Saturday, May 07, 2005

Again, she says?

Little bit intoxicated but what the fuck I'll continue my list anyway.

84. I have serious road rage issues. Though not at all safe, I tend to tailgate when idiotic motherfuckers who don't understand the concept of the FAST FUCKING LANE get all up in my way.

83. I love the way boys smell. Okay. Maybe I should clarify. I would certainly not be interesteeed in finding out how Fat Bastard smells. But sometimes. I just want to bite their scrumptious necks because they smell so tasty. This is inappropriate work behavior and social bahavior so I refrain.

82. Febreeze is my friend.

81. I'm instruction-manual stupid. If it doesn't come with paint-by-numbers instructions, I get really frustrated and just throw it. I bought a folding hammock on a stand last year and tried to put it together in my living room. It took me 4 and a half hours but I finally got it to look like the picture. BUT I'VE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO GET THE DAMN THING TO FOLD.

80. I once dated a Mormon. He tried to have sex with me in a tent on Valentines Day on what was techincally our second date. Some Mormon he was.

79. My other cat's name is Lilly. Or Lillian, dpending on my mood. It always amuses me to yell "liillliaaannnn!!!!!!!!!" at the kitty. It's a line from a movie. Eddie Murphy "Delirious" and he wears a read leather jumpsuit. I nearly peed my pants the first time I saw it.

78. I love sparkalie tihngs. I have a gold lame' purse and it makes me happy. happy happy happy.

77. I haven't referred to anyone as my "boyfriend" since 8th grade. His name was Thomas Grover and he had floppy hair. He was my best friend and I didn't know how to say no. We broke up when I stopped taking his phone calls.

76. I collect antique purses and hats. I never thought I'd have a collection of anything. Something about them though. I love them.

75. Hi!

74. Hi again!

73. Why hello! Didn't see you there!

73. Jeez! Stop calling!

72. Jilly Bean.

71. It feels good to write all of that down. A relief.

70. I'm tired of people making jokes about my unwillingness to be touched. I've worked hard. SO FUCKING HARD to be like everyone else. Don't joke about it. It makes me want to slap you. I'm better. And I crave it now. People touching me. I see my friend's boyfriend hold her with his arm around her waist and I want that so badly I get dizzy. Someone comfortable enough to touch me, to know that I'll always be okay with it, and know that my hesitancy isn't rejection.

69. I will regret writing this in the morning.

I can end on this number because because it is an easily divisiable number, almost as good as ending on a zero or five. The nubmer 54 would be unacceptable.

3 comments:

Adam said...

This is such a huge post, it's hard not to get completely caught up.

Sun Rider said...

Holy Crap I just want to give you a big hug right now! That post took a lot of guts and I'm sure you feel better just getting it out in the open. I sincerely wish you well. You'll find that arm.....

Emmanuel.K.Bensah II said...

though I'm getting a sense from your earlier entries that you are one of those bloggers that refrain from commenting on the comments, I will take a risk anyway, and let you know how sorry I was to have read about your little Jellybean.

You never told a soul?

I think you're lost in the irony...

Well done for mustering up the courage to divulge that--must not have been easy.

Good luck!!