Linger

i wait for him to finish his shower, steam escaping into our bedroom like tropical mist, reminding me how cold it is. i am calm and breathing deeply. i feel self conscious in my jammie pants and sweat shirt, maybe i should change into lingerie. the water stops and large droplets fall from the faucet, announcing the end of his shower. several steps and he is there. using the towel to ruffle dry his short chop of hair, he dresses, even though i plan to undress him several minutes later.

throwing the heavy comforter aside, he cozies in beside me. kiss of lips, kisses on neck, sucking of breath, escaped sighs, touches of tongue; the dance has begun. clothes disappear and damp flesh presses to flesh. from foreplay to hard and fast. loving long, greedy and hard. i cry out and melt. he collapses. we linger.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/17/daily-prompt-linger/

Anchor

it’s amazing how quickly life can change in a week.  i felt like i was on a good path, finally getting my shit together, enjoying the glimmer of a light at the end of the ol’ proverbial tunnel- and then this week?  good hell.  i feel like crying and throwing expensive things around the house.

my son’s girlfriend of 4 years broke up with him on sunday- out of nowhere- and he is devastated.  i’m heartbroken for him, because she was his entire world.  something is rotten in denmark- i don’t believe she acted on her own i’m sure her parents kind of forced this.

i also got news that someone i knew just had a heart attack and died out of nowhere, leaving his partner and everyone else in total shock.  i just talked to him days before about wedding plans…. it’s so crazy.

there are a bunch of other messy little details in my life that seem to be unraveling when only days ago i was making a lot of forward progress…

the only constant is my partner.  even at our eye-rolling-est snippiest prickly times he makes me smile.  i look to putting a hand on his back as i am falling asleep.  even though he works until 2 am, i can always text him; my lifeline to him.

i was feeling so insecure this weekend and almost effortlessly, he fixed my brain hurt.  this is a new occurrence.  he kissed away my self doubt and i love him all the more for it.  our ten year anniversary is coming up next month and it’s amazing how much our relationship has evolved.  i love him every second of every day and am thankful to have him as an anchor.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/18/daily-prompt-thats-amore/

Conversation With Myself

it’s been awhile since i did a mental check up/life evaluation and i said i would make sure to take time to keep myself focused on myself during this whole transition thing- it’s overdue.

i’ve been so busy writing advocate pieces and throwing articles to different sites that i just haven’t even had a chance to braindump in a very long time.   i made and donated a few mosaic pieces to an art show at the GLCC- and succumbed to peer pressure to start an Etsy site.  now i need to do a logo and Pinterest that- and all of that social media hullaballoo for that.  my laptop had a wicked rotten virus, but, i actually fixed things myself- that NEVER happens!  i’m pretty excited about it!  we did a whole bunch of new (to us) things with the different GLBTQ groups, including a FASHION SWAP, trans partner support group and a lecture on HATE CRIMES.   i set up a Gofundme account for bf’s top surgery and have been working on a bunch of fundraisers for that.  Sonnyboy got a job- thank god- so that stress is FINALLY off my shoulders and i FINALLY feel like i can relax a tiny bit.  i’ve been filling out a lot of apps and going on stupid interviews with places that i don’t belong… it’s been horrible.  but through it all, i keep looking towards better days- credit cards gone, car paid off, vacation, breathing room……. *sigh*

i certainly haven’t gone to the gym enough and working out at home is usually ignored- but i’m working on that…. it just always seems the easiest thing to fall by the wayside, when meanwhile it should be the most important…  in fact i think i’m going to go crawl onto the couch and fall asleep.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/category/daily-prompts/

Stereotypically Bad Neighbors

i always dreamed about living in a neighborhood with block parties, and pitchers of shared lemonade on the porch.  days of washing cars and warms summer nights filled with sparklers and barbecues.  now?  i’m just thrilled when i can walk out to turn my car on in the morning and not find nails in my tire or eggs on my windshield.  i unfortunately have douchebag neighbors.  like the worst kind too- non stop barking outdoor dog, parking space hogging, 400 noisy ill-mannered kids, constant obnoxious visitors…. the 2 bedroom duplex next door to me contains at least a dozen people, at any any given time.  and did i mention the barking dog?

there’s no sense complaining, but all i will say, is that if i had a taser-  i won’t finish that sentence. every night before bed, i get down on my knees and pray to all of the prayable gods and goddesses that they will just disappear overnight.  POOF!  gone!  just like when the last bunch of crappyawful neighbors got evicted NOT for selling drugs out of the apartment, or because they had TWO GI-NORMOUS pit bulls that clearly were rescued from dogfighting rings (NOT IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD, for the record)- but because they were behind on their rent.  good thing the landlord has his priorities straight.

i can dream about clam bakes and street long yard sales but intstead i have constant screeching, barking and obviously unsupervised teenager parties.  it aint no Cleavers or Bradys up in here on Oakley Avenue, that’s for sure.

It’s Your Job Now, D’ya Hear Me?

i’m not sure if it’s the three cups of coffee or just a week’s worth of pent up guilt, but i’m twitchy enough to get my ass in gear and start crossing stuff off of THE GI-NORMOUS TO DO LIST OF DOOM… i’d like to thank my friends for peer pressuring me into starting six more projects and this cold February weather for my incredibly flaky DEFCON TWO-level itchy dry skin.

i’m giving myself ONE WEEK to finish everything on the aforementioned GI-NORMOUS TO DO LIST.  one.  ONE.  that’s it.  JUST ONE GODDAMN WEEK.  i can’t take it anymore.  it’s me or THE DAMNED LIST.   if i don’t finish it all, you have my permission make that, THE OBLIGATION to pitch me off of the front of a boat,  Jack-from-the-Titanic-style…. just chuck me right off.  i’m not even joking.  i don’t even care if i’m on fire and running from a pack of rabid, poorly dressed drag queens, if by next Monday the 24, i don’t have every single thing on my list done- it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY, dear reader, to throw me the fuck off a boat…(or cliff, whichever is more convenient for you.)

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/17/daily-prompt-with-or-without-you/

Well Placed Words

i absolutely love words. letters and words.  not so much sentences, but letters and words excite me.  i would suppose that’s why i write in fragments so often.  i feel like words convey as much as a sentence can, and there doesn’t always need to be a filler like “the” or even nitpicky punctuation. words fill your mind with ideas, and usually people skim enough that they don’t need grammar and all of its trappings.   sure, there’s a time when a perfectly formed sentence can really add to the fluff and polish, but then again, sometimes…. just a word can do just as much….

for instance….

LOVE.  KISS.  SEX.  WARM.    just those words on their own can definitely make a statement.  and who doesn’t love some well placed words?

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/10/daily-post-take-that-rosetta/

My Face Isn’t Red, But My Fridge is GROSS

1. i unapologetically love The Bee Gees.
2. i shovel the sidewalk, get the mail and scrape ice off my car in snowman pajamas.
3. i have spent lots of time at “clothing optional” campgrounds and i am a big ol fat girl.
4. i often eat cereal for dinner.
5. i didn’t learn how to drive or get my license until i was 25 years old.
6. i used to work at an “adult bookstore” and helped people buy vibrators and porn.
7. i now clean houses for a living.
8. i hated being pregnant. all nine months and didn’t think childbirth was beautiful or magical.
9. i still have to look at the keys sometimes to type.
10. i cry when i do my taxes because i hate math so much.
11. i graduated from art school but can’t draw very well.
12. i lie and say that i am paying attention to people when try and give me directions, when really i’m ignoring them and just go and google it.
13. i despise shopping and would rather get my clothes from a thrift store, department stores make my skin crawl.
14. i am openly bisexual.
15. i don’t believe in ghosts even though my mother was an ordained Spirtualist minister, claimed to be psychic, and performed exorcisms out of our house.
16. i tinkle when i laugh too hard on occasion. ok. i do it all of the time
17. I LOATHE baby showers and wedding showers WITH A PASSION.
18. i very rarely pay attention to names in books, so, a lot of times near the end, i have absolutely NO CLUE what is happening to people.  i’m like a toddler.
19. i cuss like a truck driving-sailor.
20. i hate my neighbors so much that i secretly wish bad things will happen to them when they park in our spots…. *giggles and hides from karma)

having said all of this, i am embarrassed by very little, however, that if you looked in my refrigerator right now, i would be horrified.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/daily-prompt-red/

Hey, I Just Met You and This is Crazy- Let’s Get Matching Tattoos!

i’ve been thinking a lot about friendship lately, like everyone does.  i have friends, good ones, and i think we all have those too.  but i want more, i need  more.  i’m a flaming disaster of an extrovert, an attention whore of the highest degree.  my days start and and with friends.  friends!  friends! friends!!!!!

i make friends easily, i always have, but i’m VERY particular with who i keep in my innermost circle, so find myself alone more often than not.  but, i have to say, i’d rather have THE ONE, the PERFECT friend, than 519 Facebook-style surface friends.  i need people that can handle my obnoxiousness, loud cackling and oftentimes embarrassing antics.  i swear A LOT, have EXTREMELY strong opinions and there are no off-limit topics.  i think and live completely outside of the box and instead of black and white, i see the world in rainbow and greys.  although i can mix with really any kind of person or group, i don’t really belong anywhere, and this is probably why friend-finding is always so challenging.

but i don’t want just ONE friend, i want ALL of the friends RIGHT NOW.  i want a herd of fourteen bridesmaids that are “totes my bffs”, and fight over who will throw me a shower.  i want a crowd of buddies that rent limos and go bar hopping or compete in weight loss contests, or sit around planning camping trips and vacations.   is it too much to want to frolic with a bunch of people in a fountain, for godsake?  but as it stands there are no pizza parties, jet ski rentals or fun runs planned. nothing.  but really, i honestly hate most of that jazz, (especially the herd of bridesmaids) and i’m happier surrounding myself with people that openly discuss bodily functions and find different ways to shock each other.

the friends that i do have text me throughout the day and we occasionally get drunk together at each other’s homes, and i’m actually very cool with that.  but i definitely need more buddies after the last big Friend Exodus of 2013.  those were some sad times indeed.  i have had the experience that once my friends start intermingling, they tend to start sleeping together, or at least seeing each other more than me, and i’m all but forgotten.  it’s best to keep a good and overflowing pool of people, so that when a few start to migrate, i’m not stuck going to pottery class solo, or forced to eat the Super Loaded Fries for Two by myself.  cause i will!  i’ll do it!  JUST WATCH!

but how do you find these people?  how does a person amass large groups of friends at one time?  i want to be back in kindergarten where everyone at your table was your friend.  you didn’t have much choice, this was your main social circle. you just were friends because, well, just because.  or in first grade, your friends were assigned to you alphabetically, and if you were lucky enough to not move every couple of years like my family, the kids that were assigned seats near you JUST based on last names alone, continued to be your friends for a long long LONG time.  second and third grade you were force-sorted into interacting with “Good Readers”  or “Bad With Math” which is where i spent most of my days.
the years went on, and you meshed better with kids that were in the same activities as you, or carried Star Wars lunchboxes, and this was before anyone cared that you were a GIRL with a Star Wars lunchbox.  and college you hung out with people that liked the same music or had the same art posters on their walls. the point is, it wasn’t hard to meet people- you just migrated to people that liked the same stuff.  now you have to worry about political affiliations, religious preferences, intolerance based on sexual preference, income, status, your favorite football team….  it’s definitely not easy and i have tried it all, meet up.com, online groups, bars, local clubs- and there are just as many people out that that want the same thing- to meet other people- but what is it that bonds them together?  what do you say to take that next step to “friendship” without looking creepy?  how do you get people to actually get off their couches, out of their comfort zone and into wearing matching outfits and tattoos with you?  you wanna be my friend?

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/daily-prompt-celebrity/

With Desired Effects…

this weekend was legendary.  friday’s work was hard and annoying- mice turds, scummy tubs and christmas tree removal.  fears of last weekend’s blowout still ringing through my brain.  not one to be dissolved into misery, not anymore at least, i pasted a waxy smile to my face and reminded myself how short life is, and cautiously stepped into Friday Night.

when your partner of ten years takes mood altering medication, you never know what face you will see at the end of the day.  one weekend smiles.  next weekend you are homeless.  one weekend is hot and heavy, sex, sex, sex.  the next weekend you are face down on the floor, sobbing.  with the uncertainty of days of wine and song, or nights of hyperventilating sobs, weekends can be a scary place, and have lost most of the glittery dancing, cocktail clubbing,  Thank God It’s Friday-ing times i used to live for.  so it was with supreme eggshell-walking i planned on not planning out how my weekend would go and with trepidation i watched the clock.  i crafted.  i cleaned.  i failed at crochet again.  i wrote.  i read.  i texted.  i went to the gym.  i ate.  i filled time.  i was.  i sat.  i thought.  i worried.  i chewed my nails.  i picked my cuticles.  i texted.  i snacked.  i ate mindlessly.  i worried some more.  i panicked.  i flipped out.  i cancelled plans with friends.  i texted.  i pretended.  i faked that nothing was wrong.  i stared out the window until 2 AM when i saw his car pull up.  i froze.

clumpy snowy steel toed boots walked in.  boots came off.  wooly-socked little feet.  a “hey baby, how are you?” and a kiss.  i smiled, cautiously.  the weekend had officially begun.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/daily-prompt-copies/

Message in a Bacardi Bottle

i would have to think that if i was laying on the beach and a bottle washed up that the ONLY possible reason i was there would be working as a maid at some swanky resort in the tropics.  so basically, this scenario sucks ass.

i clean for a living, the disgusting crusty remains of dirty dishes, unspeakable toilets, endless pet hair, constant stuff everywhere, every day.  it’s like not leaving home. it’s like picking up everyone’s bath towels and putting the toilet paper ONTO the dispenser- about thirty times a week and it’s wiping ramen noodle spice packet dust and coffee residue from six or seven counters weekly.  countless shoes and pillows put in their correct places, endless crevices to be vacuumed, cobwebs galore, constantly and all week.  so, it might seem that moving all of this “fun” to someplace seaside or tropical might be nice.

i imagine, i’m there in my hawaiian print shirt and turquoise cotton work pants, wandering the beach side cabanas, cleaning up after honeymooners and spoiled people that don’t know how much i’d like to break one of the resorts hurricane glasses and shank them with it.  these lovey dovey couples don’t realize just HOW CLOSE they are to me bashing them in the head with the bar’s novelty coconut shells. they are making out and dropping drink umbrellas, cherry stems and condom wrappers all over the place for me to clean up.

i can hear them giggling and grunting and groaning, not hidden by the bamboo “privacy screens” as i fold the seven thousandth bleached beach towel into yet another fucking swan.  i pick up trays of half eaten strawberries and pretend these jerks aren’t sucking each other’s faces like an octopus sucks mollusks from their shells.  i walk quiety by leathery brown tourists snapping their fingers for more champagne and fruit platters, squirting each other with cocoa butter and KY like NO ONE has to clean that crap up.  i replace the newly folded swan towel next to a dry-humping, drunk couple that are feeding each other chunks of pineapple, and the couple immediately picks up the towel to sop the runny juice from their faces, giggling, only to then drop it to the ground to  possibly later to use a rag for their “love juices.”  yuck.

the heat is getting to me as well as the squeals and ecstatic giggling, so i wander away from the cabanas and notice trash in the water.  i walk towards it expecting more condom wrappers or even the usual bikini bottom and realize that it’s just a bottle.  from as far away as i am, i can’t tell if it’s an empty bottle of lube or booze; either way, as “Housekeeping”, it’s my damn job to pick up litter like i’m some golden garbageman in paradise.

i make my way  through the honey colored sand, littered with bits of shells, ground up pieces of old hotel guests’ credit cards, and porsche glass, and stop to pick up the bottle, ready to chuck into the jewel encrusted trash bucket i’m carrying.

“what’s this, i ask to myself,  “a cliche’d message in a bottle?  who’da thunk?  how novel!”  i glance around nervously before i open the dirty old bacardi bottle, wondering what hotel protocol is for “lost beach articles.”   i chomp-pull out the crammed in cork with my teeth like a pirate, uncaring what people might say if they saw.  i pull out the rolled up note and park myself on a nearby lounge chair, figuring it will be some gag from one of the local kids.  as jaded as i am, i’m still excitedly curious and unroll the note, expecting a Target receipt, an expired Dunkin Donut coupon or at best, a menu from Polly’s Tropicano Pizza Hut.

i slowly read the note, and then read it again, this time, out loud, not believing the scrawly inky words that are in front of me.  it is a will.  “Last Will and Testament of Sir Bubbaloo DePaulo“, the island’s richest resident and he has written that he will bestow the entire island along with all of his riches and money to the finder of this note.  !!!!  i cannot believe it!!!  some luck for once! i dance through the sand, kicking up waves lapping my feet.  i am ecstatic!  i turn and head towards one of the vacationers that is yelling at me for more Rum Runners and dump the ice bucket right on his pretentious asshole head.

“FUCK THIS SHIT!  I’M RICH! and i am OUT OF HERE!”  i yell to his startled and sputtering wife, who just happens to be the color of a bucket of extra crispy KFC. i tear off my uniform, hideous turquoise scrub bottoms and all, leaving me in just my hole-y zebra print underpants and matching ill-fitting bra to run like hell back to the hotel.  i can’t believe my luck, my new fantastic life is about to begin!

“I OWN THIS FUCKING ISLAND, YOU DIPSHIT OVERPRIVELEDGED SNOTTY ASSHOLES!  so get the FUCK off my beach and get real jobs!”   laughing, i grab a pitcher of pina coladas off of serving tray and chug the whole damn thing!

i jubilantly run and run—- (A SPLASH!) a bucket of ice water is dumped onto my head, snapping me back to reality.

“Hey! Lady?  are you okay? ” someone asks.

i look around and see that i’m laying in the sand, probably drunk off the pitcher of pina coladas.  no matter, I’M RICH and drunk on the pina coladas from the ISLAND THAT I OWN, mother fuckers!!!!  a circle of people are gathered and staring at me as if i was a rabid animal and worried that i might strike again.

i look down and someone hands me a towel to cover up my nonsensical and unsexy zebra print under-garments.  i start to yell at everyone to get away from the new queen of the island when my boss wanders up, looking super pissed.

he starts yelling at me in his broken english “Mister Morales say you make fun of wife and dump ice on head. You are fired, yoong lady! get OUT!”

i pull myself up and start to yell at him about the newsflash he obviously missed, about me being the new SUPREME RULER of the island, when i reach up to touch a horrible swelling spot on my forehead.  looking down i notice a bacardi bottle, the note missing, just as a plate of crab claws, shrimp tails and lemon wedges rains down onto my head, courtesy of Ms. Bucket of KFC, Extra Crispy.  cocktail sauce oozes down the side of my face as my coworker explains to me that i suffered some sort of heatstroke and flipped out on Mr Morales and his fried chicken-colored wife, so he cracked me in the head with a bacardi bottle and i passed out.

soooooooooo apparently, i guess, it’s back to cleaning toilets in pittsburgh, no thanks to Sir Bubbaloo DePaulo, which may or may not be the name of my friend’s pomeranian and NOT the richest man on an island somewhere.

 http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/31/daily-prompt-water/