Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Zone d'Erotica

This is the name of a kink store the size of a Super Wal-Mart. I believe it is a franchise.

The one I passed by was located in North Houston between Beaver Springs Rd and Butte Creek Pkwy. I couldn't make this shit up.

Houston has some really stupid street names. Either the folks who came up with them were sheltered and religious, or they thought people were stupid. Or they were stupid. Here is a small sample. Judge for yourself:

Morning Wood
Knotty Wood (my personal favorite)
Gaywood (I swear to god)
Governor's Wood (?!!!!)
Jaywood (in honor of...)
Smiling Wood
Beaver Wood
Beaver Lodge
Beaver Bend
Sugar Bush
Spice Bush
Red Bush
Stone Bush

I think I like Sugar Bush and Knotty Wood the best. Gaywood is in one of the most prestigious sections of Houston where homes sell in the millions. Can you imagine paying 2 million dollars to live on a street called Gaywood?

Monday, August 30, 2004

Dirty Old Man

Jethro told me this story the other day.

I guess they were swapping relative stories, but his friend, Brett, started telling him about his uncle. Brett's family lived in a small town where everyone knew each other and talked about each other. His uncle, apparantly, gave everyone alot to talk about because he was the horniest old man west of the Mississippi. He wore out 5 wives who all hated him, spent an untold fortune on prostitutes and strippers, and was generally a reprobate.

Even as he got older his libido did not wane. His last wife was a small, quiet, mail-order, Asian lady. She didn't have much to say, so everyone figured that he kept her pretty busy. One day, the EMTs were called to his house where he had suffered a massive heart attack while copulating with his Asian wife. As they loaded him on the gurney, his wife, dressed in only her bathrobe, shaking her tiny fist, shouted after him, "I tol' you you fuck too much, old man. Now you die!"

I have no idea if the humor of this story translates to the written word, but when I heard it, I laughed until I couldn't breathe. Here's to hoping it was funny. Clink.

Saturday, August 28, 2004

A Bit O' Me

Poor Jethro. Because of the holy, sacred, eternal bonds of matrimony, he has to live with me.

When I was 15 and 16, my uncle, my grandfather, and my father in that order, all died within 6 months of each other. My uncle died of alcoholism, my grandfather died of liver/pancreatic cancer, and my father died of a bone marrow transplant he had received for leukemia. It was, understandably, the worst period of my life. I wish I could say now that I was strong and brave, but I wasn't. I handled it as badly as anyone could have. I was a horror to my mom, and about the only good thing I did was get 2 jobs and take care of my youngest sisters. I had been homeschooled so that I could stay with my youngest sisters while my mom stayed with my dad. I continued to be homeschooled after he died because my mom still needed the help, and I was pretty far behind in school. I resented my mother for every second of it. I would have resented my father too, but he was dead. I used to walk down the street from one of my jobs which was answering phones at our Church, praying that someone would drive down the road and randomly shoot me in the head.

Fast forward 6 years. I had gone to college both in Houston and New Hampshire, I had gone to Italy for a semester, and I had started dating Jethro, whom I'd met when I was 17 while he was dating my best friend Micky (of previous posts). I had adored him in a friendly way since I had first met him. I thought Micky was the luckiest girl in the entire world, and it confused me that she took him so very much for granted.

After I'd gotten back from Italy, Jethro and Micky had gone through an ugly break-up, and were both dating other people. I started having a few flings here and there and these included Jethro, even though he was dating someone else. I think Jethro'd had a humongous crush on me for a long time. Each time I'd hook-up with him, I would tell him that we could never EVER do that again. I just couldn't get past the thought that he was my best friend's ex. But I couldn't keep away from him. Finally though, I decided that I liked him enough to pursue a relationship and the hell with what anyone thought. I was going through hell with my family because they are all bitches, so I moved in with Jethro. I flashed him right before I asked if I could, and he said yes instantly.

This led to the most debauched period of my life. My childhood morals were cast thoroughly aside and my life was consumed with nothing but sex, martinis, sex, new restaurants, sex, margaritas, and more sex.

It was about 6 months into our relationship when I realized that I was in love with him. I will never forget the moment. Up until then, I had been content with a pretty casual relationship. I know now that it wasn't casual at all - we were totally wrapped up in each other, but I struggled to maintain some kind of independence, as in - I don't have to answer to you and vice versa. It was bogus, because we rarely left each others' side, but there you have it.

I had taken a babysitting job for my boss and was away from Jethro for two nights. I had just gotten the kids to bed and was sitting in the living room, when I realized how much I was missing him, which quickly turned into the realization that I was in love with him. I actually cried. I had no idea what to do with the emotion. I had always thought that love was supposed to come first, dating second, marriage third, sex fourth, babies fifth. I was all mixed up. He had told me that he loved me sometime before that and I had said that I did too, but I was fighting it. Now, I could say it and mean it, and we haven't stopped saying it since.

Since we were having sex three times a day, it probably wouldn't surprise anyone to know that I got pregnant shortly thereafter. We weren't ready - still aren't - but what could we do? We had no reason not to get married. We loved each other. Even if we couldn't afford a baby (which we couldn't) all they really need is two parents who love them, right?

So we got married, which was a total fiasco. I'll write about it another time. The wedding reception was about the only good part.

So we settled down and had our Gwennie. It was really hard. I can see how people end up divorced. Resentment starts right after you have a kid, and if you don't diffuse it, you will end up divorced. Just before we got married, Jeth and I had a talk about it. I didn't want to be a nagging wife and I didn't want him to be a silent, morose husband. We made an agreement that we wouldn't nit-pick, or sweat the small stuff, or power play. Marriage was tough enough without those pressures. It was the best thing I have ever done. I don't know about Jethro, but for my part, it was a relief to know that we wouldn't be having power struggles or mind games.

After the baby came, there was the temptation to debate who had the hardest job. As far as I'm concerned, this stems directly from lack of sleep. Whoever wins this power play gets uninterrupted, blissful slumber. It is a high-stakes game that
NO ONE CAN WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won't lie and say that we didn't go there a few times. You can't help it. Lack of sleep makes you cunning and desperate. But we made it through. And (to quote every R&B artist who ever graced this earth) I thank God in Heaven. The glory goes to Him.

I like to think that God gave me Jethro. He wasn't of my race or religion, but he was what saved me. Maybe God felt that I had suffered enough for things that I'd had no control over, and that there was no need for me to suffer more through my own bad decisions. So when I thought I was rejecting Him to live a life of sin with Jethro, it was really His hand guiding Jethro to me.

Friday, August 27, 2004

More Kid Stuff

I walked out into my living room the other night, and Gwennie and Emma were sitting on the floor amidst thick clumps of dark brown hair. I looked at Emma (the baby) and she was missing a chunk from the right side of her head. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm sowwy mommy," Emma sobbed. There was nothing to be done but sweep up the dear little curls as I wept. But wait. Baby's hair isn't curly. And it isn't thick. And if she had cut this much off of her head she would be completely bald. What the hell?

I examined the hair more closely and followed the trail to the real victim - one of their dolls. Whew. I felt eyes boring into the back of my head. I turned around and Gwennie was looking at me. "We just gave her a haircut because it was too long and curly." My eldest has something against long and curly hair. She had cut her own hair which had been long with beautiful little waves in it. I was so upset because my hair had always been stick straight. She was not wise to bring up her dislike of long, curly hair to me.

My daughters are a handful. Actually, Gwennie is a handful. She is so exasperating and funny. She has the energy of fifty mice on speed. She goes and goes and goes until she collapses in exhaustion. She will annoy you until you are just about to pop her one and then she says something so unbelievably funny that you can't do it. She is very pretty and little boys are already starting to beat each other up over who gets to play with her. It happened at her birthday party. She wanted to play with little boy #1 who smugly lorded it over little boy #2. Little boy #2 then proceeded to jump and pound little boy #1. Very Scary.

Emma is completely different. She is soft and sweet and shy. It takes alot to get her upset, but when she does, look out. Demon Posession. Baby Emma has her admirers as well. They told me at her nursery school that there was one little boy who was in love with her. He'd hold open doors for her, he hugged her all the time, and while she was taking a nap one day, he stood by her mat with his arms full of toys, waiting for her to wake up. She is heartbreakingly sweet.

Alright. Enough about my kids. Strangely enough, I don't like to write about them. I feel like I'll turn into one of those obnoxious moms who do nothing but talk about how great their kids are to the point where even the kids think she's full of crap. I hate it when people do that, so I try to avoid it as much as possible, but sometimes I like to write a little about them so we'll have it to look back on. Or if they do something funny. Like throw up on our brand new, queen size, pillow top mattress.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

I'm going to KILL JP.

My two day dry spell was broken last night and it was quite lovely except for one slight glitch.

When I start having sex, my mind flips through it's roladex of kinky ideas and focuses in on one, until I get good and going and then my mind goes blank and I am reduced to primal....... Nevermind.

Well, as I was flipping throught the mental roladex, the completely unbidden and unwanted image of JP shagging a shag carpet between a girl's legs came to mind. Complete with splooge puddle. http://xjone.blogspot.com. It almost cost me dearly. I had to laugh, and start all over. Very annoying.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Rodeo Sex

Forgive me if you have heard of this before. It was new to me and I heard several variations in one night. This was the best.

1st Guy: You ever had rodeo sex?
2nd Guy: What's rodeo sex?
1st Guy: When you're doing a girl from behind, grab her by the hair and whisper in her ear, "You are so fucking ugly," and see how long you can hold on.

Aside from being a little nauseating, it was hysterical. None of the girls I was with had heard the joke. Every guy had his own personal variation.

It constantly amazes me how guys keep up with stuff like that. I consider myself pretty aware of slang, dirty jokes, etc. - at least on par with Jethro. I figured that after 5 years of marriage, and with the amount of "sharing " that we do, we would at least be on the same page. Not so. Someone had emailed me a dirty picture of a drunk woman, legs spread, without panties, sitting between two men in a golf cart. I forgot what the point of this was, but the caption referred to her "bacon strip." I know. Ew. Anyway, as an experiment, I asked Jethro (who was in the next room) what "bacon strip" meant. He walked into the room, grinning. He didn't even have to see the picture to know exactly what I was talking about.

I really believed that I thought about sex as much as a guy. I don't think that is true, and if it isn't, it is scary since I think about sex constantly.

Ah well. There is no point to this at all.

New Topic:

Jethro is ill. He thinks he has an ulcer. His stomach really bothers him after he eats and when the girls come into the room. Just the sight of them makes his stress level elevate and this translates into crippling stomach pain

Now, I don't want to seem insensitive to Jethro's pain, because I know he is hurting, but I'm horny. I think he could work through the pain and do it anyway, but I'm not that insensitive. However, if this keeps up, I will start to get a little desperate. I already had an erotic dream last night. I can't remember what it was, but I woke up happy. I wish I could remember.

If this goes on much longer, I will have to get myself a new boy. I'm not working to put a man through school and then be denied my justly deserved sexual gratification. I only married him for the sex (and vice versa).

Enough About Me, Let's Talk About Me

1. Robin Hood is my favorite Disney movie

2. I was pregnant before I was married.

3. I've never mentioned Jethro's actual race/ethnicity.

4. I've never graduated college.

5. I've attempted to receive anal sex. It did not go well.

6. I've done a lot of travelling.

7. Bacon is my favorite food. I could eat 15 pieces in a row.

8. I'm not crazy about chocolate.

9. David Bowie in Labyrinth was my first movie star crush. I never told anyone.

10. I've been in love 3 times.

11. I secretly think it is funny when kids swear.

12. I could read when I was 3.

13. I always wanted dark hair.

14. I've picked out blog names for my daughters that I will use from here on out. Eldest will be "Gwennie" and Baby will be "Emma."

15. I love my sisters more than I let on.

16. I think most celebrities are idiots.

17. I'm still "best friends" with my best friend from 4th grade.

18. I will never speak kindly to or of my former best friend from Houston.

19. I can hold a grudge.

20. If I receive an apology, the grudge will be forgotten instantly.

21. I prefer comfort to style, but I'm happiest when I can achieve both.

Monday, August 23, 2004


Once in awhile I get in the mood to hear "Undone" by Robert Earl Keen. It is a good song.

While I was at work, I pulled up Kazaa and clicked on it.


Just for reference, I work out of my parent's house. One of my idiot sisters, knowing that I like that song and play it every so often, decided that it would be a real riot to change the name of Southpark's Uncle Fucker song to Undone by Robert Earl Keen.

My mom was standing right there, and when she was through beating me over the head, I turned it off. So much for my moment of zen.

Family Matters:

My family has a tumultous past and I have a terrible temper. I have been known to pound on my sisters occasionally when they needed it. Don't waste your pity. They are stupid bitches.

Anyway, the last real fist fight I had gotten into with my sisters was about a week before my wedding. I was pregnant (naturally) and sick as a dog. I was lying on my mom's bed trying not to throw up, when my completely obnoxious sisters decided to bounce on it for fun. I asked them to quit it and they proceeded to taunt me and bounce harder. I grabbed them both by the hair and pulled them out of the room. They decided that beating up their pregnant sister was somehow in their best interest, so they did. I had a bruise on the side of my mouth which, fortunately was hidden my makeup for the wedding photos.

In spite of the violence, we aren't exactly a trashy family. Basically I'm the only one who is really violent. It comes from being the oldest and having to maintain order. I am a perfect lamb if you are polite. But if you push that one button, you will wish you hadn't.

My sister Wraith pushed the button yesterday at the Katy Mills mall. She is sixteen and is the worst combination of self-righteous Christian/Punk. She is petulant and selfish and if you hear her whiny voice for more than 10 seconds, you will want to shove her face in the ground until her teeth snap off. She has a special talent for annoying everyone in a room simultaneously. She breaks out into manic screams when she does not get her way, or if she thinks her contestant is going to lose on American Idol, or if a squirrel runs by.

So out of the kindness of our hearts, Jethro and I decide to take her, my two youngest sisters, and our two daughters to the mall. It was a rainy day, the ground at my parent's house was wet, and the car got stuck in the mud. We finally extricated it and left. I was already in a bad mood.

Wraith, started an argument with me in the middle of the mall. I was carrying my youngest and trying to keep everyone together while she argued with me at the top of her moronic lungs. I don't even remember what it was about, I just wanted her to shut up. While she was going on and on, waving her arms and screaming like a lunatic, I snapped and whacked her across the back of the head. Now, I shouldn't have done that, even though it was richly deserved. Even Jethro, who is the most even-tempered, judicious person in the world said his palm was itching to pop her one. But I shouldn't have done it. She let out a yelp like a dog that had been hit by a car and started running away bawling.

I was so close to letting her go and just enjoying time with the other kids, but the thought of having to look for her later and spoil the entire evening for the rest of us was suddenly more than I could handle. I handed the baby to someone, took off after her, and grabbed the back of her shirt. I guess I was angrier than I thought, because when I yanked it back, she let out a gagging noise. I dragged her back to where everyone was, in front of the entire mall, and told her not to fuck up everyone's evening. She was crying like a two year old and screaming to everyone in sight that I had hit her. I figured that if security were going to come, I would give them something to come for. I yanked her into the restrroom, threw her into a stall, told her that if she screwed up everyone's night, I was going to kill her when we got home. I told her that once we were home, I would drag her outside and bang her head into a wall until she was dead. I would bury her at a spot that is about to be cemented over, and I would tell everyone that she'd ran away (she's done it before). She believed me. I think everyone in the restroom believed me. I left the bathroom, the mall patrons parting for me like the red sea, and Jethro calmed her down enough to eat.

Her obnoxiousness continued through the night, and I have decided that I will have nothing more to do with her until she learns better behavior.

Writing about it isn't cathartic. The more I think about it, the more I want to finish the job. God help my own kids if they ever pull that shit.

Friday, August 20, 2004

...And Speaking of Jethro

For anyone who might not be aware, Jethro is in Chiropractic School. I hesitate to say that I prodded him into it (lest I sound like and evil, manipulative, gold-digging wife), but I did. This is advantageous to me on three separate fronts. One, I have back problems. Large breasts = compressed vertebrae. Secondly, it is a good profession. You aren't trying to climb a corporate ladder and have some flexibility in your hours as well as a measure of job stability. Thirdly, Jethro is good at it and happy doing it. And when he is happy, I am happy and reverse it.

I also have neck problems. This has nothing to do with the boobs, but is due to the fact that I wake up every morning with my head pushing into the headboard for all it's worth. I am guessing that I have bad dreams and end up compressing myself against it in fear. Every morning, the top of my head is sore and my neck is all out of whack. I discussed a plan with Jethro for keeping me from damaging myself further. He suggested that I scoot way down, far from the headboard, and rest my face in his crotch. With a straight face. I admire that.

I'm settling down some about the school lunch program. I am still going to protest it, but I've decided against rioting. I have to admit, it would have been an amusing sight to see little lone me chanting on the streets of Austin, setting fire to things, getting maced, then attacked by police dogs. The One Woman Riot. OOOOOO. That should have been my blog title. Damn.

The Blow Job

Late last night, when the house was still, I wiggled under the covers to give Jethro a little head while he was sleeping. I slid his boxers down and took him in my mouth, feeling him grow harder and longer as it went deeper and deeper into my throat. He moaned in his sleep and I began to go faster, sucking it all the way back and lapping at it with my tongue. I held it tight in my mouth, swallowing as hard as I could, thinking about what a talented bitch I was, when suddenly, YECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! BLECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! ECCHH!! ECCHH!! ECCHH!!

Jethro awoke with a major hard-on to the romantic image of his wife on all fours, back arched, spitting and retching like a cat with a hairball. It seems that through my own carelessness, a pubic hair had lodged itself in the back of my throat. It was so far back it had cleared my tonsils. I was pretty sure I was going to die - drowned in my own vomit. Jethro kindly walked out, with Mr. Jethro at full staff, and got me a glass of water. Operations resumed at a much more cautious pace.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

I Hate School/The Good Wife

"When thee asks or suggests, I am like putty in thy hands, but when thee forbids,thee is barking up the wrong tree."
~Gary Cooper/"Friendly Persuasion"

This pretty much sums up how I feel about the public school system in general. I got a letter from the school about the new dismissal plan. This line stands out:

"Parents will not be allowed to walk up to the front door area to pick up their child."

Oh yeah, says who? I realize that the district has moronically decided to dismiss all the classes at the same time instead of staggering them and this causes unbelievable traffic and confusion, but the arrogance of that statement is infuriating. They don't offer an explanation or an apology for the inconvenience, just demands, forbiddance and non sequiturs. I feel like a fucking sheep (not to be confused with fucking a sheep). I pay enough in taxes that picking up my daughter off the roof doesn't seem like an unreasonable request.

Onto more interesting things.

I've been getting to bed so late and getting up so early that Jethro's and my lovemaking schedule has been thrown off. With Jethro studying for his hardest finals, it has been more compulsive than ever - twice in the evenings and another at around 3am. I am always more than happy to oblige since I'm usually the one asking, but last night at 3am, I was so tired I just couldn't do it. I told Jethro that he was more than welcome to have at, and he did. I didn't do much except limply hug him.

Now I know that some women do this all the time, but it is a rare thing for me. I can only recall one other time when I just let Jeth do what he wanted. It was weird. After he was all done, he said, "I can't believe you let me do that." I mumbled something like no problem and went back to sleep. I can't tell if I'm a really good wife, or if I have a really huge guilt complex. Probably both. At least he's grateful.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

The MORONS in Austin and Happy Birthday To My Gwennie

The "Whiter Shade of Pale" question remains open, but hope is dwindling

It is my Eldest's birthday today. She is 5 years old. I dropped her off at school and asked her teacher what I could bring as a treat for the class. I received a politically correct jolt. Apparently, Texas has a new rule that forbids parents to bring in cupcakes, candy, cookies or anything else remotely delicious. Here is the list of food that I am allowed to bring to celebrate my child's birthday. See if you can stick a candle into any of it.

Fruit juice; Fruit smoothie; Milk, non-fat or low-fat (plain or flavored); Bagel (1/2); Graham crackers (4 pc = 28g); Animal crackers (10 pc = 26g); Wheat crackers; English muffin (whole wheat); Flavored rice cakes (15g); Mini rice cakes, flavored (~10 pc); Fig Newtons (2 pc = 1 oz = 28g); Fruit or grain muffin (low-fat) (3oz); Dry cereal, individual servings; Pretzels (1 oz = 28g); Baked tortilla chips (1oz = 18 pc); Salsa (3 T & 1.5oz.); Vanilla wafers (5 pc = 20g); Seasonal fresh fruit (1/2 C); Carrots, broccoli, cauliflower (1/2 C); Low-fat dip or salad dressing (1T); Fruit snacks (1 oz.); Frozen low-fat yogurt (1/2 C = 72g); Low-fat string cheese (1 oz.); Fruit/grain bars (37g); Frozen fruit bars (3 fl oz = 92g); 94% fat free popcorn (3.8C); Fruit, nut &/or grain trail mixes (1 oz. = 28g); Peanut butter & crackers; Fruit pico (1/2 C); Corn on cob with paprika or chili powder

What the fuck on the last one. Can you see a bunch of kindergartners bouncing in anticipation for corn on cob with papRI-ka? I am so angry over this that I can't type fast enough or find the words to convey my extreme irritation. Why, you ask? Because it's what is wrong with our government from the local to the national level.

Let me make my case. We live in a free country. No one has the goddam right to tell me what I can and cannot put into my own child's mouth. I mean how fucking arrogant. You, parents, are too stupid to feed your kids well, so we, government, are going to force your children to give up pizza parties, birthday cupcakes, and bake sales. Theses idiots actually refer to bake sales as "competitive food" - meaning they're evil and must be aggressively dealt with so the poor fat children will not be tempted by the cookies instead of the tofu. So what does our extremely progressive government do? It bans them. Actually, it severely restricts them to times when kids are the least likely to buy them. So forget the class trips now too. Oh, and forget any revenue coming in from lunch sales. I would rather feed my kids bacon with cheese 'n ice cream than the shit they're serving in the cafeteria. Oh, and lunch today was hamburgers. Very fucking healthy. I guess it is alright for the state to feed your kids crap, but just you try to do it and watch what happens. What's next? Soilent Green?

I blame both parties. I blame the libs for starting the whole stupid thing, and I blame the conservatives for not standing up to them and telling them they are full of shit. I love the classic lib argumet to anyone who suggests that, perhaps, the government has no business telling parents how to raise their kids. "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT CHILDREN. YOU ARE ADVOCATING CHILD ABUSE. It's like arguing with a religious nut, except without the personal morals. And Republicans knuckle every time. It has gotten so bad, that our Republican controlled Texas State Legislature has come up with this specific form of idiocy ON THEIR OWN!!. And what sucks for them is that they aren't going to get any credit for it. No one votes for Republicans because they're going to help slim down the poor little fat kids. You vote for a Republican if your taxes are too high, or if you think the government is too big, or the Democrat is mired to his ears in scandal ({cough} McGreevey), or you feel like kicking a little ass.

I am totally disenfranchised. The Republicans suck, the Democrats are worse, and the Libertarians, who might have actually had something intelligent to say on the subject, would rather snort weed killers and fuck transvestites.

I try to take a pragmatic approach to politics. If there is a great good that will be served, or there are lives in danger, I would permit a little government intrusion. But for crying out loud. Kids, despite their occasional pizza parties and crappy lunches, don't eat that much in school. The vast majority of eating and sitting is done at home. Poor little fat boy is not going to become magically slim by denying his class a bake sale and pizza party. If you think that it will, you are an arrogant moron. If you think it won't and deny them anyway, you are a big fucking hypocrite who prefers to look good instead of do good. If the government really wanted to keep people from eating too much, they would force the television stations to shut down from 3pm onward.

I'm done with the subject for now, but I am most definitely going to get a petition going if there isn't one already. I will personally take it to Austin and I dare the hippies to try and stop me. Vengeance will be MINE!

Monday, August 16, 2004

Whiter Shade of Pale

I am hopeless when it comes to poetry. This includes song lyrics. I can't interpret them for the life of me despite my slaving away at a Lit major. I know people say that it means something different for everyone, but that, in my opinion and if you'll pardon the expression, is bullshit. There is a meaning behind those words. Possibly two or three, but I'll be damned if I can discover even one. Poetry just seems so personal.

That all being said, I can't hear the song, "Whiter Shade of Pale" without getting choked up. I have no idea what the words mean. Every time I hear it my throat gets tight, my eyes start burning, and I feel humiliated that a song that I don't understand has moved me to such emotion.

It is listed among love songs, but for some reason, I don't think it is one. So I'm appealing to anyone with an instinct for poetry to help me out.

A Whiter Shade of Pale
~Sung by Procul Harum
~Words by Keith Reid

We skipped the light fandango
turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, 'There is no reason
and the truth is plain to see.'
But I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be
one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might have just as well've been closed


Sunday, August 15, 2004

The Luckiest Bastard on Earth/How I Quit Smoking

Our friend Corin is here. He and Jethro are really good friends. He was almost in our wedding, but was late and missed it. He cried.

Anyway, I like him very much. He also happens to be the luckiest bastard on the planet. Case in point: He went into a study abroad program when he was in college. He went to England. While he was there he met a cute, uninhibited girl named Jane. Jane bonked him in his dorm room, on the metro, and in a restroom. He liked Jane alot. He wanted to show Jane a good time. Unfortunately, he was broke. Fortunately, his parents had given him a credit card to use in case of a dire emergency. He checked the card limit. It was 10K. He decided that ferrying Jane around in a BMW convertible, having sex with Jane in a 5 star hotel suite and eating caviar with Jane afterwords qualified as a dire emergency. They lived it up. He checked the balance again. It was $0. He had to face the music. With growing dread, he returned to the states.

Corin came home and began feeling ill. He went to the doctor, and after a series of tests, he was diagnosed with thyroid cancer - the same day his parents got the credit card bill. They decided that that he had enough to worry about without them going bitchcakes on him, so they didn't mention it. Corin, after undergoing treatment, is completely cured of thyroid cancer and now has the guilt free remembrences of Jane and the credit card. Luckiest bastard on the planet.

I think I'm kind of jealous of him. I spent 3 months in Italy and only spent $500. I walked everywhere and skipped lunches (or stole food from my roommates). I also quit smoking unintentionally. I was so poor that I was buying the government issue cigarettes called "Nacionales." These cigarettes were so gross the homeless refused them.

One day, I was sitting in my room contemplating lighting up, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. All day, the nicotine demon clawed at my will, but every time I thought of lighting that putrid weed, I would start to dry-heave. After a week of clawing at my face and weeping when I'd enter a bar, the craving began to leave a little, and I discovered that it was cheaper to just let it be. I never started back up again either. Every once in awhile I'll smoke one if I have been drinking heavily. The sweet nicotine rush will leave me longing for the days when I was pure; before the kids had corrupted me into relinquishing the simple joys of smoking and writing, or smoking and drinking, or smoking and playing piano, frisbee, or strip poker. The next day, though, I will be cursing the one drop of liquor that numbed my senses into thinking that a smoke was a good idea.

Saturday, August 14, 2004


Thanks for responding. I know it was kind of dumb, but I appreciate it. It just goes to show that a "so clean you could eat off the floor" house is not really required in a mate. That's cool. I forgot a few things like Religion/Spirituality, but it really didn't matter.

I had to quit for a few days and give my mind a rest. My Eldest had her first day of Kindygarten and seems to like it pretty well. The baby cried and cried for "my Gwennie" when we left her at school. She kept saying, "No no. I need my Gwennie. Please Mommy, I need my Gwennie." Enough to break your heart into pieces and lodge them in your guilt forever and ever. They had never been separated and the little one is really shy and depends on her big sister. Severe trauma.

We are having gorgeous weather this weekend. Some amazing cold front moved through from Canadia and it is in the high 80s with low humidity. Absolutely unheard of in Houston. I'm hoping it means we will have an early or a cold winter. In fact, I think I'll go enjoy it while it lasts. Over and out.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Brief Hiatus

I have to take a break for a few days. Don't forget me.

Another Unscientific Poll in the meantime:

In the quailties you look for in a wife/husband provided they are not physically repulsive, rate the order of importance:
1. Good Housekeeper
2. Good Sex
3. Good Cook
4. Good Conversationalist
5. Good Provider/Wage Earner
6. High Intelligence

Just say in your comments if you are male or female.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Finals Weeks

Jethro has 2 weeks of finals coming up, and my Eldest is starting Kindergarten. You'd think I wouldn't have time to blog, but it is the only thing keeping my thoughts in order. The only time I can't stand Jethro is when he's taking exams. Stress always brings out the worst in him, and the worst in him always brings out the worst in me. Last night he fired 3 orders at me in a row without even pausing for breath. "Put this in your car. Get some sleep. Put the phone back on the charger." It was funny, and he laughed when I said, "Yes, dear. Yes, dear. Yes, dear" and started running around in circles. But I can tell that it is the beginning of a very stressful 2 weeks. During his last set of finals, we bickered for 3 days straight, and even went our separate ways for about 4 hours. It was a big deal for us because, well let's just say we're lovers not fighters.

Sex is different too. We still have it, but I sometimes end up feeling like one of those realistic looking porno dolls with the realistic orifices. Or a stress reliever that you smush around in your hands. It is so compulsive for him whenever he's studying that he doesn't say much more than, "I'm horny. Service me, woman." Okay, I'm making up the "service me" part.

It's still interesting though. Being used for sex is gratifying in a way. Getting right down to business in a purely carnal manner is good for losing one's inhibitions. I know he's objectifying me, so I can't help but objectify him and it almost becomes a race to see who can get what they want first. Basically, you are saying, "I am not going to turn you on, but I'm going to use you to get me off." Very selfish and I could see marriages going down the tubes if it was standard practice, but once in awhile it's cool.

I think, except for the occasional screw, it is probably better if we stay out of each others' way as much as possible for two weeks. Once he's on break, everything will be fine and he will be back to his cool, fun-loving self, but for now, I guess I just have to stay nekkid and available.

Monday, August 09, 2004

Brief Unscientific Poll

Just curious, but in the sexual sense, how many people like sounds - either making them or hearing them?

Sunday, August 08, 2004

The Words We Use

Well, I got rid of my kids for the whole day. My Eldest is about to start school and I needed the day without them up my butt to get the house all organized. It is far from done, but Jeth and I made a good start. Except that we got horny half-way in and ended up having sex. Kinda slowed us down a little. It was great though. I guess it was because we weren't supposed to be doing it that made it so good. Also, the fact that the kids weren't around and we could make as much noise as we wanted.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the topic of my discussion. Before I ever had sex, I thought that it would be terribly unladylike to make any sound at all. After I had sex, I realized that I was noisy. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. I've tried and it just won't work. If the kids are around, I just cover my face with a pillow or stuff a towel in my mouth. It kind of makes for a snuff film atmosphere, but the alternative is the kids banging on the door in terror.

So when they're gone, sex just becomes this orgy of sounds. Most of what I say makes no sense whatsoever. I've actually been accused of saying, "harder, motherfucker," which probably could have defeated the whole endeavor, but Jethro seemed amused...and spurred to greater action.

It's also good if he talks to me. One well-timed, "come for me, baby," and I am singing like a bluebird.

The most ridiculous thing that ever happened in bed was once when I was on top. I was right there (in the orgasmic sense) and I accidentally grabbed Jethro's face and smushed. His lips squished right between my fingers and my thumb as I was clenching and unclenching my fist. It looked so funny that I laughed and ruined it for myself. Undaunted, Jethro finished up for himself. I thought it was great that I could be sitting on top of him laughing and he just went on about his business like it was nothing. If I'd ruined it for him too, I would have felt bad.

I had too much wine tonight at Buca di Beppo, which is a family-style Italian restaurant in Houston. There is a good possibility that I'm going to sober-up and delete this whole post, so laugh it up while you can.

Saturday, August 07, 2004

Post-Coital Coma

I can't understand for the life of me why men can't rise and shine after having sex. We have so much to do today, and Jethro is just lying in bed with his eyes closed and a goofy grin on his face. I know I'm good, but damn. I mean, our house is falling apart it is so messy, and I can't do housework unless Jethro helps me. It is just the way I work. Is it unfair? I don't think so. I'm no feminist, but I think sharing the household tasks should be split right down the middle. Unfotuately, Jethro is better about doing his share than I am, so I have no room to talk. Except on Saturday mornings when the only thing rising is me and his Hmmm Hmmm.

I'm now going to go and stalk self-righteously around the house for awhile. Maybe that will have some effect.

Friday, August 06, 2004

The Fine Art of Flattery

I'll preface this anecdote by saying that I am really untalented at receiving compliments. I'm not too good at delivering them either. I don't like brown-nosing, and I am particularly bad at it. The upside is that if I say I like something, I am telling the truth. The downside is as follows:

The other day, when I dropped my kids off at their daycare/school, another mom came up to me and said, "Your girls are so beautiful. I always see them when they're eating their snacks and they are so ladylike." Instead of saying "thank you" like any normal person, I said, "they must get it from their dad," which prompted the lady to assure me that I was probably very ladylike, and that my husband was probably very manly. She didn't laugh (which was my intention), she felt sorry for me that I had such low self-esteem.

Arrrrrgh!! Why do I do it? I always end up putting myself in these situations. I must be a masochist. Why can't I just enjoy being tied to a bedpost instead of tying myself up in public?

This certainly isn't the worst situation I've ever put myself in. It's just an example of the idiotic things that come out of my mouth on a day to day basis that make it look as if I were filled with self-loathing. I don't have low self-esteem. I don't fish for compliments (except from Jethro). I just have a weird sense of humor.

I'm through torturing myself. I'm going to go jump off a cliff.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

More from Band Camp

When my First Baby was a few months old, Jethro and I took her to see some of our friends from college. We were the first of our group to have a baby, so it was a real event. She was passed around like a joint and finally ended up with our friend, Dom. Dom is half-black and half Vietnamese and is extremely ripped. Jeth and I were talking to some people when Dom came up with Eldest and asked, "Um guys, what's she doing?" We looked up and saw Eldest clutching his giant pec and sucking his nipple through his shirt. Luckily he was a pretty clean guy because it almost took a crowbar to pry her loose. Dom was a little embarrassed, but still thought it was funny. He did give me a sympathetic look when we left.

Johnny5 http://yearinforever.blogspot.com has a little poll going, and I very badly want to win in at least one category. I realize the ethical dilemma of voting that you would like to kiss or sleep with a married lady, so I am perfectly willing to win the cliff tossing category. In fact, it looks as if that is my best shot. But I wouldn't cry if I pulled ahead in one of the other categories either. So exercise your rights and vote. For me. Thanks.

P.S. If too many people are grossed out by my baby trying to nurse off of a man, let me know. I will capitalize it and put it in bold italics.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Another time at band camp...

About 7 years ago, my family bought a puppy named Tinkerbell. Most of my sisters were still living at home and they were faced with potty-training the youngest, who was 2, and the dog at the same time. The puppy was mean and stubborn and refused to relieve herself of solid waste outside. My sisters became increasingly impatient with the surprises left under their beds, on their beds, in their closets, etc.

One day, my sister Rochelle, who was about 13, walked into her room. There was a huge clump on the floor and the dog was sitting insolently beside it. She snapped. She spanked the dog, rubbed her nose in it, and spanked her again, yelling the whole time. Then she noticed a smear on the wall. Then another clump hidden underneath a shoe box. She looked up and saw our youngest sister cringing guiltily in the corner.

We still have the dog, but she doesn't like any of us very much.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

One time at band camp....

One time when I was working at an English pub in Houston, I was lighting the citronella candles that we used outdoors and putting them into their holders over the tables. I dropped one, flame side up, directly on a man's crotch. In my haste to retrieve the candle, I grabbed his whole package and lifted. His wife just looked at me.

The Price is Right

When I was a little kid, I used to think the models on the Price is Right were deaf because they never talked and were always gesturing with their hands.

Monday, August 02, 2004

Unexpected Night Out

Jeth and I had the best Saturday night. Baby wandered into our room where we were watching TV and said, "I need to go see gramma." Well, who could deny such a request? I took both the girls to Jethro's parent's house to see "gramma and grampa." I goofed around with my sister-in-law for awhile, then started to make noises about going home. Grampa ignored me completely and gave the girls bottles (which they are far too big for and don't have at home) and said, "go upstairs before your mother sees." I pretended to insist that I should take them home and not burden them with the girls, but they were quite determined and I didn't mind a bit.

I went back home and Jeth was actually still awake. I said, "Hey baby, wanna date?" He said, "Hell yeah." So we went out to a sports bar right down the road from us. There was a cover band playing bitter alternative hits. They weren't that good, but they were some loud and tough-looking cholos and they had brought all their loud and tough-looking cholo friends. I kind of had a thing for the guirarist. I usually have a thing for bass players (something about the way they move their fingers makes me want to hit a high note), but this bass player was a girl and I just don't go there (not that I couldn't if I wanted to). Anyway, the last song they played was "She Hates Me" - Puddle of Mudd. The last lines of the song are, of course, "She fucking hates me." The singer then ad-libbed "but she fucking loves my cock" to raucous applause. I guess a guy just can't cover a song like that without clarifying that it isn't an indictment of his love-making skills. It was funny though.

I got pretty hammered drinking long island ice teas. Through the drunken haze, a few things caught my attention. One was a boozy looking older blonde who was hitting on a younger guy. She kept dancing around in front of him and the guy looked just young and drunk and interested enough for me to think he might be getting some in the back seat of his car. This lady looked like she knew her way around the back-seat. She also looked like she knew her way around motorcycles and gas-station restrooms.

There was a young boozy blonde there with an older guy. He looked primed for a mid-life crisis, and she looked just young and drunk and interested enough to make me think that she might be getting some in the Motel 6 down the freeway. I think back-seat sex might have been physically challenging for the guy.

There were some college kids there. One was smoking a cigar. He didn't look old enough to shave, but he was smoking a cigar. He looked silly.

After the band finished and I had annihilated everyone in the bar at trivia (I was the only one actually playing), Jethro poured me into the car and we drove through Taco Cabana (which was hoppin').

We got home and Jethro...ahem...got some. On the living room floor. Con fajitas y queso.