Total Bad Girl

I texted Sexy til my fingers hurt. The last sent said "seriously, thanks, and ceste la vie".

I thought I broke a sex toy. Turns out it just needed new batteries and a lighter touch.

I dulled a brand new razor blade shaving all the body parts I'd neglected for (apparently) far too long. I now feel like a woman again... and I stayed indoors to save the weak from my prowess.

I slept so many hours I lost track of what day it was. Then woke up, finished the drink on my nightstand, went for food and more drink, and I think I took the dog for a walk but I can't be sure if that was this weekend or last week.

My quest to drain the house of the beer and 3 handle sized bottles of alcohol was met in near triumph. Eventually, with no other nutrition and holiday hours at the store, you are left with nothing but a bottle and a shot glass for sustinance, and that is how you sleep for the majority of a 3 day weekend.

I deleted phone numbers from my address book, thinking "if this Lamer decides to call or text again, I don't need to have his number available to reply to." Yes, Sexy finally made the list of Lamers.

I'm training my replacement and the INSTANT she leaves the room I'm emailing and blogging, having no remorse that I can't find the ONE thing we have to order this month and instructing her to not waste her time searching for anything but to essentially deligate the job to another office and ask them where they order it from... all so I can super sleuth my way through the day and find the part of my profile that says "email me here".
I don't want my availability to be like a club thing, I'm cool with emailing ALL my blogger buddies, and only if it gets crazy with spam or hate or annon emails will I make it a need-know basis.
Jamie, click away =)

Yeah, I have my priorities straight, why do you ask??

While I am holding fast to the concept that 2007 will be a super stellar year, I am also clinging to the idea that how you start something is not how you finish it. I heard the neighbors parties, saw their fireworks, screamed from my window with them that it had crossed the witching hour, then cuddled back into my cocoon of blankets and took the pause off my movie. Somehow I thought the ending of this movie was FUCKING AWSOME the first time I saw it, but having known someone who nearly died that way in real life, I ended up in a pile of tears. So the next movie I watched I remembered being a techincal marval that I could delve into, only to realize that at the core it was a movie about a kid loving his mom so much and it just so happened that her closing words to him as she closed her eyes to sleep forever were pretty much exactly how my mom and I played out during her last cogniscent conversation, so THAT idea was pretty much fubared too. So I went back to the old standby, the seen 10 times this 2 weeks chick flick, and tried tried tried not to think about all the ways my life is NOT like a romantic comedy and how I should NOT emulate what Hollywood sees as a relationship in my real life. I fought the urge to swim in the memories of last New Year, denied myself the opportunity to check my old PAPER address book for His number to see if I remembered it correctly, sat staring at my walls and stuff and piles of me-ness and realized that everything changes and my 2007 New Years celebration last year showed no bearing on how 2006 turned out and so this weekend's events shall also have no resemblence to how I spend the majority of my year.

The greatest part of this weekend was this revelation: the person I fuck and the person I date do not, at this point in time, have to be the same person. I really function better when my lunch hour is spent getting rugburn on the bruise on my shoulder from where the backseat hits me when he grinds me into the corner. I am a total mess when the guy I'm dating says "your freakin me out" for my kissing a napkin and leaving it on his windshield. These can be mutually exclusive and I just might be on the lookout for satisfying both of these areas but one can be dumped without the other.
Or, if anyone has word to the contrary, please speak up before I become that late 20's hussy at the bar thinking she can pick up on randoms... or before I become that late 20's prude who thinks its OK to date without putting out. Usually by the time I hang with someone long enough to want to fuck them, I end up getting a call for lunch the next day... and if I go out with 4 days of fuzz on my legs so I will date them and go home right after dinner, I end up, well, laid anyway.

So much for my idea of "just leave a quicky post Sassy, you've got work to get back to."
Whatever, the new girl will have to deal with the fact that she went home after 8 hours and my sorry ass is still here 10 hours later.

My ass hurts and my cootch is getting the grow back itchies, I gotta bail before I edit and revise this bad boy - good luck and I'm wishing you all a very quick recovery from your New Year's celebrations, as my attitude is kinda fairing toward the "withdrawl" series of hangover symptoms more than the "you done fucked yo'self up Miss"... not really sure which is better at this point...