Archive for September, 2006

We looked each other in the eyes, staring deeply.  Your body was pressed up against me, your breath mingling with mine.  I felt a bead of sweat trailing down my back, my heart was thumping hard against my chest.  I know you could see the pulse flutter at my throat.  You shifted, and pressed even closer; I don't know how, for I thought there was no more room between us.  I closed my eyes, my mouth opening to try and gasp air into my starved lungs.  It was so hot, I could barely breathe.  But I knew I was close, just a few more minutes and I'll get there.

Then we arrived at my metro stop, and I fought my way out of the jungle of bodies on the train without a backwards glance.  Oh, fresh air!   Freedom!  This fuckin' commute is killing me!

Oh, and Mr. Commuter? I think you owe me breakfast.

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You and I, we're in a relationship.  I love you.  I can't imagine my life without you.   But, is it so awful a responsibility to expect you to be timely and true?   Am I asking for too much when I want you to do what you're supposed to do correctly?

Yet, time and time again, you've let me down.  You're too late. You're too early.  Sometimes, you don't do anything at all.  Today, we were halfway through our nightly ritual, and you quit on me.  Why do you like to leave me hanging like that?

I count on you every night, to be there for me.  I need to know that when I come home, you're there waiting.  I take comfort in the thought that you're there.

Why? Why do you hurt me so?

So, fuck you, Digital Video Recorder, for recording only HALF of the Amazing Race.  I told you to record all new episodes of the series on that channel, so WHY DID YOU STOP HALFWAY?

This might be the end, DVR.  You've broken my heart too many times.   This is the last time, or else I'm cancelling my service and going back to VCR.  Just to let you know, my old VCR always let me finish first. 

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I've got a fantastic rack.  Seriously.  My boobs are stupendous.  They hang just right, they're more'n a handful (D's, baby! D is for da-DAAAANG!), and they look good under clothes.  I usually think my breasts are pure love.

But  not today.  Today, I hate my boobs. 

Why?  Well, I just got my tshirt from Threadless.  The Communist Party one.  And it's too small, thanks to my lady lumps. 


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HOLY SHIT!  I didn't know TAR was on already.  I'm not sure how I feel about the change in schedule though: it used to be on the weekday (tue? thurs?) but now it's on Sundays at 10 pm (et/pt).  I missed the last episode, but hopefully they'll re-run. 

I freakin' love TAR; my best friend and I had discussed trying out as partners, but I told her I value her friendship far too much to go racing with her.   I'm a bitch and a half under stress so… I'll need to find a partner I can work with, but won't cry about if we ruin our acquaintanship.  I HAD someone in mind, but I'm not even in touch with him anymore, so that sucks. 

Things I need to learn before going on TAR:

1) Drive stick shift

2) ride a fuckin' bike

3) swim. Well.  Doggy paddle does not count.

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What's your musical horoscope?  (Put your music player on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come up.)  Inspired by Stephanie.


What would I do without my Creative Zen Vision M in black?  I think I'd either shrivel up and die, or end up committing mass murder on the metro if I have to listen to one more TMI filled phone call or conversation.  Creative Zen Vision M: It drowns out the stupid.

Here are the results of my shufflin':

  1. 2 Drinks In (Maggie Kim)
  2. I am stretched on your grave (Kate Rusby)
  3. California Dreaming (The Mamas and the Papas)
  4. The Fragile (Nine Inch Nails)
  5. Like Glue (Sean Paul)
  6. The Wrong Band (Tori Amos)
  7. Unwritten (Natasha Bedingfield)
  8. Ichirin no Hana (High and Mighty Color)
  9. Kyrie (From Requim Mass, Mozart)
  10. Ring of Fire (Johnny Cash)

That last one always makes me lose it completely, and I end up cackling.  I liked that song a lot…until there was talk of using it on a hemorroid commercial.  So now, whenever Johnny Cash sings "I fell into a burning ring of fire…" I crack up.  Because I've obviously got the mentality of a 12 year old boy.

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Avast, ye mangy curs!  Hoist the jolly roger high, for today be Talk Like a Pirate Day


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Profoundly moved by the touch of His Noodly Appendage, I proceeded to go to work in a daze. 

Then it hit me.

I needed to rasterbate

I had to do it quietly, so that I wouldn't get caught.  It's against policy to utilize devices at work for pleasure, but the call was too strong.  I furtively hit the buttons to start this glorious activity, reveling in the low-pitched buzz and soothing heat.  It was all too much.  In mere minutes, it was done. 

I rasterbated.  And it was good.

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