Happy Halloween

Despite the hours of homework I have to do, I have decided to dress up and go out tonight. My housemate and I are going as, you guessed it, Britney Spears and Kevin Federline. As the taller, gangly one without boobs, I get to be Kevin. I'm not sure I'm feminine enough to pull it off, but I'll give it a go.

I've found a dorky hat. One of my other housemates promises she can have the almost-a-beard look perfected by ten. Now if only someone would loan us a baby.

My worst fear is that my bride for the night is one of the girly kissers. If she starts in with that while were out, I'm gonna have to kick the other chick's ass, because no one kisses my wife. And if I find a hot guy to make out with, I'll still be in character. How cool is that?

Muffin Tops and Hip Huggers

TobyKeith and I went shopping this weekend and I helped him pick out some new clothes. His wardrobe needs major help. I saw him sans-shirt for the first time. He has an adorable little muffin top. It was all I could do to keep from mentioning it every three minutes the rest of the day.

I glanced at some jeans in one of the stores, and he suggested that I try them on. "That’s alright, we'd never go on another date if you see how picky I am we’d better get going."

"No, really," he said, "we've got time."

"Trust me, I don’t want to prove to you that I don’t have an ass bore you.





But seriously, I hate shopping for jeans. I hate hip huggers. I think they look cool, don’t get me wrong. Just not on me. Let’s just say Sir Mix-a-Lot doesn’t like me and leave it at that. I’m a runner. What do you expect? Anyone with ideas on where to find jeans that will make it look like I have an ass, give me a shout.

And the not wanting to bore him part didn't stop me from getting a pedicure while he went to wherever guys go in malls.

Half Nekkid Thursday is Taking the Blog World by storm!

HNT is certainly a case of the good, the bad and the ugly. Some say the nekkidness isn't supposed to be sexual, while other photos are borderline pornographic. How can I let this bandwagon sail by without jumping on? So here's a candid shot of me in the shower:



[That's not really me in the shower, I took the picture.]

Ray Charles Rox Out Loud

I have a new favorite song! It is "A Song For You" by Ray Charles. Well, maybe it isn't rock, but saying he blues out loud makes zero sense. What a great song. I've listened to it a dozen times this morning. I wish I could find a video of it online. (There's one on YouTube, but the music quality ucks big time.)

TobyKeith came here last night. We went out on our second real date, the trusty dinner and a movie combo. On the way home I was checking out his CD collection --And judging him very harshly for it, I might add-- when I found a Ray Charles CD. I joked about it and then he put it in. I have to admit there were a couple of songs that didn't suck too bad, and this one that I now love. I've never seen the movie "Ray," so we're going to rent it and watch it together sometime.

After the movie we came back here and there wasn't anything going on. I imported A Song for You to iTunes, then we sat around and talked (in a laid on the bed together and kissed kind of way). The music was nice. The company was nice. The moment was nice. I wanted it to last longer. At about 2 he said he had to get home and get some sleep. I nearly broke my you-can't-stay-here vow, but I'm glad I didn't. Actually, I'm glad he didn't ask. I probably would have if he had asked. This morning as I was thinking about it I realized that he cares about my boundaries. He didn't ask me to compromise them or to change them in midstream. That part was especially cool.

I like TobyKeith. He's a cool guy. But his hands are like sandpaper. I can hardly stand to hold hands with him because they are so rough. He has callouses like I've never seen before. Despite using lotion that I kept putting on him all evening, they remained sharp. He said they'd get better now that harvest was over, so we'll see. I didn't remember them being that bad before, so maybe they will get better. I usually like backrubs, but didn't want one last night.

No one ever says that someone they like is a bad kisser, but he is a good kisser. He is slow and gentle in just about everything he does, which is a refreshing change of pace.

I could really like him more if he lived closer. While it is cool to see someone actually put thought and effort into spending time with you, I'd like more visits in smaller doses. I miss finding my BF between classes for the 2 minute chat. I miss lazing on the couch together. I miss kicking his ass over a two mile run. These are things you can't do very often with a long-distance BF.

I am more Reflective than Introspective

In my limited experience, what I do has a lot to do with how I feel. When I think, write, speak and do happy, energetic things, I tend to be happier and more energetic. When I don't, I'm not. I can't say for sure which comes first, but they do go together.

After my heart was recently pulled out of my chest, devoured by a serpent, digested, excreted and trampled upon, I was in a serious funk. I started this blog because I was trying to carry on my I'm-OK-don't-worry-about-me routine (with no success). I needed an outlet. I cried. I read three Willa Cather books that I had read before. I cried more. I ditched school for a week. I didn't run. And I felt like crap.

After several days of sulking my friend Teri really kicked me in the butt. She made me get out. She made me run. She made me study. After a day or two, I felt better. After a week I felt a lot better. I'm still sad about the way things ended, but I don't feel like I did then. That was the lowest I've ever felt.

I made a conscious effort to stay positive, even when venting here. I stopped talking about him. I stopped crying. I tried to keep up a positive spirit. I did not write about dipshit canceling my phone without prior notice to me. I did not write about him demanding the return of a textbook he used last freaking year. I did not write about boxing EVERYTHING* he gave me up and sending it back. I did not write about the incident at the bar with the 'other woman' (gawd that sounds awful). They are all stories that (after I selectively omit stuff) make him look like more of a Ginormous A*hole than he probably is. But I did not write about them because I did not want to dwell on the negative. Now that they are in the past, I wish I would have been more honest about how I was feeling.

It is much easier for me to reveal what I felt like, rather than to reveal what I feel like. I can reflect on what is completed with some clarity. I cannot, however, do the same with the present. Not yet. I still can't decide whether I'm lying to myself, or just hiding my feelings from public view. I know that reflection on the past is much easier for me than introspection on the present. It is also safer, because we can't change the past. At times I fear the change that true introspection might require. I don't want my soul to be searched. I only want it to be admired. I am a selfish twit in that way. I want to know others, but I hold back from allowing myself to be fully known.

I held back some things with him. Our relationship wasn't the best by any means. We were probably going to break up anyway; his infidelity was merely the catalyst. Did I not trust him with my secrets because (1) I knew he was untrustworthy, (2) our relationship was not to that level, or (3) I feared that he wouldn't like what he saw if I did reveal my innermost thoughts and feelings? I want you to think it was one or two, but I know there was a bunch of three in there, too.



* I kept the running shoes he gave me, because he couldn't exactly use them (and I use them every freaking day).

Good Things Come in Any Packages

I didn't see TobyKeith this weekend, but I did talk to him on the phone for a bit. He was busy doing farming stuff, and I was busy doing homework (and going dancing). I continue to think that I could really like him, but the distance would be hard. If I'm gonna have a beau I want him to be around.

I went out Saturday night and danced practically the whole night. It was awesome. But it would have been a drag with a non-dancing bf in tow. One guy danced with me a few times and then asked me to study with him this week. He probably actually wants to study, but we'll see.

I like surprises. Today I got a package from UPS. When I saw it I had no idea what it might be, because I hadn't gone crazy on eBay lately. So who would send me a package? No one sends me packages. No one, it turns out, except TobyKeith. I opened it to find the disposable pie tin and rubbermaid thingy that I gave him with the leftover pie. Inside that was a Toby Keith Cd. It was a cool gesture, and it makes me think that maybe he's thinking about me as much as I have been thinking about him.

My studies

I am an English major at a small college, which means that about half of my upper division courses consist of a professor giving me a list of books to read and getting together in his office once a week to see if I'm really reading them. Well, I love to read. Second to dancing. Well, maybe third behind dancing and running. Make that fourth ** no fifth, behind dancing, eating, running and getting a pedicure. No, pedicure is higher than running. Ahh crap. I lost focus. Anyway, I like to read, so after he figures out that I have read the book he either kicks me out of his office so he can leave or we just chat about stuff not related to the assignments.

One of the books on my list this year is Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. Oh My Gawd. Nabokov is a genius, and the book is truly a masterpiece. I'm typeless to describe it in less trite terms. I am a third of the way through it, and I cannot decide whether it is drama or comedy.

I thought I had a decent vocabulary. I can scarcely make it through a paragraph without having to look something up in my dictionary. Who knew there were so many synonyms for prostitute? Lest you think I'm a total retard, some of the words I had to look up are pastiche, ribald (thought I knew what it was, but wasn't sure), demoniac (I've heard demonic, but not demoniac), fey, coeval, fauntlet, poltroon, fascinum and atoll. What boggles my mind is that English is Nabokov's third language, behind Russian and French, but his writing is amazing. Really amazing. You should really read it if you have the time. It is not easy reading, but it is breathtaking.

Update -- Nothing juicy

TobyKeith was here Saturday. We had a good time. He was taller and cuter than I remember. He loved the pie, which isn't surprising since it is hard to screw up a pie. We talked a lot on the date, and I think we may be on the same page. The distance thing would be hard for me to commit to, but he says he isn't looking for that right now, either. I got a great good bye kiss, so its all good.

I'd write more, but I don't want to bore anyone.

My House is Officially Rated PG-13

My life is so boring. Today I got up, drank my water, ran, ate my oatmeal, went to class and then went to the grocery store. I bought cherry pie filling, but I also bought cherries to give the illusion that I didn't use cherry pie filling. Today I made two pies. One for us (because who can not eat a hot-cherry pie with vanilla ice cream?) and one for k'boi (RWA's suggestion). Actually, I made the crusts last night, but do you really care? Me either. Sooo....

Check it out. I live with four other college gurls in a house a block away from campus. Two of these gurls, let us call them hos, have decided to try to convince the world that they are bi. They've convinced me, although I was there for the discussion about it being fake. But they are both convinced that it will be fun, and that everyone likes bi-chicks. Anyway, they need only the slightest pretense (i.e., audience + alcohol) to kiss. For some reason, boys like this. A lot. They claim (when its just us here) that they are only being goofy. To everyone else, though, they claim to be bi. Boys also like this. A lot.

PottyMouth (Ho #1) was around when I got home. She immediately started asking if she could have my cherry (roll eyes) and then if I wanted her cherry (that ship has long sailed). Then she turned to her fellow bi-ho (I can't think of a pithy name for her. Get it? Pithy? Cherry Pit. Ha-ha.) With lips almost touching, she held the cherry between them. Then they kissed the cherry, allowing their lips to fully envelope it. This was followed by a rather long and disgusting kiss, complete with both sets of jaws working. Moments later PottyMouth pulled away with the stem between her teeth, while her partner in slime spit out the hull. They did this two or three times. (Girls, I need you leave some of those cherries around so I can pretend to know how to cook. See how boring the story gets when I mention me?)

Then Teri came in. After their next performance, Teri told bi-ho #2 that she was going to lose her reputation, "because everyone thinks you always swallow seed." Bwahaahaaaahaaahahaa. I got tiny ice cubes in my nose because I was drinking a lime slush at the time.

I can't write an effing title to save my life

What's that old saying? If he doesn't call by Wednesday you should not accept a date for Saturday. Well, fuggit. I'm accepting. He called Tuesday (I was out). He called Wednesday (I was out). He called this afternoon and we chatted. He was cute and polite on the phone, yet excited in a non-pushy way. He suggested driving down late morningish on Saturday and taking me out for lunch. Lunch date on Saturday? I'm sure its been done before.

I didn't think TobyKeith would want to drive three hours for a non-overnight date, but I was wrong. For some silly reason, I didn't want to talk to him because I didn't want to tell him that I didn't want to go see him and he couldn't stay over here if he drove down. Either he's really smart or his mother is giving him advice, but he said the same thing BEFORE I HAD THE CHANCE.

So here's the prob. I've been thinking (well, obsessing really) about it. While we princesses never think we are high maintenance, I freely admit to be being more high maintenance than this. I don't want a long-distance boyfriend. (In my little world, an hour and a half away is long-distance.) Heck, I don't even know if I want a boyfriend at all. (The last one broke just after the warranty ran out, so I couldn't return him.) You know what that means? The best TobyKeith can hope for is the dreaded friendship closet. So, who is going to break the news to him?

Let's think this through. If I call him ahead of time I'm a presumptuous bitch, because maybe he just wanted to have a little light-hearted fun. If I don't call him, then I've made him waste a day and however much cash when I wasn't interested. Maybe I'll pretend to still be asleep when he gets here, then pretend to be slightly hungover and spend the day reliving the (totally made up) wild night before. But I don't drink much and I'm a crappy actress.

How do I think myself into these fucking corners? He knows he lives a long ways away. He knows I'm NOT looking for anything serious. Could it be that a hot K'boi will really drive that far for an inoccent date? I think I'll bake him a pie to take home.

I'm fickle

I had an awesome night last Saturday, mostly because of TobyKeith. He is polite, attentive and can carry a conversation. He is more than cute. All good qualities and no glaring flaws. But he lives an hour and a half away.

He called last night when I was out running. I'm glad I wasn't home. I don't know what I would have said. I liked him well enough, and if he lived here I might have run by his house, but...........

I just can't see how this plane can get off the ground.

I doubt he wants to drive that far home after a date. And I'm not going to drive three freaking hours for a date. I won't impose on Teri or her family to go there and spend the night just to see him. And since the only person he knows here is Teri, who lives with me, I don't think he ought to stay here. I don't think it is a good idea to have a second date last 48 hours. And this would really be a first date, because meeting someone at a dance and just staying there together really shouldn't count.

THAT WEEKEND ROCKED!

That was an awesome weekend. Teri, who continues to show she’s a better friend than I ever thought possible, is such an awesome girl. I've gotta find a way to pay her back. My thoughts of seeking out anti-depressant medication is over for at least a week or two. If someone would bottle this weekend we could put the prozac people out of business. This weekend was just what the doctor would have ordered, if I had asked.

The short version is that she introduced me to a gorgeous K’BOI, who makes my little heart go pitter-patter. He is huge, but in a good way. He’s not muscular, and he certainly isn’t fat, but rather just solid. And tall. He reminds me of the Rocky Mountains. For blogging purposes, he’s TobyKeith (though he lacks the hair and other stuff I’d notice if I were a Toby Keith fan).

But enough about him; the important thing to remember is I STILL GOT IT, BABY. It is, after all, all about moi.


The longer, but still greatly condensed version, follows:

FORESHADOWING

On the drive there Teri mentioned that there was someone she wanted to introduce me to. Despite my weak protestations about not being ready for that, I was optimistic, but tried to put on that I didn’t care. (I failed.) Someone who doesn't know what a basket case I've been recently can only be good. She told me a bunch about him, and it appeared that she might have mentioned me to him, too. That part made me a bit nervous.


THE INTRODUCTION

Teri finally introduced us on Saturday night at a dance. I’m sure I made a great first impression. My first words to him are destined to replace “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks.” I’m sure I’ll get a call any moment from a major motion picture studio hoping to pick up the rights. I said, and I quote “That’s a big hat.” Feel free to use the line if you want. I request only that you give me creative credit for it. Anyway, his response was something like “Thankie, ma’am,” so he didn’t take offense. And being called ma’am is endearing! I heartily recommend it. Polite boys rock.

He spent the rest of the evening sitting at our table and talking a little. He was very sweet and attentive. He bought me a beer. (Did I mention I don’t like beer? Well, I didn’t mention it to him, either.) We didn’t dance as much as I would have liked, except for the slow ones. Those were nice.


THE GOOD BYE

We danced the last few slow songs, then stayed around talking until they turned all the lights on (subtle, no?). As we left I walked him to his truck as my friends waited. We were walking side by side, and as we approached the truck he put his arm around me. He told me he had a good time and that he hoped we would get together again soon. Then, while I wasn’t expecting it at all, he gave me a squeeze with his right arm and kissed the top of my head. He asked if he could call me. When I offered him my number he said he already had it, since I live with Teri. It could have been in a Disney movie, it was so cute and wholesome. He definitely knows to leave them wanting more. I would have liked it to last a little longer. Maybe it will.