circle YES or NO

the latest on the boy front:

(because, as a dear friend said recently, "it's always complicated.")

really, this is kind of a poll. so, you know what that means? it means i'd REALLY like it if you gave me your opinion here. yes. ALL of you. even if i'll see you five minutes after i post this.

my issues with men are never very, umm...good? not that i date assholes or that i get involved in relationships that involve several acts of poorly performed drama. i actually don't even get to that point. my trouble is in how or whom i am attracting. let's make a list (and some of you may or may not be included in this list, but i'll never tell you either way, so just get over it.).

1. the married man
2. the *possibly* gay man
3. the completely unattractive man
4. the emotionally unavailable because i-have-so-much-more-going-on-in-my-life-than-you man

currently, i am taking issue with a man that falls into the second category. he shall remain nameless, but i will say that i work with him. oh, and he lives like three streets over from me. so, here's a super brief background. he's pretty. he's a self-proclaimed "kinda metro." he gets manicures. he is known to tan. he is still getting over a girl he dated three years ago. he thinks all females are virtually evil.

i'd worked with this guy for three years, even lived near him for possibly longer, and only began to know him during a recent field trip. he's excellent. and he's a cop on the side. hoTT.

oh yeah, the poll. sorry.

so, tonight, after not talking to him for about 4 or 5 days (long weekend, conflicting schedules at work, yadda yadda), he calls me. about 20 minutes ago to be precise. now, at first he's inquiring about my whereabouts and my journies of the evening. we share these boring details which leads into him talking about some of the other guys at work going out tonight. *pitter-patter* is he asking me to come with?! (no. of course not.)

but they're going out in Middletown, and that's a hike from here at this hour, he says.

yeah, i hear that...

yeah. [pause] so you're not doing anything?

now, at this point, i'm thinking, well, maybe he's trying to see if i'm free...if i wanna hang, yadda yadda. so i drop some hints ("nothing" "kinda bored" "what are you doing now" etc.) but he doesn't bite.

so, in essence, we spent about 15 minutes on the phone just "chatting." i was under the impression that males did not really partake in this generally feminine ritual.

WHY did he call? i'm not sure the reason for my intense need to know this (probably pride, but whatever) but i really want to know. i mean, just chatting... does this mean he's gay? or does it mean that he totally wants me and was too nervous? or maybe i'm just friend material? (that can't really be it, can it?)

oh, and i should add that he briefly discussed this other co-worker...an infamous wild girl who called us both the other night while completely boxed. her conversation with him, however, was apparently unrepeatable. and he shared this fact with me. not sure why.

yeah, so maybe there's about fifty questions in here instead of just one, and all are pretty vague. but check in anyway and make sure i'm still breathing, ok?

(i still believe that, despite this mess, things are really cut-and-dry. not complicated. so you can simply circle "yes" or "no" if you wish. that's really all this comes down to.)

i'm not *that* desperate

so, this guy moved in to my neighbor's house. after some minor investigative work, i discovered that this boy is the eldest son of my neighbors. this means that he is my age and has just returned home to live with his parents. and we all know i will not fault him there!

it took little time at all to realize that this boy is very good looking. and even less time to realize that he's hoTT when i saw him mowing the lawn, sans shirt, the other day.

now my investigation has kicked up a few notches. i begin inquiring to my mother if she knows any details. i ask around among my circle (eh, so maybe it's a triangle) of friends and some other peers of the neighborhood.

my results are discouraging. mr. cutie is apparently freshly sprung from the big house, kiddos.

ok, well, is it that bad? people change, right? sure! he did his time!

i share this with the momma dukes and she seems to feel that there is still potential. so, i don't give up hope--yet.

as we go about our lives in taunting proximity, we still have not introduced one another. it's still last-minute waves as i'm pulling out of the driveway or he's slipping away to more yardwork.

...then, i get a call from Lana.

"oh my god, do you know who he is?"

"i have general idea, but more details would be appreciated."

"he just got out of prison, right? and his last name is Rhinebach?"

"yeah?"

"dude, he's one of the kids that set fire to Lori and Carmine's house five years ago! remember? when they were on vacation?"

fuck.

a drug addict? maybe. car theif, sure. but arsonist? i'm not sure i can swing that one. and yeah, there's a story that makes him seem slightly less rough around the edges, but c'mon. arson?

and the punchline is killer. my mother is still encouraging the hookup. she even knows the victims! (and we know those people! Lori and Carmine are recognizable names in my household. granted, it has something to do with my father's heavy drinking habit, but still...arson?) so, as my mother strikes up a conversation with the father, mr. cutie mowing in the distance, i sit here thinking we should treat our elaborate deck with some sort of fire retardant.

lookee here

this is my new favorite blog: city crab.

ch-ch-check it, check it out.

note to self

i was reading an interview of Natalie Portman recently and in it she spoke of the pheonomenon of the American Celebrity. the topic rambled slightly, but she seemed intent on getting across a specific point. her understanding of celebrities sharing information with the media, or even being a passive participant, signified a type of insecurity. her tone seemed condescending, almost. then, at the end, she made it clear that she was glad that she'd never felt so alone--so alone that she needed to share her personal thoughts, pains, or happiness with complete strangers.

taken out of the "celebrity" context, i cannot see anything wrong with this--this sharing of humanity. i have fallen out of habit with the human race, i'm afraid. there's too much lurking. too much shadow. and i think my writing is tucked away in those folds of tattered clothing. i must remember to observe. a writer's keenest sense should never be through the fingers.

(there is no line from me to you, but i assure you it's a simple path to follow.)

copying again...sans guilt

i saw this on this girl's site. i haven't read much so i can't say if you should go there (and my predilection is to hate, apparently). but she did have this really fun quiz which i've copied just to show everyone why it's good that i don't believe in Heaven and Hell. (because if you don't believe, it doesn't exist, right? eek.)

[edit: she's good. check out "Sometimes a Little Sand on the Face is the Least of One's Concerns" here.]

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

apparently it's not bad enough that i must be perpetually aroused without the possibiltiy of satisfaction (interested? see my research project below), but i must also be surrounded by the Furies (dripping with women's limbs and fucking HAIR? *gag*) and have my face used as a nest for some bird-creature (Lana, that'd kill you, huh? thank god you're a Jew!).

and, is it just me or do level niners seem to have it made? i can handle the cold weather and some interesting company!

i'm gonna stick with the lists

1. so i picked up a copy of Watership Down. and i'm a tad peeved that the book seems to be written, entirely, from the perspective of fucking rabbits. that's my Book Quiz book? it better be one hell of a story. or at least explain to me why rabbits fuck so much.

2. i saw the shins last night, and i'm sorry to report that they were just OK. while this may seem blasphemous, i assure you that it is not. they're just kind of subdued in the flesh, my friends. and the one spazzoid that does muster up some enthusiasm just seems to need some medication by the end of the show. it's obvious he has that new disease that all the drug companies are talking about. so i'm doing you all a favor by suggesting that you save your money and just download a show if you're in dire need of their live sound. and under no circumstances should you pay to see, agree to hear, or even entertain legitimate musical discussion about their opening band, the brunettes. they're simply laughable.

3. on a similar note, Webster Hall in NYC reminds me of that creepy orgy scene from Eyes Wide Shut. (its decor is most likely dictated by this aspect of the building's existence: Webster Hall Fridays.) i'm not sure why they didn't film part of the movie there. my companions and i even found a secret lounge upstairs that was velvety and creepy enough to be the setting of some of the more profane scenes. it was nearly frightening when i thought about the gathering of the masked people as they beckoned Tome Cruise to provide the password. i certainly knew no password. (have i used this metaphor before on here? i feel as if i have...)

4. i'm thinking of signing up for this Team in Traning schtick. it's part of my agenda of doing more things that will allow me to feel personal pride. of course, it seems fairly out of my league and there's a strong possibility that i will not follow through. but if i do, i expect each and every one of you to pledge loads of money to me so that i can feel better about myself. i suppose, by extension, you'll feel swell as well.

5. i contemplated, in my car for about 45 seconds, going to a singles party. you know those ones that are advertised by that online dating service? yeah, well, i think i'm just going to continue my attempt to have sex with Jeremy instead.

6. i'm finding that i'm excessively fatigued as of late. if anyone has any suggestions as to which pills i should take, vitamins to increase, or solutions to inhale/insert/consume/apply, i'd be grateful.

7. going back to the music theme, i'd like to take an informal poll on the existence of encores. are they *really* necessary? i vote no. just play the damn songs altogether and stop making us all chant and clap for you. we've already paid more than we should have in fees in an effort to demonstrate that we think your music is fairly kickass. and if you need a break, take a break. chug a beer onstage while your drummer does crazy tricks. something, anything to get rid of that pompous encore. that's what i think anyway. what say you?

8. marriage and family are an ongoing background concern of my brain, and by extension, myself. is it really a woman thing? age thing? personal thing? sure i'd like it some day, but it's quite tedious to continue thinking about it until i chase down someone (or chase them all away in the process). there are only so many marathons a girl can run to bide her mothergrabbin time, my friends.

9. i'm babysitting tomorrow night. those kids are going to watch American Idol with me if i have to promise them each a gallon of ice cream afterwards.

a few things of interest

1. i think my mother is menopausal. she's demonstrating symptoms of split-personality disorder and has taken to pronouncing the word "frustrating" as "fuss-trating." all of which i find terribly, ahem, FRUStrating with a fucking R.

2. i got mad at my frind today at work. it was so incredibly childish and shameful. my behavior, that is. sadly enough my anger spouted from an incident involving a boy, a truck, and a piece of furnitrue. sorry dude. i'll be a big girl now.

3. if anyone has a vacant room (with separate entrance preferably), apartment, studio, house, cabin, flip-n-fuck, or futon, please contact me in the comments sexxxtion (oh, you need to have a penis, also. and be into using it for sex. with a real live girl). i am interested in conducting a study that involves the heterosexual intercourse/time relationship. i'm kind of serious here, people.

4. if anyone has any good advice for getting out of a prior engagement, please let me know. i made a promise to attend a Yankee game with a hyperactive, raunchy co-worker and her WT companions. i'm just realizing now that this will not be any kind of fun.

5. i'm trying to reach Bishop fucking Allen because they won't return my goddamn emails. i'm finding this to be FRUStrating as well.

6. ...so, what's this i hear about the Pope being a Nazi?

(7. oh, and in case you didn't hear, i may be one of the greatest people of all time.)

"you may be one of the greatest people of all time"

well, i made an ass of myself on Jeremy's blog because i hate Oprah and i'm cranky. i think it may have something to do with being too lazy to masturbate.

regardless, here is the quiz he posted. i'm biting off him completely because it makes me feel better about being obnoxious in his comments section.

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

oh, and for the record, i'm not into rabbits, persay. i just perfer them over armadillos. they're one of the more disgusting creatures on the planet.

fun stuff for a Monday

my friends gave me linkage. a blink, if you will.

(do you have something on the ettiquette of this, Jeremy?)

so i'm going to pimp him out. and her. my pimping sees no gender. it is asexual, if you will. something i can only aspire to be...but for now, it shall only be obtained by my pimping.

(right.)

so, my friend is Gina.
her man-friend is Jon.

she is arguably the hottest girl under 5 feet i have ever seen. ever.
she is also intelligent. she knows a lot about feminism and literature. she has a Masters Degree. she's well traveled. she's really funny and allows me to Windex her current apartment when i'm drunk (while her man friend cleans the toilet with Coke--c'mon, you know you got that email forward. he just put it to the test, my friends.) and she helps me when i'm stoned. sometimes i get stoned and bad things happen. historically speaking, that is. but i'd imagine that if i were to be stoned once again, she'd continue this behavior. even if she were incredibly hungry.

he is really nice. he sings very well, plays guitar very well, and is really funny even while driving a non-power steering vehicle. i shit you not. sometimes he has stalker groupies and i tend to hate them. but, in spite of such annoyances, jon remains nice. he also happens to be a Boston fan. and i still think he's nice. that should say a lot about how nice he really is.

so please listen to Jon Gorey's music. especially if you live in Boston, because then you can go see him play. and you could probably even talk cleansing products with him. and be nice to Gina. the rest of the girls there, you are free to condescend. but only if they are avid online Scrabble players.

*****

today's classroom comedy:

The Scene

Two pubescent teenagers seated in the computer lab, dressed and prepared for the day's lesson. the female is seated behind the male and is gently massaging his shoulders. in an adjoining room, class is commencing.

[Enter Teacher]

Teacher: Umm, guys...what are you doing?

Male Student: (talking with a deep voice that is counteracted with a pronounced lisp) We're waiting to for Mr. Smith. Mr. Anderson said we were working with him today.

Female Student: Yeah.

Teacher: Well, that's great, but it doesn't mean we're going to massage each other in the mean time.

(Male student rolls eyes and leaves the room without pushing in his chair. Female student sighs noticeably and also leaves the room, not nearly as embarrassed as she should be. Teacher remains to ponder her use of sarcasm in the classroom.)

Fin.

'round we go

i know it's probably extremely cliche to talk about how a hipster-doofus movie made me realize something about my life--even worse that said move was about existential philosophies and the doofuses that either spend entirely too much time thinking about them or not nearly enough. but, that's kinda what happened.

sometimes i refer to myself as a writer, but it's more in the sense that i feel i'm better at grasping the English language than most people i encounter on a daily basis. as far as actually writing, i would become extremely embarrassed to even share some of my latest. whether it's laziness or lack of talent, one of the two is the reason why i'm not completely thrilled with much of what i do. i'm kind of perpetuating my own turmoil by allowing this to happen. i claim to be passionate and i claim to be intense, but i think i'm more accurately defined as a fencerider. not that this is about definitions...

i've always been completely impressed by cyclical things: the water cycle, horses shitting and eating in the same field, the seasons, the sun, the moon, babies, sex, routine, interpersonal relationships, fashion, music. often, fearing the life/death cycle, humans spend much of life trying to break the commonality by doing something fantastic. something that is not in the cycle. something that is "unique." but even that, really, is all part of the blanket, my friends.

but let's not get depressed, ok?

it is so astonishingly wastful to dwell. to categorize. to assume.

i like to be funny, but i was just kidding. so please stop laughing.

and i absolutely guarantee that my next post will not be about myself. i'm gonna give that big ol' wheel a powerful spin.

more on this later

i just returned from a lengthy field-trip. my eyes are heavy and i'm dehydrated. that happens when you travel. it was a trip i won't forget. it was me getting to know things about a few people i work with. it was me learning more about me, and how i seem to wedge myself against others.

(there are things i need to explore there...i promise to come back to that. i owe you and myself some detailed mapmaking--something to decipher my streak of vague writing and excessive parenthetical half-thoughts. i'm quieting my thoughts and my anger. i'm ready to talk about lakes and trees and placid loves. and i won't regress. it's new. it's restrained. it's crafted.)

oh, and there were the kids. my kids.
i learned, finally, definitely, that i am happy to be doing what i do. i want to be better.
i love my career. i love a youth that can study and stress in some strange hotel, knock on my door at 6am to see if i'd brought an extra pair of socks, bust ass for several hours in physical and mental competition, and then bust a move with that girl from Herkimer County at the dance later that night.

in these things, life is big.
(enough now. enough.)

i am thrilled to be here, right now.
here's that smile again.

salacious is my favorite word

there is a wind, vibration, tingle...indecipherable--like the annoyance of knowing that car in your blind spot is going the exact same speed as yourself--and unsettling.

why have we met this way?

there is so much laughter...
things aren't making sense.
[i need the concrete. i want to mold this into something. then i can sit back, look, shave, chip, alter, crumble, destroy, create. let's go, please.]
i am your dream, not in it, and my body is moving about. my visions are blurred and antagonizing. but the colors are cool. you are always calming. you clean up after yourself (i can do it for you). i'm always picking up after you.

i want more than this. i want more than you. i'm looking into an empty pot, distracted by the silver scratches. swirls of a mother, a father, a woman alone.

i hear you cutting yourself and now i understand why.