Itchy Forebrain

Secret Mission

2007-04-05T11:54:00.000-06:00

There is a secret mission. I will discuss it tomorrow, when it passes or fails. I predict a fail. But hope for me.

I truely wish it so, since I started carpentry a year ago the frequency of my stories has gone way down. I do not find my life as fun and exciting. I guess the lifestyle of waking up at five in the morning and being in bed by ten will tend to fuck up the more party girl lifestyle. And my new burst of a itsy bitsy bit of writing may be related to me being in school right now. I would have more to say if I wasn't kept so poor. Being in school for my apprenticeship training has me living off a palty $315 a week. Which is barely more than my fixed expenses, so that said, I go out when it is free or less than $2. I am glad I already had a football and no one charges me to kick it in the park, otherwise my life would be sitting on a couch looking at a wall. Oh, and some studying I guess.

Gosh darnit.

2007-04-01T12:52:00.000-06:00

edit

Mmmm sacril-icious

2007-03-30T15:55:00.002-06:00

Jesus was a carpenter. I am going to be one. I have been looking for a job (rather lazily) for the last month. Today is Saturday, and I start on Monday. I have researched enough to know that I will be in a lot of pain for the next month. I am looking forward to it. Especially since I am going to a fancy little pool side engagement party this afternoon and have discovered that none of my swimsuits fit. A bunch of manual labour will do me a lot of good.I am starting out pretty green. I am sure that there are girls who have done a lot more than I have. I have built a wall, a table, a few things in shop class (where I was just girly enough to have asked for help sawing wood because my puny arm muscles made for long work of getting through a log. The learning curve ( I hope will be pretty steep).Looking for a job was kind of tough. I think that for the first time in my life, I experienced sexism. It made me a little sad, but also more resolute. There were quite a few people who looked at me when I handed in a resume, then looked at the resume and said "Oh, this is for you?" I didn't know that I could get other people to hand out my resume for me. I should hire some bums to do it for me next time.It sucks going from being near the top of my field to the very bottom. I was a waitress before, and every time I applied for a job, I got a job offer. But you have to start somewhere, I guess.The place that I am working gives me some creeps. They have been in the business for decades upon decades, so that speaks well for them. My problem is that the guy in the office was one of the people who were surprised that the resume was for me. He told me to call the next day so he would have an opportunity to see which of the crews needed someone. I didn't. Instead, I decided I didn't want to work for someone who gave me the creeps. So a few days later, another guy called me. I guess he needed someone. And since I still hadn't found a job, I went to an interview with the guy. It was at a Mormon Church way on the other side of town. I drove all the way over there to meet with him. He asked me if I was interested in apprenticing. I said yes. So he said that the only way to tell if it would work out is to give it a try. He handed me papers to fill out and told me to come Monday.I found it weird that that was it. This guy was odd. He was not loquacious. Every bit of information I got from him was pulled. I asked him what time. He said "Seven AM."I asked him what I should need, he said "A belt and a hammer, we will supply a hardhat"He never mentioned what I would be making. The guy at the office had asked what I expected to make. I told him. I don't know if I will be making that or not. I guess we will see.PS. Spell check isn't working, so anyone feel free to tell me where I fucked up. I could do it manually, but I suck.PS (x2) If anyone has something that I should know, feel free to tell me. Charitable knowledge that will make my life easier is eagerly accepted.

You Sexy Tool

2007-03-30T15:55:00.001-06:00

The last post before the first day of work…
Let us talk about tool shopping. Heck, tools sure can be sexy. I fell in love with a hammer. I think we may be getting married in a few months. As it was, I went for the second best. There is a fancy little sucker that weight only 15 ounces and it’s made of titanium. She was only $330. A sexy little beast called a stiletto. Well, according to that it is only $249.95, but that is American. If I cared enough I would do the translation, but I don’t. I can’t wait for my $50 hammer to break. I went to go visit my cousins framing crew and one of the guys had one of the fancy stiletto ones, and swinging it compared to my hammer was night and day. I suspect mine will kill my arms and shoulder. We will find out tomorrow night, won’t we?
A friend of mine told me that a new tool belt is like a new baseball glove. Only the unsavvy would see fit to use them. I am proud to say that I got the oldest one in the books, I got it repaired. It is so old. So at least I won’t look geek in all regards. I went to go pick it up at the leather workers. While the guy was looking for the hammer holder that needed fixing, this diva chick walked up, probably to pick up some heels. When he put my stuff on the bench, the girl asked me what my thing was. I told her that it was a piece of my tool belt. She asked me “That looks pretty hardcore, what do you do?” I exaggerated a little bit and told her “I am a carpenter.” Tee hee.
She gave me the very first “You go, girl!!” in my whole life. It really lightened my day. Even if I am not really that close to being a carpenter, sometimes a little white lie just feels good.
I wish I had a project this weekend so I could bust up some stuff.
Anyway, I am beginning to suspect that I am getting too excited. I will surely be let down if I let this continue, so I am going to watch some depressing romantic comedies and go to bed.

Workit Like the Machine You Are

2007-03-30T15:55:00.000-06:00

I think I fell in love today. I am pretty sure it is illegal for us to marry, but I would love to. My love is called (I will edit its name in later, I forget, tee hee). He is used to level the ground. He is also a machine. But let me tell you, WHAT A MACHINE!! He works on a remote control, and when I walked along side him, he sent tremors through my body. The most noticeable tremors were through my naughty bits. My very neglected naughty bits. I really like the jobbie. It made me feel competent; which is odd because I know practically nothing about what I am doing. I was in my glory when I was following simple instructions while all alone. I got to do all sorts of stuff. Like fill up holes. Seems like there were and awful lot of holes. Sometimes I had to fill them up with a shovel, but more fun was filling them up with the Cat. I am pretty sure that they noticed I was a girl. I had one guy say, “What do you want to be in the trades for, when you could be a model?”
Awww, I love fake flirting.
I also think that I was offered a lap dance.
It is really good for the ego to be the hottest chick on the block. Never mind that I am the only girl on the block.
At the end of the day, the boss guy (who is not creepy at all, YESSSSSSSSSS, he is just terrible at interviews apparently) told me, “It is not often that ladies show up for work. And I don’t think it has ever happened that a lady has smiled so much, or looked like she was having as much fun as you were.”
I think he was watching me use that remote control. I love it, biggest vibrator in the world. Mmmmm.

Karma won't let me sleep

2006-03-26T23:57:00.000-07:00

My friend Eric, of the last post, is moving to Alberta this month. So, he had his house up for sale and hand booked 16 viewings in one day. I had to work the day of the multi-viewings, and I also had to sit around and gnosh and have a bevy or two; so, I didn't get home until 1am the next day. Even though it is 2 hours later where he is, I still gave him a call to see how it went. He was sleeping or something, whatever it was, he didn't answer the phone. The jackass. I felt bad for trying to intrude upon his sleep at 3am.
That is ok, beacuse karma got me back hardcore a few hours later. I was nestled all snug as a bug in my bed, quite unconscious when...
THE FIRE ALARM GOES OFF!! I tried to ignore it. I tried to sleep through it. Eventually I began to suspect that there might actually be a fire so I put on some pants and a shirt and waddled over to get my jacket. I stepped into the hallway. There were all sorts of men running around in the hallway trying to turn off the fire alarm. Apparently, I was in no danger of catching on fire, so I could go back to bed.
When I returned to my bed I noticed that it was 3am. I guess that was karma getting me back for trying to wake up a friend.
What is worst is that when Eric woke up at 9:30am (7:30am my time) he decided to call me 5 times until I picked up the phone and told him I wanted to sleep. He is a very nice boy, so he did let me sleep. Until 8:30am, when he decided to call again.
I have learned my lesson, Karma and Eric will get me back if I try to make a very early morning call.

Call out

2006-03-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, people see a bit of cool and they need so much to be attached to it. I have a friend like this. After an entire weekend of hearing nagging about not being mentioned in this little blog that gets 2 readers, I have decided it is time to succumb.
Eric, this one is for you.
Eric is a friend of mine that has been begging me for weeks to tell stories about him, and until he does something story worthy, this is as close as he is going to get.
Eric, you are lame.
P.S. I love you. I am smitten.

Tracking Drunks

2006-03-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

Like most corner pubs, the one attached to the restaurant attracts many people who spend a lot of time there. We see the same faces just about every day, and for many hours of every day. I always assume these people have no lives outside of the pub. They do not have homes, friends or families. Their lives exist only in the context I see them in.
This theory of them having no lives was sadly proven today. There was this guy who comes into the pub darn near every day at around 2pm, we will call him Drunk. Drunk doesn't usually leave until 8pm, and always has a pint in front of him. Today, I was out for dinner and as I was leaving the restaurant, I saw a taxicab pick up him and his flat of beer up. I was amazed. I didn't know that it was possible to drink so much in the pub and to have a flat at home as well. He must be a professional.
I was also amazed that I was right about his outside life. He drank, anywhere, anytime.
So, we drove towards home. And pulling into the parking lot of the building I live in, I noticed the same cab. I was strangely excited. There was no way he could possibly live in my building!!
And he doesn't. Well, not quite.
He opened the door to what I have always assumed to be the storage shed (semi detached from the building) and stepped inside.
Now I am so curious about this man. How do I find this stuff out? I want to know about... well, I am not so sure about what it is that I want to know, but I do.

Painter got Fired

2006-03-08T10:03:00.000-07:00

I am singlehandedly responsible for the renovations at my restaurant being delayed. The painter from http://ichyforebrain.blogspot.com/2006/03/bit-of-sass-can-get-you-job.html got fired for talking inappropriately. The cook (Jen) told me the entire story.
Jen asked Rick (my future boss) what all the tradesmen were doing in the restaurant. The painter had told her that it would be only him left as we were pretty close to being done. Rick told her that they were getting quotes for another painter because they had released the painter from his contract. We all liked him in the restaurant, so she asked why. Rick told her that he was talking inappropriately to a waitress, and that he was working slowly. When asked which waitress, he said my name. Jen was rather shocked as she has met me and my inappropriate mouth. I am hardly a delicate talker.
I thought back on some of our conversation gems, the erectile dysfunction, Jerome ( http://www.chapter9photography.com/) and his decide to cut off his finger to be cool, lots of stuff that Jerome has done to be cool. Maybe those were what did it, but I was the initiator in all these conversations. I checked with my restaurant boss, I am allowed to talk inappropriately as much as I want.
I figure it is a possibility that what we were talking about was not the problem. The problem may have been that the discussions happened while I was setting up the restaurant in the morning. For the conversations to happen, he had to follow me around the restaurant while I wiped off yesterdays crumbs, and set tables. You can't get a lot of painting done when you are a puppy dog.

PS. Lets make this an even more reference filled entry. I have never met Jerome, but Ella (http://cherriescabaret.com/wordpress/) told me those stories about him. Ella is one heck of an amazing chick. Read her.

A Perfect Night of Waitressing

2006-03-06T15:55:00.000-07:00

Really, it was great. Last night was perhaps my best night waitressing ever. My customers found me charming and funny, my percentages of liquor sales rivaled the bar's, my tips were wonderful. As a plus, my friend dropped off some roast beef for me. If only every night was so good.

A Bit of Sass Can Get You a Job

2006-03-05T15:35:00.000-07:00

The restaurant that I work in has been undergoing some renovations. Whenever I have an opening shift I have to step around spacklers and tile workers and painters. They are fun to joke around with. I was teasing one of the painters about his erectile dysfunction, one day last week. I know painters can suffer from it because my friend Nick got it bad one year. It is from all the neurotoxic solvents that they use, then wash their hands in and just generally infest their bodies with. This painter kept saying that that was not true, it can't be because he has three kids and all that. I think he was enjoying all the talk about his penis.
He made a comment that with a mouth like mine, that I should work in the trades. We started talking about them. I had been looking into cabinet making online. Since highschool, it has always been one of my fantasies to make furniture. I told him all about it.
I guess his boss had been listening, as he walked up to me and said, "I will hire you"
He told me a bit about the job. In my mind it basically worked out that it was the girliest type of carpentry out there, which is good because I don't want to kill myself for any job. Not too much working outside in the winter, and none of the grossness of plumbing.
I think I am going to have to do it. A little more research is in order though

Snap Unhappy and the Edmonton Oilers

2006-03-02T00:17:00.000-07:00

Luc didn't win the contest, apparently it was the Lesbian sisters who did. Congrats to them. Luc doesn't seem pissed off at this. He is more concerned with the Oilers lack of goaltending. It is a big problem out here.

We have been fighting over whether his hero Georges Laraque is an asshole or not. Luc says no because Laraque was nice enough to take his picture with him. I say Laraque is an asshole because he came into the restaurant to pick up his takeout order while I was on the phone today. I was taking a reservation, writing down a phone number and I hear:
"Is it ready? Is it ready?" I look up to see Laraque standing there looking at me. I give him the finger. Not that finger, but the finger that means "I will be with you in one second."
He replies with "Is my order ready?"
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to listen to numbers and write them down while someone is cawing like a crow in your ear? Let me tell you, it is tough.
I asked the lady on the phone to repeat her phone number, and pressed my finger in my ear and got the rest of the number, and hung up with the decision that I didn't like Laraque.
And I understood why no one else in the resto does either, he comes in quite often. It is the personality. Todd Harvey on the other hand...
FABULOUS

Hostesses made my day TWICE

2006-03-01T23:28:00.000-07:00

As a waitress, I work with quite a few beautiful hostesses. They are nice girls, I like them. The problem with beautiful girls is that they are not always smart. The most beautiful girl is Annie, she is surprisingly the most un-smart (bad grammar was intentional there). Today, one of the waiters fucked something up, so he started singing the Homer Simpson song "I am so smart, S-M-R-T"
I guess Annie had never seen the Simpsons, as she did not catch the reference. She asked the waiter what the song was. He explained that it was funny because he is claiming to be so smart, but then spells a simple word wrong. Annie then asks "Then how are you supposed to spell it?"
That comment made my day, especially when a few minutes later, she came back and said,
"I got it now, you spell smart s-m-A-r-t." She is an adorable girl, and very sweet, but the level of pride she had in spelling that word just made me crack up even more.

It was a big day for the hostesses. Another one of them, one I will call Emma,(because that is her name) is actually quite smart. I think she feels the need to play up her dumbness to fit in with the others. She is one of the smartest dumb people I know, think about it-that sentence makes sense. We were talking about our cats. Everyone at the restaurant has a cat with an M name it seems. Hers is Marmalade, mine is MopKat (after me, and that she looks like a mop). I am pretty sure that she doesn't know as many words as she thinks she does, she wrote on the reservation board:
Marmalade + MopKat = Moot Point.

I am pretty sure that this is not the case. Someone tell me if I am wrong. Are 2 cats the same as irrelevancy or whatever fancy way there is to define a moot point.

Strippers have more fun too

2006-02-25T22:45:00.000-07:00

What is it about my week that I am attracting the stories of other people. Tonight was the birthday dinner for one of my friends. I was talking to this girl who happens to strip, or did. I didn't want to act too curious about her job. That might be creepy. She told me the story of inviting this guy back to her place Friday night. He thought he would have to stay up late because he was going to get some, so he bought some cocaine. Apparently, he brought a lot of cocaine.
The girl did not find his wanting to do lines when they got back to her place to be a particularity attractive trait. She liked even less that he wanted to do A LOT of lines to be even less attractive. Although she had been planning on sleeping with him like the slut she is, she decided not to when she saw the quantity of altering substances he inhaled. This may not have been a good idea, but then I have the advantage of hind site. She had invited him over and had mentioned sex in the invite. He had every reason to think he was getting some.
He took the news that he wasn't getting any pretty high. He told her, "Ok then, I will need a minute in the bathroom to release some tension." Almost classy, eh?
An hour later, she starts pounding on the bathroom door, she REALLY has to pee. A lot.
"Give me a minute"
"I really have to pee, hurry up"
An hour after that, I am sure she is doing the little kid squat with legs crossed and hands pushed on to crotch move. The move requires begging, as pounding can't be done because the crotch push is important for urine retention.
"Pleeeeeese!?!?"
"ONE MINUTE"
She gives up and goes to the neighbours for their bathroom.
The guy stayed in the bathroom masturbating for 7 and a half hours. Apparently, all the Sunshine girls that had been stored in the newspaper stack had been ripped out of the paper and were left in a stack. She is afraid to use her towels and has been asked by the neighbour with the bathroom to not wash the towels in the building machines. She feels the need to get a couple of gallons of bleach before she will use her own bathroom again. I like the story. I felt kind of proud of the guy. If you are going to go at it, go at it memorably.

Bouncers have more fun

2006-02-24T22:19:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, I went with my friend Luc to go looking for drag queens. Luc is a big and brawny bouncer. He is also tied for first place in a radio contest called Snap Happy http://radiosonic.fm/contests/snap_happy_day1.php. It is a digital scavenger hunt. Everyday, there is a different chore that gets a different photo assignment, from high fiving a senior (bonus points for being over 100) to being in a freezer at the grocer's. On day nineteen the assignment was to get your picture taken with a drag queen. He seemed to think that I would know something about that, I don't know why.
So while we are walking in between gay bars on our hunt, this guy walks up to Luc and says, "HEY, I know you!" all excited.
"Are you sure? You don't look familiar," questions Luc.
"Yeah, you are a bouncer right?" the guy seems really excited and happy.
"Uh, yeah,"
"Cool," the dude is way too excited. It is like a drag queen getting to meet Cher, you almost expect him to start peeing on Luc's leg. "You kicked my ass on New Years Eve"
Luc is a funny chap, he has more personality than the state of Ohio. He starts to giggle, a good look on a big man. "Really? Glad to help you out with that, I am glad you are so happy about it."
Dude is still beaming, I was hoping he would ask for Luc's autograph. But alas, they made parting comments and kept walking.
Am I too girlie? It is too much for me to imagine having such a jovial conversation between bouncer and bouncee. I loved it.

Food and Love

2006-02-23T12:58:00.000-07:00

Working in a restaurant as I do means I work with love. Whether it is waiting for hands to be unclasped before being able to put a plate down or seeing moans escape after trying a bite of one of those 1500 calorie dishes, we work with love. As such, the air in a good restaurant always has a tingle to it; it speaks of possibilities and romance and a bit of lust. That might be why crushes are so prevalent.
I know at the restaurant I work at that one of the kitchen guys feels it for me (that one has a lot of food related perks), that I have one on a waiter, two of them are dating, there are a couple of ex's and one of the waitresses runs and hides when the manager comes by. This last one give me so much pleasure.
The waitress in the crush, Tania, stared at Tom for every minute of the Christmas party. She really runs away when he approaches. It is hilariously adorable. I love her for it. I have a big mouth though, so her choice in talking to me about it (she claims no one else knows) was probably unwise. I told Tom...
"I know someone who fancies you!!" in a teasing tone, figuring that I could do some taunting. I wouldn't quite tell, just make him keep a look out.
"I know someone too, Tania."
"Uh, yeah, thanks for ruining my fun."

So, in conclusion, I am a terrible friend.
Especially when we had dinner last night, she asked me if I thought he knew. I said that I was pretty sure he did. She was shocked that I would think that.

PS. Yesterday was the prettiest day I have ever had in my life. Everything that could work was working. I expected more compliments than I got. I had a friend who told me that if I was as hot as I said I was, then he needed to come on my face. I guess I wasn't that hot because nobody came on my face, or even in their pants. Damn.

Girl Masturbation Pt 2

2006-02-22T00:01:00.000-07:00

As demanded, more about my masturbatory habits. Well, actually, not really more than a few sentences before I talk about the repercussions, but I wanted a second part to something.
I had a relapse one day this April. I made myself come with my own hands. But apart from that singular self encounter (if that is a word or phrase) I have not ridden my slimy highway for over two years.
I only intended to let the masturbation monkey off my back for a short while. I was picturing a couple of months, really just to prove to my body that I was in charge, not it. But I started to change. Really since my sensitivity has returned, it has done so with a vengeance. I am the Queen of the Orgasms. I have had more orgasms in one night than years I have lived. I have come in every position, from many body parts. I am very proud to say that I have had orgasms from my ears, my toes, getting a back rub, getting my nipples sucked, pretty much touching my shoulder will make me come.
Since I gave up my clit, every nerve ending on my body seems to have become alive. Giving my masturbation has completely been worth it.
What is more, when I am with you (as infrequently as that passes), holding hands even, or kissing; I am very conscious of my skin. I can feel my jeans hem touching my calf. I can feel every knot in the sewing of my teeshirt. Every inch of my skin feels my arousal, and quickly too.
If we begin to kiss, there is a good chance that I will feel a pain in my cunny so much. My 'gine feels like it is ready to jump out of my panties to get something, anything to touch it. I am sure that it never did that before. It is the most impassive vessel that could be.
These are the things that make giving up masturbation worth it.

Girl Masturbation

2006-02-15T22:53:00.000-07:00

I was late in the self love arena. I didn't make myself come until I was almost 19, if happened after the purchase of a shiny silver vibrator from the local sex shop.
I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
I was uber-sensitive. It could take me less than a second to come the first time each session. That is not an exaggeration. I would let each orgasm roll off of each other forever. Maybe a half an hour here, a half an hour there. It was great. Feeling air get caught in my throat making it difficult to swallow, then the warmth in my belly as my energy built up, then the clenching and eventual release with the shakes then relax. Only to be built up all over again in another minute. It was a good time.
I did it in the morning, staring at myself in the mirror. I did it after my shower, before I left to work. Budgeting my time so that I would not be too late for work. I got written up a few times for my masturbating related tardiness. I think maybe I was an addict for quite a few months. I had a lot of years to fit into those months, I was just catching up.
I did some things to make my new play zone more fun. I had a hood piercing already, but I went and got a clit piercing to compliment it.
That made it even more sensitive. MORE FUN!!
I tapered off, but never went below twice a day. All this action my clit was getting was gradually desensitizing me. It went from 1 second to two, the eight, to minutes and on up.
Then, one day about a year and a half ago, I was plugging away at it with my trusty silver. Silver and I were about 20 minutes into it when I smelled something... smoke. I figured it was a roommate burning something, so didn't worry about it. The the knob fell off my vibe. The plastic knob had melted. I had burnt out my vibrator. I killed my bestfriend. It was a sad day, I decided that if I can kill a machine, then I had a problem. I vowed to never masturbate again.

Saturday Night

2006-02-08T00:34:00.000-07:00

So, Saturday night with Jeff has come and gone. My crush is still alive and going strong. We went out as planned to the local Irish pub and proceeded to get our dance on. There was a bunch of our friends their, but it seemed to me that I was singled out for a lot more attention than equal share merited. I was delighted. We talked, touched and flirted. I was a very happy camper. Things were lining up perfectly. Which means that something would bring my disaster back.
We went outside to cool down and this drunk guy was trying to talk to us about what we did last night. He was under the impression that all of us had hung out together. We were quite sure that we had never met.
Guy was all, "You know me, man, we were hanging out last night."
We said, "We don't know you."
Guy gets a bit louder, "What are you ashamed of me? Am I not cool enough for you to admit that we go way back? You got a problem with me."
This is where we split up. The girls, including me, head back inside to get bouncer to get man away from us. The boys stay outside to finish a cigarette. Apparently what happened next was this:
Guy gets closer and angrier about not getting respect. Jeff has a mouth on him and said something like "I know I am not your friend because I am too cool to hang out with guys who wear pink shirts."
Which means drunk guy must attack him. He lost, by a lot, but the bouncer knew he was trouble so he made Jeff leave immediately in a cab (I still have his jacket that he was not allowed to fetch) and called the cops on drunk guy.
The moral of the story is that it seems I will never get the opportunity to tell Jeff about my massive crush on him.

Daddy's Prostitute

2006-02-07T01:48:00.000-07:00

My parents have been split for near twenty years, they are both middle class, educated people, less you think I am some redneck hick. My mom is your stereotypical office lady; very conservative, Ralph Klein voting gal, has been financial prepared for retirement since she was 24. My dad likes his drink, his times, his toys and his stuff. They were not really a good match. Recently, my mom has been telling stories about my dad from when they were together. I don't know what brought this on. She went my whole like without bashing him, and now she likes to share stuff. They are cute little stories, like this one.
My dad lost his wallet and reported it to the cops so that if it was recovered or credit cards or something got used. It can happen to anyone.
But it didn't happen to my dad. A few days after he reported it, someone called the house. My mom answered, and low and behold it was a pimp, calling for my dad. The pimp was rather pissed off at my dad. Apparently, my dad had skipped out on his bill with one of the pimps ho's. The pimp offered to come beat the shit out of my dad, so my mom told him "You can do whatever you want with him, but I have two small children here, so don't let it happen here"
My mom called the cops and confirmed the pimp's pimphood. The cops heard the story and called my dad a moron.
My parents relationship didn't last too much longer after that.

Green Eyed Monster

2006-02-04T22:22:00.000-07:00

I have special feelings towards jealousy. The most admirable thing I see in a boy is the lack of jealous. I had gone out on a couple of dates with this guy I liked but didn't particularily see a fit with, his name was James. James was nice and jolly, actually one of the few people that jolly actually applied too. One day, I was having a few people over to my house for a dinner that he called in the middle of. I promised him that I would call him back after things wound down. When I did call him, I told him that a male friend of mine would be sleeping in my bed that night and that I would like to sleep with him, due to lack of blankets and the fact that I lived in an industrial loft with cement everything and crappy heating. It was cold, so I was faced with sleeping with a friend in a cozy bed with an electric blanket and down duvets or the couch with a throw. He knew the status of my loft, but not the status of my friendship. James asked a few questions about my friend; questions like if I had any romantic desire towards him, and if we had a past. Since all his questions were answered negative, James told me that he was okay with us sharing a bed, but that he trusted I would leave if I started to feel any desires or if I felt that my friend was indicated he was. The way that he handled the situation just made my heart go *squish*. James and I started a serious relationship a few days later.

I hate jealousy. But I am a little ashamed to say that I can be quite jealous at times. If someone flirts with me at a party and then flirts with someone else, gets shot down and then comes back to me. I will have internal glares at them forever almost. I am thinking of you, Phil, you are a jackass.

Start things out terribly wrong

2006-02-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

Hi. I am going to give a try to this blogging thing. I have been writing for a while, but have figured that my life is too lame to be able to entertain people with it on a semi regular basis. So prepare to be bored half the time and entertained 1% of the time. I am not so sure about what will go on the other 49%, maybe mild disinterest or some waffling. Let's get this disaster rolling...

I have had a crush on a bloke for quite a couple of months. Jeff (the bloke in question) and I work together at the local Italian restaurant. It is great fun, flirting back and forth all night while we pour water and coffee makes the nights go by rather quickly. We are both rather sarcastic and everything turns into a joke. I have recently crossed a line.
I reached over and picked a piece of fluff off his shirt and said, "Wow, your mom isn't very good at doing your laundry, is she?"
"Yeah, I know, she died last week."
"She must have died after that night we spent together." I said when I saw the big smile on his face, I figured he had made a terribly inappropriate joke. I thought it was funny.
"She really did die last week"
"Stop fucking around!" I couldn't have possible have a mouth big enough for that much foot. It couldn't have been true.
"She did, liver failure!"
"Fuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!!!!!

So that was Wednsday, this is Saturday. I think I ought to ask him out when we go out for drinks after work today. That is enough time for him to forget how much of a moron I am, isn't it?