Backing Up

As I was stuffing dirty laundry into the wash, AGAIN, because there is just not an end to doing fucking laundry in this house with 3 women, I started to feel guilty about ranting on Psycho Stalker Bitch, and began to think that perhaps I should have a modicum of compassion for her. After all, it isn't easy being Mr's girlfriend.
So I was thinking it must be on her mind alot today, since she dared to leave the State and leave him completely unattended overnight, able to do anything and see anyone with only a phone call to arrange it. Ahh, I remember the days, but those cheap flings of his didn't bother me since I knew he'd come home to me. But oh those flings...they bother her. They bother her alot. It must really be weighing on her mind about where he spent his night. Did she call him to find out, and did he NOT answer? And was his answer was "I was sleeping"? Sure, and maybe he was, but with whom? I knew all his angles and lies, but I understand that she's still figuring them out, and it must be difficult to have any kind of peace in a relationship where no trust exists. Wow, and she was gone awhile too.
Imagine, she probably thinks I knew exactly what was up with him, that we'd talked about his day, and his night, and that I knew or participated in his infidelity. She thinks I'd still boink him. Maybe she's right, depends on the day, or the night, and what Malcolm had to say about it, especially if he was there. Was he there? Does even HE know where Mr was and what he was doing while she's desperately trying to find out by stealthily stalking all my pages. Perhaps she thinks I'd slip up and brag about it. But all my admissions have always been intentional, and I don't make mistakes about Mr's confidences unless they suit my purposes. Perhaps it's just that it takes time to write good erotica, whoever the star happens to be.
So I suppose I'm sorry for lashing out about being stalked when I may or may not have known Mr's whereabouts and intentions, or perhaps I didn't know ANYTHING about him that day and night she was gone. LOLOL, so not likely, but it could happen. Waiting for a shoe to drop? Waiting for that sinking feeling in your gut to go away? Too bad she doesn't have access to his email so she could just stalk that, she might find some correspondences that say so much. Or not, who really knows what's in his email? Ohhh, that's right.... nevermind. LOL! No worries, It's probably all junk mail.
So stalk away psycho stalker bitch girl. I have no idea where he was when you called him at 9:30 that night and he didn't answer.
Smiles

Stupid Whore Psycho Stalker Bitches

A stupid whore psycho stalker bitch is still a stupid whore psycho stalker bitch whether she stalks me on Yahoo 360, or myspace or facebook, or from her home PC, her Plymouth, MA pc, her work pc, or ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE FUCKING U.S., DUMB BITCH. Yeah, your fingerprint ID is STILL all over it, no matter where you try to hide and stalk.
Grow the fuck up idiot. And yes I told him.

Back to the Future

Today, I'm not sure if the tryptophan has finally assaulted my nerve endings, or if I just stayed up watching too many episodes of House last night, but I was tired and cranky. I'd thought for sure I was going to brave the crowds and go shop shop shop today, but I reviewed the sales flyers yesterday, and for real, there was NOTHING impressive enough to go out for. Perhaps I'm too simple. I'm not out to get a flat screen HD tv because I'm happy with what I have. I don't need an IPod, it just doesn't make my world rattle and roll. I don't need anymore Christmas decorations, I could decorate most of our neighborhood should I feel the inclination to. And the toys? Well, I haven't decided on a solid plan of action on what to get my daughter. So I shoved all the sales flyers in a box after I'd finished, kicked it to the end of the couch, and settled in to watch another episode of House.
I find that I don't want much in the way of material goods right now. I want order to the chaos that is my house. I want my daughter to slim down some and be healthy. I want the same for myself...not so much that I'm a size 6 mind you, only that I shed the weight I've gained since being unemployed. I want to reconnect with my highschool friend, who has chosen his alias to be "Balor". I know, what the hell kind of name is that, but he's never been one for the ordinary, and if you do a search on yahoo or google, will find the myth behind the monster. I almost wonder, based on a comment he left me the other day, if he's feeling more affinity with this evil eyed beast than I'd first given weight to. I want more time together with Malcolm for everything, not just the bedroom part. I want a fulfilling job, and I want to be able to pay my bills again. The only material things I want are turtlenecks and boots for my daughter, so she won't be cold in the quickly approaching freezing weather. And maybe some pants that aren't capri for her too, that's kind of important. But I need nothing for myself, and shopping isn't very appealing right now, it almost gives me a vague sense of unease and dissatisfaction. It's not what my psyche is craving.
I'm really craving that human connection, and in a very very big way. AND there are 3 men that my psyche is calling out to to fulfill it. Malcolm, because he completes me like that, body, mind, and soul. His words and touch go right to the core of me and light the fire that right now is tightly banked. Mr is number two, and I hear a chorus of moans right now. LOLOL. But thru our continued conversations, reciprocated on both our parts now, I just love the bantering, joking, and eye rolling mischief that we both have a penchant for. Bear pokers to the end.
Lastly, and perhaps most distracting, is my need to reconnect with Balor. LOL, yes my one eyed monster friend. Who is he? MMMM, it's a story, for sure. Picture me in highschool, if you will. I'm the fat chick, no sense of style, from an ultraconservative French Catholic family, attending a co-ed Catholic Highschool. I never dated, went to only one school dance by myself because it was a costume party, never did anything considered "bad", and was a straight A overachiever that sang in church, in a professional traveling choir, played piano, and was headed for an art education. He'd always been in the class ahead of me, and I'd glimpsed him because I'd had some advanced classes and I had gotten to know that class. He disappeared for a year, I'd never really given him much thought, and he reappeared after a year abroad and was magically a part of MY class now. He was THE most beautiful guy I'd ever seen. Long glossy black hair, perpetually tanned skin, sloe eyes, great laugh and smile....It was like watching a wild animal pacing in a cage sometimes. He had a bad boy rep too. Indulged in some hookah, played some hackey, drove in a van with CURTAINS for heaven's sake. And he listened to the Grateful Dead.
I don't even recall how we started talking. Perhaps it was because I'd done a summer study at an art college, and had grown some balls and gotten sassy. I had an absurd need to try and fit in because I was never really a part of any group in Highschool. I got along with most everybody, but was never on the inside of anything. I had a skewed sense of reality too, and was a chameleon at times, altering my personality to try and fit in with any group. Just really trying to find myself. Balor HATED that in me, and I remember some heated conversations later about it. I understand his vehemence now, because I see it happening in my own daughter as she struggles to find her way socially too, and it absolutely makes my skin crawl. But you can't tell kids to just be themselves, they have to figure out who the hell that is, true? And Balor, I was an extremely late bloomer.
So we became friends, and DURING Highschool, it was still such a tremulous delicate thing. We worked on a project together, he kept me out far too late, and my mother had conniptions. However, college happened, and I started to become this new flower of a woman. Forward to summer vacation, and somehow Balor and I reconnected, and became inseparable. We went all over the state, we painted together, we chatted at Denny's till 5 in the morning. My mom was hysterical because she was sure I was doing the deed. But he charmed her, like no other of my friends ever has or probably ever will. He'd come to talk to her, and she, being so short, and he being so tall.....well, he'd kneel in front of her so she wouldn't have to look up. I'm certain his parents were ever so much less impressed with me, but I really never got a chance to know that. Nor would I want to, at this point. LOL LALALALA, Nope, Balor, you can't tell me, I'm not listening!!!! Those were the days I'd be fascinated by simply listening to his logic. Or was it rhetoric? Or his philosophy?? Christ, I think back now, and I'm sure I'd have understood him better had I been drunk or stoned. Surely my almost virgin mind couldn't comprehend the layers he was thinking and speaking about. I tried, God KNOWS I tried. But it was like listening to the Grateful Dead for me back then. It all sounded the SAME. I couldn't distinguish the myriad intricate melodies, the special patterns and flow in the music. I just didn't have the experience in my life yet to grasp anything that was really Balor. But I have to be truthful and honest, and this will make me blush as much today as it did back then. Christ I loved him.
There is so much more to this story. Some of it hasn't happened yet because this friendship has been in stasis for some 15 years now. I've tried to look him up on some reunion sites like Classmates.com in the past. I knew that he'd married, had a gaggle of kids, and was clean, sober, and happy. It made me so happy to know that too. I've grown a bunch since I last saw him. LOL Both emotionally, and experientially. Spiritually, and sexually. But the most important piece is I've discovered is the woman within, and I'm not that chameleon anymore. Take me or leave me, love me or hate me, this is me. I think back to those two kids we were, and I chuckle at myself a LOT, and at him too. I was a starry eyed crushing maniac, and he was just plain full of shit because he knew I was that starry eyed crushing idiot. LOL. I understand more now, maybe not everything, but so much more. I hear the melodies of the Grateful Dead, and know the signature of each tune, what makes each special, beloved, and unique. And they appeal to me on a very cellular level. But it's not my personal rhythm like it is his, even to this day. Mine is Pink Floyd, and I'm proud of my tune, of my lyrics, of my symphonic layers. Am I still crushing on him? Well, I probably always will a little, but I'm so damn happy in my love life that I can easily, these days, distinguish the love for a cherished friend from the love for a primal mate. And that is what makes Balor so special to me is that he is cherished. Our conversations, brief and superficial (to some extent) as they've been over Facebook.com, have, at least for me, the feeling like we've picked up where we left off 15 years ago, and that there was only a pause in our friendship, not a gaping maw. It's that wonderful, and I crave seeing him again so that I can have the laughter, the warm conversation, the hilarity, the serious thoughts, and then the even better disagreements. Bear poker I am. LOL. I don't know if he'll read this, I do know he wants to. He's also threatened to kill me with his evil eye should I write heinous things about him. LOLOL. It's all good hon. Ask Mr. I only thrash someone in verbage when they need it. MWAHAHAHA!
We've agreed, Balor & I, that a round of great coffee should come to fruition rather quickly. I know he's hitting a difficult time in his life, and he has my thoughts and support. I was there this year, though the situation is different. So perhaps we can offer each other some mutual support and healing from relationships that just didn't cross the finish line like we'd hoped. I think we're both ok, really really, but it's still nice to be able to commiserate and compare horror stories. Now I just need to explain all this to Malcolm, and hope to God he's ok with it. Funny enough I even asked Mr's opinion on how to approach this WITH Malcolm...should I ask him permission, or tell him after the fact, be casual about it...what to do? I know Mr would absolutely thrash me if he knew I'd started thinking about him like one of my girlfriends, but there it is, and in print. It's nice to know I can bounce ideas off him like that and get some feedback. Of course he always assumed I was cheating, and if it were him and I'd told him this long winded story, he'd assume it would be because I wanted some action with Balor. LOL, he even called me a couple of days later to ask me if I'd had my "date" yet, and I quickly let him know that it was NOT a "date"....it was a reunion. LOL. I need to have a conversation with Malcolm about it. I know he'd be ok, I know he knows I only want to come home to him. It would be so much easier if Balor were only a girl...or gay. But no. He's a beautiful vibrant hetero man, and he's my friend. And I'm glad we are talking again.

All In the Family

I've taken some time out to hang with my brother this week. He and I have had a rollercoaster relationship, but then, my friends expect no less from me. LOL. My brother...where to start? He broke my leg when I was 5, pushing me on my trike, and trying to save me from getting killed by an oncoming vehicle as I swerved into the road. My little ankle got caught between the pedal and the wheel, and crunch, that was it. He didn't mean to do it, and I swear he still has guilt all these years later. LOL, what a great tool that is. Fast Forward to his highschool years, and I was, I dunno, like 9, maybe. He was a big football star for his team, but an injury to his knee put him out. At the hospital, they did some x-rays, and a day later, a doctor was trying to convince my mother that he had a tumor on his knee and they really needed to amputate immediately. Thank goodness my mother had some sense to bring him to Children's Hospital in Boston. You see, there was no tumor. The doctor had read the wrong x-rays for him. Something happened to my brother then....he never really recovered from that, not mentally. He went on to a 2 year college, getting a degree in business admin like most boys his age at the time. He went into restaurant management, quite successfully, and married a real fruit loop of a girl. Ahh, my brother and his girlfriends. He's always liked them pretty and stupid. Pretty stupid? He needs to be the dominant partner, needs to be the intellect, blah blah blah. So of course his marriage was a disaster and he went into a series of other failed relationships. Until he met HER. I've joked unerringly about Mr's bitch, but HER, she who shall not EVER be named puts that low class psycho bitch to psycho bitch and manipulator's shame. SHE played my brother like a sonata, had a couple kids, bought the house of HER dreams, quit working, and shopped and shopped and shopped until my brother, who'd been working in sales and making a pretty good clip of cash was having to buy their groceries on a Visa card. The SHE announced the divorce, one day, out of the blue. SHE'D been planning it for 3 years, had the lawyers already hired, and the plan set out. And my brother lost everything. His house, his kids, his 401K, eventually his mind, and his sanity, and his ability to work.
Anywho, my brother now is morbidly obese, and disabled because of it. So I occasionally do his groceries and help him pick up his place, or just sit and talk or play games with him so that he has some company. His kids are with HER this week, so he's all alone, and I can tell he's lonely. Yesterday and today I spent the afternoon with him, brought him some lunch, watched Jeff Dunham, and played some word game he had on his Satellite TV. I do love my brother, and we are back in a place that we both generally agree and get along, and that is phenomenal because I tell you, when he was in his Rush Limbaugh days, well holy hell, I couldn't stand that motherfucker. My brother can be a judgmental, condescending, ignorant SOB when he so chooses, the kind of guy that will proudly say "I can't stand all those niggers, but I'm not a racist, cuz I have a black friend". So you can only imagine how we've clashed over the hot button issues that he and I differ on. Like gays. Hooray, every man that ever crossed my threshold in my earlier years was gay. I'm the ultimate hag for heaven's sake. I LOVE gay men, can't live without them, and find them wherever I am. My brother? Well of course, he wants to put them all on a boat and blow it up. You get the idea. He can't fathom why I haven't dated inside my race for the past 2 decades. Try to explain that it's kismet, that I meet men, and they happen to be black, that I'd love them should they be white, but NO, he's sure I'm racial profiling. And who the hell knows, maybe subconsciously I am. Whatever. And of course there is the fact that no matter how old I get I am always his little sister, and that is it's own set of pros and cons.
Nowadays however, he's chilled the hell out quite a bit. Things are going his way more and more. His kids are living in HIS custody now, and quite happy and successful. SHE is miserable, and having to pay child support which I'm SURE SHE never planned on having to deal with in her lifetime. So he's found a modicum of happiness, for which I'm thankful....because he's my brother and I love him. And he's a fucking riot. Today, as we played his favorite word game, I insisted on manipulating the remote, and found it challenging. He made me laugh by calling me "sausage fingers" which of course caused me to do even worse. He can be my best friend some days, and other days I have to hang up on him before I say something terrible. But he's generally supported me these last few years, and I'm thankful I have the time to spend with him now, just being there with him. Even my daughter loves spending time with her Uncle because "he's the fun one". He won't hesitate to engage her, play with her as best he's able, or come up with some game he invents out of his own twisted head. He could be a genius. One with ADD for sure, but a genius nevertheless.
So here's to my brother, one of three brothers, and one of 5 siblings. I love ya, rascal, but NO, I'm not playing cribbage with you, because you cheat.

Again, Please Daddy!

So. Damn. Tired.
Yes it's the day after the day after, and I should be all set now, and back in the saddle. No. I'm lagging like a half deflated 6 day old helium balloon from hell....skulking around the floorboards like an ankle biter. Was it a good party? Well, the real answer to that is that anywhere I go with Malcolm, anything we do is great. So it wasn't a good party....it was great.
Not that I needed anymore proof that the man loves me, but he gave me that too. We left his house shortly after 5 pm, and drove down to Biddeford and the super Walmart to do some pre-party shopping. I'd fussed about the possibility of messing the bed irreparably, and it was on his mind to accomplish that in new and exciting ways, but to also put me at ease so that I wouldn't worry about it and hold back. So we shopped, and he bought STUFF. And lots of it. He got food for snacks, always keeping in mind what I like so that we could share because he knows I won't eat beef or fish. We'd gotten our own sheets for the bed, and I specifically told him Queen size because I swear that every other time I'd been to this place the bed was a Queen. Apparently we got the super suite this time because the bed was king. Good for us, bad for the sheets. I told him we could just use the vinyl protector, and deal even though he KNOWS I can't STAND the feel of plastic on me. It gives me the heebie jeebies. So while I showered, he went to get condoms, which I was sure I'd packed, but had forgotten, and said he'd be back shortly. An hour and a half later, I was worried sick and thinking that I'd lost another date at Merava somehow, and he came back. He'd driven back to a Walmart to get me a new sheet for the bed so I'd be comfortable. AND he'd bought me a chapstick because I'd forgotten mine and casually asked him in the car. I was so touched that this man cares so much.
We intermittently attended the party. I say this because between his love of my self crafted dress, which was the hit of the party I dare add, and my big starry love struck eyes on him, we needed to make runs back to our room to, errr, relieve the tension. So we'd be at the party an hour, in our room for an hour, at the party an hour, back in our room for another hour, you get the picture. LOL, it went on like that all night until we decided to retire, just the two of us, around 1 AM. He finally let me go to sleep at 5 am.
He was a star. He doesn't know it yet, but everyone LOVED him. The cutest scene was when some ladies cornered him at the buffet and stripped his shirt and sweater off so they could see his tattoos. Julia was so impressed with him, and wanted to know how I always got so damn lucky. "Where do you shop for these guys???" was her real question. I love her, she's crazy! I had so much fun seeing everyone there, it was like a huge class reunion. Malcolm, again, showed his class and his love by sticking by my side, and cuddling me, and reassuring me in one moment that he MUST have read my mind while I was looking at all the beautiful barbie people that he SO loved my body just the way it is, and that he may as well be a gay man around all the teeny tiny chicks because he just couldn't find it within himself to get too worked up about them. But by far, the best part of the whole night was knowing that we had a warm beautiful room to ourselves, ALL NIGHT LONG with no rushing, and a bed that was virtually bullet proof by the time he had it all fixed up. I know that nobody in Merava actually believes that we boinked as often and as long as we did, they are sure it was a hoax. LOL, nice try guys. We really did it. I Love waking up with him, well for more, LOL. But we showered together, and did more in there too. HMM, we DID talk without sex for a good while, I guess that was the car ride. He held me while I slept until I got too hot and sweaty from his unbelievable body heat. So I'd roll away from him, poke my feet out from the bottom of the quilt, and then get freezing cold and roll back into the heat of him where he'd warm me and the whole process would start again. But those strong sure arms keeping me warm and safe, that is the best feeling in the world. That and welcoming him into my body where he belongs. I realized that somewhere my perspective on him changed. He WAS the man I always used to look forward to having a great time with. Now? Well, now I want to please him, make him happy in 1000 little ways. Make his day brighter, make his life happier, easier, more fun. I guess I now take for granted that he pleases me. I want to give back as much as I get. I want him for my partner, for as long as he'll have me.

Cuz He Always Comes Thru For Me

So as everyone knows I had my lil happiness crushed a bit when we couldn't go to Halloween last month, and I'd spent weeks and weeks of work prepping for it. Well, this weekend is the makeup for that, and I've been awfully paranoid that something would happen again to jinx it. For some reason, Merava...for Malcolm and I....has been the most incredibly difficult place to actually manage to attend. We had hoped to in June, but it was his daughter's graduation. Again in August, I think or maybe it was late July...we were supposed to meet with the Meravites at Down Under for a night of dancing and partying, and Malcolm had hurt his back so we ended up staying in. Then last month, well it just seemed like we were cursed. So I haven't talked about it too much, have tried not to think about it too much, and even haven't prepped too damn much. Two days ago, I decided I needed some kind of outfit, so off I went to the stores...Fashion But, Goodwill, trying to find something glittery, fashion forward, and cheap. A very unlikely combo, true? I ended up at the fabric store again and found some panne velvet with sewn in black sequins. My PLAN was to sew a sleeveless top with a gathered neck and split back. Simple, sexy, and well, did I say simple? LOL. I got home, was less than enthusiastic about starting because I just didn't want to DO all this work and then....nothing. But suck it up, and I got some newspaper to create a pattern, and laid out the fabric, just RIPPLING with static electricity. Looked at it, thought wow...I got alot of fabric....hmmm, even enough to make a dress, shorter this time like he wanted it, still with the gathered neck even, and using the same basic pattern as last time, sorta.
So I made a damn dress. The process of sewing for me is very organic. It takes on a life of it's own, and changes along the way. I'm not very good, but I can fake it enough that my stuff is at least wearable in a dark room, and great for "costume" wear. The only thing I've ever made that was virtually flawless was Malcolm's kilt. I might make him wear it. LOL! So this dress. Yah...wow, it's certainly shorter. And we all know how lovely velvet starts rolling at the edges. I can see it by midnight, the hem will be rolled up to my coochie and all that static will have my coochie hairs standing on end. OR, someone will touch me and they'll blow up. Can I just say that I have virtually WASHED this fabric in Static Guard, and DAMN!!! It's still crackling. I decided last night that the gathered neck was boring, and since my best assets are my boobs, they needed some spotlight. BTW, never try to cut fabric while you're still wearing it. Thankfully the bra was in the way and I still have my boob. THAT would have been cute!
Malcolm called this morning before both of us went to work. He said hi, and my gut reaction was to say "OH NO!!". He just laughed and said he'd be there at my side tomorrow if he had to drag himself over broken glass to do it. How can I not love the heck out of this guy. Tomorrow morning I finish packing, go to the bank, do Juju's laundry for HER big weekend adventure, finish the dress and repaint my toes, maybe shave a little. LOL. I was thinking about him at work today as I took order after order, and it made me smile so much the person in the next cubby raised their eyebrows at me. It's good to have a thought about the person that is my mate that actually makes me happy.
Having reconnected with several of my classmates now, I'm a little envious of their successes, but more and more, I realize how lucky I've been, how many great experiences I've had, and how much fun my life is. It's not easy, but it's damn fulfilling, and being right here, right now I can honestly say yes I'm poor, yes I'm underemployed, yes I'm not married, but I don't really care. I'm happy!

Facebook

Last night I discovered the social networking site Facebook. I typed in my info, was a bit alarmed they wanted my real name, but whatever, I've go nothing to lose. They wanted my yahoo passwords which I refused to give, and then asked for my schools attended, and year of graduation. So I entered it. I've done it before on Myyearbook.com, and a couple other "yearbook" sites, and never get a thing. But in they went, and I started seeing faces of people I've not seen since probably 1989. WOW! So I connected with a few, and have started a conversation with someone that has been on my mind the last few years. LOL, he's just as cocky and outrageous as I remember him to be, and just as much fun. But in all of this, I realize how paltry my resume will look to others at this point. Or is that my own outlook and insecurity?
Gosh, I've done alot. I'm a painter and sculptor, glass blower, massage therapist, florist, barrista, operations manager, HR manager, and a sales manager. I'm a mom, a writer, a crafter, a sewer, and a girlfriend. WHY doesn't all that seem like it should be impressive enough??? Well because right now although I'm a girlfriend, I'm not married and settled. And even though I can do any job in creation, I can't seem to get one. Damn shame that. I'm broke, living with my mom (or is she living with me? I can never get that straight). So I feel all that negative weight bearing down on me 24/7, and why? Because my family breathes only the negative stuff about me whenever I see them. I'm not an accomplished woman in my family, I'm an out of work loser failure that got pregnant without a husband, and now sleeps around. LOL, if they only knew.
I know my life will get back on track, but it's hard to know when in this economy. There are solid reasons I'm not employed, reasons that prove I'm not just slacking off. The highest unemployment rate in 25 years, for instance. More statistics added by the day, week, and month, and the auto industry poised on the brink of elimination and even MORE layoffs. It's bleak, but I'm still sending out applications. I visited this topic before, concerning reunions, and what everyone hopes for at theirs. We all want to prove ourselves to our classmates. Competition, I suppose leftover from the jock and cheerleader days. I try to keep into consideration that I just AM. I am ME, and that's enough. Truly, even though my employment right now is limited, I've found this time away from work and the daily grind refreshing. I've come to love being a mom, although I still hate playing Barbies. I've enjoyed being reflective, enjoyed the writing time. I'm sorry I wasted alot of the time getting sucked into the internet hour after hour instead of tending my yard and house. My bad.
Today I'm enjoying my coffee, and cheering that I'm a barrista. I love my coffee, and love that I don't make a pot that would cause someone to cough up two buttons, like I did in College. I pulled my Starbucks Holiday mug out of the cupboard today, and ground the beans, and watched my french press make a most exquisite brew. Yum. I've decided to seek more part time jobs during the holidays. I just simply need more money, and since I don't have a REAL job, then fun little seasonal jobs will have to do. I'm thinking tending bar at Starbucks part time would suit me fine. It's tough work, but I love it, and I'll make a little money for juju's winter coat, which she so desperately needs. And Boots, and and and...it goes on and on. Kids really are money pits.
So, my highschool friends, YES I'm doing menial tasks, and YES I've had a rough year, but damn it all, it builds character, and I'm doing what needs doing to get through to the other side. Perhaps that makes me the greatest success of all. To my family: thanks to those that support me, and fuck you to those that don't.

What's your favorite soundtrack to....

OK, so enough of psycho trolls, true?
Today, Malcolm took his last personal day to come and spend it with me. He's so dear, and I'm really such a lucky girl. His car is in the shop, and it was pouring, so no Ducati today. I drove to pick him up, which is no sacrifice for me because I LOVE going to Portland. We had a most excellent conversation in the car, arguing for and against Spike Lee, went grocery shopping for me, and he filled my gas tank. Such an amazing man. He is the true description of a provider and caretaker. Mine! LOL
In my Merava group, we'd put out some ideas about what people like to "get busy" to. What songs make you wanna get jiggy? Malcolm and I like the Janet album, and maybe some Ginuine, and of course Passion - by Peter Gabriel. Today, we discovered a new and exciting album to provide the setting to our marathon sessions. Dark Side of the Moon - Pink Floyd. Although a bit on the dark side, it was perfect for two lovers who needed to really tear into each other. We've been apart, you see, since my surgery on the 20th of October. Well, I did see him the day after when he came to take care of me and show me the benefits of morphine derived pain killers, but between the secondary infections and my going back to work...well it's been a VERY long 24 days. 24 Days of phone calls, phone sex (but only sometimes), and latenight frustration. Today was so intense, it required two showers. LOL. He brought cameras, toys, and we did so many kinky nasty things that I'm still blushing to think of some of them. And laughing. I laugh because he makes me feel free. There isn't anything I can't do with him, no desire is taboo, no need over the top. He'll do anything for me, if only I'd ask. He's so proud of me when I do ask, that he bends over backwards to please. He wants me to stop being just the pleaser, and to demand my own satisfaction. I don't see the big deal, cuz I don't need to demand anything with him. He gives it freely and without reserve. But it pleases him to hear me ask, so I'm working on that. I'm not a big talker. I know some people love that, and have whole dialogs in bed. Me, not so much. I kind of recede into my head, which can be a blessing or a curse. And I think Malcolm knows that, and is always trying to keep me with him. Sometimes, in my past relationship, when the rough sex got too rough, I'd simply retreat into that quiet place and watch from far away without really feeling anything. Malcolm also knows that, and wants me to stay with him in the present. He's very good at it, and very good at eliminating my fears, trepidations, and hangups so I can just really hang back and cum like a banshee. LOLOL Yeah, he's that good.
So, what are YOUR favorite songs to do it by? Love to know!

Psychos and Liars

So I celebrated a little too soon, hoping it was done. My bad. Of course the psycho, pictured above, showed her stalker tendencies and read the page again. I probably shouldn't have given it a look see, but hey, LOL, I did! OHHHHH, I stalked back!
Of course she was nasty, but I was surprised at how really brutal she was towards a man who is supposed to be the love of her life. She really made him sound like quite a bastard. Is he? Sure, he certainly has been. I suppose the difference is that I always said so to his face before I wrote it. But then I'm not a coward. She was also so disrespectful towards Mrs D, and her comments about a woman who she denied shelter to ring incredibly hollow. Do I feel guilty about having dated a married man? Yup, it's the latent Catholic in me. Mrs D wasn't living at home when I met Mr. She was in Springbrook for the beginning of what was to become a diagnosis of progressive frontal lobe dementia. AND she was there for about a year. When she came home, a year after he and I had met, we broke up for a time as we'd both agreed he needed to really give an honest effort to being a good husband. Six weeks into our separation, he called, in tears, because it was clear that although the Dr's had done everything possible for Mrs D at the time, she would never be a wife to him again...never a helpmate, never a lover, never someone he could share his heart with again. She was altered by the course of her disease, and even though she was still able to work, it was clear that it would be a short time before that would end as well. I think that's when he and I first became more than lovers, and really started becoming friends. We talked then of everything, and we tried to stay apart, but being someones lover is a hard thing to stop for mere friendship. And so he asked if we could resume, then, and I caved because in my heart I really did love him. Again, over the course of the next 4 years I became a companion to his wife, and I grew to love her very much as a person. And so yes, I did take her in when she had no place to go because the psycho, as I've said before, wouldn't do it, even tho she, at the time, was the supposed "girlfriend" of this man that comes with so much damn baggage. ( see "My Guardian Angel") I certainly didn't do it to gain his trust, I already had that. I've always had that. It's why, to this day, I still maintain his passwords and accounts. Perhaps that's what's always pissed her off so, because he's never trusted her and when he thought he might start, she'd do something stupid to fuck it up.
So I sent Mr her blog, because whenever I'd been harsh on him, I'd sent it to him since I know he doesn't read these. But if he's ever starred in a blog, I've always been courteous enough to let him know about it. I figured she'd at least do the same since she threw him under the bus, but since I wasn't sure, and I know she specializes in the hit and runs (notice on her page she's deleted every last blog she's ever written except for the last vitriolic post, and an article meant as an attack on my child). So I sent it to him letting him know I was surprised he'd be OK about her talking about his wife in such a manner, or by making him out to be such a total and complete ass. I don't much care about her attack on me because my friends already know and support me. As you can see, from the photo above, my stalker is also a fat chick. Yet she always resorts to trying to poke me about MY weight, and there is only about 30 lbs separating us. LOL. She even has the same number of chins that I do. Yep, psycho, you're FAT TOO. LOL, and I'm quite sure that, at lifestyle parties, the BBC gets YOU by too. Of course, on that matter, I've had more success on my own than when he and I were together, so that point is moot because again, in the lifestyle, the friends were MY friends. Friends that I still see, friends that I'm still intimate with, with or without a mate. They love ME because of the trouble I've taken to be honest, caring, thoughtful, and funny with them. Yes bouncy lady J? (I know ur reading. LOL) As far as accepting a man's lies and infidelities...hmmm, pot calling the kettle black there. He's lied and cheated on you more in the past 6 months than he did on me in 5 years. And you've accepted it, taken him back, AND paid him to stay in a relationship with you. LOL. I guess that must be YOU being desperate and insecure, huh?
Anywho, I got a phone call tonight, and guess who? LOL. Yep, it was Mr. He actually called to apologize. I'd thought about what I'd do if he ever called, and swearing at him and hanging up was pretty high on the list. But I wasn't raised to do shit like that, so I listened to what he had to say. I vented, in a HUGE way about how he'd left things between us. I mean for real...if you're gonna throw a damn tantrum and shit on someone, then do it when they are cognizant, true? I told him that if in all the time I'd ever needed friends, it had been after my surgery when EVERYTHING had gone awry, and he hadn't been there. He apologized again, and told me my timing had been bad. LOL back to that convenience thing. We talked for a very long time, and I told him to verify some stuff for me, so that he could see the extent of this psycho's stalker shit for himself. I explained the page counts to him (no Ryder's Mom, this concerns before your click-fest hon!!) LOL. And I pointed out that regardless of my content, she proved herself a psycho stalker by the very fact that, unprovoked, she AGAIN came to this page and AGAIN and AGAIN, and AGAIN she keeps coming back. He told me he's been still keeping tabs on me, unbeknownst to me, and now the ball is in my court to be friends again or not. I feel good that I got my piece in there, and maybe it's just my need to have the last word. LOLOL.
So I end this like this. I am a fat chick, and proud. I'm beautiful. I'm a good mom, a great friend, and an awesome girlfriend, as Malcolm sits here and agrees. We wish Mr the best, again. Happy trails to you and yours, and please keep me updated on Mrs D. I love her. I also want to add that I did pick on the psycho's weight in this blog because the truth is she is a plus size girl, a BBW. She IS beautiful, at least the shell of her is. Being a big girl will NEVER make me feel poorly, or insecure, or ashamed. I LOVE who I am, and the people that know and love me, well, including Mr per his own words tonight, love me just the way I am. I thank Malcolm, too for his unbridled lust as I ranted these words to him, making me love who I am, and HOW I am even just a little bit more.
I'm sad that none of you will get to read her rant. I wanted to post a link to it for everyone, but, again, she's shut it down and done another hit and run, even deleting all the friends from her page. Just goes to show you the extent of her cowardice. Good luck with all that Mr.

Thank You Miki!

So a little celebratory dance today, as it appears my efforts to get rid of the psycho bitch has been rewarded! Why do I thank Miki? It was her blog and her her idea to link to her offending person's page that inspired me to do the same just 2 blogs ago. And VOILA!! She has shut down her page . So here's my cautious celebration that my troubles are over, and my page and all it's words will be left in peace, at least somewhat, by the stagnant pond scum that was plaguing it. Thanks ladies, and Malcolm thanks you as well! Oh, and Miki? I did that damn quiz, and it said I don't like to share. LOLOL, uhhh, hmm. It's a little off.
Peace and hugs!

This Saddle Isn't All That...or is it?

So being "Back in the Saddle" and all, back to work has me pondering. Uh oh, you say? Rightly so. Many know that my new job is an old job, something I did 3 years ago to "get by" when I owned my shop, but didn't make a stitch of money. I'd sworn, then, that I'd never let another Christmas go by where I couldn't afford both food and a Christmas Tree like the year before. It had broken my heart, and to this day, it will never happen again. So unemployment isn't forever, either, and neither is the duration of my sanity for seeing the inside of the walls of my home. I have given up on finding gainful employment this year, it's pointless. With more people out of work than ever, and sales stinking like rotten fish water, there are no management level jobs that a.) are available, and b.) anyone would take with a sane mind knowing that termination or layoff lays immediately around the first failed matrix month. So I decided to take a temporary position back at a national retailer(who I shan't divulge the name of for fear of breaking the no blogging rule), the customer service King of the world. It is remarkably brainless work, passes the time, and I get to shop and talk on the phone. What's not to like, true? Well, except the monotony of scripts and dialogs formed for me for expediency's sake. And the drone of too many mother's wondering which fleece hat is better? Who the fuck cares, really? It occurred to me today that I don't like doing this anymore. I dunno, maybe I'm becoming sullen in my poverty. But this particular retailer does tend to attract the wealthier clientele, and, quite frankly, they seem a tad petty.
So I sit, uncomfortably, for hours, answering call after call with an "intrinsic ability to create genuine welcome, and make my customer feel valued and comfortable" as my quality coach put it today. I think she just likes my phone sex voice. LOL, I have always been cursed with a husky, smoky, throaty voice, and hours of repeated dialog force me to tone down my voice so that I'm not hoarse . So I'm quietly sensual, apparently, and it earns raves from the leaders of the company. They like it. Hooray! LOL
I want to do something engaging with my life, something that seems to matter. I don't even know what it is anymore. I know that the longer you are unemployed the more difficult it is to get back into the field, and the more you begin to question yourself and everything you ever did. I'm at that point now, where it all just seems so damn pointless. Because perhaps it's one of the intrinsic reasons that this economy is failing. Perhaps we've pushed our retail into becoming devoid of any meaning. People lost the faith in the reasons why long ago...it's only a job, only a paycheck. They don't believe in the product, don't believe in the company they work for, and for REAL, most people can't STAND their respective companies. WHY THE HELL NOT???? We spend more time at our jobs than we do with our loved ones and we HATE IT?? I know some of the reasons. Many of which surround the fact that so many of these companies mistreat their most fundamental resource...the employee. And of course many companies have lost the faith in themselves and their products, so you get that trickle down effect. How do we get that faith and pride back?
My current company is a paragon of greatness when it comes to belief, value, and respecting their greatest resources: employees and customers. I may be just a seasonal puke, but my questions, concerns, difficulties, and levels of comfort are taken seriously any time I wish to address them. There is no length they will not go to to try and make my experience a great one. My chair doesn't feel good, I get to try out any number of different ones till i get one that suits me. Need a foot rest, no problem. Screen diffuser? Wrist guard? Stretch Break? Absolutely. And today a customer told me a story that was so feel good it made me tear up a little. He said his package had been delivered while he was away, and Fed Ex had left it on his stoop, as it was too big for his mailbox. He never received it, because it was stolen before he'd gotten home. He called us to report it, but figured he'd be out the 50 bucks he'd paid for his shoes. Was he? Of course not. The rep he spoke to replaced his items free of charge, no shipping, and expedited them. This man is a customer for life now. It cost our company less than 100.00 to earn this man's respect and business for the next 50 years. Not bad. It's things like that more businesses need to be thinking about. Screw 6 Sigma management. Treat your employees like they fucking MATTER. Treat your customers like what they ARE: the REASON you are in business. I owned a business, and I know first hand what loyalty from both pools can do for you. Employees that believe in you and feel valued will stick with you and make their sales, or quotas or whatever even in hard times. Customers that love you and feel special will return, and bring their friends and work hard at marketing you so that you will succeed because they WANT to give you their business long term. I know that somewhere in their dense little minds executives know all this. Libraries worth of reading materials have been published about this very simple premise. Yet STILL, they treat their labor like trash, and expect their customer relations to be amazing. Whatever.
So I may not particularly like what I'm doing, but I do appreciate being made to feel like it is something important. And in today's economy, I suppose that by infusing one small part of the shopping world with a great experience, and creating that cash flow still counts for something.

The Lengths People Will Go To

So the Psycho bitch hasn't had access to my page since my page is only set for friends of friends, and I've removed any links she may have had to me. Amazingly, as I was looking thru the very attractive friends my new blogging friend has, I've found yet more evidence that this crazy bitch is still stalking me. Along with my page counts being at an all time ridiculous high (and as much as I'd like to take credit for that with my stunning writing, I just really know that I'm not THAT interesting), she apparently has also been scouting thru my new blogging friend's friends....and trying to add them to her list. See, this is how it goes. If she manages to get the right people, it will give her access to my blogs again, and we all know that it's killing her inside to not be able to read. I know she's already got me on "Add" since that doesn't send out a notice, and there isn't any way to block that acquisition. That would let her know when new content is added to my page. But she just can't read my blogs again until she finds a friend who is my friend, and manages to con them into adding her. Yeah, she's that crazy.
In the same breath, she's shut down her blogs so that nobody can read them, because she doesn't want any evidence of her insanity out there for inspection. I've always maintained, and will go to my grave maintaining that REAL bloggers accept the responsibility and consequences for their musing, good or bad. I believe in my words, and I think about what I say. Sometimes it's a rant, other times it's a musing, or maybe I'm working something out. Sometimes my happiness is just too much to contain inside myself and I need to shout it to the world. I like those. Other times my anger bubbles over and I just have to write about something that is just so over the top, or unjust, or ridiculous that I need to share it with my fellow bloggers because I know they will understand my angst. This girl started by blogging about her affair with my then lover of 5 years, and when the damage had been done, would delete the blog. She'd do a hit and run. She's a coward, she's not the brightest filament in the bulb to boot, and she's still, to this day, unable to leave me in peace. I transferred my anger to the correct source, to Mr. He started the affair, continued it, played us against each other to his best advantage, and then cut me off like a jagged fingernail when my declaration of truth threatened his security. Nobody likes to be confronted with their own perfidy, it's an ugly picture. So I'm free of him, but DAMN I can't get fucking rid of his canker sore bitch.
I could post this as public, which would allow her to read it, and then she would get bent out of shape, get a hair up her considerable ass, and I'd probably get my first phone call from Mr. in 2 weeks telling me I should take this blog down. The result would be uniquely satisfying, would prove the fact that she is stalking me, yet it wouldn't solve the problem, because she'd still stalk the page. Malcolm, of course, had told me to simply ignore her because, again, to give her any attention is what she's really craving. She's an attention whore. Yet ignoring hasn't worked either, and my patience is at it's end...again. My friend Ondine would tell me to let it go, but I'm just too indignant to do that after the way Mr has ended things on MY end, yet lets his tramp continue to use her passive aggressive harassment techniques simply because he's too weak of a man to deal with it.
So aside from deleting this page and starting over, or transferring to a different blogging site, I'd welcome any opinions from my fellow bloggers and readers on how to get rid of this annoying and petty bitch.
I've pretty much had it as you can tell. I love my 360 page and don't want to abandon it if it's avoidable. Please leave your suggestions in the comments fields, or email me. I appreciate it!
**Making it public has been the overriding sentiment. You bunch of bear pokers! LOL, I KNEW I was in great company. Thanks for the emails and Miki thanks for your comment. Hugs.

Reinventing the Self

Now that I'm finally feeling recovered from all the surgery, infection and whatnot, it's been an incredible week for me to really come around full circle and remember the strong, independent, sexy, and formidable woman I was. This week saw me off the meds and feeling 1000% better. I started working again, and the nation elected a new president. I've had a makeover session with my great friend Chris, and lost some weight. I'm loving what I see now, and feeling better than I have in a long time. I feel playful again, naughty. I feel rambunctious, and eager to have fun with my mate. I'm looking forward to the social events again, and in the meantime, having an absolutely fabulous time with my new job. Having worked for LL Bean in the past, it's really hard not to work there and NOT pick up their infectious spirit of optimism. They are such a positive company, and feel so strongly in supporting their employees, their #1 resource. It's a fun time, not too difficult, and cummon...who wouldn't like to shop with people all day long? I'm also being a therapist again, with a couple of new clients, and also shipping gift baskets again. Something I should have started up back in April. Hindsight.
Things with Malcolm remain amazing. He's in my corner, even when his own challenges threaten to overwhelm him at times. He's my cheerleader, he's my quiet storm, he's my safe haven. And what do I offer him? I'm his devil's advocate, I'm his dose of laughter, and I'm his genuine heart.
I finished deleting Mr from all my lists for the last time. No reason to keep a bad memory around. Much better to flush it from my system so that I can move on without always looking back. I know his bitch still stalks this page...I can tell from my hit count. But the reality is that I can't do anything about that trash. She's such a low life that she continues to need to see what I "might" say about him or her, it's fucking pathetic. They really do deserve each other, and I've known that in my gut since January. That's the real lesson here folks. When your gut is speaking strongly.....LISTEN TO IT. It's usually right. All the second chances I gave him, all the money I wasted on him, all the time lost and heartache gained....That's the price of the lesson. For the over 2000.00 I handed out to him in his times of need over the past 5 years, I know that it's all gone. The greatest part is that he's managed to get at least that much out of his thing, and she'll never see a dime of it either. Again, like Judge Joe Brown says...it's the cost of the lesson learned. Leave it behind. Expensive lesson in so many ways. So the next time I'm seeing little red flags in my mind, I'll listen and remember Mr., and how that went. And I'll be better off for it. So in that respect, thanks for teaching me what to look for and avoid.
Like one of my new 360 friends blogged, you can't always blame the new woman in your ex's life. It takes two to cheat, true? Bravo on your words, they rang true to me, and I would just add that sometimes you can blame both. Women who knowingly continue to pursue involved men deserve all the venom and blame that's put out there. But as I walk the footprints of my new life, I realize that it's all a grand circle of events. He lied about and cheated on his wife to get with me. He lied about and cheated on me and got with bitch. He'll lie about and cheat on her when he meets someone new and exciting from his OBC page, or his TRUE.COM page, or any of the countless other sites he uses to hook up with. Cheater's cheat, and liars lie. It's as certain as death and taxes. To Mrs D....I still care about you, and love you, and wish you all the best in life. Peace, and my everlasting humble apology for my part in this fiasco.
To my new partner - you have, with your patience, understanding, and humor seen me through this hard time in my life, and persevered to be there for and with me. Words can't convey enough about how much that has meant to me. It is my honor to be your lady with my whole heart....no regrets, and no looking back. Like I told you before, and I'll continue to shout it to the mountaintops....When you've been in a Bentley, Chevrolet just doesn't cut the mustard anymore, and you realize how sorry it really was in the first place.
I love you.

YES WE CAN!!!!!!!!!!!

I waited for the other shoe to drop. I felt sick to my stomach, and changed the channel. I switched back, unable to NOT take the news. I stared in disbelief. I smiled cautiously. I listened......
I fell to my knees and I wept.
Transformational. A moment in History. A Planetary Leader. But what did all of this really mean for ME? Why was I sobbing and begging God to protect this man from the zealots that would try to take him down? What does he mean to me, all the way here in one of the furthest corners of the United States? Why did it touch my heart and shake me down to my very foundations, render me speechless, and flood every cell in my body with a feeling of jubilation and ultimately....RELIEF?
He made me believe in my own power tonight. He made me believe again that the things I think and do in this world, in this nation CAN have a difference, that this country doesn't simply march to the beat of a corporate drum that the elite "others" have predetermined. I believe in my ability to change, in the ability of my country to change, and I have a small part of my belief in the world that has been resurrected. And THAT is worth tears, worth silence, worth any pact with any deity to preserve. To simply say "I Believe" again has begun to bring my shriveled, sarcastic, cynical and jaded soul a measure of balm. I WANT to believe in the basic goodness of people. I WANT to believe that there is goodness in the world. I WANT to think that the world can be a better place where people will do what is RIGHT in place of what is EASY. I want that hopeful, naive, loving girl back. I want to live in the fabled geodome. He has pointed out a road....very cluttered and debris strewn....that leads back to that girl, that life.
Thank you, President Obama. You have the love and respect of this constituent.