Rants and Raves Because I’m Procrastinating Again

7 10 2008

I have a feeling that these procrastination posts might become a regular thing on my blog. Because when I have a six page paper due tomorrow, the only thing I can think of to do is blog! :D

Which is not good.

My back hurts. I blame X. We’ve fucked on my bed enough now that it squeaks. It didn’t used to do that but I guess give it two months of rough sex and things like that happen. And the walls in my apartment are ungodly thin. Like I can hear everything that goes on in the living room thin. Despite the fact that my bed is against two outside walls, the squeaky bed makes X nervous or something probably because of my thin walls. So his new thing is to throw my comforter on the floor and fuck on that.

My floor is hard. X is not exactly Mr. Dainty. I HURT.

Get me a tool set and some 151…..no wait……that’s the shit that makes my tongue go numb……..WD40 and I will make my bed not squeak. Until then, I guess I get fucked on the floor. Which was fun at first but the novelty is wearing off with the development of aches in my back.

In class today, I learned I’m a total and utter loser. We were given a ditto with 13 questions about John Locke’s Second Treatise on Government. I answered every single one in detail without once opening my book. My group was done in ten minutes. It’s really sad that I know that piece of writing so well.

It’s just as sad that I’m planning on naming my first son Locke. Yes. I am a political philosophy nerd. Yes. I am a freak. ::bows and exits stage right::

In less amusing news, I’m anxiously awaiting my period. I missed last month but didn’t tell X because I didn’t want him to worry. I’m on a pill where it’s not uncommon to miss periods, and I’ve also been really stressed. So it’s probably that. But I still worry. So, by this time next week I’ll either be happy or panicking with X over buying a test.

And the part that scares me the most is that I may be pro-choice all the way and gung ho, but I personally would choose life because I don’t think I could ever live with the decision. The only grey area is what I would actually do about it all. Which is scary. And I don’t even want to think that way.

And honestly I highly doubt I am. I’m just a natural worrier.

And I should be writing my philosophy paper on Aristotle and blah and bleh and other shit. But I’m lazy. And I don’t like the prompt. I want to say fuck it and make my own but I would not get a good grade with that. Sigh.

Snippets #6

6 08 2008

X: You know first hand how amazing I am, babe.
Z: Oh really? Do I?
X: Yes.
Z: And what is this first hand experience with your supposed awesomeness?
X: Sigh…..
Z: What? Why the sigh, dear?
X: You know what I’m awesome at hun.
Z: I know. But it’s fun to tease you. ;)
X: So honestly, do you miss that?
Z: That? What’s that? That can mean a lot of things, be more specific dear.
X: Do you miss me fucking your brains out?
Z: Of course. I miss it a lot. Why?
X: Just been thinking about you today.
Z: Oh really? And what have you been thinking about?
X: Hey now….
Z: What? I was just curious! Lol. And you’re the one who was thinking whatever you were thinking. Not me.
X: Going to tell me you haven’t thought about ducking me recently?
Z: Nope. I haven’t thought of ‘ducking’ you recently. What is ducking? Sounds dirty.
X: Sigh……
Z: Yes. I have thought about fucking you. More than I really should.
X: I know….
Z: Do you miss it?
X: Yea. I do.
Z: Why?
X: Why? Lol. You were really good.
Z: You were good too, at least I thought so. Though I don’t have much to judge by.
X: True. But you seemed to cum a few times. Lol.
Z: Very true. ;)
X: And really hard the one time……
Z: Oh god…….that was fun.
X: I know. You screamed so loud…..
Z: Did I? I honestly don’t remember what I did.
X: That was what I was going for. Lol.
Z: Really?
X: I liked to see that look on your face.
Z: Too bad for you. Probably won’t ever see it again.


Can someone please explain to me why this boy and I are no longer fucking? It’s driving me bonkers.

Clap on, Clap off

6 08 2008

I never understood the big deal about having sex with the lights on.

I guess it’s kind of like how I was introduced to shots without chasers. So when ever I take shots now, even if it’s straight 151, I decline the Pepsi or Gatorade offered to me. It just seems odd not to savor the burning warmth that courses down my throat and numbs my mouth. That’s what I get for learning to party like a frat boy.

X never made a big deal about the lights. The first time I had sex was in the murky darkness of dusk. But we made a habit of fucking in the mornings with light shining through my window, or with my lamp on, or in his room with the overhead light on. I learned to love the fact that my body wasn’t perfect but that it still looked pretty damn good when we fucked. And X was no god, either. He was tall and lanky, skinny without much muscle, and a bit hairy. But I loved seeing him. I loved being able to see his clear blue eyes as he went down on me, or the mole on his hip when I went down on him. It was nice to turn the lights off and let touch be our main sense every once and a while. But I still preferred sex with the lights on.

I don’t get the problem so many people apparently have with well-lit sex. I mean, I’ve read in countless women’s magazines about being daring and lighting candles or leaving a small lamp on to provide soft, complimentary light. Complimentary light? What? Come on. If the guy is in bed with you already then I think the last thing he’s really thinking about is any flaws you think you have.

When I have a guy on top of me the last thing that comes to mind is the pudge on my belly, or the little bit of extra I have on my hips, or even my thighs. I don’t care if I’m shaved or not. Or if I smell like I walked out of the shower five minutes ago or if I just came back from playing tennis for an hour. All I care about is the guy on top of me. And that’s the way things should be.

I guess I’m just sick of people telling me they’re afraid what their boyfriend/girlfriend/fuckbuddy thinks of their body. It gets old.

(And a note. I’m not some totally self-sure sexgoddess. I have my insecurites and body image issues. Just not when I’m fucking someone.)


Picky picky

28 07 2008

Alright, I admit it. I’m quite picky when it comes to men.

Which might be one of my biggest problems when it comes to finding anyone. It doesn’t help that I live in a pretty much dead city inhabited by wannabe ganstas and fat italian assholes.

Would you like a description of the last boy who offered to buy me a drink at the bar? He was about 4 or 5 inches shorter than me, reddish/brown hair, around twenty peircings in his ears, dressed like a gangster, with ratty cornrows and braids. He made K-Fed look good. Really good. I humored him and let him dance with me a bit, though I kept pulling his hands back to my hips as he tried to go lower. (you’ve gotta fit the bill before I let you go anywhere) After I finally got sick of him pawing at me, I did my patented detatch-hands-turn-to-the-side-I’m-done-dancing-now move. He leered at me, asked me how tall I was, then asked if he could get me a drink. I told him I was fine, not mentioning that I really didn’t feel like getting roofied that night.

Those are usually the type of guys that hit on me. Gag.

I like my guys tall, intelligent and just a tad geeky. X fit the bill perfectly, no lie. But very few people in my hometown could fall into more than one of those categories. Guys around here just are not tall. Instead of hot Italian and Greek studs, we get the short, fat, balding ones. Seriously.

I’ve yet to find a good place to pick up the hot/cute/geeky/tall boys. The bars around here just bring out the creepers. Anyone have any suggestions?  


27 07 2008

I’m such an idiot.

I got drunk Friday night. Really drunk. And I talked to X. I don’t know why I did it. But I did. And I wasn’t ready to talk to him. So now I’m upset and crying again. And everything is reminding of him and I hate it.

I hate that one boy can turn me to jelly in so many ways.

I had a problem with X. I couldn’t really say no to him. And as much as I had him wrapped around my little finger, he had me wrapped around his. I’d get him to bring me dinner and watch Gossip Girl and ANTM with me. And all he had to do was kiss my neck or slide his hand along my thigh or whisper something dirty in my ear and I’d fall into his arms. I was addicted to him as much as he was to me.

And even though I hate his guts right now, everytime I think of him, I think of riding him, or kissing him, or just laying in his arms. And I hate it because I want him so badly. But he chose the dumbass, short, clingy girlfriend over me.

And it doesn’t help that I’m really horny and I need to get laid badly. Even when we weren’t seeing each other we cybered via AIM or texts and it kept me occupied. Now. Nothing. Gah.