Caterwauling

This is me mocking the old corporate dress code

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Today was one of those “Because I Can, Damn it” days. I went to the beach before work AND afterward.

I can also brag that I took a coffee break today. I could have taken a lunch. …

(Dear former colleagues: a LUNCH is something you take MIDDAY in which you get food AND EAT IT WHILE IT’S FRESH and you DON’T have to be working while you consume it. And you don’t have to snarf it in at warp speed. IMAGINE!)

So there are these huge Adirondack chairs outside the office on the avenue. Eight of them, painted brightly and looking worn from the salt air (as we are six blocks from the beach and all). So in lieu of a lunch break (as I had leftovers from yesterday — salmon panini NOM NOM NOM), I made a cup of coffee and parked my butt in a chair and just watched the people go by.

Amazing — feeling refreshed before, during AND after work! This lifestyle is doing wonders for my well-being. Now if I could just cure this damn thyroid issue so I can start sleeping through the night again. …

It was so lovely today to wear jeans! and sandals! to work today. I can wear them ANY day. No more three-piece suits, five times a week. No more having to kiss the fucking ground of your elders because they let you go sans pantyhose and ties on Fridays. No more thanking your higher power when they finally let you wear jeans on Fridays.

Better yet, yay nobody running after you and PINCHING YOUR CALVES to ensure that those are, in fact, nude pantyhose and not just you “trying to get away with” not wearing any at all. *pointed look*

I hear some folks are still pissed that I fled the coop. Not even pissed at me, mind you, for fleeing it. *eyeroll* I would think they have bigger things to worry about. (Read: They DO.) But my only mission in life is to find my own happiness — this stay on the planet is too short to give a second thought to anything else. Life ain’t perfect (roommate *cough cough*) and I may just commit suicide that people are still contacting her from D.C. to offer her a place to stay. But if I can just overcome THAT trauma in one way or another, it’s going to be less of an uphill battle than full steam ahead. And I’m ready to roll. …

First day of school today! OK, first day of the new job, but still. Wore my lucky outfit and had a fantastic day. Not much to tell yet, but I’m sure that will change soon enough. Am just very happy to have made the leap to live and work at the beach.

And it sounds like I abandoned the ‘Ranch in the nick of fucking time. But that’s a story for another day.

Have been out exploring my ‘hood thanks to various computer issues that have sent me all over hell’s half-acre, looking for cables and wires and adapters and a gun to put to my head. So yeah, I’ve learned the new area quite well. It’s actually easy to maneuver once you figure out that it’s set up like a grid (a la D.C.) but not all streets connect to each other.

And all roads really do lead to the beach, so you can pretty much look at the sky and see how the cloud patterns look. You can ALWAYS tell where the water is. It’s just something you pick up on your first day, and the sky is your compass.

In other news, I finally figured out how to get rid of the Extended Houseguest …. a restraining order! Now all I have to do is get her to slug me (and for me to actually feel it). Shit, I should just beat myself up and go get the PFA. And don’t think I’m above doing it … I’ll do ANYTHING to get my apartment all to myself!

I got up early and went to church today in my new city. My beloved Pastor Barb from my beloved former church had sent me two possibilities where I could continue my relationship with God. I wasn’t really feeling either, so I picked the one that sounded more like a church “plant” than a “real” church.

The good news is, the church is two blocks from the Apple Store. Great choice, Goddess!

I was bored to absolute tears during the sermon. I miss our rock band and our American Idol-worthy musicians. I miss our bursting-with-personality pastors. I miss coming out and seeing my friends.

I was so bored that even I was appalled at how salacious my thoughts became as my mind wandered. I mean, I always think about sex while I’m in church. But today my mind really went there. 🙂

It was a similar setup. Lots of singing and such before the message. OK use of TV screens to show us the song lyrics and Bible passages. My old church used to use movie clips and other videos specially prepared for the presentation. I have no doubt that my former fellowship worked a hell of a lot harder between Sundays.

But it seems like they have a lot to offer here in the way of activities. I think I may finally make Barb proud and join a small group. (She’s been after me for a year and a half about that.) Hey, it’s a brand-new life for me down here — I may finally have the time to devote!

In other news …

OK, so I lost my Extended Houseguest for a while last night. I mean, I’m always trying to run the hell away and, since she refuses to drive anywhere, I often think about taking off while she’s not looking and making her find her own way back.

Hey, I could be plotting worse, you know! And don’t get me started on my sudden sympathy for Death Row inmates because I can UNDERSTAND in some cases what got them there.

She was as usual up my ass about taking her out yesterday. She will ask up to a dozen times a day; I usually don’t take the bait but I realize it’s easier to shut her the fuck up if I just take her out after 10 requests because she will KEEP ASKING.

Besides, my new life starts tomorrow, as far as I’m concerned, with starting the new job. So fine, I used the opportunity to lecture her on pretty much everything I’ve already lectured her on.

So we got to the beach (we were stopping for pizza in downtown and you have to park at the beach and hoof it). I decided I wanted to walk down to the water and hoof the block between the car and the pizza shop in the sand. I asked if she wanted to do that and she said yes.

So as I was doing the walk, she vanished. Like, did she fall in the water or take a stroke on the sand? I was feeling so free and giddy and not paying a whit of attention to her. In this short amount of time, the sun went down and it became nearly pitch-black. It’s not like beaches have floodlights so you’re taking your chances when you’re there at night.

I literally ran up and down the beach no fewer than three times but couldn’t find her. The good news here is that we’re all permanently windblown with faded makeup, so I could easily go into a restaurant looking all haggy and shit because EVERYONE ELSE DOES. But yeah, I could not find her.

I tried calling her cell 17 times. Which I learned later that she’d left it at home. With her keys, which she never carries. (Another point about which I lecture her; why does she insist on being completely dependent on me?)

I found her out by the car, after an hour of running around like a fool. But what was funny was that I didn’t find myself bartering with God — I didn’t do any of those, “If she’s OK, then I’ll be nicer to her” things. Funk dat. But I thought about it for a millisecond. Mostly I was just angry that she has a way of ruining all of my plans somehow.

She had gone back out to the street because she was exhausted. Because I was out frolicking and having a ball (I seriously do love it down here at the beach), and she just couldn’t keep up.

Suddenly I understood her — why she CLINGS to me and wants to do everything I do, go everywhere I go and basically not want to give me the space I crave. She spent her whole life caring for people as they got older and closer to the grave. When she had the youth and energy on her side, she was walking baby steps beside walkers, canes and wheelchairs. She could have run circles around the relatives; she just didn’t.

So maybe I represent that lost youth. That I’m unafraid and energetic and don’t want to miss out on a single thing in life. I’ve often said that it’s better to soar with the eagles than run with the turkeys, but I’ve said it in regard to the relationships I’ve been in. I never thought of myself as the eagle until now. (When did that happen?)

And while I’d never want to purposely hurt her (any more than she says I do because I give her the truth 100% of the time), I wonder if she realized that she really can’t keep up with me … on any level.

And on one hand, she shouldn’t stop trying, because I’m going places and there are worse people to emulate. But on the other hand, does she not see the pain and aggravation that dragging her weight too causes me? I mean, I’m feeling embarrassed that I have to keep bugging Tom and Tiff for tech support issues, but then I think how the roomie brings me everything from “you have to show me how to turn on the TV” and “you have to take me around the corner to the grocery store” and “how did those paper towels get over there,” and I just hope my questions are a little less annoying. 🙂

Anyway, like I say, I don’t mean to make her out to be the enemy. If nothing else, she’s always on my side. And she can wake up every day, completely forgetting the tension of the previous day. (Which bugs me because I can continue a fight for YEARS.)

But this was a breakthrough for me, to get that she wants to be not just like me, but I think she wants to be me. And refuses to accept that she can’t and, in trying to do so, my reaction is to get away as far and as fast as I can.

I basically said this is it; we need to live separate lives. Go do your own thing so that I can do mine. That’s what I’ve always expected in the past year and a half, and she’s lived in a completely different delusion that we’re still friends! That I love having my mommy in my house! That I enjoy doing things together! That buying two dinners is twice the fun!

One of my boys said to change the locks in six months. I passed that along last night. Because she doesn’t give a shit what I think, but when my famous friends weigh in, it starts to mean something.

I have a friend in a similar situation, and his mother is just downright unpleasant to be around. Mine is the opposite — she sparkles for strangers. As long as no one knows what’s going on, then everything MUST be fine. So this blog is a source of stress because she may not read it, but she knows it’s out there. And like I keep telling her, there’s one last chance to make me proud.

I’d rather be telling success stories. You’re more likely to hear a positive recommendation from me about someone than a negative one. But that means THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING POSITIVE to share.

I’ll keep praying for that positive thing. And really, the only thing that will make me jump for joy is to be able to change the locks because she’s done gone and gotten her own life. Not that she carries her keys anyway, but you know what I mean. 😉 I know we all have our crosses to bear, but Jesus, why make someone carry it for you while you’re perennially perched on top of it?

I was just looking for something to wear, and I had a memory from one of a recent tryst. At the time, it was one of those, “I have GOT to blog about this!” moments. So, here goes.

As I was trying to collect my clothing, scavenger-hunt style, from a gentleman friend’s abode circa 4 a.m., I could not find everything. Specifically, my shirt. And a la “Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion,” I stood there and declared, as Lisa Kudrow did in Sandy’s limo, “I can’t find my top!”

I figure only R&M fans would get that. But it made me giggle.

And yes, my friend found my top. Under a couch cushion, of course. How the hell it got there is anybody’s guess. …. 😉

Look bad; feel magnificent

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

The luster of moving to the beach had pretty much faded once I had to drag the Extended Houseguest along. The luster of D.C. died about the time she got dropped on my doorstep there, too. I can’t hate every city just because she’s in it, though.

Every day starts with her begging me to take her somewhere. Today was no different. But as I typically do, I got ready and walked out to my car like a normal human being. Amazing, that.

One of my boys had used the word “codependent” last night. And it scared me — we all know she’s dependent (and needy, clingy and wildly unrealistic). But is there some part of me that is starting to function around her dysfunction?

Gads.

So I figure God gave me free will. And I took my free will and my happy ass to several stores I needed today (including the Apple Store. Many thanks to Tom for telling me which FireWire I needed! Saved me a TON of heartache).

I also took my happy Irish ass to the beach. (It’s a happy RED and FRECKLED ass right now.) OK, so my ass isn’t red. But the rest of me sure is.

I wasn’t there long; I think I paid for an hour on the parking meter. Took a long walk barefoot in the water after eating a naughty Boston Creme cupcake from Passion for Pastry. (I also bought a Cookie Dough and a Snickerdoodle cupcake. Can’t wait to try them!)

I had to shove my iPod into my shirt (classy, I know) because the second I got there, I got soaked by a renegade wave. Since all my clothes are too big, my denim skirt with shorts underneath were hanging about eight inches lower than they’re supposed to, and I had to walk to try to dry all those layers. Luckily all electronics were in my purse at that time!

I can’t figure out how I’ll fit in here with all my low-rider pants, when everyone else has theirs belted below their nipples!

The song on my iPod was “Time to Say Goodbye” by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman. OMG, great beach song. For me, anyway, because it always reminds me of watching the fountains at the Bellagio in Vegas do their “water dance.” (That and the theme from “Somewhere in Time.”)

Tiff commented on the Flickr version of this shot that I look happy. And I was. It was so weird being on that beach and realizing that I was smiling and even laughing for no apparent reason. I mean, sure there are reasons. But to just find myself in a moment, being absolutely uninhibitedly happy? Wow. Just wow.

It IS time to say goodbye. To the life before. To the last version of Goddess. To never being able to say “TGIF” because it was automatically a 12-hour-plus workday from the get-go. Time instead to say hello to living at the edge of the world, and having that world in the palm of my hand at the same time.

If I didn’t have the Extended Houseguest, I’d have nothing to be upset about right now. (Her new theory is that I “DRAGGED” her down here to be miserable toward her.) So maybe that’s why that portion of my life remains like a hot poker up my patootie. To remind me to enjoy the moments of bliss when they crash upon my shores.

I am just grateful that I still know how to feel good. Up until recently, I was resigned to the fact that I’d forgotten how and could never re-learn that incredible skill. But Happy Goddess has been here all along; she’s moving closer to fine after all. …

Well, Hurricane Dawn has officially made landfall in South Florida. My girl Vitamin D had forwarded me a news story that a milder hurricane season is predicted this year. Heh. Apparently no one alerted AccuWeather to my arrival.

Land, ho!

I have about 17 million stories to tell. Which my beloveds on Twitter have had to endure. So I’ll spare the details and say it was a relatively smooth move. There, that’s simple and truthful, yes?

The CliffsNotes version, however, is that the movers came Friday morning and told me the furniture would be in South Florida on Monday morning. MONDAY MORNING. Christ. The original estimate was WAY later. And while the extra time to get acclimated to my new environment has been beautiful, I might have lost out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

OK, so everyone knows the Extended Houseguest drives me batty. And that for a portion of the time between my interview and offer and subsequent resignation from the ranch (think late January through mid-March), the EH said she was going to stay put in D.C. OMG, I had so much hope. I was thrilled. I knew better than to believe it, but hey, I don’t turn down hope when it happens.

So as she was spending the last week before the truck came, cooking and baking for her new colleagues instead of, oh, PACKING, she came to ask me if I could delay the truck’s arrival. The truck I had reserved on Feb. 11 to come on March 20. *kick*

It was partially that she didn’t have time to finish packing, for one, and two, she felt like she was going to find a place to live locally — that the right person was going to answer her ad.

Well, OK, the moving truck came at 8 a.m. Friday, yes? She put an ad in the paper on fucking TUESDAY NIGHT. And son of a MOTHERFUCKING bitch, she got a call on SATURDAY from a grandmother raising a granddaughter who was willing to take her offer to cook and clean and pay a small amount — way below the D.C. market rate for renting a room.

She wasn’t going to call back, but I begged her to. And it sounded just lovely. The woman wanted to meet her for lunch on Sunday.

Trouble was, I was leaving Sunday morning. And even though the palace is paid for through the 4th — whereupon I’d begged her to at least stay at her job and mosey down after I’d gotten settled — she insisted on coming with. I begged her to at least do lunch with the lady, but she wouldn’t because her shit was already on my moving truck.

Gah. Do you know how much I would have GLADLY paid to send the truck straight back to D.C. with her stuff? Money ain’t nothing but a number, in that case. Sure, I’ve blown my life savings in this epic adventure, but instead of buying the iMac that I’ve been saving up for, for two years now, that could have been my one-way (three-way?) ticket to sanity.

She wanted to follow me to Florida, all 1,000-plus miles. Because she was afraid to do the drive alone. Now, I’m someone who LOVES to drive long-distance, but not when I have someone either tailing me or failing to match my speed.

PLUS, because she kept falling asleep at the wheel (because I didn’t give her any extra days to pack. Because I HAD to drive Sunday. Because of the other 35 reasons of something that I supposedly did), she insisted on driving in front of me for much of the trip. So when the rest of the highway was going 85, she was doing 60. So I’d pass her and then she’d floor it and cut me off. Grrr.

So anyway, here we are, and the same patterns are emerging. I couldn’t go anywhere in D.C. without her because she was too scared to get out and learn the area. So she’d sit home all day if I wasn’t driving. She’d go without eating if I wasn’t paying. And I don’t type all of this to put her down — I know what it’s like to have nothing. But she CHOSE to leave her job and leave a great living opportunity. She CHOSE to drive exhausted.

Oh, one more story. To break up the drive, I rented a hotel room in Savannah on Sunday night. We got there late and I wanted to leave early. I could hear her kvetching on the cell phone/plan that I paid for to her friends about me, not that I cared, but still. She was whining about why I needed to be up so early. To make it to the fucking rental office before it fucking closed, if that’s OK with you. Gah. Who’s the one organizing/footing this trip? No questioning the master here. NONE.

So she fell asleep pretty quickly. She had put on the TV and gone into a coma, so I figured she wanted to sleep with it on. So I grabbed the remote, turned on “The Soup,” and went into my own la-la land for an hour.

Until …

OK, so she’s a Pittsburgh girl. And has these metal hair rollers that were made before I was born in ’74.

AND SHE STARTED CURLING HER FUCKING HAIR AT GODDAMNED 1 A.M. IN THE LITTLE FUCKING HOTEL ROOM WE SHARED. IN FRONT OF MY BED. AND WAS PUMPING OUT CLOUDS OF HAIRSPRAY.

I woke up, pissed to death. She said she couldn’t sleep with the TV and couldn’t turn it off because I had the remote in my bed somewhere. I said, No. 1, you could have awakened me. Or, No. 2, DID YOU NOT SEE THE BIG FAT FUCKING “POWER” BUTTON ON THE TV?!?!?!

Well, guess who didn’t sleep the rest of the night. This guy!

Yaaarrrrrrr.

Well, she also said that I’d TOLD her to be ready early. So she was just trying to be up and at ’em for when I wanted to leave.

Always my fault. I refuse to accept it and SAY that repeatedly. But yeah, she honestly has no idea why I’m so freaking through with this shit. She will, however, GLADLY tell you how mean I am.

Speaking of shit, er, piss, Maddie had pissed up her cage during the Arlington, Va., to Savannah drive. (And Maddie got to roam around the car for seven hours on Monday from Savannah to Miami; she was a fixture in my rearview mirror as she watched the traffic go by.)

In Arlington, Tom and Tiff had given us a lovely send-off brunch at the Boulevard Woodgrill. Which was so fitting. I’d moved to D.C. with Tiff seven years ago and that was one of our first favorite restaurants. Now for her and her awesome husband to take me there one last time to send me on my way was nothing short of appropriate. Life has come full circle — at least, my life in D.C.

I lost mom on the way there. (Yes!) She couldn’t keep up with me from the get-go; I lost my shit and told her again why I thought it was a bad idea for her to travel with me. But she doesn’t listen. Which is why I keep reminding her that she’s in the guest room and that she can decorate her own place when she gets one. But I digress.

But yeah, I took her out twice here (tonight was a third; I finally got cable and had to miss out because she was up my ASS about taking her. I can’t do the fight more than 15 times in a day) and now she refuses to go out on her own.

This is the only vacation time I’ve had in years, you know? Dragging her everywhere I want to go just sucks.

And I am happy to sit on my ass and tell her to go out her damn self, but she resurfaces every 45 minutes to ask again if I will take her out. And every time, I say your car works; use it. I will even write directions for you. Just LEAVE.

And as I sat in the house last night because I was not going to entertain her (and I’m running super-low on cash for feeding two). Seriously. I miss the days when my roommates paid bills and rent and also had cars or bus passes and would do their own fucking thing. I can’t take another minute of this shit, especially not knowing that she could have stayed in D.C. and had a place to live and did NOT have to haunt me here when I’m trying to start my new life.

Well, fuck everybody; I’m going to the damn beach tomorrow. I know she’s been begging me to take her to the beach; I showed her how easy it is to get there. Make a right, follow the street till it hits the ocean, and turn left. How much fucking EASIER can it get?

I know a lot of people are praying/rooting for me, and I wouldn’t have made it this far without all of you. And when my guest room is freed up, anyone who wants to come and hang out had better do so. And if any of you want to hang out longer and are willing to split some bills, I’m totally up for negotiating!

The purse contents of a shameless hussy

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I don’t know if it’s that I’m between jobs or that I actually had some mind-blowing action this week, but my Twitter feed today is reading like something out of, well, a novel that I would write!

Today was moving day. My shit is now en route to Florida. I slept 90 minutes last night after no sleep Wednesday night. (But for more-interesting reasons, natch.) And hallelujah, I was ready when the movers got here at the dot of eight.

I had a nervous breakdown, at least in my head, when they said my shit will be delivered Monday. Um, I was planning to start driving on Monday. START DRIVING. As in, arrive Wednesday to be there for Thursday, the date of the original estimate. Since it took a fucking WEEK for my shit to get from Pittsburgh to D.C. (400 miles) and, holy crap, it is only taking two fucking days to go 1,000-ish miles from D.C. to Miami. LORD.

My breakdown came in the form of, “How will I see all the friends I’ve made plans with?” In particular, the last person I was planning to see on my way out. I’m not saying any goodbyes, but I’ve got to get my “see you laters” in there. And this is an important one. They all are, really. But since I don’t have time to see everyone, I had to make sure to prioritize appropriately.

So anyway, I’m going Sunday. Cats and all. And mom too. Fuq me running on that one. I truly think she will thrive down there, but I don’t know how much more togetherness I can really take.

I think we’ve got things juggled so that I have four “dates” in the next day and a quarter. Which, it’s sad how I had to quit my job in order to get my social life back. I even went out on Paddy’s Day! You know where I would have been on a normal Tuesday night? Guess … AT WORK.

Anywho, so this day started off with me having my big ol’ suitcase o’ dildos open (remember, I was a vibrator peddler. And I own the merchandise, so I have a nice selection) when the movers did their walk-through. I’m too tired to be humiliated at this point. 🙂

But then, I finally decided to part with the “Where the Boys Aren’t” movie that Chris gave me a hundred years ago. We’ve had a lot of fun together. 🙂 But since I can’t watch a porn with Mommy around, let alone get laid in the space I’m fucking paying for because we share a fucking wall, I figured I’d say goodbye to my movie.

And I remembered why I don’t do anything in my own house anymore (because somebody doesn’t know how to knock and wait for an answer), I threw the video in the trash and she FOUND IT because she was going through my trash for something or another.

I know most people are horrified at my living situation on principle alone. But it’s this extra shit that just makes it all so very, very wrong.

(And don’t get me started on how she won’t learn how to build a box — the things I spent over $200 buying — or load a tape gun AND how I was ordered to tape all her boxes shut. AT 3 A.M LAST NIGHT, PEOPLE.)

Whew. *decompressing*

Let’s see, we’ve covered sex toys and girl-on-girl porn. What else can we talk about today? Ah, BOOBS!

Tom put up a photo of the new ceiling rack he installed for pots and pans. I went for the obvious “Nice Rack” comment. And basically whined that I shouldn’t be the one giving that kind of compliment. 😉

Speaking of all things sexual, this photo is of my purse. Yep, shameless hussy am I, with an iPod and enough protection to shrink-wrap a loveseat. Scott had said that, for an iPod sans case, that’s one protected MP3 player. Ha!

I have been all happy-go-lucky and shit, in between stress episodes. But as I waited FOUR HOURS FOR A FUCKING OIL CHANGE today, I listened to one of the playlists on this ‘Pod.

A friend and I did an exchange, and BOY the memories attached to some of those songs left me all kinds of “whee!” and “holy shit!” and “aaah” and “uh?” all at the same time. But one thing we agree on is that music is life, and if it isn’t evoking some kind of strong emotional and maybe even PHYSICAL reaction, it ain’t worth listening to.

I guess I’m just shocked and pleased how instantly our friendship developed, and how intense it was as well. I mean, like, knock off a girl’s frog socks in retrospect on how easily it all came together. One wonders how you’ve known someone five years but never really realized how cool they were until it was almost too late.

But the magic is leaving it on pause. Not the music, but the impulse to let your mind go too far back. That’s where I have trouble. That’s where I always start to wonder. But I’m invoking Goddess 1.0 (what are we on now, v4 or v5?) long enough to know how to seize the day and look back with only fondess and no wonder other than at the serendipity of it all.

Anyway, I still have some crap to deal with before I depart. I can’t trust anyone (roomie *cough cough*) to cancel the cable/Internet so I have to figure that out. She wants to drive at the same time I do, even though this palace is paid for through the 4th. I really wanted to get there first and just enjoy the place and not feel like it’s another shotgun wedding, like getting this place was because I knew I was inheriting her. At least I got a couple of months on my own, though.

Oh well. I gave her a strict plan and my get out of jail free card is a one-way ticket to Pittsburgh.

But for what it’s costing me to transport her 37 boxes of Halloween and Valentine’s decorations 1,000 miles, imagine the check I’ll write out for 1,400 miles. But no doubt, it will be worth every penny and then some. ….

I have no business blogging when this house won’t pack itself, the movers are due first thing in the a.m., I haven’t yet received the “help” check from the new company and my moving estimate has been revised upward by another grand.

But what I was saying about needing a ShopVac to clear out the cobwebs? Consider that wish granted. Five times over.

I have to say, moving out of town is never fun. But the people who like to send you off with a fond farewell? Gotta love ’em. 🙂

< / shameless hussy >

OK, so I made some random Tweet last night and got a bunch of replies and direct messages to the effect of “WHY has this not been publicized on your blog?”

That’s because I’m a nice person. OK, not really, but while I’m waiting for Mr. Right to come (say it with me: “And he’d better clean it up!”), I’ve definitely found every Mr. Wrong from Rockville, Md., to Springfield, Va.

The girls and I went down to Ballston for some Guinness and shepherd’s pie at Union Jack’s. (Which, YUM.) And I happened to recall that I hadn’t been to Ballston since I was dating the guy with the three balls and the pint-sized pecker.

Which, of course, I had to say aloud to the group AND share with 120 of my closest followers on Twitter. 🙂

Not much else to say about that. I mean, sure, I thought the bag o’ marbles did look a little bit big, but I figured that was because there wasn’t much else going on.

Nothing against smaller members, but seriously, at some point it’s like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. As long as it plumps when you cook it, I can work with it. But a girl needs bun-length, and I ain’t ashamed of that. 🙂

Of course, I do have praise for the teeny weenie because they take a lot less work, if ya know what I mean. When you want your bed back so you can kick out your gentleman caller and get some sleep or catch “The Daily Show’s” Moment of Zen, I have nothing but love for the cocktail-weenie-sized schlong.

Anyway, I don’t remember much about my adventures with that one. He told me after the fact. I guess I didn’t think to do a head (ha!) count. And I’m damn good at keeping secrets (with the exception of this post) — I mean, I’m sure I have a secret or two myself. And at a time when I need a ShopVac to clean the cobwebs out of my cooter, beggars can’t be choosers, ya know?

On a more serious note, what I learned from him is that when a guy starts talking about taking you on vacations and dangling things like commitment and that ‘l” word and whatnot, RUN FOR THE FUCKING DOOR, LADIES. They don’t mean a goddamned word of it. It’s when they wear you down and get you thinking about what they’re saying that they conveniently get a job transfer to Zimbabwe.

And then that only leaves you as just someone who got dumped by tri-ball guy. Oh, the humanity.

And you WONDER why I don’t share everything here! 🙂

Days like today make you want to kick your own ass for wishing that time would pass more quickly. Because that wish gets granted at exactly the wrong moment.

And besides, I really can’t kick my own ass; my foot doesn’t really reach unless I’m pulling it in a yoga pose. 🙂

I’ve been playing with my sexy little black iPod Shuffle for the past two days. I have put together the world’s best playlist. And I crank it up loud so I don’t have to keep hearing what a horrible person I am, even though someone is HAPPY to repeat it when I finally put the thing on pause.

I’ve rediscovered a song that never really meant a lot to me before. But something tells me I’ll be driving away, humming this one for the better part of my journey. …

“Did we hide in the dark ages,
From a vengeful god above?
Were our names too unfamiliar,
To ever speak of love?
Did I cling to every moment with you,
In every parting glance?
An accidental touch,
Did we ever take the chance
For more
I know I’ve loved you before.

…

When I think of how you know me,
No doubts no thinking twice.
When your smile can be so soothing,
A familiar paradise.
When there’s no one else that makes me whole.
I’m never wanting more.
I get this feeling.
I know I’ve loved you before.”

— Melissa Etheridge, “I’ve Loved You Before“

Something tells me that, for all the tears I’ve already cried, I haven’t even gotten started in earnest yet. Or maybe, just maybe, I won’t have to. …