Hungry

My whole life, I was a flirt. I teased, I tormented. It was all in fun. I made sure I never offended and it was always wanted. It was what fed me, what made me feel good about myself, even if it was all faked.

Then I found him. He was all I needed. I stopped flirting, because I didn’t want him to feel as if he wasn’t enough, because he was. It was like the old adage; Out of sight, out of mind. I never quite thought about it again.

Occasionally there would be that spark, and I couldn’t help but tease someone out of affection for them. Not love or lust, mind you, just fun. I swear it creates endorphins; flirting was my workout. I was out of shape.

Recently I hit the flirting bottle hardcore, and when it was brought to my attention, it made me feel like shit. It felt like I had cheated, I felt like shit. I didn’t do anything that be construed as cheating, but I still felt terrible inside.

I was near tears driving home thinking about it, and then a song came on the radio (Human by The Killers). It’s rare that a song hits me at the right time and says the right thing. The main lyric is “Are we human/or are we dancer?” And it’s a good question. I’m only human, and it doesn’t matter where you get your appetite, just as long as you eat at home.

A Blog about Nothing

For the past week and a half, my check engine light has been on. It shines up at me like a dysfunctional doomsday clock; I have no idea when this emergency will actually occur. Every once and awhile it will take some sort of coffee break and turn off for a few hours or even days. But it always comes back.

I decided to get an oil change today in case that might be the problem, since I'd checked and the oil was pretty dirty. Inevitably that means meandering around Walmart like Novalee Nation in Where the Heart Is. It's not happy.

So I decided to hoof it in the nasty 117 degree heat across the parking lot to the comic book store to pick up the new Buffy, Angel, and Spike comics (shut. it.) and back so that I had something to keep me busy for an hour.

I got back and my car hadn't moved, so I settled into the waiting room where I was joined in minutes by two unattended children. Both were maybe 6 or 7 years old, one skinny and one sadly humongous. Skinny immediately went over to the TV and turned it up and started flipping channels. Soon he realized that the only channel he was going to get was PBS, so he left it and went to a chair next to his sibling and started in on the ice cream sandwich he had been given in lieu of parenting.

You know what comes next; one kid with an ice cream sandwich, and another with a Klondike bar. It was only a matter of time before the entire floor was covered in chocolate. Still no parent in sight. I got a phone call so I took it away from the little brats. When I was done I came back in to finish my comics (I said shut. it.) only to find the floor covered in smeared chocolate (nothing like walking in it after you've dropped everything.) and....wait for it....

covered in ants.

Now I can't even sit down and read. I have to go outside, stand, and read.

Thankfully my car was done a few minutes later, and I opened my car door to find they had set my parking brake.

Had this been my old car, no big, it doesn't even work. But this was my new, hard, obnoxious car. The doors close on you when you aren't looking, I have the bruises to prove it. I sighed and went to work on trying to get the parking brake off.

15 minutes later I was throwing things and yelling. I got out of the car to head inside to ask someone to help me when I saw this huge man, the size of a lightweight sumo wrestler, crossing the parking lot. I begged him to help me, and he obliged.

I've always relied on the kindness of strangers.

An Artist Who Doesn't Understand Art.

I have a friend who started video blogging awhile back. It looked like it would be a lot of fun to do, so I got software and I've been messing around with it. It is, in fact, fun. I really enjoy cutting scenes together and wish I had more time for it.

So, my friend (who is driving me crazy for other reasons too, this is just the cherry) just posted this:

I'm still up in the air about whether or not to continue doing my video blog on a regular basis. Editing took up a lot of time, and recently we just haven't been compiling much footage for it. Viewership is pretty low, too. I think the last few blogs had about 20 views? Is there something you all want to see on an upcoming installment?

Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? The only reason that he started video blogging was because he assumed people were interested? I'll be the first one to admit that the only people who understand or enjoy my video blog are my inner circle of friends. To anyone else, it's gibberish. It's full of inside jokes that NO ONE is going to get, or even understand. I don't care. It's fun. I like doing it and putting it up on the web so that those few people will watch it and laugh. I'm not setting out to make "The Real World" or "The Hills," I'm just stretching what I know and improving on it. Maybe someday I'll go to film school or just give it up, but It's not going to be based on how many people watch it on YouTube.

Why do people do things solely based on what other people think? What a freaking tool. He even ends his blog with this:

So... umm.. I guess that's all I have to say right now. Thanks for reading! Comment and stuff.

Please. Don't.

Karma at the DMV

Lover Boy and I went down to the DMV to re-register my car at one of those charming new kiosks, and then got back into the car. As I was about to pull out, the man parked next to us on the driver's side got back into his car as well.

Although he did it by swinging open his door and missing my car by centimeters, then started loading stuff in his car so that I couldn't pull out.

We waited, and I commented "Nice, guy. What a jerk." Before I even got to finish that sentence, he got into the car, banging his head on the top of the door opening. He turned red and quickly got back into his car.

I eyed the heavens and loudly stated "Thank you Karma, for being so prompt!"

Only Noon?

I can't believe it's only noon. Today has been the longest day in remembrance. I swear I wouldn't write a blog unless it was important or a funny story ever again, but here I am. Writing about nothing.

Out of sheer boredom yesterday I started watching "Singing in the Rain." I actually went home and finished watching it (I love Netflix's "Watch Now" option), and suddenly had this urge to listen to all the classic Broadway/musical songs that weren't exactly super popular, but important to musical culture all the same. Songs like "Anything Goes," and tons of Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals.

I'm in a bit of a funk right now. Not a bad funk, but a funk just the same. Things are getting to me only because they have been wearing down on me like water smooths a stone. I wish my word could be trusted, not because I'm a liar, but because other people are.

Mostly, I'm in a funk because I'm bored, not really depressed. That, in turn, makes me a little depressed. I got to get out of it and move on with life.

Sometimes They Twitter Like Birds...

Obviously nothing has happened to me worth writing about. I've been getting into the mini-blogging that is Twitter, that bas been nice. I could recount the immaturity of friends that I've had to deal with in the last month, but in all honesty it's to stupid to repeat. And it's all been friends of friends anyway. I'm not cool enough to have my own drama.

Mostly it just made me think about how selfish everyone is lately. A friend of mine blogged this, and It moved me so much that I had to steal it for my own devices:

"The Way We Live Now"

[Scott McLellan, in his recently published book] wrote that President Bush “convinces himself to believe what suits his needs at the moment,” and has engaged in “self-deception” to justify his political ends ...

Bruce Springsteen once said "President Nixon legitimized 'the scam'" and gave people the green light to engage in less-than-ethical behavior throughout the rest of the 70s. The ends justifies the means. Never complain, never explain. And for quite a few years after that, ethics went out the door, and the country was never quite the same.

The same thing happened with Bush. Take a look around you.

Do the majority of people you deal with, aside from your closest circle of friends who hopefully you picked wisely, convince themselves to believe what suits their needs at the moment? Do people you work with lie with ease, and believe what are obviously lies to justify their own ends?

I've seen it get worse and worse to the point where an entire generation has entered the work force thinking this is the way life is, that you have to get ahead by believing you are better than anyone else around you and that's more important that hard work, loyalty and dedication.

Bush legitimized self-deception, proved that it works and that there is much to be gained by throwing people under the bus. It's not "What can you do for me?" It's "What can you do for me ... today?"

I hope Obama's impending election will change this, and that the laws of karma turn full circle. That's the change I want to see."

I don't necessarily agree with the political aspect, but more about how people are lately. It's sad that this has happened. I wish something could be done about it, but I don't see it happening in the near future.

Not to Beat a Dead Horse...

But I saw another article that threw my whole way of looking at food into orbit. Basically, it said that sit down restaurants have more calorie content in their food then fast food resturants. The kicker? The TGI Fridays Potato Skins contain 2,270 calories.

Here I thought that giving up all fast food was good for me. Turns out I've been doing a lot of things wrong lately.

No wonder I'm the fattest anorexic on the planet!

A Tiny Bit of Vidication

This Article vindicates me just a little bit from my earlier post. I hope that every woman reads that entire article. We all have a completely fucked up way of looking at food.

I wish I could go back to the time when I was young and I ate when I was hungry. A desert was something that was a treat when it came around, but it wasn't something that consumed our thoughts.

I wish I could think about food as keeping myself alive, not my reason for life.

Snap Judgements

My friend Melrose and I pulled up alongside an expensive silver bit of a car. I glanced over at the man driving it, and saw the slicked back hair and the matte black-rimmed glasses to match.

"So, this guy next to us? he's obsessed with Superman. He has the comics at home, the t-shirt that he wears under a suit at Halloween, and the cape, which he keeps in the back of his closet in a wooden box, so no one knows."

Melrose laughed and decided to play along too. "What's the girlfriend in the passengers seat look like?"

We let our car roll forward and not-so discreetly peeked into their car.

"Oh my god, his girlfriend is Asian! That means he's into the Smallville TV show, and she looks just like Lana Lang!" Momo said!

"He is so protective of her!" I said as he reached for her hand in her lap, "I bet you ANYTHING he has a huge hero complex! But he also feels like he can be a little bit dangerous...you know, like if some red Kryptonite was around"

The light turned, and SuperGuy sped off and cut in front of me.

His license plate read "GENTLMN"

Momo and I couldn't stop laughing for the next two lights.

Sexual Responsiblity

No, a different kind. I just have to get up on my soapbox for a minute about people having sex.

Why do insist upon inviting me over right before, so I have to catch you either in the act, or you refuse to open the door and answer your phone when I get there. I don't fucking understand you.

You are in a relationship, and if you wanted to have sex, why did you invite me over? I realize that on a certain level it's sexy for you to have sex and just get away with being caught, but don't take to long and then leave me on your front stoop, banging on your door.

It's rude. I don't care if you've been in a relationship for years or weeks. It's awkward for me, having to admit that you are having sex when I'd rather just pretend that you didn't. The mental picture of anyone I know personally getting it on is something I'd rather not picture. Then I have to imagine you naked, and I'd rather not.

Long story short, If I'm on my way over, keep it in your pants. It's really starting to piss me off.

Is it April 15th Yet?

Did you know the IRS hold music is The Nutcracker? I just found out now. I was doing pliés and arabesques all over my living room while worrying that the IRS was going to track me down and arrest me.

After a rousing romp through the apartment, I got the nicest lady at the IRS. No, seriously. I know it sounds sarcastic, but she helped me through some trauma. I had only gotten the $7.95 charge on my credit card, but not the amount that I owed. She told me what to do, and I felt so much better.

"So, that means you aren't going to send thugs to my door to beat me up tomorrow?" I asked her jokingly.

"Oh Honey," she replied, "We have bigger fish to fry. Have a nice day!"

Note to Self: Netflix the Nutcracker.

HeartSick

I'm feeling very heartsick right now. There are a lot of emotions flowing through my veins right now. Anger, sadness, betrayal. I'm merely a vessel for these emotions. Nothing is wrong in my life, but I carry these emotions in hopes that a friend won't have to.

I know she's in pain. And what she feels I feel. I know it won't make a difference, she'll still feel horrible, like the world is ending.

The world won't end. I'll be your crutch until you can stand strong.

I cry for you, in hopes that it will lighten your load. I know it doesn't help, but it feels like all I can do.

I cry for you, so you don't have to.

The emotional is overwhelming. Let me carry part of your load.

A Catharic Bit of Fiction

I’m torn up about our breakup last night. Not the fact that we broke up, of course, but just about your complete ass-hattery. Not only are you not who I thought you were, but I had no idea that one human could hold so many contradictions. Your asinine use of circular logic had me all but rolling on the floor. The way you can twist existence so that the earth revolves around you at twice it’s normal speed is amazing.

In the last few weeks of our relationship I’ve seen you go from normal to fear of commitment, and it’s been an exciting ride. From the ‘wow, sleeping with a hot blonde everyday is fun’ to ‘wait, you want me to support you in a decision?’

The greatest part was the way you projected all your mental issues on me. You had a problem with food, so I had to stock my own apartment with low-fat soymilk because it was ‘better for ME.’ Not you, but me. Suddenly my health was a huge concern, because I asked you once to stop me before I over-ate. And then I got the wrong brand of soy milk, and it was like the sky had fallen.

Near the end your behavior became what psychologists call the “Anxious/Ambivalent Attachment style.” I know you like to spout all your existentialist crap, but you rarely know what any of it means, so I’ll explain. An Anxious/Ambivalent attachment style is when someone has an expectation about social relationships characterized by a concern that others will not return affection. Now, as much as you’d like to say the same thing about me, I’ve got another one for you; the Arousal: Cost-reward model. What, you say? Well, that’s a theory that helping or not helping is a function of emotional arousal and analysis of the cost and rewards of helping.

Long story short, you’ve got a LOT of issues kid. And I’m giving you a complex by using all these big words, so I’ll let you take a break. Plus, I only got through the “A”s in my psych book, and we’d just be here all day.

But I’ll end on a note that is sort of close to the end of the alphabet:

You are a Complete Tool.

I Don't Know You, So You're Fat

I'm about 30 pounds overweight. I've been 30 pounds overweight for about 3 years now. Of course I'm not happy about it, and I've tried every stupid fad diet on the planet. I read articles like this and this and this. And I always did what everyone else does; skim through it and assume I ate too much. I consumed WAY to many calories.

I tried to do The Master Cleanse, in which you don't eat and just drink a gross beverage that requires an ice water chaster to get down. That resulted in me throwing up my stomach acid on day 3. It's supposed to last 10 days. I tried SlimQuick, which did nothing for me after the first day, and that was just from the extreme amount of caffeine that resides in those pills.

One day a few months ago, I was on StumbleUpon, and I came upon a cool calorie counter. You could put in McDonald's, Cheesecake Factory, Lean Cuisine, everything. I thought "Finally, I can put everything I eat into this thing, and I can see where I need to cut calories."

I entered everything in, and when I wasn't sure about something (like if it was cooked in butter) I just assumed the most calories.

The final total of calories I consumed per day was 400-600 calories. The average caloric intake for a woman is 2,000 calories.

That's right. I was technically anorexic. I had all the signs, and I never put two and two together. Because all those articles were telling me that I was fat because I ate to much. I never thought that the only reason I couldn't shake this weight was because my body was in starvation mode.

Plus, I had/have all the other signs; Insomnia, Pale Complexion, Hair Falling Out, Becoming Dizzy when Standing To Fast. The only time I ever ate was when I was with people. Because I was a social eater, my friends chalked it up to the fact that I was eating to much as well. Even I didn't realize that the only time I was eating was when I was with them.

Even this very minute, I should eat something, but there is no one around. I feel stupid eating by myself.

Accidental Anorexia....who would've thought?

And it's funny...I would have known this sooner if I had bothered to finish any of those articles. Then I'd know that Diet Soda isn't making me fat, it's just a crappy excuse that the author uses so that we feel like crap about ourselves.

Maybe some of us aren't losing weight because we are eating to much. Maybe we are starving, because we only read half of the articles. I only drink one soda every few days, but reading the first few lines of that article had me swearing off diet soda forever.

I don't know what it is that makes us so susceptible to what people say, but it needs to stop.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat something. After 9pm. And I'll still be thinner in the morning.

A Teambuilding Exercise

There is a certain Pavlovian response that happens when you hear the phrase "Please get into groups of 4." You can almost hear the desk scrapping across the floor as your eyes dart around, searching for someone who won't reject you.

Sometimes those groups are heaven. Everyone has their part to play, and everyone plays it perfectly. Donald Trump would never criticizes this team, let alone fire anyone. It's a power group.

Then there is the other team. You are the only one who seems to even know there is an assignment, everyone doesn't seem to care. You are the only one who does any work, and it's exasperating. Sometimes you grin and bare it and present to the class like you all had a part in it, and sometimes you go to the teacher and get another group.

Isn't it strange, isn't it, the parallels to a being in a relationship?

I find it to hard to not be in a Power Group. Lover Boy and I have always worked as a team, from the beginning. I tell him where I stand, and he tells me where he stands, and then we stand together. If one of us is weak, the other comes in strong so we are still a solid unit. If I'm having a problem, something I shy away from, he comes in and takes care of it.

If he is coming up with a problem, I help him solve it while supporting his decision, no matter where it'll be.

My friends are the same way. If my friend forgot someone's name at a party, I go over and introduce myself to them, so I can get their name to bring back to my friend. If there is a problem we solve it together. Great relationships always work like you are on a power team.

Hell, even Ethel helped Lucy with her laundry.


That's why it pains me when I know some relationships out there that are so bad, you have to go back to the teacher to complain.

I can quit anytime...

Lover Boy and I are looking to save some money, so we've been discussing what we spend the most money on. Lover Boy thinks our problem is how many trips I like to take.

I can't help it. I love to travel. I love being in a new place, doing new things. Even old things. The grass is always greener and all that.

This January we went home for a week to spend time with family and college friends. This, to me, is necessary. We are also going away for a few days next month for my birthday. This isn't necessary, but I love taking a trip for my birthday. When I'm doing something during my birthday, I can forget that I'm getting older. This has worked for the last 3 years.

In May I'm doing a girl's weekend with my mom, as we are going to my cousin's wedding. This is semi-necessary. I really don't like my cousin, but watching her disaster of a wedding will give us fodder to mock her for years. Or until the divorce.

Lover Boy just got offered a trip through his work to go the opposite coast to visit a place I've always wanted to go. It's only going to be $650.00. If we planned the trip on our own, we'd be getting into the thousands for the cost. We have to go.

It's only February and I've used up all my vacation time already. I have two floating holidays, and three places to be.

I might have a problem.

But, I counted to Lover Boy, we go out to eat far to much. And that, surely, is more costly in the long run then a few trips over the year.

He agreed. Then he asked our waiter for the take-out menu.

Pity Party, Indulge Me

Sometimes, I feel like I'm always the strong one. If someone needs a problem solved, I solve it. If someone needs an ear, I have two.

But when I feel awful about something, when I need to spew my guts out...I find myself alone. Most of the time Lover Boy is at work, and I don't feel like anyone sets aside time to listen or help me.

Not that I don't love all my friends, I do. They are good friends. But sometimes I wish I had a friend who would be there if I needed them, all the time. I feel like I haven't had one of those in awhile.

And I'm just low right now too...I'm sure I have those people, but right now it feels like I'm all alone.

I've decided to give back to the community!

I'm doing it the only way I know how; through blogging. And I'm totally not talking about "Ask Two Drink Girl Anything." Oh no....although you can still ask me anything you want. I'm talking to you, Rod.

Anyway, I've submitted an entry of this blog to this charity. Read the entry over again, and see if I made the right choice of what to send in.

And please, this is for posterity, so be honest. :-)

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

I stayed up last night to wait for Lover Boy to come home, so I could wish him a Happy Valentines Day. He wanted to watch yet another episode of good eats, and I fell asleep on him. He woke me around 1:30AM and we went to bed, with a set plan of what to do in the morning.

8:30 AM, there is a knock at the door. The repairman for the apartment complex thought right then would be the perfect time to fix the lock on our porch door. The same lock that hasn't worked since we moved in, over 3 years ago. Since he was there I told him he needed to fix our leaky sink too, and he had to come in and out a million times, and I had to wrangle the cats every time he walked in the door.

Around 9:30 AM he finishes his work and says goodbye. I climb back into bed with Lover Boy, tired beyond tired, and am *thisclose* to finding sleep, when there is yet another knock on the door.

I answer the door at 9:55 AM, only to find the repairman has forgotten his radio. I lock the door behind him, then realize in order to make it to work on time, I have to get ready now. As in, no sex, no cute lunch with Lover Boy, and no going to the post office to pick up my package from my mom.

Happy Freakin' Valentines Day. I swear I feel more single when I'm married.

Mortality Rates are High

There has only been one time in my life where I've cried so hard that I sobbed uncontrollably. It was in high school, when my Grandma had a heart attack.

At first I kept my cool. She had a quadruple-bypass surgery, and my aunt said she was doing well. I wasn't worried. My Mom went to stay with her for the week, and I was going to take care of her for the weekend.

Mom warned me that Grandma was going to be different. My normally upbeat, nice, polite, well-mannered, lovable Grandma had been changed by the experience. I wasn't worried, my Grandma was strong.

Grandma sighed. A lot. And the long scar shocked me more than I realized. Suddenly it hit me that Grandma was mortal. I could tell that she was depressed; she didn't ever want anyone to baby her or see her weak. It bugged her that anyone had to take care of her. She and I are alike that way.

Fast forward to my wedding, right after I finished college. Right up until the last minute, we didn't know if Grandma was going to make it there. I tried to not care if she came or not, but really I desperately wanted her to be there. She decided to get on the plane, and came she did. I was so happy that she was there. And she was back to my old Grandma again. She laughed, she joked, she walked around as if she never had any pain in her life. She sat on a stranger's lap and joked at the hotel, she was the best.

Last year I decided to go to my favorite city for my birthday, with friends. Every morning before we headed into the city, we visited with my Grandma for an hour or so. She was sad again, and we hadn't seen each other in a long time. But she was still gregarious to my friends, and forever asking if I was hungry and trying to give me things. I didn't get away without two coats of hers.

She told me that my aunt was trying to get her to move into an assisted living facility, but she didn't want to leave her home. I told her I'd never give up the house; I felt like I'd grown up there, and she seemed to be doing fine. I hugged and kissed her goodbye, and went back home and lived my life.

A few months later my aunt wore her down and got her to move into an apartment. After just a few weeks there, she started showing up in other people's rooms, losing her hearing aids, and eventually beating up on my aunt's boyfriend. I loved her for that last one.

She has dementia, and is living in a home now. A few weeks ago we went to see her, and it was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever had to do. She was unresponsive and obviously not my Grandma anymore. She had lost so much weight that I probably wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd.

A year ago she begged my Mom to kill her, she was so unhappy with living. She never wanted to lose her mind before she could just end it all. She would've hated that so many people saw her in a home like this. My mom and sister tried to engage her in conversation, telling her that her hair looked nice, and asking her what she ate for breakfast. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to take a walk. She just wanted to stare straight ahead.

A part of me understands. When I went through depression, that's all I wanted to do. Stare straight ahead and not interact, because I felt like my depression showed I wasn't strong, that I couldn't take care of myself.

She never wanted me to see her like that. She never wanted anyone to see her like that. It broke my heart that my strong, amazing Grandmother wasn't getting what she wanted.

It struck me then that I had the determination of my father in my DNA, along with her desire to not let anyone see her weak. I wasn't going to let it end the way my Grandmother didn't want it to.

When my time comes, I'm going be in control of when I leave this existence. And I won't ask help from anyone.

Does Attempted Suicide Count? (I kid!)

"What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?" ~Jamie

Depends on what you mean by dangerous. If you mean physically, I'm not very adventurous. I suppose that it could be when I rock-climbed...but that actually felt pretty safe. I think that's because it was indoors. Ooh, I went skydiving; also indoors. I'm just not an outdoor girl.

The only thing I've done that I've felt dangerous doing was when I walked out of a job. It was a temp job, and I told the temp agency how bad it was there, and if my immediate supervisor there was escorted off the job that day that I'd be right behind her. I did it, my heart pounding in my chest the whole time. I even took the stairs because I was afraid I'd run into the security guards coming back up. I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but this company had been doing the wrong thing to it's employees since the day I got there. Someone needed to show them. Of course, the Temp Agency 'fired' me, even though I let them know what was going down before hand. I just met my immediate supervisor across the street for margaritas. We were joined by another employee soon after.

I know, I don't take chances that much. I always seem to play by the rules, even though I always say what you should do is break all of them and see what happens.

Dear Rod: Why do questions always come in threes?

1. How much of my hard earned money would it take to get you to run naked through a crowded mall?

Funny, I had a dream about that the other night...Although I wasn't running, I was more cowering and needing badly to pee. More on that later.

Okay, not really. There is no amount of money that could get me to re-live my nightmares.

2. How can I increase my bad-assedness quotient?

There are a few easy steps, such as wearing more black and buying a motorcycle. But in order to really be a bad ass, you have to believe in you. This always works with women experiencing PMS. :-)

3. What makes the women swoon?

When a man shows that he thought about something. Women want desperately to feel like their man pays attention like they pay attention; with immense detail. Women remember what kind of dog food the dog digs the most, because she actually feeds the dog and measures the amount of time in which it is eating.

So just pay attention, and when you get her a "lemon lip gloss" and mention that you had remembered she said she needed some, and you saw it and thought of her, she'll swoon.

At least on the inside. :-)

Procrastiation

I know I said I'd blog, but I'm going out of town for a week. Please check back then, until then see the post below and ask me anything!

A New Start

Welcome to Textually Promiscuous! D@H was getting me WAY to much porn in my inbox, and it was getting old. I read the phrase "textually promiscuous" in a book the other day, and it struck me. I loved it so much I highlighted it in my book. It's the only time I've ever done that in a book that wasn't for school.

I thought we could start off with a round of "Ask Two Drink Girl Anything," So here are the guidelines:

• You can ask me anything, ranging from advice on how to apply makeup, to why hookers smell the way they do (That's for you Andy!), and I will do my best to answer truthfully or as entertaining as possible.
• You can ask me my opinion on anything, such as what I think of the writer's strike, if you should dump your boyfriend, etc.
• You CANNOT ask me about politics. Not many people reading this blog even care. In fact I think I could narrow it down to one person who cares. And even though I love her, I just get to worked up about it, and I never have all the information.
• You CANNOT ask me about my own personal sex life. As soon as I blog about something like that, then someone in my family always finds my site and that makes dinner with the in-laws really embarrassing. So I just won't do it. Ask me about any position in general, or sex in general, is fine.

Leave me a comment and ask me anything. They will be answered in the order they were asked, starting with Haloscan comments first. This post will stay at the top of the blog until the second week of January, so look below this post for new entries.