The Persistence of Rootie, and Other Schtuff

My Christmas break, pt. 1, has begun! I took Friday and Monday in order to enjoy a 4-day weekend at my folks house in Padre w/some of my old Aggie buds. The past couple of weekends have been a bit hectic, and I haven't really had a chance to sleep in for a while. My dog isn't so up on this, and only knows that Mon-Fri she gets to go to my Grandma's house, which is basically the equivalent of visiting a luxury cruise ship. There are activities, new experiences every day, and the food! My grandma is now so accustomed to dropping food, that she no longer realizes she's doing it. Consequently, Mondays are like some hybrid of a buffet and an Easter egg hunt, as Rootie tears through Grandma's house finding treats around most every corner. So on Friday all Rootie knew was that she was missing her breakfast and her response to this was to stare me down. Uh-huh. No pawing, whining, or other shenanighans. This dog just sat quietly by my head and stared. Going out, getting fresh food & water, and giving her treats would not abate her will. Rootie learned that channeling Ghandi does not get you exactly what you want, though it does catch my attention, and I learned that a 5 pound creature can bore a hole into your soul with her tiny, shiny, black eyes.

My Christmas break, pt. 2:
This post is a bit disjointed, being that today is almost the last real day of the Christmas break, and I'll admit to feeling a bit guilty about the complete lack of….oomph to get much of anything done. I did have one hot date that bears mentioning. Very nice, very very cute, 26, musician, did I mention he was cute? Whew! Almond shaped, hazel eyes, and he was smart. Things were going very well until about 2 hrs into the date when he began to ask more personal questions about myself. That doesn't faze me at all b/c I'm an honest person and I don't mind talking about myself (you guys have put up w/my many bulletins, so you know this), but as time went on the questions took on a more salacious tone. For example, asking me when I last had a boyfriend is OK. Asking me when I last had "relations" with a man is OK. Asking me whether or not I own lingerie…uh…getting strange but I'm still OK. Sharing with me that you love the feel of lace against bare skin, and in the same breath asking whether or not I own heels taller than the ones I was currently wearing…NOT OK. I politely relayed that there are more interesting matters to discuss than my lingerie and heels, but apparently he did not feel the same way. 5 minutes later he decided to call it a night. Sighhh…

And of course the angel on one shoulder is congratulating me for proving to myself that although it is much more difficult to stay chaste when you know what you're missing out on, it's affirming to know that it wasn't all to do w/ me being chicken-shit during my youth; there were some morals tucked away in my reasoning and those are still in tact. (We won't mention fooling around w/that one guy from match.com last May b/c I failed that test miserably).

Then there is the devil on the other shoulder knowing full well that I own many lace underthings and there is no shame in two consenting adults enjoying a romp twixt the sheets, not to mention the fact that I could have really, really, REALLY enjoyed a bit of carnal attention. But I know myself, and the next day would have had me fraught with feelings of guilt, and if history from when I began having sex w/my ex (when he was my new boyfriend, oh so many years ago) tells me anything, I just saved myself from the following:
1. Racing over to my doctor for a complete STD work-up
2. Taking the morning after pill
3. Going to confession
I'm telling you, those nuns really did a bang up job at catechism…

Anyway, no grand plans for New Year's Eve. I'm going to a bar with my cousin tomorrow night, which means I'll probably be either too broke or hung-over to do anything on Sunday night. I figure that a quiet night with a bottle of Moet, my dog by my side, and surrounded by the quietude and solace of my home. Uh yeah…expect some drunken myspacing and/or calls from yours truly. WELCOME 2007! BRING IT ON!