Catch and Release

He wasn't coyote ugly by any means, but he wasn't what he appeared to be at midnight.  Now in the glaring light of day, his lopsided smile was ok but not drool worthy.  His overall appearance was 'cute' in a grown masculine way.  By all standards he was a catch.  It was his hands.  Those things that should be able to grip tools as well as hair, now in the stark light of day were tool small for his body.  Looking like doll hands on overdeveloped arms.  They were the hands of a young boy, not that of a man and it made my stomach do a flip-flop that had nothing to do with butterflies and everything to do with loosing my liquid lunch.

Yes, I can be shallow and picky.  Often times after the point of no return.  My bad.  Still, this is just not something I can overlook.  It will matter not how kind he is, how smart, or funny, or how good in bed he could be.  Those hands are just not ever going to do it for me.

What can I say, sometimes I want to make sweet passionate love; other times I want a man who'll pull my hair, smack my ass and say, "You're mine!"

Tiny hands need not apply. 

Oh you're..still... single?

What’s a Queen without her King? 

 Well, historically speaking, more powerful.

Depending upon who's asking this can sound as though the asker is surprised, or if related to me, and in a position as my blessed very Jewish, very princessy God mother much like eternal disappointment/shame/and condemnation.  Tauntie is this tall lithe figure, who just so happens to always be well put together.  Hair, did, nails did, you know how the song goes. 

Next to Tauntie, I look like a schlub.  A homeless schlub, possible with alcoholism.  Should you ever feel as though your self esteem has reached new heights, come see my Tauntie and we'll have that issue cleared right up.  For those of you whom have been reading , well a long while you may remember that Tauntie is also my Godmother.  I like to call her my Fairy Godmother, to her face and she in turn slaps my ass in this loving yet reprimanding manner which is somehow supposed to remind me of my place and that while she adores me I will forever remain a disappointment.

Oh the subtle nuances of having a Jewish princess for a Fairy Godmother.

So this morning, Tauntie decided to surprise me with a very early visit.  Like she knew I'd be home...alone.  Now the fact that she was right isn't important!  I mean I'm a grow woman, she should have called to see if I was up, or had company, or was busy.  Alas no, Tauntie and her knock, a knock that is at once alarming and yet filled with disappointment alerted me to the fact that I was only wearing a wifebeater that had a glaring wine stain on it and no pants, with day old makeup and smeared lipstick.  Life as a grown single woman is ever so glamorous.

Now there will be those of you whom woke up refreshed, greeting the day, and possibly family members with a smile and song in your heart.  I however opened the door to those pursed lips and the once over glare.  "What have you been up to?  Are you entertaining?  Darling you look like an old stripper!  That's no way to keep a man!  ..where are your pants!"   These were the rapid fire statements that hit me like a bucket of cold water before I could even say good morning.  So as I found pants, a bra, and something resembled a clean shirt Tauntie, being Tauntie pointed out all of the things that I needed to clean while lifting my freshly filled wine glass and eyeing me over the rim of it with a look that spoke volumes.

Whatever happened to sleepy Saturday mornings filled with cartoons and staying in your pj's till 3 in the afternoon? 

Tauntie in her effort to aid my 'barren love life' began to impart her particular brand of wisdom upon me.  "Darling, now listen to Tauntie...  Men, all men love three things.  Food, sex, and a woman who can be quiet."  My arched eyebrow and subsequent smirk were derailed when she added, "we both know you have a gift with the first two, but that last one needs work darling."  How any one person can sound so proud and filled with total shame at the same time is beyond me.  I of course not having a grasp over that last one; cannot be blamed for my smartassed response. 

I ever so delicately informed my always correct Tauntie that in this case she may in fact be wrong.  Her indelicate snort told me just what she thought of that, yet I pressed on having already had wine and still reeling from my chocolate cake hangover.  I agreed that no I was not always the shy quiet type but I had my moments, and that yes I can cook and bake up a storm with the added gift of drizzling it all in a shiny tempered chocolate but that my sexual prowess may be ever so lacking in my...maturing years. 

You see I cannot be so blase and say "been there seen all that" when it comes to traveling the world over; but I have traveled a far amount.  Now in my travels, I have come to take note of one very common face and sound; that being of the tongue out/gagging/almost vomiting noise with wrinkled nose and eyes watering being a sign of clear distress and dislike of something. 

As I explained this Tauntie knowing me as well as she does crossed her arms over her chest and and waited with a perfectly arched eyebrow and a cautious, "continue darling.".   

"...well having come to that well informed bit of information Tauntie, I must confess that I feel as though I am unlikely to please most men.  For those troglodytes all seem to think that face while accompanied with those sounds mens put your hand on the back of my head and push my face down harder which has me thinking they are all seriously fucked and I'm having none of it!"

For a brief moment I was certain I could visibly see her xanax stop working.  So I did the next best thing, I lied like a rug....

So T, were having a June wedding; Tauntie isn't liking the idea of haggas a a main dish or of you wearing a kilt.  In turn I say go for it and sorry for dragging you into my fresh hell, but appreciate you going the distance with me on this.  Hope your Saturday is fantastic, text you soon.  xo 

“Sorry, I’m not Adele. I don’t wish the best for you, nor do I want to find someone like you. I do, however, want to set fire to all of your stuff.”   

Not an ounce of makeup sex either

If I’m a sarcastic asshole when I talk to you, it’s either because I really like you and feel comfortable teasing you, or I really hate you and don’t care if you know it. Good luck figuring out which one.

Today I got my fifth,"I'm sorry" message.  I don't know what the hell is going on.  Suddenly the punk that was once a part of my life has decided to temporarily grow a conscience.  Now this isn't the first time he's attempted to do something like this.  It's as empty as his head and heart if truth be told.  Long ago and in a far away land I was as big a fool as my shapely ass.  Today however I am far bolder, wiser, and self assured.  The Punk, he's a manchild with anger issues and an abusive streak a mile wide.  When called out on his abusive nature the Punk likes to play the victim, when confronted face to face he likes to threaten with physical violence and horrifically vulgar language.  It's a tedious as it is pathetic.  He would see this post as an insult, while I firmly stand by the fact that I am simply describing him in accurate detail.     

I just think it'd be nice if there were no need for these surprise "I've been such a shit, and I miss you" messages.  If maybe we all valued each other a bit more, and you know if he would accept that he needs to get actual help in taking responsibility for his abusive nature.  I am however not the person to help him with that particular issue.  I couldn't care less if he died screaming.  Yes, people screw up.  People do the wrong things.  However not taking responsibility for your bad behaviour and seeking to actually change said behaviour, then turn around six months to a year later with,"Hope [you] will forgive [me] and don't hate [me] I miss you".  Of course his version of the aforementioned apology also includes, "Do you miss me and my huge ....?  I'm sorry for the things I said but you made me..."

It makes me want to write back and say, "Forgive you?, nope.  I do forgive myself for being such a twit and ever having given you the time of day.  Lesson learned, you are still a goof and I'm not going another round."  Then I remember the promise I made to myself of never, not ever going down that road again and simply blocked his damn number. 

When in doubt of how to respond, remember the rule: "Don't feed the monkeys.  They'll only throw shit at you for it."

No poles at the Inn

Tauntie called to ask how my new job was going and to ask what it was that I actually did at work.  I told her all of the pertinent details and how thus far everyone was quite welcoming.  She being true to herself and wanting me to be far more ladylike insisted that I should really be working something more befitting my womanhood.  I told her that my only other option was either being a stripper or going to work at a hotel as a maid. She drew a breath in sharply at that in shock, and told me how many diseases I could get, or "What if you find a dead body?" and "You would have to clean up other people's excrements!"

I'm not sure which possible job she was referring to...possibly both knowing how her mind works.

Cucumbers before bed

I saw Maunie, Myles, Dave, Keith, Tieg and Eric on Jerry Springer.  Eric had blue spiked hair and Tieg was yelling wildly "You know she don't wanna have no more damn kids!!" 

I'm never eating cucumbers before bed again.

Creepy neighbour

Like, the day before yesterday when I was leaving for work, my 80 year old neighbour told me,

 "You look like a sexy rocker chick."

 ... and yesterday when I was coming home from work, "You look like a sexier version of that flashdance girl."

It's like rocket science

I'm interrupting my jubilant to do list making ... okay I'm finally doing what I should have done days ago, why don't you just go fuck yourself? ... to tell you a few things that came to light for me whilst on the toilet:

1. I'm done with this red hair.  I'm going way dark again.

2. I am wearing underwear called,"Barely There". Only it's everywhere. From upper thigh to above the belly button. Perhaps if I painted some sort of thong pattern on them they would have the appearance of being sexy while still being the most comfortable thing on my ass since pumpkin pudding.

3. My hair is sort of sticking up in the back but not in my cool mohawk pattern, but more of a "whoohaa who scared you?" type array. The question then is,"Is it worth the effort to actually brush it out when I am still in my thong and wifebeater?" 

4. This toilet sits way low to the floor when I'm wearing heels.

Convivium, fornicatio, prae omnibus aes

As the Canadian populace awakes with deep sighs of relief, for we are a well prepared people ( for the most part) there are those that are cussing like sailors with turrets.  Many of our proud and noble populace embarked upon their farewell to summer's last hurrah in the wee hours of the morning, while the roads were clear and the frustrations ever so low.  Now the few that waited until late this morning (much to our nations shame and mocking) are stuck inside their vehicles bumper to bumper, grumbling, grousing, and scowling at their progeny as they attempt to reach their cottages and the relaxation held within.

Then there are those of us whom have just escaped our captors, shucking off the dregs of our servitude seeking sleep and wine.  Not necessarily in that order.  My partner in crime, my ride or die gal-pal and I are two of such indentured babes.  We were in fine form last night, skipping into work 5 hours late.... for our. last. shift....before we begin our new adventure come Tuesday.  Gluttons for punishment as we are, and two self empowered women whom honour the hustle we've decided that diving headlong into a six day work week is worth it when the payoff is fairly sizable for us.  Long may our hustle live!  This of course most notably ensures that for the foreseeable future that we shall have no life.  At least not outside of work.     

This weekend is our last grasp at Convivium, fornicatio, prae omnibus aes.  Though we are aiming for only one of the three.  Which one remains even a mystery to us.  

“Partying, fornication, and above all debt” 

Pieces of Me

I used to enjoy dancing the night away and greeting the day with a group of friends regaling the night's events with them by my side.  Now I find myself spending the night's I don't work, alone with a book in my hand; getting lost in a whole other universe.  I'm told that there's this spark in my eyes when I get excited and am truly passionate about something.  That I've a fire in my soul.  I enjoy talking about everything and anything; and I'm far more open-minded than people thought I would be.  I can still wish only good for those who've hurt me.  I hope to someday find someone whose love doesn't need to be questioned.  To welcome into my life another who supports, motivates and appreciates me for exactly who and what I am.  I know I am better off today than I was yesterday.  I know who I am and what I stand for.  Laughter, loyalty, passion, growth, acceptance, and forgiveness. 

Pieces of me, those which strengthen and make me vulnerable just the same.