later

My bread is baking.  My house is hot.  My phone is not ringing.  I am badly sunburnt.  My landlord is playing with the sprinklers.  the guy in Apartment A and his girlfriend broke up – no wonder he was hitting on me.  I’m sitting on my front porch, attempting to stay cool while listening to music, watching my bread, and listening for the phone to ring – it’s not.  Henry should be done by now he should be over here professing his love for me.  Actually, I just need my jacket really badly.  I only work seven hours tomorrow.  I need to get another job.  Soon.  Now.  I am very red.  What a good little landlord I have.  I guess it’s not that late.  He’s come over later than this before.  But he should’ve called by now.  I want a car.  I have too much nervous energy.  My phone is not ringing.  I’m tired of ants crawling on me.  My bread hasn’t risen enough.  I want to talk to someone.  But my phone isn’t ringing.

8:33 PM.  I think.

I’m sick.  I’m hot.  No one wants to talk to me.  I keep getting the chills.  My bread isn’t rising.  Henry’s not home.  Henry’s not here.  I think my pen is runnign out of ink.  I still keep hoping that he’ll drive up to surprise me.  Every single damn car I hear.  [Step-Sister] isn’t home so I had to talk to Dad.  I still have shorts from sixth and eighth grades.  Erica hasn’t called me.  I don’t have any stamps.  Maury got a car.  Coleen is over at Beth’s.  I need more friends.  Laura’s not even home.  I’m almost out of pot.  My nose is stuffed up.  I don’t want to be eighteen.  Why does life have to be so difficult?  How com all he music I have is shitty?  Will I ever have any money?  Will I ever have a tight butt?  Will Henry ever get his ass in gear?  Does he even care?  Should I have struck up a conversation with his mom?  Would she have thought I was kissing ass?  Why isn’t he here?  Why do I have to go through all this crapola?  Why didn’t I go to my prom?  Why do I even care?  Where can I get another job?  I want to go to school.  But I don’t know what I want to do when and if I grow up.  Shit!  Life is so stupid.  Boys are dumb creatures.  All my music sucks.  My bread hasn’t moved.  Why to I hang round my house waiting?  Cause I’m a geek?  Yeah, that must be it.  What if I never find anyone who can put up with m?  Shit, I don’t want to be alone forever.  Can I cry?  This is too depressing, irritating, frustrating.

At least my bread tastes alright.  Not terrific but alright.  EVERYTHING SUCKS!  I HATE EVERYONE!  I’M TIRED OF BEING ALONE.  WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO DAMNED ALONE?

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

it’s an idea it can’t be seen i haven’t gotten stoned tonight and I don’t think i’m going to ’cause i have to go to work early in the morning well 9:30 but i’d have to leave at 8:40 henry hasn’t called me yet but maybe he won’t ’cause it’s friday night and he has better things to do but he did say he’d talk to me today so why hasn’t he called me? He didn’t call last night until 12:15 so perhaps when he gets home, he’ll call me to tell me what he did tonight. Or maybe he’ll be to tired and forget to call me. Oh, why do I have to wait around for him to call? Because I’m a boring woman. Am I even a woman? Scrotum – Laura called Deanna one outside her house. Sex is rotten. I always think about it and having it but at the opportunity I reject it. I

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Well, now it’s 6:07 pm. It took me a while to get writing. Henry is very cute. I told him that he’s not shy and he just sort of said oh. And I told him his arms looked strong and he sort of giggled. I told him that it’s funny when he does that. It’s because I can tell he’s sort of blushing. I told him how many push-ups I do every day and sit-ups too. Perhaps he was impressed, I don’t know. If Laura heard me she’d tell me I sounded too tough. Of course she’s not Henry, is she? As DJ puts it, he must like what he sees, knows now, right? sometimes I’m totally sure he likes me by the things he says and does but then they could be average things that I’m just making a big deal out of. Oh jeez, he probably just likes me like one of his buddies. Can I go cry now? But then I don’t think so ’cause of the way he looks at me. But maybe he does that to everyone. But I don’t think so ’cause I don’t think guys make it a practise, practice making eye contact with each other. But then I could be wrong. What if he gets tired of me? I am the type ot suffocate someone. Shit, what now? Maybe none of this is going to work out. Maybe I’m too far ahead of myself. Maybe we’ll just be fucking friends with no commitment. Maybe he hates me. Maybe he’s never had a real steady girlfriend ’cause that’s the way he likes it. Maybe he thinks girls just drag him down. Maybe he thinks they’re only good to have sex with. Maybe he only gets friendly with girls when he’s horny. But he’s so sweet. Shit, who knows? I wish I did. I can think to the time when I know him totally well and talk about him to Beth and Laura like, “No, he’s busy tonight but we’re going out tomorrow night.” Doesn’t that just sound sweet? Of course it does. To have a normal relationship that I don’t have to keep secret. I want to be able to talk about him to everyone. Like, “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Yes I do. I just want to say that once. Why do I want to try so hard to be “normal”? I think I deserve a little bit. I’m sure I’ll find some way to “denormalize” it – if “it” ever happens. Which I am almost kind of sure will – I hope.

I want him to get all loosened up late at night. But he doesn’t and he always has “to get going.”

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Beth said I should write this down so I won’t forget. After work I came home and then straight to the gym to work out.  I stayed there for quite a while to work out, etc.  Then I had to wait for the bus for a long time, then I walked home and I wasn’t really thinking of anything in particular until I got to my driveway and saw Henry’s truck behind Beth’s car.  Wow.  So I walk into my own home and say hello to everyone.  I was still sweaty and quite embarrassed.  Eventually, I had to take a shower and when I got out, the guys were gone to get alcohol.  I got the house cleaned up a little bit.  Henry and his two friends got back and Henry called his mother.  How sweet.  He asked her if she needed anything.  What a good boy.  Beth and her friend had to go get the friend’s boyfriend.  So Henry said something about my books of questions.  We get got? to the sex questions.  Anyway, one of them was how old you were the first time you had sex?  For some reason I had to answer first maybe ’cause I’m the hostess or something.  Anyway I said sixteen and Henry said fourteen?  How cute.  That means he’s probably been thought the awkward I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-I’m-doing stage and is probably to the I-know-exactly-what-I-want-and-how-to-please please-the-other-person stage.  Shit!  That nine years!  14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Wow.  He sort of laughed when I said mine.  He probably realized that that wasn’t so long ago.  Oh well.  I’m innocent aren’t I?  Once when he was handing me the lighter he let his hand linger and it touched mine.  Pretty neat huh.  Beth came back with a different girl.  Then eventually Henry just says well, I’m gonna get going.  It was before midnight.  It’s all very cute.  Anyway, Beth kept urging me to kiss him.  So I walked them to the door.  At the door he turned around and said he’d call me tomorrow, which is actually later today.  I wanted to kiss him so bad.  Beth wanted me to walk him out to the car but he was with the two not just one but two of his friends.  I just couldn’t do it.  Why am I so shy.  Henry’s not shy, just subtle.  I’m shy.  I can just tell he likes me.  He came over unannounced on a Friday night – a good party night – but I guess there were no parties.  Anyway, if Beth hadn’t been here, I would have been at the gym – which I was – and Henry would have left because no one was here.  Thank you Beth!  She got my extra key to get into my house and then she said right away someone knocked on the door and she thought it was me being a smart-ass.  But it was Henry.  Yea.  He must like me.  And a couple of times over the course of the evening we did make eye contact.  And he has had the nicest smile.  And a very cute butt.  His pants fell down to his hips – cutely, of course.  And he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt.  And he has great arms.  Of course I’ve already seen his adorable little legs.  So he’s supposed to call me.  Maybe, as Beth suggested, I should put in a request for a double date.  I want to be alone with him so we can kiss, etc.  I like him a lot.  Or maybe I’m just infatuated with him.  But I know he would be just a sweet boyfriend.  He would still go out and do stuff with his friends but he would special time alone set aside for me.  I would really like to kiss him.  He would be so soft and gentle at first to test how I react.  then after a few tentative kisses they would deepen and get more intense.  But I would want that to take a while ’cause I want it to be more than just sex.  I’m afraid he doesn’t get girlfriends he just has his friends and has sex.  But I want to be his girlfriend.  I want to be in a “normal” boy-girl relationship.  Is that too much to ask?  I think not, especially since that’s what will happen ’cause I’ll make it happen.  He’s so cute and he likes me!  I hope!  I think.  I want to be alone with him.  He’s just the sweetest.  Laura called when they were here and I subtly (however) let her know that Henry was here.  so now she’s goign to ask about what happened even though nothing did.  She’ll be disappointed.  Why are these late-night 900 number commercials so damn tacky?  His lower lip outs so cutely.  I want to see what I write in a few months when we’re fighting.  ‘Cause I’m confident something will happen.  He’s the type who wouldn’t press for one unless I did.  He always seems so cool – I find that kind of provocative, sexy, mysterious.  He likes me, he must.  I’ve decided.  I hate these fucking commercials.  They’re quite stupid.  I can’t find my remote which is quite depressing.  I’m watching a very interesting movie about a chick who kicks the ol’ valium habit.  Now she’s back form the mental hospital.  I’ll have to go work out tomorrow right when I wake up so I can go out or stay in tomorrow evening.  Now the movies is long and has gone on for as much story as necessary.  Now it’s just boring.  My hair feels like straw.  I like Henry a lot.  I don’t want Erica to call me again, I don’t like the way she makes me feel.  I deserve better.  I would like to get into Henry’s feelings – to know what he will do next.  I want to know him – to find him or make him weak.  For him to break down.  Not in a bad way but because of love or emotions.  The movie’s over, thank god.  I think I should go to slep.  If my neighbors ever try to make a lot of noise, I’ll be very angry.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I want a new tattoo.  Probably not something like this, though it is cute.  I’m not the type to get cartoon tattoos, but if I were this would be it.

My next tattoo, as soon as I get the funds together to get it, is going to be a volume knob on my ribs just below my right breast.  I welcome any ideas for design – shazamsf@sbcglobal.net.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

You, lovely readers, make me exceedingly happy, ’tis true. However, very few of you have availed yourself of that donate button.

I’m poor. Really poor. So poor the Ex and Roomie have moved in with me. If you’re unclear as to what a big fucking deal this is, let me make it clear: The Ex is my ex-husband (10 year anniversary would have been yesterday 9/9/09; we’re officially divorced as of 12/31/08) and Roomie is his girlfriend.

The three of us, along with Isis, an adorable doberman, and Joaquin, an extremely furry but tiny (7lbs.) feline, live in a one-bedroom loft.

“Loft” is euphemism for no fucking privacy whatsoever. The bedroom is in the loft area, but it has no 4th wall or door, just some curtains. The couple sleeps in the “bedroom” while I sleep on the couch.

Tough economic times.

But I want to be able to keep writing, to continue to post daily, to occasionally give y’all dirty photos. To do so I need some financial incentive. I know, money is dirty and disgusting, but it’s a fact of life.

So please, donate. Every little bit counts, though as readers of Random Rim Jobs you know I like ‘em big.

Donate, bitches.

Oh, yeah, those who donate generously will get dirty pics of me. WAY dirtier than I’ve ever posted either here or on Twitter. Trust me, they’re hot. If you want to see ‘em donate generously.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I hope you don’t mind the email as opposed to a singular, brief, comment. After spending a lunch break reading through your blog I knew I had to pass the link on to my friend, we’ll just call her Susie for now, for some much needed insight. Susie is, for lack of a better word, awesome! She’s beautiful, in great shape, witty, charming, and intelligent; she’s also amazing in bed and perhaps one of the most sexually voracious people I’ve ever met, for the most part. I say for the most part because she has some inexplicable anxiety regarding her own sexuality, a “buyers remorse” of sex.

Susie and I met 5 years ago while I was in an open relationship with her friend, who was very openly bi-sexual, while Susie was not. From the beginning, it was pretty easy to see that Susie and I had a real sexual attraction to each other, and the more we hung out the more inevitable it was that we were going to get it on. So one night, while the three of us were out celebrating an event, after a few martinis and a bottle of wine, we decided Susie was much too drunk to drive home and since we only had one bed, that we would need to share it. Knowing that my girlfriend had always had a crush on Susie, and that the tension between the three of us that night was at a boiling point, I made the move to softly seduce Susie into her first threesome. Afterward, Susie spent an hour or so gushing over how that was the best sexual experience she had ever had, the things she wanted to try next time, and how she had never known sex could be so amazing. She stayed the night, and after she left in the morning, we didn’t hear from Susie again for a few months. She went off the radar, played phone tag, and just generally kept herself hidden. The next time we would hear from her was a booty call. She had gotten drunk to work up the courage to invite us over, while her roommates were out, and was very clear on her expectations. My girlfriend and I arrived to find Susie in an open front robe and a smile, she invited us in for drinks and was very sexually aggressive towards me, again we had an amazing night, explored some new territories, and Susie gushed over the experience. Again, for the next few months we didn’t hear from Susie.

At our next reunion, over drinks, Susie confided that each time she had really, honestly, enjoyed the experience, but would find herself feeling like a “whore” the next day and would purposely avoid us, but that she would find herself masturbating to the memory of what we had done. She also came to the realization that she was strictly dickly, well more of a pillow princess; she didn’t mind the FFM threesome as long as she was on the receiving end, and that she had no idea what to do to a vagina that wasn’t hers. My girlfriend was very understanding and, because it was obvious that Susie was in need that night, gave Susie and I her blessing to go at it with alone when we wanted to,  provided that she could at least watch that night. For the next couple of years Susie and I would get together on occasion, usually after she had found some liquid courage, and she’d have me help her explore the things that were in her imagination, and often afterwords we would talk, and she let on that while she still loved the things we did together, she continued to suffer from feeling like a “whore” and that there was something wrong with her. I consider myself sexually enlightened, and I don’t pay credence to the stereotype of a woman being less of a person for having the same, or more, sexual desires a man has; I tried to enforce that idea with her, that her sexuality and her appetite were not an abnormality, and that she should feel an empowerment from them or at the very least allow herself to enjoy herself. Though she and I are, well we consider ourselves, strictly friends, and she has had a handful of relationships, we continue to get together, often. She feels comfortable enough to text me her fantasies, or to invite to drinks with the understanding that I am going to put out, and on more than one occasion to help her with a MMF threesome. She still continues to have that nagging sexual self esteem issue, and for all that she wants, she doubts herself after every encounter.

Then, yesterday, I sent her your link, and told her to read through the whole thing, and it was like someone had finally turned on the light for her finally. After only reading the first few entries, she began texting me with comments on similarities that she could see and drawing parallels in your experiences. We went for drinks last night and we discussed your posts, and she said it made her realize that (maybe) there is nothing wrong with her and that she felt that your writing on your experiences weren’t trashy or sleazy in any way and that it made her feel more at ease with her lust and not so alone. All I could do was smile, it was everything I’d hoped she’d come to realize on her own. This morning, I can see her 3 cubes over, she’s smiling, contently.

In a single day your blog has done what I’ve spent 5 years trying to do, empower one woman who desperately needed to find peace with that part of who she is.

Best Regards,

Twitter:  @vaginacology

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

My admiration for the German language was confirmed (and later reconfirmed) one night when I was watching the movie, the Lives of Others. It is a great, great movie in German with subtitles for those of us who need ‘em. I was enthralled by the story, of course, but I also found myself getting turned on. Of course.

I soon realized an orgasm was something I was going to have to have. I was in no mood to go out or to have someone over (I still needed to finish the movie), but I didn’t want “just” masturbate (though masturbation is a glorious thing).  I chose to post an ad on Craig’s List.

I think I posted it in Casual Encounters, but I KNOW I made clear that I was looking for phone sex only, in German, and that night.  The responses were varied, but none of them adhered to the requirements of the ad.

I had a few guys respond in German.  I know I made it clear that I wanted to have phone sex in German, but that I couldn’t understand it, but that didn’t seem to matter.  I know absolutely no German, so I couldn’t respond in German.  Besides, that just showed they didn’t read my ad carefully.

Other guys had clearly not read my ad at all.  It was becoming apparent that my desires were not to be fulfilled on such short notice.  I was going to have to settle.

I get turned on hearing any language I can’t understand.  Because of the movie I was in the mood for German, but other languages will definitely do.  I was horny, so I settled for a native French speaker.

He called me, said most everything in French, fast enough so I couldn’t understand despite my years of French in high school (so, really, hardly any), and I masturbated to orgasm.  I neither know nor care if he was saying anything that was actually sexy because it sounded sexy to me.

I swear.  True story.

©2012 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.