Wednesday, September 26, 2007

101 Things You’ve Always Wanted to Know About Me

1. I’m grouchy in the morning.

2. I’m often grouchy in the afternoon.

3. I’m seldom grouchy in the evening, unless someone persists in irritating me.

4. I dislike the color blue, probably because my little sister Julie had blue eyes and everyone was always saying how pretty she was, and I had brown eyes and no one ever said how pretty I was.

5. Now I have green eyes and I’m very pretty.
6. My favorite color is red-orange and I have red-orange hair. It is very pretty.

7. When I was a little girl, my dad said that I ran like a turkey. Is that good or bad?.

8. Now I run like a gazelle. Okay, maybe a gazelle with three legs…

9. When I was sixteen, my dad said that I played the piano like I had lint in my navel. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment.

10. Now my navel is lint-free.

11. I lived in foster homes, off and on, from age 4 to 9. It sucked.

12. My mother was married five times. She was divorced once. That was before record keeping was computerized.

13. I have been married twice and divorced once, but not in that order.

14. I’ve changed my first name three times. I like the final one a lot and will stick with it. It starts with a “Z,” which is my favorite letter.

15. When I was 13 I attempted to throw a rotten watermelon from a moving car onto the steps of my junior high school, but it landed on the curb. Stupid watermelon.

16. When I was 14, I got really, really drunk on straight whiskey and puked my guts out for the next several hours. That was a long time ago and hasn’t happened since. I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid…or something like that.

17. I went to four different schools in fourth grade. That sucked.

18. My mother said that I was “a selfish brat,” just because I re-possessed the birthday gift that I had just given to my little sister. SHE WASN’T USING IT CORRECTLY, DARN IT!!

19. Actually, I really was a selfish brat. I still am. GET AWAY FROM MY CHOCOLATE!

20. I am an Atheist, goddamn it!

21. I pretend to be tolerant of religious nuts, but I think they’re stupid.

22. I think religious nuts should mind their own fucking business and stop trying to legislate morality.

23. I never use profanity except when it is warranted.

24. When I was 16, I necked with my high school History teacher. It was all his fault. He was too handsome.

25. When I was 26, I necked with my mother’s fourth husband. He was a good kisser, but a bad husband.

26. I have shoplifted. Twice. When I was 14, I stole a wallet. When I was 25, poor and powerless, I walked out of the store with a shiny, new extension cord. Really!

27. When I was 29, I went to a Halloween party, dressed as a tube of Crest toothpaste. My breath was minty fresh.

28. I know life isn’t fair, but why not? It’s not fair!

29. I would like to impose a worldwide, absolute law that would require a minimum age of 50 for any and all members of any and all military or pseudo-military groups. I’m pretty sure that would put the brakes on war.

30.I do not wish to listen to any popular music produced after 1985. It is not music.

31. I realize that I sound like my father when I say that.

32. The only sport I was ever good at is Poker. Make that “the only sport I didn’t SUCK AT was Poker.”

33. Yes, I do realize that I have 69 more things to come up with. Quit nagging me!

34. 69 is my favorite number.

35. It’s difficult to concentrate when I’m thinking of it, however.

36. Chimpanzees are my favorite animals, but I wouldn’t want to be one.

37. I like to dance to salsa music, especially when it’s hot and humid and the sweat pours down all my crevices.
38. Not that I have any more crevices than the next guy.

39. I lived in a boxcar for the first year of my life.

40. I liked it there, because I had no pesky little sisters yet.

41. I like to look at big, muscley men, but I don't want them to shave their bodies.
42. I went to a lowbrow Chippendale-style performance once. Those guys were so incredibly sexy; I was ready to tear their tiny little briefs right off of them! All of the women in the audience were hootin’ and hollerin’.

43. I wish I had a pair of ruby slippers.

44. I wish I could make myself invisible, at will. Oh...wait! You can't see me, can you?

45. I wish I were fluent in Spanish.

46. I’m glad I’m not a cannibal.

47. I’m glad I’m not pregnant.

48. I’m glad I’m almost half-done with this list.

49. When I was 29, I went white-water rafting on the Green River and our raft ran straight into a huge rock in the middle of the stream and I didn’t fall out of the raft, which was a good thing, because I can’t swim.

50. Once upon a time, I was nude-sunbathing on a small, rocky island in Lake Powell, thinking I was all alone, when a motor boat with several men came putt-putting up next to me. I just rolled over on my stomach and closed my eyes, willing them to go away. They did, eventually.

51. And then there was the time when I chased a bunch of armed hunters off of our farm, with nothing but my anger and a lot of profanity.

52. Two years ago I was in Italy, and I found my own way from Assisi to the Tiemplo di Minerva, using only my steely-eyed determination and 12 words of Italian.

53. I wish I were fluent in Italian.

54. I wish I could make love to one of the gondoliers in Venice.

55. I wish I could make love to that glassblower in the glass factory I visited in Murano. He was a big, muscley man.
56. I was proud of myself when I made it to the top of Angel’s Landing, in Zion National Park, in Utah, even though I was certain I would not live to include it in this list.

57. Last year, I forded a wild stream in Kauai, holding onto a rope that was entirely inadequate and I would have been swept over the falls if a big, muscley surfer-dude had not come to my rescue.

58. I almost always wear underwear when I’m in public.

59. haven’t gone hang-gliding yet. I’m waiting until the doctor tells me I have only six months to live.

60. I fucked boyfriend du jour in a graveyard once. Once was enough.

61. I tried to commit suicide once, but it didn’t work.

62. Now I take Zoloft and I love being alive.

63. I am covered with tatoos.

64. When I was 15 I went to a hypnotist and he tried to hypnotize me, but it wasn’t working, and I told him it wasn’t working and he got mad at me, so I pretended it was working, and he was so thrilled with his success that he wanted me to be his subject in a demonstration he was going to give.

65. I had an uncle who was a dirty, fucking, pedophile creep and I hope he burns and rots in hell.
66. Not that I hold any grudges or anything.

67. I get annoyed with adults who don’t know the difference between “their,” “they’re,” and “there.”
68. I get annoyed with adults who think that you make a plural by adding apostrophe s to a noun. e.g. “I have two husband’s.” Didn’t you go to school, you pitiful excuse for a human being?
69. I get annoyed with everyone and anyone who starts a sentence with the word “Me,” as in “Me and Mike were gittin’ it on!” It’s “Mike and I,” motherfuckers!
70. Sometimes, I get annoyed with myself for being so intolerant, but mostly I’m okay with it.

71. I ate frog legs once, just to be able to say I had done it. It was nasty. I felt so guilty. Poor little frogs. As if they don’t have enough problems, with loss of habitat and all.

72. I tried escargot too. I brushed my teeth about six times afterwards.

73. Talk about guilt! For the first thirty years of my life, I felt guilty about masturbating. Now it’s all good. It has been helpful to read blogs about the shame-free way that men relate tales of their solo escapades.

74. I have never faked an orgasm. And if you believe that, you must be a man.

75. I go to the gym three times a week and work out for 1½ hours each time. But I feel guilty that I’m not getting the exercise by doing actual, productive work.

76. I feel guilty about feeling guilty.

77. I hate cooked carrots, but I don’t feel guilty for hating them. They deserve it. Stupid carrots.

78. I’m left-handed, but I masturbate with my right hand. Go figure.

79. I plan to wash all the windows in my house, as soon as hell freezes over.

80. I thought I was in love once, but it was just gas.

81. I can read palms. You will lead a long and happy life…oh dear, wait…never mind, let’s talk about something else.

82. I’ve never met a vibrator I didn’t like.

83. I am really hungry right now, so I’m going to go get something good to eat and try not to feel guilty about it, even though I know I will, because I promised myself I wouldn’t eat anything fattening tonight, but everything that sounds good to me is fattening!

84. No man has ever beaten me up, but if one ever tries, I can guarantee he’ll be sorry.
85. I float like a moth and sting like a wasp…on steroids. I’m a pretty good boxer, too. (Not really.)

86. My ex and I went to a nudist camp several times, back in the 80’s. It was an eye-opening experience. I was amazed at the variation in size, shape, color, and condition of the bare-naked penises. Most of the men were able to keep them deflated, but one well-endowed teenager was at half-mast most of the time. It was quite entertaining.

87. I learned the hard way that I must never tell a Jehovah’s Witness missionary that I am an Atheist. It is like waving raw meat in front of a lion.

88. When I was five years old, a neighbor girl hit me across the head with a two-by-four. So I killed her. (Only one of these sentences is true.)

89. While I’ve never done any actual research on the subject, I suspect that lesbians give better cunnilingus than men do, since they actually know THE LOCATION OF THE CLITORIS!

90. I can crush Japanese Beetles with my bare fingers.

91. I think the sale and use of marijuana should be legal. Period! Exclamation mark:

92. My favorite pen is in the shape of a flamingo, with lots of bright pink feathers on top of its head.

93. Sometimes I wish I had a pet, preferably an orange-haired kitty, but then I smoke a joint and forget about it.

94. I tried smoking oregano once. Mama mia! It was disappointing.

95. I cry over spilt milk.

96. I truly believe that two wrongs make a right.

97. You CAN have your cake and eat it too. It will be stored in that roll of fat around your waist.

98. Sometimes I think I may have a split personality. But then someone inside my head assures me that I don’t.

99. A rose is a rose is a rose, unless it’s a banana. In that case, it might have a “split” personality. Get it? A banana split? Never mind.

100. I’m nearing the finish line! My heart is pounding like an angry judge’s gavel. I’m out of breath. I think I may throw up! But no, I can’t quit now, no matter how much you would like me to!

101. I cooked a man in Crisco, just to watch him fry.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Oh geez, I'm only up to number 90. This image gives a hint of the subject matter of number 90.

I am so EXCITED that I finally figured out how to insert an image into my blog! Watch out, Politits!

Sunday, September 23, 2007

I'm working on a list, entitled: "101 Things You've Always Wanted to Know about Me." I got the basic idea from Captain Smack who got the basic idea from Old Knudsen . They made it look easy, but it's not! After two hours, I'm only up to 85. I'm starting to doubt that there ARE 101 things about me, whether anyone wants to know about them or not.

Okay, back to the grindstone. And no, I never had sex with a grindstone.

Monday, September 17, 2007

I wish I could write like Kelso, or dcup. How the heck do they find time for such long, entertaining and enlightening posts? I'm interested in political matters, but not ambitious enough to do any actual research before publishing my opinions, even though I am VERY SURE that my opinions are WELL-FOUNDED and ABSOLUTELY DEFENSIBLE, if only I were much more ambitious, which I'm not.

So...I will write about sex, instead, because that's always entertaining, at least to me, and I'm a bit "stirred" tonight, so that's all I can think of. Specifically, I'm thinking of Pan-man, and that summer afternoon when we were walking in the woods, thinking we were all alone, and that it would be perfectly safe to make love by the side of the creek, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BY A PUBLIC TRAIL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AFTERNOON OF A BEAUTIFUL, SUNNY DAY! So there we were, indulging in position number 69, and enjoying ourselves very much, thank you, when all of a sudden, PM pulled away, grabbed for his clothes and pushed me toward mine. A large dog was ambling toward us. "If a dog's in the woods, his owner can't be far behind," he whispered, as we both hitched up our britches. He was right, of course, and we barely made our semi-clothed retreat before the unwelcome hiker barged into our little trysting place. Such are the perils of illicit love.

Maybe next time I'll talk about the time we "did it" on the conference table, after hours, in the office. Was that ever exciting!

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Okay, this post is going to be boring, so you might as well bail out now. It's about politics as a source of marital discord. Discord almost to the point of pugilism! Hubby is a Bush-loving conservative Republican. Need I say more? Yes? Good, because I am revved up! He vigorously and vociferously supports Bush's INVASION OF IRAQ AND THE CONTINUED OCCUPATION. I try to avoid the subject, because I know neither of us will ever convince the other of his/my point of view. It just occured to me as I wrote that sentence, that my attitude about arguing is consistent with my attitude toward the war: I HATE WAR AND FIGHTING AND HOPELESS ARGUING! Hubby apparently LOVES WAR AND FIGHTING AND ARGUING! GRRRRRRR!

So, back to my story. Tonight we had a pleasant, peaceful dinner, watched Wheel of Fortune, and decided to go for a walk, as we often do in the evening. Tom started talking derisively about a woman at his work, whom he detests, and her attempts to recruit people to go with her to the Peace March in DC this weekend. I said, "Oh, I want to join the march. Maybe I could ride with her." Stupid me! He then started his usual diatribe about how I "support terrorists, support Osama bin Laden, and love Hitler and wouldn't have wanted the USA to join WWII, etc ad nauseum." We have been through this countless times. And every time, I assure him that I do NOT support terrorists, or Osama, or Hitler, and I certainly believe that we were completely correct in defeating Germany and Japan. So tonight, I was trying to keep relatively calm in the face of his STUPID attack, and then he delivered his coup de grace: "Go to DC! Join the march! Stay all day if you want to. You'll be so PROUD of yourself." All this was voiced with dripping sarcasm. At that point I boiled over with a loud "FUCK YOU!" and turned around and walked away as fast as I could. We're back home now, in opposite corners of the house, not speaking. So much for agreeing to disagree.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

The inimitable, incomparable Captain Smack commented on my previous post:

" Talk about walking on the wild side, it's a wonder you're still with us. Everyone knows those 30-something Japanese folk dancer types are worse than the Hell's Angels on a month-long meth bender."

Fortunately, the Captain's satire is warranted. Shigeki taught me a lot about foreplay, but never pried my legs apart.

Armando, on the other hand, got to first, second and third base, but didn't quite score. Armando was a perpetually horny (boner, 24/7), nineteen year-old Mexican guy I met at school. On the first date, he taught me how to kiss (apparently Shigeki had it all wrong). "No, not like that! You're supposed to lift up your tongue and let the guy play around under it." I followed orders and passed muster. The second date consisted of us necking madly in the back yard, doing everything but the big "F". Then, the fateful third encounter. We were with my sister and her boyfriend, eating pizza at a cafe down the street from my apartment. Armando said he was having a party in his home (he lived with his parents) that evening and invited us three to join him. J. and her BF looked at each other skeptically and declined. But I, chronically shy and unpopular, was eager to go to my first real party. So Armando and I headed off for his place. Now add the words "naive and dumb" to my self-description. When we got to his house, there were no lights on inside and the front door was locked. Armando explained that his parents always went to bed early, and we shouldn't wake them, so we could just climb in his bedroom window! I did think that was an odd way to have a party, but I was reluctant to abandon the idea, so in I went, with his help. He told me to be quiet, so we wouldn't wake his parents. The next thing I knew, we were on his bed, with both of us pantsless. I had never seen a man's erect penis before, so naturally, it was the biggest penis I had ever seen. It was terrifying. And then he tried to insert Tab B into Slot a. It hurt so badly that I passed out. When I came to, he was fanning me and apologizing, assuring me that he hadn't penetrated. He offered to "massage" my aching twat, but I declined. I said I wanted to go home, so we climbed back out the window and he walked me home. That was the last time I accepted an invitation to a "party," until I was an adult.

And, in case you're wondering, his is still the biggest penis I've ever seen.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

That last post stirred up some other memories from that strange year that I was 15. It's amazing that my two younger sisters (J, 14 and M, 13)and I survived it. My mother gave us virtually no guidance (except that we should not actually let a man fuck us until we were married), no restrictions and no supervision. She had enough to do, trying to support us and her sister and her two little urchins. She also had to manage her various boyfriends, who drifted into and out of our lives. So, J, & I (M wasn't interested yet) were free to roam the streets of L.A., day or night, go to movies and pick up boys (and men), bring boys (and men) home, neck with boys (and men) downstairs in the yard, go to boys' (and men's) homes, and any other adventures we encountered. My first "date" was with a Japanese man in his thirties whom I had met in a Folk Dance club. He had taught me to dance the tango, which was crazy sexy, and awakened, ahem, womanly feelings in me. Now I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't let my 15 year-old daughter go out with a 37 year-old man. But it was AOK with Mom. No curfew, no instructions, feh!

I'm getting irritated. I better finish this tomorrow, after I've had a few glasses of wine.