Thursday, July 26

HNT - Hanging with Pup

Pup and I finally had some time to go out together.

We kept trying to get our schedules together but he's been travelling back and forth to NY and I've been up to my bottom in work.

So we went to the cigar bar and he bought me dinner. And a few vodkas with cranberry juice. I really needed that. An evening out! With alcohol.

It didn't take long before we were hanging all over each other. I'm sure we were a spectacle, but who cares right?

He sent me this picture of his room in NY. Pretty tempting isn't it? I might just have to take off for a long weekend. We'll get together and talk about it this weekend (I hope).

Doesn't he have the most gorgeous smile?
I think that smile is reserved for me.


Happy HNT!

See the man.

Saturday, July 21

Irreverent and Irrelevent

The last post got me linked in some directory as a Democratic blogger.

I think a little disambiguation is in order here.

I am not a Democrat.
I am not a Republican.

I am an irreverent.

I voted for both of those morons who spent a whole night putting the end of the War into filibuster. Where are the hookers and the Depends when you need them? I know, I know. People who live in glass diapers shouldn't throw kidney stones.
But they should be careful, we've been known to flip-flop around here.

I worked over-time yesterday and came home absolutely exhausted.
I tried to read some blogs and I did manage to leave a few comments here and there, but then tiredness just overwhelmed me. I decided that what I really needed was a nice hot bubble bath-- a little reward to me for working so hard. I ran the water and sank down into the lavender scented bubbles. It was divine.

Then I realized that I still had my bra on.

Now that's tired.

Wednesday, July 18

Crawdad sucking and hooker banging

I hear you had a good offer down on third avenue...

I understand the theme song for Senator David Vitters (R-LA) next campaign is going to be P.I.M.P. by 50 Cent. And he's promising a little sumpin sumpin for the mami's and all of his street peeps for helping him keep it real.
We're down with ya D-to-the-V.
You got sKreet credZ Wanksta!

In the meantime his lovely wife recently went shopping in the Victoria's Secret 'Jungle Love' section. She bashed Hillary for standing by Bill. Maybe she's got plans of her own? If I were a married woman in Louisiana I'd be locking up my husband for a while. She looks like she's about to blow!

She's been quoted as saying she'd be more like Lorena Bobbit than Hillary Clinton if she ever found out her husband had cheated on her. I bet he hasn't slept a wink in days.

To clear up a common misunderstanding; when he compared same sex marriage to hurricanes Katrina and Rita-- he was actually talking about Katrina and Rita-- two lesbian strippers at the 'Loose Lips Sink Ships' club around the corner from his office.

And there is no better protection for 'The Sanctity of Marriage' than Trojan condoms. Vitter recommends Twisted Pleasures. He says size doesn't matter.

Just remember... Don't judge them. They've got this whole 'family values' thing all tied up. Just need to incorporate some 'I paid-for-sex, but I made it home before her souffle fell' rhetoric and they'll be back to business as usual. I understand she's working on a cookbook too. 'Bitter Vitter: Recipes to keep your husband away from the brothel'. I've heard most of the recipes include large doses of chocolate ex-lax. That should keep him near the house for a while. On the other hand, it might not.

I have to admit to feeling absolutely sickened by the fact that he stood behind his wife and let her defend him. So much for standing by your man.

I bet right now he's thanking God Adam gave up that rib.

PS. Now I keep having visions of his face mid-coitus.
Dear God. Please. Make it stop!

    , , , ,

      Monday, July 16

      Dance Me to the End of Love

      ...brechtian punk cabaret...

      Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
      Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
      Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
      Dance me to the end of love

      Leonard Cohen

      I was conjuring a perfect date night and this is what I came up with.
      A candlelit piano bar.
      A great bottle of House wine.
      A slow grind in the shadows to this song.
      And kisses that burn themselves onto your lips memory, so that you can still feel them hours later.

      I've been a fan of The Dresden Dolls for a long time. I even had 'Coin Operated Boy' on the sidebar for a bit. And anyone who has been reading here for a while also knows I'm a huge Leonard Cohen fan. So just imagine my excitement when I ran across Amanda and Brian doing this song by Cohen live at Webster Hall in NYC.

      A Dresdenian wet dream!

      ***And a special request to Amanda, Chelsea Hotel #2
      (You know you want to)

      She'll be playing solo at the Mercury Lounge on E.Houston St. on July 27th. I want so badly to be there. They were last here at The Variety Playhouse in October.

      There's a special connection that happens when you come across someone who enjoys the same things that you do. A kind of psychological, kinetic collision. The result looks something like this. Rocky Horror meets Bob Fosse.

      And a word of Thanks:
      I received this in an email from a friend.

      Rodney Show'em (Not Work Safe)

      I'll let him identify himself if he feels it's fitting. He sent it to me to lighten my mood in the midst of all of the stress and I have to admit, it did lift my spirits greatly! There's nothing like seeing people exposing themselves to show their patriotism to remind me why I'm glad to be an American.

      And to PT.
      Thank you so much! I received it. I almost cried with gratitude.
      You're wonderful!

      This has been another Musical Monday sponsored by WDKY London.

      Tuesday, July 10

      Body Remember

      Body, remember this moment. Remember the feeling as his hands caressed you gently, as he whispered, lips pressed against your skin. Remember how his muscles moved under your fingertips, the salt taste of his skin against your tongue. The low growl as he lost himself inside you.
      Body, remember this moment that you shall have him again and again.

      It is a well known fact that men crave visual stimulation, that the vision of a naked woman or people having sex triggers some primal instinct in their minds that gives them pleasure, that arouses them, excites them. But what of women?

      I know many women who truly enjoy watching and sharing pornography. I believe that sharing is the key word here. Men tend to isolate their watching more so than women. Perhaps it is shame induced by a society that says that Rodin's 'Embrace' is art and Jenna Jamison is a shameful display of female sexploitation.

      Personally I like them both. More so when shared.

      The picture above is not plucked from the Internet. It came from my own personal photo album. It is a bed in a hotel room . A bed where I had spent an incredible night and morning making love. After my bags were packed, after the rush of trying to get our luggage together before check out time. With one last backward glance at that bed, where I had known so much pleasure, I pulled out my camera and snapped that picture, locking that night into my memory forever.

      Body, Remember this moment. Lock it away deep inside yourself. Not dead, but merely slumbering, waiting to be resurrected by the slightest whisper of Mnemosyne's fingers against your cheek. By the trace of his scent on your pillow as you rest your head, longing to feel him inside you once more.

      I see the indentation where his head had rested on the pillow and the ephemeral shape of his body permanently engraved on the sheets. I see the marks that my knees left as I straddled him, hovering above him and watching his face as I controlled the rhythm of our love making, as he relinquished the previous nights control and allowed me to pleasure us both at my own pace. I see my own ass prints on the edge of the bed where I had taken him into my mouth and swallowed him one last time before we left that little world-- where only we two existed for a few hours. A few magnificent hours. I am there again each time I look at it. I see it in shadows, the forms that we were in that moment. I can smell the ocean outside the sliding glass door. Ah, you cannot see the balcony doors swung wide so that we could hear the crash of the waves even as we crashed into one another. But I know they are there. I remember. I can taste him, feel his hands and tongue as he took me to those places that are secret-- that only lovers share.

      I have many such photographs. Not of people, but of things, places, restaurant booths and bar stools, hotel room beds and sandy beaches. Places that I want to remember, moments of time that I recreate each time I see them.

      A woman's mind may work differently than a man's but I know that when he sees this picture it affects him in the same way that it does me. That imagery stimulates the body to remember how incredible we were together.

      And he hungers for me in that moment of remembering.

      Thursday, July 5

      HNT - Hanging in there

      Tomorrow was a day I was looking forward to with a sense of trepidition and also anticipation. It was supposed to be the final surgery for J. His last facial reconstruction. Right now he has no bone between his eye sockets and his mandible. His sinuses are also gone. All of the nerves are dead.

      The plan was to go in and remove bone from his posterior hip and implant it in his face. To rebuild the entire structure.

      The insurance company called this week to tell us they won't cover it. I can't tell you what a hopeless sensation it is to argue with people who won't listen to you-- and are polite on top of it. You absolutely know you are not being heard. I think they should call it the Non-Benefits department, they spend more time telling you what they won't do instead of what they will.

      Right now J's in danger of drowning in a bath tub. He'll certainly never swim again. There is nothing to stop water from going up his nose and into his lungs. And he's still missing his front three teeth. I can't begin to express how that has effected his self esteem, but without the bone implant there is nothing to implant teeth into.

      I'm so frustrated I could scream.

      The doctor rescheduled the surgery for next Friday. I now have a week to come up with the $1200 I need to switch insurance companies. Fun stuff that.

      We'd appreciate some prayers right now.

      HHNT to everyone.
      See the man Os.

      Monday, July 2

      Musical Monday - Waterloo

      "So Two cheers for Democracy: one because it admits variety and two because it permits criticism."
      E.M. Forster

      O sent this video to me. We sat on the phone and laughed our asses off. Aside from the fact that we're both huge Abba fans, we also both have a very cynical view of American politics. My view is that of a disenfranchised American, whilst her view is more along the lines of a British expat. Between the two of us we find humor in the ridiculousness of it all.

      Happy Musical Monday to you all.

      Remember the words of Winston Churchill.
      "An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last."