There Are Too Many Kids in This Tub

Anyone who knows me even just a little, knew this was coming: My roommate was a pain in the ass this weekend. It's difficult for me to bring the hammer down because I know that she's not being inconsiderate or malicious, she's just young. We'll start with Saturday. She's asked me out on many occasions, and I've always declined, but this time I couldn't say no. It's in the way that she asks me that is a bit maddening. She asks "What are you doing tonight?" and since I can't lie for shit (and have an even harder time coming up with lies than remembering to stick to them) I always blurt out "Nothing", and then look like a big a-hole when I have to make up some random excuse. But this time I really couldn't come up with anything, and I haven't been to a Tejano bar in years, so I thought it would be fun.

It wasn't awful or anything, but her cousin inadvertently "cockblocked" me all night by sitting down next to me. I also learned that I'm too old school when it comes to dancing. Back in my day (aww crap…) when girls want to dance together to a pop song (not couple dancing), they get in a circle, or at the very least stay about 3+ inches away from one another. But nowadays, it's customary for girls to form lines so that they can grind up against each other. Not only do I have a problem with pantomiming sex while standing in public in general, but doing that with another female is just on a whole other level of "Nahhh, but thanks anyway."

I realize that dancing is a bit of a mating ritual, when guys and girls can show off their plumage and basically say "Yeah baby, this is how I can work it", so it's not like I'm a dancing prude. Not trying to brag, but I can shake my shit, HOWEVER, I don't feel the need to actually act out moves which are sexual in nature with people in a public place. I think there is something to be said for leaving room for one's imagination to take over at some point; you don't have to see exactly where my hand would be on your ass if I were to ride you like a bucking bronco, y'know? That's the bigger issue, but it's also the fact that I suspect these girl shows are only for the benefit of guys, and that's stupid. If I need to act out lewd acts on another female in order to get a guy's attention, I would just prefer he stay at home in front of his computer to see the real deal, 'cause that's just not my area of expertise.

Soooo, I had an OK time, and that's not where the problem began. The main problem is the blurring of space. I am a space nut; I like knowing where your area ends and mine begins. When she first came to live with me, I explained that the upstairs, including the kitchen, was my part of the house and she could lay claim to the downstairs. With the exception of the washer/dryer and my stairmaster, that has remained true. I can proudly state that I have never been in my roommate's room while she was not there because I really consider that to be her part of the house. The other day we were talking and she told me how much she likes to cook. I told her that if there's some special occasion she wants to cook for, then she could use the kitchen. I didn't realize this was basically like inviting a vampire into your home.

Saturday she tells me I'm invited to a BBQ for her friend's b-day. Later than night I learn that the BBQ will be held at my house. Not a problem… Sunday around 4pm, when I'm sitting in my living room watching the Back to the Future movies back to back, she and her cousin come upstairs to begin cooking for the BBQ. Huh?! Was it my fault that I didn't assume an invitation to a BBQ meant she'd be in my kitchen all afternoon? Is it wrong that I feel my home is my sanctuary, and if I want to lay around in my living room in only underwear and watch 7+ hours of Michael J. Fox that I should be allowed to do so without having to dress, tidy, and make idle chatter?

At first I thought it would only be for an hour or so, and I just went to my room to lounge on my decadent, luxuriously spacious new bed. 2 hours later I go in for a bowl of cereal and they are eating at my table. Yeah, I should have said something then, but her friends were there and I didn't want to be a total dick and ruin their get-together. But tonight I'll have to let her know about my space issues. So what if she threw away the dead waterbug that I'd been too scared to touch therefore had relegated to the corner of the kitchen for the past week? I lost my Sunday afternoon! Anyone who works full time knows how sacred those hours are. Right? Tell me I'm not just being a jerk to a sweet girl who's nice enough to invite her old lady roommate out with her friends, and throw another friend a BBQ for his birthday.

Aggies Won! WHOOOOOOP!!!

My new bed kicked my ASS! It took me about 35 minutes but I finally got the top mattress up the stairs, which is not a straight shot; there are 4 curves to go through. Damn that pillow top all to hell! Then the frame was a huge pain in the ass to put together. I have no less than 3 bruises, and I walloped the "funny bone" on the inside of my right ankle. Well, it was either putting my bed together or watching "While You Were Sleeping" for the 5th time. In the end I think I would've cried less if I had just watched the stupid movie.

Actually, I really like challenges like that. It's kind of like hiking up a mountain; it pretty much sucks while you're in the thick of it, but you get such a sense of accomplishment from completing the task that it's typically a positive experience. Unless of course an 8-yr-old Tobi Berkovicci pukes on the van ride to your dropoff site, and while you're washing her socks in the sink of a rest stop, a small chunk flies into your mouth. That happened to one of my co-counselors on a hike in VT. So, yeah…I guess you could say that it's all relative. (Becca Stein, wherever you are, that one was for you.)

Thanksgiving was good. There were some empty patches, what with some relatives going to the "other" side of the family to celebrate, but all in all it was fun. My cousin David and I are planning a trip to Spain in July, I got to roughhouse with my nephews, and I entreated my cousin Anthony to lob a piece of pumpkin pie at a tree stump in our backyard, which made a most satisfying "SPLAT!" sound. (He wasn't going to eat it anyway, and he's got really good aim!)
Last night I got to hang out with some good old friends from my hometown, and tonight I'm headed to a Tejano bar w/my roommate. Let's all hope that I get home safe and unmarried.

My Id is Scaring Me, and More Deep Thoughts

So I'm about 5 or so weeks from my BAV anniversary. I don't actually subscribe to the notion that someone can be a virgin more than one time in their lives, but I know of no other succinct jargon that so politely conveys to others that I haven't gotten any in a long, long, loooooong time. So Saturday morning I awoke from a rather disturbing dream which involved yours truly cavorting (and fully enjoying the cavort) with one Rob Zombie. In an auto mechanics garage. (Fodder for Penthouse Forum...que verguenza!) Even though I'd met his "wife" in an earlier part of the dream, I still made out with him. Actually I've never met the woman I dreamt was his wife, and it wasn't Sheri Moon Zombie, the buxom blonde who was in both his horror flicks; Rob's wife in my dream was a dumpy brunette 'cause I can compete with that. (I know it's a dream, but I guess Rob Zombie wanting to make out w/me instead of a hot, busty, beautiful blonde is too unbelievable, even in my dreams.)

He was having someone custom-make a special ...uh...something for him, and much like in real life, my car kept having one thing after another needing repairs. Each time I went to the garage (which is a place I don't believe I've ever actually been to, nor were the mechanics familiar to me at all), there was Rob Zombie, checking on the progress of his project. On the fourth occasion, I asked the mechanic if it was tough having such a demanding customer in his shop every day, and he replied that Mr. Zombie was actually very patient, and only came in about twice a month or so; it was just a coincidence that each time my car broke, he too was in the shop.

I'm no longer clear on how the frolic began, but I remember that his kisses were pretty gross (cold and too wet) but the gratification happening below the belt made me realize that yicky kisses were a fair trade. Again, no one got nekkid, this was PG-13 (actually it was PG, but the adulterous aspect makes it PG-13 in my eyes) but waking up and realizing just how strapped I am for carnal attention was humbling and disturbing. (Distumbling?) Especially in light of the fact that I am not particularly attracted to Rob Zombie. Like his art, enjoy his music, and would love to pick his brain b/c of his extensive knowledge about the horror genre, but wanting to "run" my fingers through his 20 -yr-old dreads....not so much.

I got a new bed this weekend. I've upgraded from a queen to a king. A bit ironic since I've just relayed that my current bed is more than empty enough, and now I've got even more space to fill, but I digress. I was trying out different mattresses in the store, and I was being a bit silly (hey, I was excited to get a new bed!) and jumping atop all the different mattresses. Weeellll, I accidentally knocked over a statue-thingy (y'know how they try to create a faux bedroom in the hopes that they can also unload some of their bric-a-brac in addition to their furniture) but no one saw me do it, and I just picked it up and left it on the nightstand. I quickly walked away, but as I left the store I realized that THAT mattress was certainly the most comfortable; I just didn't want to go back to the scene of my crime. I still can't figure out if I'm just too Catholic for my own good, or if there truly is a lesson in there somewhere.

It's Just a Hand in the Bush...(in the bush...in the bush...in the bush)

Life has been swirling around me at a rather frantic pace lately. I've had some memorable experiences as of late, notably the coincidental "run in" w/my ex at a 4-way stop in a parking lot. I didn't get a good look, but I did give the non-committal wave of recognition. C'mon, he's the only man whose ever gotten a gyno-view of me…he at least deserved the faint wave. It's been nearly a year but it still caused sweltering reveries, especially being so close to the holidays and all.

I'm trying to pick up a part-timer w/the feds so that I can free myself of the debt I have amassed (w/help from my ex). Now, there are those who would say that I'm being awfully good natured about the fact that I am seeking employment for about 25-30 hrs per week, in addition to my normal 40+ hrs (not counting the travel time to both positions), in order to repay things such as dinner & drinks my ex and I shared in Vegas, professional football tickets for my ex and his friend, and my personal favorite, the $700 I had to pay for that last cell phone bill. Yee-up, I had to subsidize the courting of my ex's ho. But I can't do anything about those things, and I truly believe that people make their own problems. I let those things happen and now, I'm most definitely paying for them.

Instead of getting too bitter, I choose to see this new job as an opportunity because I'd also like to use that position as a springboard for attending school full-time in the fall. I would definitely have to quit my "real" job, but a part-time position w/the IRS is a great job for a student. Much better than slinging chick-fil-a, and gaining 20 pounds, as was the case the first time I went to college.

Speaking of college, I am but a week shy of mailing out invites for my college buds to join me in N. Padre next month. I am so looking forward to just letting my hair down and catching up with others, and with myself. I think that at this point in my life it'll do me some good to do a bit of reverting so that I can take the next path. Kinda like going back to the spot where you kinda had your shit together, and proceeding from there, taking care not to walk in your past mistakes, of course.

But other parts of this mortal coil are going a'ighht. My cousin and I have made a commitment to Christmas this year. We ARE going to catch the Christmas spirit, even if it fucking KILLS US! Ha ha! Ok, I guess Jesus would prefer I go about that more meekly, but he made me, so he knows I mean no harm.* I dunno about anything too showy, like the Transiberian Orchestra (hey, if I'm going to be THAT confused by barely intelligible English spoken in a thick European accent, it had better be Cirque Du Soleil), but we're going to try to catch a few Christmas concerts here and there. If anyone has any ideas/suggestions, I'm game.

On tap for the rest of the month? I get fingerprinted by the feds on Saturday, and may go to a car show afterwards (don't even ask), OH, and my roomie and I may go to a Tejano bar in a small town near Seguin. I like to dance, but it's tough for me b/c I have a hard time following, and only feel most comfortable when I lead (no one who knows this about me could be even remotely surprised by this), but I'm determined to try.

Of course, I'll be cooking up a storm w/my Dad for Thanksgiving next week, and my oldest buddy Les. and her fiancée are coming down from Colorado to share a meal w/about 10 fellow Seguinie Weinies who have stayed in touch over the years. It will be bittersweet though; whenever I'd get down about not having a prospective life partner (that would be a "husband" to ya'll conservatives), I'd look at Les, a tall blonde w/her masters and now doctorate, and think "Geez, if Les isn't married, then I'm still OK." So now I've got to come up with some other bogus rationale to assuage my fears of becoming the stinky old creepy lady that lives down the block, and tries to be friendly but just comes off as psychotic. (I'm taking suggestions, by the way)


*Katie, if you're reading this and cringing at the Jesus part, you now know how I feel when I hear you spouting your feminist spiel at a bar, then seeing you whining to your boyfriend to please open your bottle of Dos Equis and squeeze in your lime. :-) And I love you anyway.