Random Rim Jobs

1 something in the AM

I don’t want to go to bed yet cause I’m thinking too much.  Shit, I don’t want Maury to say anything to Henry about me shit that would be embarrassing cause he hates me I think I don’t know I don’t know anything I hate it when I can’t control a situation.  My eye is watering.  I’m being healthy by drinking lots of water cleaning my system out shit I don’t know anything.  My ear ear itches cause one hole or another is healing.  I don’t like this song – it sounds to disco and some guy is professing his love for some chick.  Yeah, right.  Damn.  Why do I always get talkative late at night?  Why does he act like he doesn’t care?  He must care about something, that is something besides his pot.  Fuck I don’t know anything.  Will I ever know?  I fucking hope so.

After June 1, I will be able to call KROQ without a toll charge.  The phone company has enlarged my local calling area from eight to twelve miles.  I’m just so excited.  This station sucks.  They play the same thing over and over.  Boys are dumb.

Fuck, I’m almost out of pot and I still have to get some for my mother with money I spent in Disneyland.  Crap, shit, fuck, damn.  Why is life so rotten?

it’s like 11am

I’m looking at a dead but.  It’s actually kind of pretty.  And I’m sunbathing.  And I’m wondering why boys are so dumb.  Henry’s already called me today.  Why does he have to be so damned unpredictable?  It’s kind of nice but extremely frustrating.  Hell Mr. Ant.  This station is going to be driving me crazy all day.  Then I’ll have to be getting and and down to change the music.  Why do bugs have to be crawling on me?  I’m not a plant.  Henry just doesn’t make sense at all.  Why do I keep trying to figure him out?  I’m a glutton for punishment.  I don’t want to back to get too much sun.  I don’t like this song.  I think one of my neighbors is home and he can see me from one of his kitchen windows so I can’t take my shorts off for a pair of underwear that look like bikini bottoms.

Later

I think my neighbors think I’m a weirdo.  Should I care?  No, I fuckin’ sunbathing.  I want a car.  Is that too much to ask?  Is that so wrong?

6:24 pm

I hope I’m happy.  I’m very burnt.  Maybe now Henry will feel sorry for me.  Ah, I doubt it.  Supposedly, he might come over tonight.  I’m getting my hopes up again.  Why not, I could use some more heartbreak.  Pretty soon, if I keep putting myself through this, I’ll just give up on love and relationships completely.  He’s doing Confirmation with his nephew (who’s the same age that I am) so he’s at church doing whatever it is they do.

I figured it all out – my landlord and Lori Kwok are related.  Well, actually, they can’t be because they’re from two totally different countries, but they do act alike – laughing for no apparent reason, except that they’re uncomfortable and being awkward with their limbs.  Now, of course, I feel like getting stoned but I can’t ’cause ‘ol Mr. Kawamura is on the premises.  I can see it now:  He comes to the door to tell me not to worry about the check and a huge puff of smoke hits him in the face.  He knows it’s not cigarette smoke but can’t quite place what exactly it is.  So he goes upstairs and asks the very noisy neighbors who never sleep if they could help identify the mysterious smoke.  In the mean time, I’m rushing to get rid of any evidence of illegal drug use and light up a clove.  (I have one in the closet for emergencies like these.)  Then they all come downstairs to try to identify the mysterious smoke.

The way Henry looked stumbling out of the bedroom really depressed me.  It just keeps running through my head.  The look on his face, the way he was stumbling.  He looked very … oblivious, he looked kind of scared too.  Maybe he was.  I hope he was scared enough.  He’s probably on a self-destructive trip right now.  I could help him deal with his feelings – why doesn’t he employ my services?

I have to bake – it’s going to be very hot in here.  Ug.

[Continued from "Prague, Israel (Part 2)."]

Israel and I both worked and lived together.  Israel and I both worked days, and I also had some shifts at night.  I was a shitty waitress and I knew it.  I didn’t like having to be really nice in hopes of a tip with only minimum wage guaranteed when I made more than minimum wage when I worked at night as a hostess.  The good waiting shifts were taken by people who were actually good at waiting on people.

Around the same time I began going to school in earnest.  Junior college.  Pasadena City College.  I had graduated from high school a year early, but then had taken a bit of time to realize that I did want to go to college.  That I mostly worked nights was convenient not only because I made more money at night, but also because I could attend classes during the days.

School during the day and working both days and nights meant I did a lot of coming and going from my apartment, sometimes at “odd” hours.  For the most part this didn’t bother or have any effect at all on my neighbors.  One neighbor, however, noticed.  We’d often run into each other in the lobby of the building, or in the back yard where he smoked and I took my puppy, or in the front yard.  When he saw me in the front yard it was usually because I was on my way to my car to go to school.

Because I was on my way to school I was usually in a hurry.  The neighbor was not in a hurry at all; he didn’t seem to do much more than hang out in or near our apartment building.  So he walked me to my car on a number of occasions, and attempted to engage me in conversation.  I had been working at a bar for a while and had begun to see the lame signs that I guy was “interested” in me.  Lame because the guys would pretend to care about what I did with my time when they really wanted to know, “You wanna fuck me?”

My neighbor was interested in me for sure, and pretended to care about my comings and goings.  He asked me where I was going in my car.  “To school.”  He asked me where I go at night.  “To work.”  He asked me where I worked.  I did not want him to come to the bar where I worked to talk to me.  There, I had to be nice to the customers and I was trapped at my hostessing station.  So, I told him I worked down the street.  It wasn’t a lie, and he had seen me come and go to work by foot, so I figured that would be enough for him.

And it was, sort of.  The neighbor continued to be overly solicitous whenever he saw me.  One day he knocked on my apartment door and held out, like a proud child, a rather scraggly looking potted plant.  I thanked him, but I really don’t think I was particularly encouraging.  I still have the plant.

I tried my best to keep our interactions short but sometimes when I was out with my puppy I had to talk to him until she was done doing her thing.  It was dark one evening when he found me in the building’s front yard with my puppy.  It must have been a rare night that I had off from work, and I was not in the mood to deal with him, but my puppy was taking her time.  I wanted to go.

Finally, I began walking up the building’s stairs to my apartment when the neighbor yelled after me, “I wanna get with you.”  I certainly would find that refreshing now, but 19-year-old me was freaked the fuck out.  It didn’t help that I found the man repulsive.  Then, as I was retreating further up the stairs, he held up his wallet and said, “I’ll pay!”

I picked up the puppy and ran to my apartment, where Israel was home.  He could see that I was upset when I told him what had just happened to me.  He thought it was funny.  I did not.

I swear.  True story

[To be continued ….]

Cinqo De Mayo, 7:51 pm

The breeze dances over my skin.  The cat ate the tuna.  I just got a

later

I think my lungs are deteriorating.  Henry hasn’t called me – he hates me.  I’ve made a fool of myself.  The night is warm – the kind you

T.V. is depressing.  Jeffrey turned off the light switch last night when he left so now my clock is off and flashing.

He hasn’t called and I don’t expect him to.  Everything’s over before it started.  Shit.  He doesn’t care about anything.  The inside of my arm aches.  I want to yell at him.  I want to go for a walk at night with him and stop somewhere and then kiss him and then … shit, here I go again.

I got Shilo some rawhide bones.  They’re very tiny and cute like she is.

Shit.  Last weekend he was on me like flies on flypaper.  this week I have the plague.  What the fuck?  Did he get some in that period of time or just lose interest for no reason?  Did he have to “act cool” around this friends or does he actually hate me?  Is life totally stupid and unfair or what?

I think I did get some color today.  And I’m going to lay out again tomorrow.  With my noisy neighbors, I’ll be up at seven to assure me plenty of sunlight hours.  I guess I’ll get up and fall back asleep outside.

Why are boys so stupid?  Why ask why?  Try But Dry.  I just want a chance to talk to him once before he actually stops speaking to me.  I want my tape back and he’ll be sure to get his.  I need my jacket – shit, it has my paycheck in it.  Damn, maybe I’ll have to call him.  All boys are simpletons.  Why does this crap have to happen to me?  What have I done?  Was I a bad child?

I believe that I am getting a cold.  I hope that I already have it and this is the worse it’ll get.

Ya know, I keep expecting the phone to ring.  Why don’t I just give up?

Why can I so clearly see us together?  And [Step-Sister] said I didn’t have an imagination.  Ha.  It runs wild with the best of them.  It barks with the big dogs.  Henry Henry Henry Henry Henry Henry Henry Henry why how what for Henry call me talk to me tell me something for once have you ever really told me anything do I really know anything about you not minor “personal” stuff but feelings Henry reactions thoughts are all guys like this it’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with one they’re such a pain.  Jeff’s a masochist, what about me.

I would like to sleep outside but I haven’t a sleeping bag and I’m sure my neighbors would look at me kind of funny.

Why didn’t Henry defend my honor?  He could have at least said, “Hey, dude, shut up man.”  It would’ve been easy and would have said something to me about his manliness (is that the right word?)

Maybe I should make some bread ’cause the phone sure as fuck isn’t ri(ya, so I just checked to make sure the ringer was on)nging.

At least Jeff had the good fortune of getting the minutes right on the clock.  I think he left around four in the morning.  My god.  Should I was or Epilady?  Deanna has and Epilady that I’m sure she would let me use.

7:47 pm

Why can’t I have a car?  Or at least someone who’s willing to chauffeur me around?  What’s wrong?  My mother isn’t even home to yell at about it.  Perhaps if I go over to Laura’s, she’ll want to drive me to Henry’s after she hears about the boys who were there.  I haven’t told her about those.  I can convince her that it would be in her best interest to somehow get me over there.  But then I’ll miss Henry’s call.  But if I get to his house then It won’t matter if I missed a little call.  I could get Jeff to take me.  Yep, he was so bored he would go with me.  Hmm.  That would be sneaky.  That would be smart.  Good idea.  What’s his damn number?  Anderson in the phone book couldn’t be as common as Valenzuela.  Could it?

I was just thnking about what I was doing a year ago. Sinéad O’Connor made me do it “Where did I go wrong?” I was going through some serious shit with mysef and my parents and especially Erica. I don’t want to remember how much it hurt. I don’t want ot ever be in a situation where I let myself get out of control. It’s my life and I decide what goes on in it. Thank God time fades memories so that the only thing left is actual evens and a faint glimmer of what it was actually like.

Now I’m doing everything for myself.  I feel much better thought I’m sort of at a standstill it seems.  Of course I’m on the verge of another all-consuming relationship.  But he’s the type who wouldn’t ask, expect or even want ALL of me.  I think he’ll do me good.  My jealous streak will be to no avail.  He is is own person and wouldn’t succumb, or rather give himself up, to me.  He won’t want to spend every waking moment with me and because from the beginning that will be establisehd, he won’t get tired of me and I won’t think later on that he cares for me any less because he “needs his space.”  The space will always be there for him, and me, so I can continue with myself without relinquishing the control on myself and my life.

Wonder if he’d be very affectionate.  I’ll just have to tell him, or show him, that that is a must.

I want to see his writing for some reason.  And his baby pictures.  And to have sex with him on the floor of the practice room with loud punk-type music playing.  Wonder if he has any idea at all how much I think about him.  Maybe if I think about him this much, he thinks about me at least half, ok, a quarter of the time.  That would be nice.  He has a very nice profile – cute little nose and an adorable pouty lip. I want to kiss his lips very badly.

I bruise easily.  Rather, I don’t think my bruising capability is that much more than the average person, but I do think that I am pale and therefore show the bruises I do get easily.

I like getting bruised.  That means I’ve withstood something.  Hopefully something to which I’ve consented and desired.  All of the bruises visible in the photo here are of that variety.  I keep getting more, and I like ‘em for the most part.

I do, however, have a bruise on my forehead the origin of which I do not know.  While I don’t think I didn’t consent to the bump and bruise I have on my forehead, I don’t remember where or how I got it either.  Thankfully I don’t need to use my forehead for a lot of activities so it’ll fade into oblivion.

Yes, those are bruises on my chest.  I have a lot more, too.

I swear.  True story.

I’m sunbathing – hanging my legs out the front door. I don’t think there is a time when my neighbors aren’t noisy. Oh well. They got up early (I do mean early – before 10am) today and made lots of noise. It feels very nice to sit in the sun thought I should have sunscreen on my face.

Last night – the “Band” played at a party out in the middle of nowhere – it looked like a cross between Yosemite and Palo Cedro. The band before them played a long time so for a while we were all just standing around. Getting stoned whatever. But Henry would always stand by me – quite close I might add. We had to stand around a lot. We were “backstage” (behind a couple of tarps strung up)

I think I have skin cancer on my leg and I just found another spot not as big on my hip.

and Henry was standing close to me. He had told me earlier in the evening that he was tired cause he smoked too much pot and also did some coke. He showed me he was shaking and had me FEEL HIS HEART. At first I put my hand tentatively then he held it closer and tighter with his hand. Lordy. He has pecks and everything. And he has hair on his chest. But it’s not gross, it looks kind of nice – ok. He has a cute little cleft-type thing in his lower lip.

I have to go to the bathroom but I’m out of toilet paper. Maybe I should go buy some.

Anyway. When they went on, Beth, Carla, and myself sat in what would’ve been the wings. And right before he had to play, Henry asked me if I wanted to hold his jacket. How chivilrous (shit, I can’t spell). He looks so sexy when he plays. His face gets this look like he really doesn’t care but his hands are touching that instrument like it’s a woman. (Or at least how I’d hope he’d touch a woman.) He leans forward at the hips and the strobe light was on so he looked like he was moving a lot ore than he actually was

[Continued from "Ask for a Slave, Get a …."]

Saturday came.  The Viking agreed to make brunch for Sugar and I.  He ate too; after all he’s not a slave.  He also agreed not to clean up a damn thing, as that was the duty of the slaves.  Along with brunch dishes there were also dishes left over from my involved butternut squash lasagna-making the day before; the kitchen was a mess.

I had already decided that the potential slaves would not have the benefit of the dishwasher.  After all, they were to be the dishwashers.

Brunch was delicious.  Sugar said she was nervous about the interviews.  The mimosas (with fresh-squeezed satsuma mandarin juice) helped allay Sugar’s nervousness.

The Viking and I had a little side bet going.  Having extensive Craig’s List experience I know the flake factor is very high so the Viking was a bit of a fool for betting that at least seven of the fourteen potential slaves would show.  I bet there would be fewer than seven, and I guessed there would be many fewer.

Actually, I guessed that the day would be spent having brunch, drinking mimosas, and hanging out with Sugar and the Viking.  Then the three of us would end up doing our own damn dishes.  As I had told the potential slaves to be on time, when 1:30pm came and went I already started gloating to the Viking, telling him that I’d win our bet for sure.

At precisely 2:00pm the phone rang, signaling someone at the front door to the building.  I said exactly what I want to say to every first-time visitor to the building, “It’s on the second floor, take the stairs, do not take the elevator.”  Really, people need to take the elevator to the second floor?  That’s just damn lazy.

A middle-aged man with a bouquet of pink and white, cellophane-wrapped, grocery store carnations was at the door.  I put him to work while I trimmed the flowers and placed them in a vase.  He started washing dishes.

We did not ask his name; we didn’t care.  Sugar and I had already decided they’d get nicknames or numbers, or both, based on our impressions.  This guy, because of things I knew about him previously, we’ll call Baseball Bat.  He was fast, and we found out later that he worked quickly – and sloppily.  The dishes he did weren’t all that clean.

While he cleaned I looked at my OkCupid messages and Sugar and I talked about various things, including ass fucking and fisting.  The Viking went about his business.

Sugar was still a bit nervous.  She asked a few times, all under her breath, if she could see Baseball Bat’s dick.  He kept not pulling it out, but it was completely understandable that he didn’t know what she really wanted.  Finally, with some encouragement to her to make it clear what she wanted, he brandished his cock.  Sweet Sugar said, “Hmm, girthy.”

So fucking cute.  And completely unnecessary.  He put it away and I told him to leave.  I had each of the potential slaves scheduled for no longer than a half hour, and while I didn’t mind if they saw each other in the hall, I really didn’t want to bother to introduce them.  I thanked him for his service and showed him to the door.

I teased Sugar for saying what she did when she saw the guy’s dick.  She was so fucking cute; she said she felt that since he was nice enough to show us his cock that she should say something nice about it.  Uh, slaves don’t need something nice said about them, silly girl; they want to be humiliated.  She didn’t know that Baseball Bat literally wanted a baseball bat shoved up his ass, which, wrong or right, probably didn’t go along with the need to be told he had a thick dick.

The Viking thought there was a possibility that he’d win the bet at that point considering we were one for two.  We still hadn’t discussed what were the terms of said bet ….

[More to come.  Not even close to done, folks.]

I swear.  True story.

I had lots of dreams that I can remember. Maybe it’s the food. Perhaps it’s the pot, could be my time of the month.

One – I was in school and every day we were getting driven to some observatory-type place by the beach – for the experience. Our driver was Henry who I talked to for a few days – staying in the front seat (we were driven in a van) to talk to him instead of doing what I was supposed to be doing. One time we went at night and I was looking out the windows at how pretty it was. Henry told me to find the moon but I had to lean my whole body out the window to see it (and it was still blocked by trees). So Henry wanted to see too so he leaned out the window also – sort of on top of me (but I can remember no discomfort). We were looking and noting how pretty it was when I wrapped my arms around him from behind.  His tummy was squishy but I didn’t care.  For some time I just hugged him and he reciprocated after a while and suggested we walk down to the beach.  Everyone was very proud of me – I was too.

Two – Erica was visiting me and talking about college – going to Santa Barbara.  Anyway we were talking and she was still surprised that I did not want to have sex with her.  She asked me if I wanted to give her a friendly hug but it was somehow turned into a kiss.  And after one of her kisses I’m lost.  We had sex.  It was good and afterwards I think she left.

She hasn’t called back.  I think she was surprised that everything I wrote in that letter I meant but only if she received it well – she didn’t so I’ve moved on.

Three – I went to a private school (I was a little kid) and had to be careful about everything I did because the authorities were very quick to punish.  Then later, after I was older, we had to do a very intense exercise routine.  Maybe that was guilt for not working out yesterday.  But then I didn’t eat as much either.

I only have to work a short day today.  Then I’m gonna go work out then probably nothing.  Tomorrow night the guys are playing a party to which Beth and I are going.  I told Henry that I was going because Beth invited me but I know he would have.  He said he would’ve but I don’t think so.  He said he just found out yesterday so how was he supposed to invite me?  But I wonder if he actually wants me to go.  I should ask him today.  Beth says I should hug him, wish him good luck, and give him a kiss on the cheek.  Now, that does sound perfect but I just don’t know if I could do it or if he would go for it.  She also says I should just start kissing him and because he’s a guy he won’t say no – but I think he would – he’s different from other guys – he’s not sex crazed, starved, whatever.

Day two of the Winter Fancy Food Show.  I feel like I’m going to puke.  Everything put out to taste is rich and/or sweet and/or salty.  I still love duck.  Duck in all forms should be eaten.  No, I do not have a problem with foie gras, or any other animal products.  I figure if I’m going to eat any of the animal or its products I might as well eat it all.

I went to the show with my friend, a veteran attendee.  He gets enough snack food, sauces, condiments, cheese, and chocolate to last a year.  Really.  He institutes the method of taking things that really aren’t meant to be samples of looking innocent and slipping them into his bag.  There’s no point in asking, because they’ll just say no, and everything is meant to be taken over the course of the three days.  He told me that tomorrow the exhibitors will be giving things away since few will bother with the expense of shipping food back from whence it came.

I haven’t eaten any food other than the samples at the show for the last two days.  I’m so fucking full.  At the end of today I didn’t even want to take samples, as I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to eat them.  In a few days I’ll be ready to eat, I’m sure.

I noticed a lot of teas; a lot of products, including rice, popcorn, and cheese with truffles; some tasty non-alcoholic but nonetheless adult sodas; and of course still a lot of bacon and bacon-flavored things.  Will bacon ever go out of style?

I’m so fucking tired of hearing about the Roommie’s pregnancy, and I first heard about it yesterday.  I’m really looking forward to a time when I don’t have to hear anything about her or him or them or their stupid fucking kid.  I may sound resentful, or jealous, but I promise I am not.  I am so fucking glad I never had a kid with that immature ass.  I’m so glad it wasn’t me who was doing coke all night long just a couple of weeks ago while at the same time trying to get pregnant.

I want these fucking people out of my life.

I swear.  True story.