outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- recap of the weekend's events Nah, tryste, I'm good. I'm good. Tell me, ye who know. Where does one draw the line between country music and bluegrass? Because I am so anti the former and so pro the latter. I'd just like to know how to rectify that. Maybe it's all about the fiddle and the jug. That would explain it. Did you know that one of my favorite instruments is the didgeridoo? You know, just in case that matters to you. I tell you, months go by and I'm still whining about wasting away alone in my apartment, and then BOOM, ten minutes later I have a full-bodied social life. Who knew that Diaryland would be my next source of personals? That's not at all what I intended when I first came here. But then again, we're not really sure what I did intend. Good things happen. One day you cry missing your old friends, and the next day (metaphorically speaking) you're at a fascinating movie with a fascinating person. And then the next day (literally, this time) you're buying your first vibrator with another friend and another person you've never met before! But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself here. On Friday night, I called a cab to bring me to Anna's. Only the cab didn't come. And didn't come. And called me to ask where I live again. And didn't come some more. In the meantime, I'm getting closer and closer to the decision to not leave my domicile at all; to call Anna and cancel and say it's getting too close to bedtime. But then I imagine her being all excited to have me over and then being sad that I don't come (and this was not meant to be self-flattery), so I wait out the damn cab and tell the driver away, to Anna's. Anna, like a good girl, liquors me up good so I'll talk. This plan works out well...or at least it seemed to me at the time, but I was drunk, so my opinion of the quality of our conversation can't be trusted. I'm a cheap drunk. It takes no more than two drinks to get me dizzy. But through my inebriated ponderings comes the realization that Anna is a cool, cool girl. I am immediately enchanted by her rocking. It's a comforting sight. I wanted to be a wiz and discuss black holes, but maybe I should feign ignorance in the future. I don't know if any of what I said made sense. Regardless, I was having a great time. The movie we saw, Waking Life, was phenomenal. It gave me a semi out of body experience. I didn't know where I had been for a long time. I don't know how to explain that feeling, so take the words for what they're worth. In another bad taxi experience in a four hour time frame, we split the cab ride home, Anna and another friend and I, and the cabby decided to be a bastard about it after they left. Screw him. We took his stupid cab, we paid him his stupid money, where does he get off with his stupid comments? Ah well. As usual, I take the diplomatic wussy route and tell him we just "didn't see" his cab. Fuck him anyway. I had him let me out halfway up a side street near my apartment, and lo behold, there was Rob's car right behind him. From one taxi to another, I say. Hm, I wonder what the cabby thought of that? Saturday was sex boutique day. I had intended to meet the girls there after Rob had gone to work, but he wanted to come too, so we met in the afternoon. Plastron and Melissa #1 were there, and later on, Melissa #2 showed up. (Note to reader: Melissas are numbered in order of appearance.) This is the first time I've met Melissa #2, and she pleases me. Rob is shocked that our first meeting should take place at a sex boutique. Hee hee hee. He is also surprised that this even was our first meeting, because we interact like people who've known each other. Or so he says. In addition to my first vibrator, I buy a guide to better oral sex (like I nee...never mind, that comment is unnecessary) and a book of lesbian short stories, which is not what I wanted. I should have actually looked inside the book, instead of just at its price tag. I wanted LESBIAN EROTICA, not MEANINGFUL LESBIAN SHORT FICTION. Damn me. Now I have this huge anthology of really bizarre little stories with little to no actual sex in them. So that's it for Diaryland member related news. Sunday, I went to see an absolutely amazing performance of the Sound of Music that my cousin was in. The drama department at that high school clearly has oodles of money to spend on its plays. The girls had amazing voices. The boys...hard to tell, they sing lower and quieter. My cousin made a good Kurt though. His voice was steady and firm, although WAY too low to be that of a ten year old boy (ha ha!) and he looked smashing in knickers. By one o'clock this morning, I was dead sleepy. Rob had been home for an hour, I had baked fish and cinnamon buns for a late dinner, and watched my two episodes of Space Ghost, and dammit, I was ready for bed. I was falling asleep cuddled up against Rob, and he begins to query into the next night's dinner. Please keep in mind that we had finished our supper no more than fifteen minutes earlier. "Are we having pizza tomorrow?" "Mm hm." "What kind?" is his next very relevant question. "Spinach and sundried tomatoes?" I parlay in a sleepy whisper. "We can have red wine with that. We should drink the wine, it won't be good long." "Mm hm." At this point I realize I will have to turn my back to him to give him the idea that it's sleepy time. I kiss him goodnight, apparently with sticky lips, which leads to a one-sided discussion about how you don't want your lips welded together during a kiss. And some more mm hms from me. Seven hours later, I am here again. Snoooooore. 9:48 a.m. - 2002-03-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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