Tuesday, December 02, 2008

One last lie

Your sweet Amanadoo is rather pungent lately. I've taken to Chai tea (though I still can't get it right at home...the various coffeehouses do it just right for me) and smoking chives. Add that to the religious zeal I have for my perfume of choice, the baby powder I constantly put in my hair, and it's a pretty smellicious situation. But my friends say they wouldn't have me any other way .

In other news, I am moving!

Cue angels, harps.

S and I found a great place one town over. It's smack in the middle of the various places we go...her boyfriend's house, our respective schools, friends houses, parents, and her work. Which, of course, brings up my biggest concern. I'm moving out this weekend and I don't have a flippin job.

Why don't you just wait Amanadoo?

Well, cause. That's why. See, S is about to get thrown out of her house (crazy parental situation there). And since this is what we've wanted to do since for-freaking-ever, we decided to be ahead of the game and do it now. And if by some freak alligning of the stars I don't get a job soon, we are...well, we're pretty much fucked.

So there's that.

I've found myself in the middle of an envious predicament. Envious if you're anyone but me. Allow me to break down the essentials...

2 boys (well, 1 boy, one man if you wanna get technical)
1 fuckbuddy
1 friend-with-benefits

The fuckbuddy is XBF and it's all fuck and no buddy. Fucktotaldumbass is more like it.
The friends-with-benefits is David and it's all friend and hardly any benefits.

Is there a reason I can't have 1 person that I can be friends with and cuddly with and screw...all at the same time!?!

I mean, really.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Hey little girl would ya like some candy? Your mama said it's OK.

Well today is the day that we here in America celebrate our dubious beginning.

400-some years ago, a cult of fanatical religious extremists packed up their shit and sailed the ocean blue to find what they'd hoped would be a land of freedom for all....all adult white men who adhered to some really whack rules.

Here they feasted with the natives, who gave them corn and cranberries. In return, they gave them smallpox and venereal disease.

Then winter hit and they all died.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

We might as well be strangers

In other news, a whole bunch of the seniors at school are all set to graduate. Bummer, I just started to learn everyone's name and now they're movin on to bigger and better things. And there's a mess of juniors that recently came out on the floor, plus a new class just starting. A variety of bitches is the spice of life I guess.

Friday, November 07, 2008

My second best friend's mom went to France and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.

Aug 12 was the last time I blogged!

Put those incredulous glares away. We have much to catch up on, yes?

First thing's first, you all MUST check out Alexa, who is absolutely awesome (sorry darling, I still havn't figured out how to make a list of links to put you permanently on the side of the page, but if I could I would!).

Secondly, that show *Motormouth* on Vh1 is relentlessly entertaining. I hate to love it, but I can't get enough of that damn show. I was already a total Vh1 nerd-face, but lately my love affair with the channel has climaxed over and over and over...You'll understand more in a minute...

Speaking of climaxes and matters of the heart, much has been going on, starting with one failed attempt to connect with someone. Utter failure. But moving on...

Began a fairly semi-serious relationship with an old aqaintance. I ran into David at a party I went to with Christina and her boyfriend. I originally met him at church a long time ago. At the time he was the quiet, brooding artist guy who took his camera with him everywhere and took pictures of random things. Kind of a snob. Well, he wasn'y so much a snob as he was annoyed by me. I can be pretty rambunctious, and I've grated a lot of nerves in my day. Anyway, we hit it off this time around and I stayed with him that night and almost every night after that for like 5 weeks. He's a really stand-up guy. And his pictures, by the way, are AMAZING.

Long story short, we totally burned out on each other. So I broke up with him. And here's where Vh1 comes into play...

The night we broke up, we had sex for the first time. Yes, I know, things in Amanadoo land work out in pretty twisted ways. Well, in the middle of the act, I opened my stupid mouth and said "Damn! Breaking up with you is the best decision I've ever made!"

Luckily the kid has a great sense of humor.

We're great friends now, and we decided to celebrate our breaking up anniversary (since it was one of the best things we've ever done). On that fateful night, Vh1 was on the TV...playing videos. When we were, er, done, the *Keane* video for Somewhere Only we Know came on. It's a flippin good song!

So for our "breakaversary" I bought him the cd. Guess what he got me! The Keane cd.


The whole cd is flipping good by the way, you should buy it. It's 7 bucks at Best Buy. So there's that.

Also, I tryed to make nice with XBF but he wouldn't have any of it. I think he thinks that my expectations are way higher than they actually are. I love him, yes, and he knows that. But I've learned not to have expectations of anyone, especially him. The only thing I demand is honesty, but for some reason he ducks around questions and I just can't take that from anyone. Notably when I know said person inside and out and know when they are lying and ducking. Anyway, I only ask questions I want the answers to. And I only want answers when I know that I'm totally prepared for what they may be. He, on the other hand asks hardly anything. I guess he doesn't want to know much. I certainly don't volunteer info. I'm not an idiot.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Evil with meat

A date.

I've known this fella, who we'll call Mac, for quite a while. Until recently though, we were merely aquaintances, notwithstanding the fact that we engaged in some heavy petting, 50's style, the first day we met. But that was a long time ago...I was about 16 I guess. Anyway, a coupla weeks ago, I ran into him at a friend of a friend of a friend's house.

We talked. Since the last time I saw him, he'd gone and graduated. Currently working on a masters in something or other. Assuredly swung his arm around my shoulders as we sat on the floor of the friend of a friend of a friend leaning against the couch. Quoted Pablo Neruda (famous Mexican poet)...a total line, but it totally worked. Said he cooked a mean stir fry and would I like to come over to his place for some sometime? I thrilled him with the heroic tale of how I've managed to completely avoid stir fry in my 20 years of existence. And a "sure."

Numbers exchanged.

After 2 days, he called. The next day he called again. And three days after THAT he called again. We didn't really have a whole lot to talk about, but that's mostly due to the fact that I'm not much of a phone person. The exciting conclusion??? He re-invited me over for that world-famous stir fry. I declined on the grounds that for all I knew, he could be a total creep. No way was I going to his apartment alone. So we decided to go out instead.

BUT WAIT! That's not the exciting conclusion!

The real exciting conclusion came after we played pool. After dinner. After coffee. After we talked about all kinds of relevant, interesting things. After we took stupid pictures on his camera phone. After I went to his place afterall. After I met his roomie. After I played with his adorable dog. After 2 and a half beers. After we watched a movie. Well, in the middle of the movie actually. But definetely after the sloppy half-assed kissing.

Yes friends, the true exciting conclusion to the evening came when dear, interesting, relevant, intelligent Mac engaged in some...shall we say...inappropriate behavior/placing of hands.

The 2 people that I told busted out the big ADR, but I prefer inappropriate behavior/placing of hands. And I'm not one to belittle such things. As a former friend pointed out, I flourish in sadness. Not true, but still...

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Everybody plays the fool sometimes. It may be factual, may be cruel

OF COURSE I knew what to do to keep him.

I am a woman afterall. As a formerly slutty girl, I knew I could move just so and put my hand on his leg just so and say things just so and he'd stay with me. And yet, I didn't.

So he, with his perfect shy smile and perfect house and perfect dog and perfect body and perfect fucking accent and perfect everything got back together with his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it was just too soon to be in something so perfect. Truth be told, I'm still reeling from XBF.

Or maybe it was something slightly more noble. Maybe I can see why she'd call 50 times a day. Maybe I can see why she would do everything in her power to be with with him. Maybe she feels the same way about him as I do XBF. Maybe he looked just a tad too guilty in the morning. Maybe I didn't trust his closed eyes when we kissed. I mean, closed eyes are a must of course, but untrustworthy closed eyes bite the big one.

Regardless of anything else, the only conclusion I can come to about anything right now is that I need, NEED two things: heavy-duty-super-ultra-garunteed-not-to-leak therapy and a man that can and wants to take care of me. Not money-wise. But other stuff-wise.

I'm new to all this. I havn't been alone (or that is to say, I havn't been without someone loving me) since tenth grade. So what do I look for? I dunno. Someone that smiles at me, not just around me...that can plan something to do...a good kisser...believes in something...grabs me (hand, hips, um, et cetera) I def. don't wanna always be the one doin the grabbin...pays...laughs...wants me to meet his friends...better yet, wants to meet mine...cuddles...doesn't always have to be saying something...asks about the stuff I'm up to...I dunno???!!!???

Fairly low standards in my opinion, and yet, it seems like no one meets them.

Men are idiots. Women really just want someone interesting that can slow dance and slow kiss and give some good lovin and hold them. C'mon dudes! Get it the fuck together!

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Love ain't worth makin when it makes you the fool.

Everyone has their quirks. One of mine is an obcession with remembering. My many scrapbooks and boxes of pictures and--most importantly--the various notebooks I write my stories and quotes and poems in are all testaments to that. I'm borderline psychotic with it all. OK, maybe psychotic is a bit strong, but I cherish my memories more than most nonetheless. They are what give you perspective and they are what you learn from. In the end, when you die, they are all you have. And, with a little luck and a few random acts of kindness, you'll go into someone else's memory.

So, what with the craziness about memories I've got, it's all the more painful to me when I have to block something out... especially when it's something that was really really great. I'm thinking specifically of Mr. Mc and XBF. I cut myself off completely from XBF because I'm ready to be loved the way I want to be loved. So he's gone. And Mr. Mc is dead. So he's gone.

I can think about them in generalities only. If thoughts of Mr. Mc's sincerity or pain or arms or XBF's eyes or the way he hated that I wear sunglasses in the rain, it hurts too much to stand. I can't do it. It isn't nearly as intense with Mr. Mc as it is with XBF, because my feelings for him weren't as intense. A fact I am now sad to say I regret. And I know that in time I'll be able to remember every detail without wanting to curl into a ball and sleep for a week.

And the odd part (I'm sure you can all relate) is that I'm fine 23 hours and 58.77 minutes a day. More than fine...I'm stu-fucking-pendous....single, pretty, ambitious, happy, busy, smiley....all that good stuff. The blocking it all out is really working out well for me.

In other news--Fuck the superbowl, fight Fox. But I can't be too angry, they were the reason the get-together was held at which I got nice and fuckered up. {drunk and bitter Boo :) just kiddin} DAMN I love drinkin all night then sleepin all day!

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Yes, to rock out is a very good thing

Hello my darlings, I have returned! We finally got the internet at home, though I daresay we can't really afford it.

Speaking of home, this apartment is the best place ever. It's actually home, not just the place I sleep or the place I visit three times a year or the place I try to avoid my parents. I look forward to coming back after work and I'm loath to leave in the morning. Admittedly, though, that's because I am horrible at waking up. I generally sleep through 4 alarms and S doing her darndest to get my ass off the futon mattress on the floor that is my bed. Regardless, though, I love this place.

We couldn't have found it at a better time. My parents are in the middle of a divorce. Dad moved out about a month before I did. As weird and stressful and hurtful as the situation is to me now, it was tenfold when I was living in that house. My parents have divorced each other before, so they know how to bull-face lie just to stir up trouble on the other persons' end. And the battleground (or so it sometimes seemed) was located right on the tippy top of my head. A crushing force, to be sure. But better I than my little sister, who, by some miracle has remained somewhat unaffected and unjaded. Los parientes have done a good job of leaving her delicate psyche the hell alone. Mine, on the other hand....Well it isn't delicate anymore.

So huge changes have been, and are, in effect. And despite the negativity of it all, I couldn't be more grateful. They are so so so much better apart. Dick Lucas, in particular is a completely different dude. I have never seen my dad so.....human. And happy. Mom never really changes. Thank goodness, 'cause she wouln't be my mom if she did.

I'm so happy with my little slice of twenty-year-old heaven. Got a little bit of money, a little bit of beer, my best bud, a swank place and cute dog. And a stone-cold crush on my boss.

Next time my baybays, next time.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

You say love is a temple...you tell me to enter but then you make me crawl...

U2 is one of the most overrated bands of all time. Don't bother getting your panties in a bunch, I'm apperantly the only person in the English-speaking world that thinks so.

However much they do, in fact, suck, their song "One" is just about as perfect a representation of how I've felt lately as a song could get. XBF constantly has me up and down in mood, and I've grown so tired of it that I can't pull any joy out of what used to be the most amazing relationship the modern world had ever seen. Alas, he will be moving in six months, filling me in turns with relief and dread. And also leaving me with quite a pickle. Do I spend time with him at the cost of my own pride and feelings of self-worth? Or do I write him off now, at the cost of not only the love he's forced deep down in me but an amazing friendship as well?

Pickle indeed. No advice on the matter, please, I'm bored to death with advice, most notably when it comes from people I don't even know.

In other news, let me tell you about my job.

I work at the local Fed Ex. Well, actually there's one closer to where I live, but the one I'm at suffices. Anyway, I SWAK. Sort, Weigh and Key. Boxes come off a conveyor belt, drop down a slide, at the bottom of which I await them. I take the box, sit it on a scale, key in the zip code of where it's going and scan the various bar codes on the boxes, telling the computer what to do with the different codes. Then I send the boxes down another line. Monotonous. But I love it.

The SWAK side is about as long as a professional football field, I work at the staion at the very end. This is a very special station. As the keeper of the station, I am the chosen one. Chosen, that is, to remove anything that jambs up one of the four lines coming in and out of SWAK. It sounds much easir than it really is.

For one thing, I've been terrified of ladders my whole life. Don't know why, that's just the way my brain works. On a mission trip once, where we were re-roofing a poor old womans house, I went up the ladder in the morning (after much coersion) and opted to jump off the roof at the end of the day. I was burnt to a crisp at the end of the trip, but it was worth it to not have to go up and down that damn ladder. So you see that this is no trivial matter. They scare me.

Well, at Fed Ex, there is an intricate system of ladders around the whole place so that every inch of every conveyor belt can be seen at any time. Also, they come quite in handy when fixing jambs. You should see me now, I'm like a freaking albino monkey, hopping all nimbly-bimbly up, down and sideways around SWAK.

See what this job has done for me! Also, my forearms have never looked better.

And, after giving it far more concideration than the matter warrants, I've come to the conclusion that spending five hours a day surrounded by about 400-- 300 of whom are totally hot-- young men, is not a bad thing to do at all. Not bad at all.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

I will be the one...

"You're dude department sounds about as busy as the returns counter at wal mart."

Well, no. Now exactly. The fella that said that hasn't actually seen or talked to me in quite a while, so all he knows is what he reads in this blog. I told him that everything in blogland is just a condensed version of real life, so it isn't really all that bad. Then he made a lame attempt at a dirty joke about condensing something else. Moving on.

The fact of the matter is that while my life in dudes hasn't been all that enthralling, my time, energy and mind have all been pretty much consumed with matters of the heart and, more frequently, the libido.

The faces change, but there is inevetibly something wrong, dirty and rotten and wrong, with the core of every dude that's come around in the last five months.

Not the least of whom was that one guy I had been seeing (I forget the code name I used for him here). Yeah, he attacked me. Choking and hitting for a minute of two from his end and one swift stabbing from mine. The fork I lodged right under his bottom rib, $2, the look on his face, priceless. I found out later through a mutual friend that he'd been tripping on "acid or shrooms or something. Man, I don't know. That's so fucked up."

Then of course there is XBF himself. I finally put his mind games to rest just this afternoon. A girl can only take so much of that stuff. I'm sensitive, damnit, and I'd like to stay that way.

Hmmm, my first, last, and only one-night-stand. That was ineteresting.

My roomates boyfriends twin brother. All I can say about him is that, as a very recently devirginized young man, he should be a whole lot more grateful than he is!

And maybe one or two more drifters that wandered into my bubble but then were sent immediately packing or ran off with their tails between their legs.

But alas! I come to my latest diversion from work, school and play. We'll call this guy Joe. I went to my junior (his senior) prom with Joe. He was soo so so so nice and way cool and hilarious. And I, in turn, was a total bitch to him. I was young and stupid, I have no excuse. It didn't take me long to realise the error of my ways, but by the taime I'd figured it out, he'd graduated. So, for the last 4 years, I'd been wishing I could see him so I could apologize.

But the shamed have to wait. S and I concluded that I may never see him again. So hope was basically lost.

Then, we got hit with that terrible blizzard on the day before Christmas Eve. My apartment complex was, coincidently one of like 2 communities that didnt lose power. So S's parents stayed with us to escape the cold. They left the next morning before I woke up, leaving $20 as a thank-you. S and I were excited about eating a real piece of meat for the first time in a month. So we went to one of the best places in town to get a steak. But they were closed, no electricty you see. So we went down our mental list of places we could go. As it turned out, the last joint on the list was the only restaurant in town (or any surrounding towns) that had power. So we ate there.

We waited to be seated. We sat. We smoked. We placed our order. We gobbled down the chips and salsa. I had to pee. I came back from the resteroom and related to S how the sign about the sink read: EMPLOYEES MUST "WASH HANDS." We chuckled. I glanced to the right toward the register (we had been seated near the bar, where the only cash register was see). "Is that....it is!" S turned to look. It was Joe! "Joe!! Come here!" Joe and his best friend Zak were at the register buying gift certificates.

They came over. Joe has gotten even cuter. We small-talked. They left. S and I looked at each other and blurted out the same thing at the same time, "Why in the hell didn't I/you give him my/your number!?!"

Ahh, but the moment had passed. They were gone.

That night we remembered that he'd said he sells appliances at the mall. So S and I decided that she would go in next weekend and ask if he had a girlfriend. I got goosebumps just thinking of it. But this morning at school, after another night of assholery from XBF, I decided that I was, in fact, not in the third grade. I had to ask him out for myself. Further more, I had to do it right away. So I left, went home, took a shower, got prettyfied and went to the mall.

I saw him right away but he was talking to someone so I decided to wait. Walking through the washing machine aisle, a man with BOB on his nametag came over and asked if I needed help.

"Yes, actually, is Joe here?"

"Yeah, he is, is that all you needed to know?"

"Yep, thanks!"

"Hey Joe, this young lady wants to see you!" He was yelling across like 80 feet.

Joe walked up, "Hey Amanadoo! What's up?"

"I, ummmm, I need your help."

"With what?"

"Well, I, er, um, S and I need a washer and dryer."

"I can't help you. I sell everything but washers and dryers. But Bob can help....Hey Bob! She needs a washer."

Bob smiled and started toward us. Whispering to Joe, "Do you sell refridgerators?" He does. "Well I need a refridgerator. Let's look at those."

He waved off Bob and called me a dork. We small-talked agin about the apartment and his karate class. I whipped around to face him (I think I scared him a little), "I want to take you out to dinner." It's a little blurry after that because all my blood went straight to my face and I got lightheaded. The important part here is that he accepted and we exchanged numbers and he said he'd call me. The I told him a secret...that S's boyfriend had bought us a washer and dryer before we even moved. He called me a dork again. I wanted to hug him, but I said bye-bye instead, walked swiftly to the parking lot where I did a little dance.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I don't think this is what Ray Charles was singin about


Let me tell you about Georgia.

At my school she's infamous. She's beyond infamous. She's a legend.

No one will do her...which is why all the juniors get her. They don't know any better. Georgia is a nasty old lady. And the nasty goes far deeper than the old lady crud behind her ears. She's mean. And racist. Once, a black student was doing her hair and Georgia looked her staright in the face and said, "We owned 2 of you back in West Virginia." Didn't even bat a fucking eye. She constantly berates everyone she comes into contact with, including teachers, students and her husband, whom she refers to as "the man." As in, "Mrs. [teachers name], why in the hell can't you do your job and get these young women off their fat behinds and have one of them do my hair? The man is waiting for me in the car and I don't have time to wait for all these obese girls to jump off the ugly train." Snapping is involved. And yes, that is a direct quote.

Well, wednesday, all the juniors were busy or on lunch, so Christina was forced to take Georgias ticket. All was going well with the roller set until I showed up. I sat in the chair next to Christina. I crossed my legs. And my foot instantly began shaking, a tick I inherited from Dick Lucas.

Georgia looked over at me with hell fire in her eyes. "You're a lucky young lady that you didn't have my mother."

Without prompting, she continued, "She'd have killed you for sure."

Startled, I asked why.

"You ought to stop shaking your leg like that, it's an ugly habit and my dear mother'd have killed you for it."

"Well, I guess I am lucky I didn't have your mother. She sounds horrible!" Now, dear readers, I'm willing to admit that perhaps that statement goaded her on a bit.

A few minutes passed. Christina swiveled Georgias chair around so that my offensive foot wasn't in her direct line of vision. Alas, the old bag turned herself back around.

Shooting me the evil eye again, she insisted I stop shaking my foot, "You stop that right now or I'm going to bop you in the face."

Again, maybe I had something to do with what came next after I responded, "Do it!"

She reached over and punched me in the shin. Those old lady knuckles hurt like a mother fucker! I said "that was completely unneccesary," and started to get up.

Right at the moment, Christina was walking back from getting hairspray and didn't know what had just happened. Georgia yanked the hairbrush out of Christinas hand, got about 2 inches from my face, shouted "thank you very much!" and slammed the brush down on the station. Rollers and pins went everywhere. She stormed off.

A teacher saw the whole thing and she was ab-so-lut-ely livid. She called the director of our school and told her that Georgia was not, under any circumstances allowed back in the school again.

So there's that. Crazy old lady.