...so I decided to do another meme. Aren't you ever lucky?

( Oh yeah, it's also NSFW. )

Because I'm bored tonight and want to do something more constructive than looking at porn:



...yeah, I'm bored. I need to work on my writing.

Last night, one of the better-known clubs on Clematis Street threw a big birthday bash for itself, blocking the entire street between Rosemary and Dixie off. The other two bars on the street joined in as well, and the pizza place stayed open late. There were tons of bands playing in the three clubs, as well as a huge main stage featuring A Flock Of Seagulls. Yes, A Flock Of Seagulls. (You expected Coldplay maybe?)

( First, let's hang out with the neighbors. )

Just one eensy problem--I once again overestimate my alcohol tolerance. My mindset is since I only had two drinks, they were spaced far enough apart, plus a few strawfuls of a third, means I'm fairly decent to drive. Other people seem to think otherwise. It must have been my platform mary janes. Some Public Safety officer asks me if I'm fine; I insist that I am. Then a black-haired, tattooed girl walks up beside me, inquires if I'm okay, then insists on walking with me anyway. I start chatting with her; she's going to meet her boyfriend who works at one of the bars on lower Clematis. We make it to the corner of Clematis and Olive, almost to my car, when she runs into a friend of hers and I find someone who I think is T. with his bike taxi.

I call out his name. It's not T. It's someone whose name sounds like T. if you're listening from a distance, I guess, because he comes over. He's much cuter than T.--shoulder-length blond hair, has the surfer boy look down. He's not in the usual Taxi uniform; he tells me he usually works in South Beach, but he came up here tonight to make a few extra bucks. Tattoo Girl is gone with her friends. There's only one more block for me to walk anyway. I tell Surfer Boy I have to be on my way, and off I go.

Midway down the block, Surfer Boy catches up with me. "Why don't you get in?" he asks, his head jerking toward the seat.

"I'm just around the corner."

"So?"

I hop in. Of course, the ride lasts all of 30 seconds before we're at my car, the only one on the block. I thank him, hug him goodnight, say my farewell as I walk the last steps. Then suddenly, my brain sparked by a combination of a strong buzz and horniness, jump back into his arms, crashing onto his lips.

( This would be the part that's NSFW. )

We talk about the other Taxi Boys; turns out he knows the majority of them. I tell him it might be a good idea to not let them know what went on between us, not because I give a crap about my rep, but because I know at least two of them would bed me on the word go. Not a good idea to raise jealousy. Although I know boys talk. Well hey, I do too, because here I am blogging about it.

I don't ask him for his number, and he doesn't ask for mine. If we ever see each other again, I figure that's up to the spirits to decide.

One more kiss goodnight, followed by a check that I'm all right to drive. I'm still buzzed, but much less than before. It's 4:45am when I rev up Stephanie to go home.

I turn on the radio. Katy Perry is singing that she kissed a girl and liked it. Well, wrong gender, but hell...I did a young boy and liked it. Take that.

*****

I'm thinking of starting another LJ for my erotic writing, so you don't have to read it here (haha). Not sure if it will get off the ground for sure, but anyone for it?

Baby cougars with 23-year-old boys FTW!

Not the most awesome sex I ever had, but damn I needed that.

More when my brain can actually rub two cells together.

So I checked out OKCupid, but didn't register because most of the men there are what I expected on an internet dating site--re: ugly and/or boring. Usually "and".

Well, I did find one interesting, good-looking guy...problem is, it's my ex's former brother-in-law, R. I read his profile, and he's everything I want in a man--he's good-looking, intelligent, successful, doesn't want kids, loves to travel, goes to upscale restaurants and lounges, and best of all, loves both romance and kinky sex. I'm considering joining this stupid site only so I can find out more about him. Especially since it seems he's broken up with the girl he was seeing when I chatted with him during my last visit to West Palm Beach.

So yeah, I'm crushing on my ex's former brother-in-law. Heavily. Why can't there be more men like him in West Palm Beach...or anywhere, for that matter?

From OKCupid:

The Stiletto Deliberate Brutal Sex Master (DBSM) Edgy. Physical. Devastating. You are The Stiletto, of all types, the most likely to be a dominatrix and the least likely to apologize. Sex is your object, and you have a LOT of it. Doubtless, you've figured out how easy it is for a dominant, assertive woman to have as many and whichever partners as she chooses. You're in control, you know what you want, and you get it, right there. It's highly likely you have a nice body, and it's even more likely we're getting all turned on right now writing this. You're generally careful with your actions and words, but your test answers indicate you've hurt some people, drawn some blood. This means one of two things. Either you're calculating, and pain is just part of your game plan, or hurting the occasional guy is just the unfortunate, but natural, byproduct of your liberated sexual existence. Our tendency is to believe the latter: you're willing to engage men on a basic sexual level, and clearly they're attracted to you. It's understandable that a few might get overly attached, and sometimes harshness is the only way for you to escape: you've got to cut your way out. After all, it's not emotional bondage you're looking for right now. Your exact female opposite: The Window Shopper Random Gentle Love Dreamer Always avoid: The Slow Dancer (DGLD), The Manchild (RBLD) Consider: The 5-Night Stand (DBSM), The Bachelor (DGSM)

Link: The Online Dating Persona Test | OkCupid - personals | Dating

Jimmy's ex-brother-in-law recommended OKCupid to me a while back, said he was on it for a while before he started dating his current girlfriend. Honestly, I think internet dating is for losers, but I'm just so tired of not getting lucky when I go out on Saturday nights, I'm practically willing to give anything a try. There's only so many nights my action can consist of an POM-filled Ipod and a pink toy from Spencer's.

Back at my old house in New Jersey, I received a package. From Jimmy, my parents told me. Amazingly enough, he spent his own money to send it. He must have gotten lucky on the slots last weekend.

"It's long and thin," my father said. My dresses...the bastard finally sent back my dresses, I thought. Sure enough, that night when he finally opened it and announced the contents, several dresses were in there, including that olive green Betsey Johnson dress that still had the tags on it. Probably wrinkled by now, but in my possession, so that's all that matters.

But there was something else too. "It's a bear," my dad said, "It's wearing a shirt with the planets on it..."

My joy faded. "That's not a bear, that's a cat. There should be another one too, a white one." He checked the box further. Yes, there was another bear...er, cat. All the clothes I brought for them at Build-a-Bear, those came back too, as did the so-called condo packaging.

I don't know whether it was Jimmy's intention to give me a final fuck you, but it hurt me. Hard. Those stuffed cats were gifts over two separate Christmas seasons. The white cat was dressed in punk clothing (or as punk as possible, being Build-a-Bear isn't exactly aimed toward the Hot Topic crowd) to represent me. It was a present for him for Christmas 2004. The following year came the orange tabby kitty, dressed in surfer clothing, to represent him. They were presents for him. Now they're mine. I don't know whether to have them sent down, put them away, or donate them to a children's hospital. I'm thinking of having them sent down, but I don't know how much it will hurt to look at them.

Yeah, over a year later, it still hurts.

It's thunder and lightning outside. I want to go out for a drink. I want to prove to myself I'm better off being single.

So I'm looking to get a TV for my apartment, but it seems I can only afford a 19-inch, which means I'm barely going to be able to see the damn thing. My only option for anything bigger is to get an ugly tube TV, which would be cheaper, but, well, ugly. And behind the times at that. Is it so wrong to want to join the 21st century?

Poll #1220932 TV or not TV
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

I need to get a TV for my apartment, but I'm not able to spend over $500. What should I do?

Now to spend my day at another temp agency interview. Fun. :\

Stolen from silentsgirl:

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own LJ so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them (No, I won't--that's not very nice :P)

(Note: anything with a * was read mainly for school...hell, it counts IMO. Some of those I really enjoyed anyway, some I didn't.)


( Books! )

So how did I do? Read 22 out of 100, which I guess isn't too bad, although of those 22, a little over half of those (12) were for school. There are only three I'm thinking of reading, and honestly probably not too soon. When I was younger, I was constantly reading; I really do need to read more. Now that I think of it, it's kind of sad that I don't.

Inspired by maiea's last post:

I'm listening to the Rick Dees Countdown for July 5, 1997. Savage Garden only made it to #8 that week ("I Want You" had peaked by that point), but listening to the top half of the show made me remember how I wasn't ashamed to listen to the top 40 stations back then. White Town was #7--they were one and done, but that song was around practically the entire year. Shawn Colvin, Meredith Brooks (okay, that song was a bit grating--"goddess on my knees", yeah right), Robyn, OMC "How Bizarre", Third Eye Blind, The Verve Pipe, even the Backstreet Boys and Spice Girls weren't so bad in small doses. Another reminder of how there would be one more good year for pop music before some perverted suit brought along Britney Spears (and even she was tolerable at first) and destroyed music as we knew it.

Right now, The Wallflowers are at #5. I'm still convinced that in an alternate universe, I had a huge crush on Jakob Dylan. Besides SG, that was the main song that followed me around on my road trips--and there were many--throughout 1997.

I'm too tired to make a post containing any substance, so I'm just going to give y'all an update on what I'm calling the Wes Scantlin Lust CD Mix

Puddle Of Mudd--Control
Puddle Of Mudd--Psycho
The Exies--God We Look Good (Going Down In Flames)
Seether--FMLYHM
Saving Abel--Addicted
The Dreaming--Send Me an Angel
Nickelback--Figured You Out
The Start--Gorgeous
Alice In Chains--Heaven Beside You

Just a couple more to go.

Current guilty pleasure: Poison's cover of "Sexyback". There was another band--their name began with an "R"--that covered it too, but I can't find their version anywhere. So I'll settle for Bret Michaels & Co. Even sleazier than the original--I LOVE IT! XD

Thank you everyone for the well-wishes and hugs. I know I'm doing the right thing, but sometimes I just get so down, especially after talking to my parents.

I forgot to mention something really cool that's happening this weekend: I got a guest spot on a mixshow. It's for an internet station, and I'm not getting paid, but it's still exposure and everyone has to start somewhere, right? If you have my Myspace address, you already know where it is, but if you don't, I'll post the info in a filtered entry.

I have two marketing projects today. Neither will pay until sometime next month, but the idea of money coming in, small as it may be, is always comforting.

I know it's only July 3, but I'm starting to get a little worried. Maybe it's the conversation I had with my dad tonight, about how I'm looking for work: "You get no points for trying, you only get them for actually getting a job."

To which I replied: "Do you honestly think I sit on my ass all day? I'm out there." And I am: I'm constantly calling connections, working on my resume, sending it out to temp agencies, doing whatever marketing projects I can land. I worry that it's not enough.

I wonder if it's a stupid idea to be planning that POM road trip. I'm starting to feel guilty for it.

One good thing that happened today: I had to stop by a temp agency's office to fill out a W-9. The receptionist totally squeed over my pink Franky & Minx purse. As in, dropped her fairly frosty manner and had a near fashiongasm.

Anyways, I hate to be giving the impression that I'm searching for pity, but...if I can get a note of reassurance that I'm doing the right thing, or even just a hug, I will be truly grateful.

Despite the fact that it's been 90 degrees every day since I got here, I managed to catch a cold. On a day I have an important interview plus an important contact to meet. Just ducky. Who did I piss off in the karma department?

It's a good thing I'm not going to Cruefest, eh? I'm thinking if I get enough rest when I get home I can hit the afterparty, as long as I don't drink. Hell, my limit when I drive is one anyway.

Maybe I'm burning myself out.

Accomplished during my second week:

( More than I thought, now that I've typed it all out. )

This is the book I was referring to in an earlier entry. (Warning: NSFW) I really really want to get that book.

( What I managed to do during my first week )

I'm listening to Rick Dees on The 90s on 9, where he's doing a countdown from June 21, 1997. Savage Garden were #3 that week with "I Want You." Rick talked to the bois before playing the song, pointing out it sounded greatly like some band named Reunion (forget the title) from 1974.

Uh...yeah. Really weird.

Also really weird was that I'm listening to Savage Garden doing a song I once loved so much after all these years. The day after my birthday yet. It's like having an ex-boyfriend drop in on you out of nowhere.

And now back to 2008 and my current POM fangirling. :P

P.S. In case you care, Hanson had the #1 song that week.

I'm hanging out colouring my hair. I may head off to the mall to see if I can get a Playboy wastebasket at Spencer's, and then...well, party time! Except one of my connections wants me to hang out with him for an hour or so at a wedding he's doing. I really don't want to. Any other day, I would be there with bells on, but it's my birthday today, and I truly do not want to see other people who happened to be married when I'm, uh, not.

Not that I want to be, mind you. I'm grateful for living in an era where being 40, female, and single does not mean a future of spinsterhood. Thank you Darren Star, Candace Bushnell, and the cast of Sex and the City. Especially Kim Catrell. If Samantha can be off fucking guys half her age on a whim, so can I. Well, not literally half, as I believe men under 25 aren't worth the time to undress. 30-35 seems about right. Not that they have to be younger, mind you, just be able to finish the job.

I swear I didn't get a third as many of the birthday wishes I'm currently getting on Myspace last year. All this attention is spoiling me, but I'm a princess, and I deserve it. ^_^

Today is June 21. I am now 40 years old. I am doing my best to not think of myself as middle-aged.

I was out networking earlier tonight (if you call being talking to a DJ after he was done with his trivia night networking...we chatted and exchanged cards, so I guess it counts), which made me tired for some reason. So I'm here typing and eating nachos. Tomorrow night I will party and I WILL get laid if it kills me.

A few decent leads so far, we'll see what pans out. One of them is a teen club. I think I'd rather play hip-hop for strippers, but a gig is a gig.

Here I am in my new crib in West Palm Beach, still letting it sink in that I'm really here, not just visiting. It will become more natural once I have my bed and computer desk here.

The drive was long but enjoyable, for the most part. I love driving. Yeah, flying is more convenient, but I also have to go thru security, watch what I pack, be squished in a seat, and be surrounded by screaming brats and other obnoxious creatures. Driving is just me, my music, and the open road. That's why, $4 gallon gas aside, I really want to drive when I do my POM road trip later this summer. I'll fly if I have to, but I'd just rather not.

The only drawback was Keanna in the car. Poor thing constantly cried in her carrier, despite throwing in one of my shirts and two of her toys for company. It was driving me truly batty after a while. She's a rock chick, just like her big sister, because the only time she was really quiet was when I was blasting the rock 'n roll.

The drive took the better part of three days, only because I couldn't make the office on Monday, forcing me to stop for the night in Jacksonville. Otherwise I would have made it to WPB by midnight easily.

The first night I spent in Rocky Mount, NC. Paid twice as much as I should have because I needed a hotel that would accept Keanna. She was fine in the hotel room, despite my major stupidty in forgetting something that would resemble a litter box. So I made do with throwing litter on a newspaper. It worked, I think. Then every time I would get her back in the carrier, she would spill her water so I would have to refill her bowl. Twice. Then drive me nuts with her crying. It broke my heart to hear it, but what could I do?

That aside, as I said, I love driving. It's fun to hear the various FM stations in different places. There's way too many country, hip-hop and religious stations in the Carolinas. Finding a rock station was like finding the diamond in the haystack.

I heard POM four times--three of them "Psycho". (The fourth was "Drift and Die".) No WDHTLBN.

I lost my Sonic virginity (Lumberton, NC) and Krystal virginity (forget the town, but it was Southern Georgia) on the same day. Is it a Southern tradition to not put ketchup on burgers? Krystal has better french fries than White Castle. Sonic cherry freezes rule.

I brought a cute pink lamp from Target today, the first truly homey touch. I have a feeling most of my furniture is going to be from Target, ugh. No mattress yet, hopefully tomorrow. My bedroom is still mostly boxes. I'm hoping my place looks like an apartment in another week or so.

I'm babbling so I'll end this entry now. Another long day of establishing myself tomorrow.