bathroom mirror, I glanced towards the window and saw my elderly neighbour staring at me with her mouth agape. I stopped for a minute, panting slightly, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, finally, I thought "fuck it. she should be used to this by now." and continued on my adventure as a lonely steel worker whose dream it is to dance.
- 11/13/06
I am chasing the dog around the house, with a straw stuck up either nostril, when the doorbell rings. I pause, briefly, to consider who it might be. I am generally so content being a hermit that I sometimes forget I have friends.
- 11/11/06
"But why would someone name a secret crime organization 'the Foot'? It does not sound the least bit intimidating." I whined.
"You are just complaining because you dislike feet in general. Be quiet and watch the movie." She told me sternly.
And she was right, I do dislike feet in general.
- 11/09/06
No matter what any one else may tell you, the grapevine is an acceptable move to bust out at the bar.
- 11/04/06
11/14/2006
Monday Night Phone Conversation
"I am considering naming one of my children after a sexually transmitted disease. What do you think?"
"Megan. You cannot do that. You cannot even joke about that."
"Why not? I am thinking Gonorrhea. It has character. It is a strong name."
"You cannot name your child Gonorrhea. That is not even a pretty sounding STD."
"Well, I can't very well name a child "the clap" now, can I? What about Syphilis?"
"That could work. You could call it Philis for short."
"And its middle name will be Viral Herpes. Philis Vi, we will call it."
"That does not sound like such a terrible name, although she will still grow up hating you."
"Who said it was going to be a girl?"
"I just assumed. I mean - wow. A boy? Really? That poor child. What will you do if he ever asks you why you chose to name him that?"
"That is easy. I will just sit him down and say 'well, son, you weren't the only surprise mommy got that night.'"
"Megan. You cannot do that. You cannot even joke about that."
"Why not? I am thinking Gonorrhea. It has character. It is a strong name."
"You cannot name your child Gonorrhea. That is not even a pretty sounding STD."
"Well, I can't very well name a child "the clap" now, can I? What about Syphilis?"
"That could work. You could call it Philis for short."
"And its middle name will be Viral Herpes. Philis Vi, we will call it."
"That does not sound like such a terrible name, although she will still grow up hating you."
"Who said it was going to be a girl?"
"I just assumed. I mean - wow. A boy? Really? That poor child. What will you do if he ever asks you why you chose to name him that?"
"That is easy. I will just sit him down and say 'well, son, you weren't the only surprise mommy got that night.'"
11/13/2006
Memories
- A trailer somewhere in Florida. We were outside, playing on the front step, trying to catch lizards as they hurried by. Finally, my father, plastic cup in hand, captured one for us. My sister picked up the cup, slowly, and peered at the lizard hidden beneath it. It was scared, too scared to contemplate escape. My sister, oblivious to the creature’s terror, slowly took hold of its tail and lifted it closer to her face for further inspection. She sat there, staring at it, for several seconds. And then the lizard dropped its tail and made its escape. Still holding the discarded tail, and screaming at the top of her lungs, my sister learned that there are better places to hold a lizard than by the tail.
- In the middle of the night, on a hill that overlooked the entire city. We had diet Pepsi and fireworks. Several cars were parked behind us, filled with lovers and stoners, as we celebrated our country. We shook the pop cans and then opened them, releasing a sticky deluge upon us. The flashing blue and red lights alerted us to the presence of a patrol car. A uniform-clad officer slowly stepped out; his face gave no indication as to what his intentions were. Was it illegal to set off fireworks, unauthorized, on public property? Probably, but the officer only wanted to know if alcohol had been thrown into the mix. We assured him it had not, and, with a smile, he got back into his car and drove off into the night. We all burst into laughter, and then continuing on with our pyrotechnic display.
- On a bed, in a dark room, I laid and watched him. I'd always thought it slightly creepy to watch someone as they slept, but I was beginning to understand the appeal. He looked so innocent, his face relaxed in slumber. I took my finger and ran it slowly over the hair of his eyebrow. I remember thinking that I would be very sad when this all ended.
- Panic. I ran across the dam, frantically looking over each side. I saw him there, twenty feet below, sitting in a puddle. He was crying, but looked to be unhurt. It took me seconds to get to him. "Are you okay?" I asked, as I ran my hands over his head, arms and legs, checking for damage. I couldn't understand his response through his hitching sobs. I scooped him up into my arms and carried him back up the hill to my grandparents' waiting van. My grandfather looked helpless. He'd been too slow and too stiff to make it down the hill before I did. "He is okay." I told him, as I loaded my brother into the van.
Later on, we would laugh about this.
- In the middle of the night, on a hill that overlooked the entire city. We had diet Pepsi and fireworks. Several cars were parked behind us, filled with lovers and stoners, as we celebrated our country. We shook the pop cans and then opened them, releasing a sticky deluge upon us. The flashing blue and red lights alerted us to the presence of a patrol car. A uniform-clad officer slowly stepped out; his face gave no indication as to what his intentions were. Was it illegal to set off fireworks, unauthorized, on public property? Probably, but the officer only wanted to know if alcohol had been thrown into the mix. We assured him it had not, and, with a smile, he got back into his car and drove off into the night. We all burst into laughter, and then continuing on with our pyrotechnic display.
- On a bed, in a dark room, I laid and watched him. I'd always thought it slightly creepy to watch someone as they slept, but I was beginning to understand the appeal. He looked so innocent, his face relaxed in slumber. I took my finger and ran it slowly over the hair of his eyebrow. I remember thinking that I would be very sad when this all ended.
- Panic. I ran across the dam, frantically looking over each side. I saw him there, twenty feet below, sitting in a puddle. He was crying, but looked to be unhurt. It took me seconds to get to him. "Are you okay?" I asked, as I ran my hands over his head, arms and legs, checking for damage. I couldn't understand his response through his hitching sobs. I scooped him up into my arms and carried him back up the hill to my grandparents' waiting van. My grandfather looked helpless. He'd been too slow and too stiff to make it down the hill before I did. "He is okay." I told him, as I loaded my brother into the van.
Later on, we would laugh about this.
11/02/2006
Unfinished Thoughts
"I miss you." his voice echos through the phone. I nod for several seconds before realizing how ridiculous an action it is.
"I miss you, too." I whisper.
"You do?" He asks, sounding almost shocked. "You mean you haven't found another guy to take my place yet?"
His words sound harsh. Did he mean for them to? I decide to ignore his tone.
"Of course not. I am not looking for anyone to take your place." I tell him. "The position is already full." But what that position entails is questionable, to say the least.
A barely audible "I'm sorry" is his response. The funny thing is that he does not sound sorry at all. He wanted to upset me. I guess I should have been expecting this. "I'm not sure how to talk to you anymore." He confesses after several minutes.
I am taken aback by this. Shocked into silence, though I probably shouldn't be. "I'm still me." I tell him. "It's still just me."
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. It is incredibly saddening to think that the loss of a physical relationship is leading to the loss of an emotional one.
"How am I supposed to react to you? What kind of things am I supposed to tell you now? Where do I stop myself?" He says all at once. "All I think about is how I'm not supposed touch you or kiss you anymore."
And now it is me who does not know what to say to him.
- 10/18/06 5:06 AM
All I can think about is chocolate. Sweet, sweet chocolate. Chocolate cake. Chocolate mousse. Hot chocolate. I am not going to be picky about what kind of chocolate. All I know is that I am probably going to die in the next five minutes due to lack of chocolate.
- 10/19/06 1:37 AM
Last week, I ran out of food around the same time I ran out of motivation to do anything. All that was left, between my fridge and my freezer, was some daiquiri mix, an egg, and a container of margarine. I didn't want to eat the egg because it had been in there since the summer and the tub of margarine was obviously out of question as a meal, so I did what I had to do. I made daiquiris. One thing I learned: The more daiquiris you have, the less hungry you get.
- 10/23/06 1:53 PM
Each time I drive in my car, my turns are emphasized by the crashing of weights in the back. A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful idea to start doing exercises that involved lifting a small amount of weight by way of barbell. Shortly after this idea, I drove out to a fitness store and purchased a barbell set so that I could put my plan into action. I know what you are thinking.. You're thinking that the weights have just sat in my car the entire time since I bought them, but that is just not true. They have sat in my car ALMOST the entire time since I bought them. Briefly, I took them out of my car when I was at my parents house and used them roughly five times before it was time to pack them back into my car and head home. And, even though I have been home for almost two weeks, that is where they have stayed ever since. Each day, I back my car into my driveway on the off chance that I might be inclined to take them out, but each day I find another reason to leave them there. After all, they are heavy. You are supposed to work up to that kind of weight, right? And it would be ridiculous just to bring in each weight individually, not to mention time consuming.
- 10/24/06 5:39 PM
Sex in the woods is not as hot as some might think it is. It is full of mosquito bites and unidentifiable decaying organic material in your hair. There is dirt, and there are bugs. There's poison ivy, not to mention slugs. There are sticks and rocks, and pieces of glass. And, if you're not careful, things get wedged in places that they were never intended to go.
There are also animals.
Raccoons. Deer. Snakes. Coyotes. Skunks. Squirrels. Possums. Porcupines. Beavers. Moose. Bears. Dinosaurs.
- 10/28/06 2:18 PM
It doesn't matter what you've seen in the movies, fire departments do not get cats down from dangerously high places. Instead of helping, they will refer you to the Humane Society. What they will fail to tell you is that the Humane Society closes at 6 pm, so you are pretty much shit out of luck.
- 10/31/06 5:49 AM
"I miss you, too." I whisper.
"You do?" He asks, sounding almost shocked. "You mean you haven't found another guy to take my place yet?"
His words sound harsh. Did he mean for them to? I decide to ignore his tone.
"Of course not. I am not looking for anyone to take your place." I tell him. "The position is already full." But what that position entails is questionable, to say the least.
A barely audible "I'm sorry" is his response. The funny thing is that he does not sound sorry at all. He wanted to upset me. I guess I should have been expecting this. "I'm not sure how to talk to you anymore." He confesses after several minutes.
I am taken aback by this. Shocked into silence, though I probably shouldn't be. "I'm still me." I tell him. "It's still just me."
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. It is incredibly saddening to think that the loss of a physical relationship is leading to the loss of an emotional one.
"How am I supposed to react to you? What kind of things am I supposed to tell you now? Where do I stop myself?" He says all at once. "All I think about is how I'm not supposed touch you or kiss you anymore."
And now it is me who does not know what to say to him.
- 10/18/06 5:06 AM
All I can think about is chocolate. Sweet, sweet chocolate. Chocolate cake. Chocolate mousse. Hot chocolate. I am not going to be picky about what kind of chocolate. All I know is that I am probably going to die in the next five minutes due to lack of chocolate.
- 10/19/06 1:37 AM
Last week, I ran out of food around the same time I ran out of motivation to do anything. All that was left, between my fridge and my freezer, was some daiquiri mix, an egg, and a container of margarine. I didn't want to eat the egg because it had been in there since the summer and the tub of margarine was obviously out of question as a meal, so I did what I had to do. I made daiquiris. One thing I learned: The more daiquiris you have, the less hungry you get.
- 10/23/06 1:53 PM
Each time I drive in my car, my turns are emphasized by the crashing of weights in the back. A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful idea to start doing exercises that involved lifting a small amount of weight by way of barbell. Shortly after this idea, I drove out to a fitness store and purchased a barbell set so that I could put my plan into action. I know what you are thinking.. You're thinking that the weights have just sat in my car the entire time since I bought them, but that is just not true. They have sat in my car ALMOST the entire time since I bought them. Briefly, I took them out of my car when I was at my parents house and used them roughly five times before it was time to pack them back into my car and head home. And, even though I have been home for almost two weeks, that is where they have stayed ever since. Each day, I back my car into my driveway on the off chance that I might be inclined to take them out, but each day I find another reason to leave them there. After all, they are heavy. You are supposed to work up to that kind of weight, right? And it would be ridiculous just to bring in each weight individually, not to mention time consuming.
- 10/24/06 5:39 PM
Sex in the woods is not as hot as some might think it is. It is full of mosquito bites and unidentifiable decaying organic material in your hair. There is dirt, and there are bugs. There's poison ivy, not to mention slugs. There are sticks and rocks, and pieces of glass. And, if you're not careful, things get wedged in places that they were never intended to go.
There are also animals.
Raccoons. Deer. Snakes. Coyotes. Skunks. Squirrels. Possums. Porcupines. Beavers. Moose. Bears. Dinosaurs.
- 10/28/06 2:18 PM
It doesn't matter what you've seen in the movies, fire departments do not get cats down from dangerously high places. Instead of helping, they will refer you to the Humane Society. What they will fail to tell you is that the Humane Society closes at 6 pm, so you are pretty much shit out of luck.
- 10/31/06 5:49 AM
10/22/2006
Save(d) As Draft(s)
With only one eye opened, I stumbled to the bathroom. It's common knowledge that you're not officially awake until you've opened up both eyes. And if it wasn't common knowledge before it is now because I just told you.
- 10/01/2006
I patted the turkey, soothingly, and began to reassure it as I inserted my right hand into its rectum. "This is a first for both of us." I told it. I'd insisted on buying a turkey that provided me with a neat little package full of internal organs, but immediately, upon pulling the package out, I realized that I had made a big mistake.
- 10/03/2006
The best way to prepare a meal is to start by igniting the wrong burner on your stove top so that you set a plastic bag on fire in the process.
- 10/05/2006
I can't remember the last time that I was truly happy. I can't remember the last time I felt anything but indifference. If I could, I would stay in my bed all day long, just laying there. My bed is warm, it is comfortable, and in my bed I don't have to wonder why it is that I've forgotten what happy feels like.
I am not disappointed with my life. I am not disappointed with myself. I don't feel depressed. I just don't feel happy. Is that normal? Is that a regular way to feel? I tell people I'm happy. I laugh, I smile, I pretend that everything is exactly the way I want it to be. I keep hoping that one day I will wake-up and it will be. But it already is. Things are progressing just as I'd always planned them to, just as I'd always hoped for them to. So why do I feel so dispassionate? Why do I feel so apathetic?
- 10/14/2006
The song in my head keeps skipping. Three words repeating over and over again. Endlessly. Not even significant words. Not even for any reason, except maybe that they are repeated a few times in the song. I never get through the whole song on my own. I can never make it past those three words. It's a shame too, it really is. My favorite part of the song comes right after those words.
- 10/16/2006
"What is that noise? Are you peeing?" Her disembodied voice asks over the phone. Busted, I think to myself as I try to come up with something to say that will make the moment slightly less awkward.
All I can come up with is 'Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.' So I say that.
"I don't understand you. You won't eat while talking on the phone because it embarrasses you, and yet you have no problem going to the bathroom."
"I know, that is weird." I agree.
- 10/20/2006
My bed smells like beer, which isn't all that surprising considering I spilled almost an entire bottle of beer on it. For some reason, distracted by my enthusiasm to create a scary Halloween tape made up almost entirely of the dog groaning, I decided that the bed was a great place to leave my beer while I went to do something else. It wasn't though.
- 10/21/2006
- 10/01/2006
I patted the turkey, soothingly, and began to reassure it as I inserted my right hand into its rectum. "This is a first for both of us." I told it. I'd insisted on buying a turkey that provided me with a neat little package full of internal organs, but immediately, upon pulling the package out, I realized that I had made a big mistake.
- 10/03/2006
The best way to prepare a meal is to start by igniting the wrong burner on your stove top so that you set a plastic bag on fire in the process.
- 10/05/2006
I can't remember the last time that I was truly happy. I can't remember the last time I felt anything but indifference. If I could, I would stay in my bed all day long, just laying there. My bed is warm, it is comfortable, and in my bed I don't have to wonder why it is that I've forgotten what happy feels like.
I am not disappointed with my life. I am not disappointed with myself. I don't feel depressed. I just don't feel happy. Is that normal? Is that a regular way to feel? I tell people I'm happy. I laugh, I smile, I pretend that everything is exactly the way I want it to be. I keep hoping that one day I will wake-up and it will be. But it already is. Things are progressing just as I'd always planned them to, just as I'd always hoped for them to. So why do I feel so dispassionate? Why do I feel so apathetic?
- 10/14/2006
The song in my head keeps skipping. Three words repeating over and over again. Endlessly. Not even significant words. Not even for any reason, except maybe that they are repeated a few times in the song. I never get through the whole song on my own. I can never make it past those three words. It's a shame too, it really is. My favorite part of the song comes right after those words.
- 10/16/2006
"What is that noise? Are you peeing?" Her disembodied voice asks over the phone. Busted, I think to myself as I try to come up with something to say that will make the moment slightly less awkward.
All I can come up with is 'Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.' So I say that.
"I don't understand you. You won't eat while talking on the phone because it embarrasses you, and yet you have no problem going to the bathroom."
"I know, that is weird." I agree.
- 10/20/2006
My bed smells like beer, which isn't all that surprising considering I spilled almost an entire bottle of beer on it. For some reason, distracted by my enthusiasm to create a scary Halloween tape made up almost entirely of the dog groaning, I decided that the bed was a great place to leave my beer while I went to do something else. It wasn't though.
- 10/21/2006
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