little thrill #2

when a woman has hair just long enough to put up, thereby exposing her beautiful long neck.

ahhh. so damn enticing.

wanna play?

ok. i'm gonna start writing a story and then at some point, i will stop and i hope the next visitor/blogger will pick it up and carry story on. either post it in the comments or carry it to your blog. i hope you will join me. i think it will be neat to see where the story goes...and what creative minds we have out there....say as much or as little as you want.



>>They sat at the small table in the crowded restaurant. Even at 9:30pm, the place was still fairly packed, although not too noisy. A near empty second bottle of Girard Petite Syrah stood on the table, next to the nearly fading, white, non-scented candle. She swirled the last bit of wine in her riedel glass. The delicate flame from the candle was illuminating what last little bit of red she had left. She looked across the table and said, "i've got to go to the restroom, i'll be right back."

She walked toward the back of the restuarant, passing the hostess who looked like she had just arrived. Her make-up looked fresh, not one strand of hair was out of place. How can that be, she mused to herself as she walked by. She sighed and made her way into the ladies room. It seemed empty and she was thankful. She went over to the sink with the golden colored faucet. The warm water felt soothing on her hands. She turned off the faucet, grabbed the white cloth from the brown wicker basket and dried her hands.
She looked up and started to slow her drying as she saw herself in the mirror.



(i hope u will pick it up from here....)

it's the little things that thrill

i absolutely love watching a beautiful woman put make-up on. sexy, sensual, hot.

(i am not even in to make-up. it's the ACT...)

mini-mini rant

can i just say that I really don't like doing that 'word verification' thing that some of ya'll have on your site. i always get tit wrong the first time. geez, are my eyes THAT bad.

Information: Part I

As I have mentioned before, I do not know my father. All I know is his first and last name. As is typical in my situation, I vacillate between wanting to try to find him and then not wanting to find him. Of course those usual questions arise such as: what will he look like? what will he be like? what will he do? will he turn away? is he a psycho-killer? is he a junkie? is he rich? will he want money from me?? Would he be someone I would want to spend time with? Does he have other children?

And then, of course, i sometimes think “well, why hasn’t he tried to find me?”
Maybe he has.

Maybe be has been unsuccessful since i do not bear his last name. The way the story was told to me by my grandmother was that he and my mother had a parting of the ways after she caught him in bed with another woman. And in spite, my mother gave me my brothers’ father’s last name. Now, listen. I’m not saying that is actually what happened. This is the story i was told by grandma who had a propensity to tell stories, and which i frequently questioned. However, knowing how much pride my mother had, I would not put it past her to do such a thing. Back then, i never had a choice as to what name i wanted. But, i am actually glad she have me the name i have. it’s much more interesting and always proves difficult for people to pronounce and misspell. And people always think i’m Italian, which i am not. Lots of questions always go through my mind: How am I like him? What physical characteristics do we share? Did I get my althletic ability from him? Would he like me? Would he be proud of me?

Dad. Pop. Daddy. Father. Papa

What would it have been like to grow up with a father? How might my life have been different? Better? Different. I cannot help but wonder how the lack of such a figure in my life has helped shape who i am. I think back to how there was a heavy concentration of men surrounding my early years, and yet not a single one of them was anything close to a father figure. Not a single one of them had qualities i would desire in a father. The men surrounding my life were criminals, drug addicts, thieves, gang members, jobless, and ambition-less. I surely did not look up to the uncle who frequently tried to stick his tongue down my throat or the one who was jobless, still lived with his mother, watched TV all day and sucked down beer after beer all night. I also did not look up to my cousins who were in gangs, hurting people, maybe even killing people, knocking up girls and using drugs. I looked in their eyes, stood in their presence and saw nothing to be proud of, nothing to look up to, nothing to admire, nothing i wanted to be near. Who did i look up to? Who did i admire?

Reflections

Yesterday, I was caught in a moment that left me feeling a bit teary and I did not know why. Here is what happened. As per usual, I stopped in at Starbucks in the early evening. I was in my own little world, having finished work and in a bit of a daze. It wasn't until the little young girl spoke that I came out of my daze. She says to the barista, "Can I have THAT chocolate chip cookie?" I looked at THAT cookie and saw the size of it. It was huge. I thought of saying to the girl, "wow, that cookie is almost as big as you are." But, I didn't. She was with an older, taller girl (but still young) who looked like she was her sister. Then, little girl asks the barista, "how much are your IZZE drinks?
Barista reply, "I don’t know. I have to scan it" Little girl walks over to the drinks and asks, which one is the cheapest.
Barista reply, "they are all the same." Little girl picks out the one she wanted and barista rung up her items.
As little girl unfolded the waded up dollars in her hand, she heard the total and said, "oh, I don’t have enough. I will have to put the drink back."

In a total spontaneous moment, I said, "oh, I'll get it." The little girl looked at me and was going to hand me the drink as though she thought I was going to buy it for myself. I said, "no, I'll get it for you." It was a little jumbled. She looked confused, the barista looked confused, the other girl looked confused. After payment was made and everything settled, older girl says to me in her wide, brace-laden smile, "that was very nice. Thank you."
Then to her sister (?) "did you say thank you?" Little girl thanks me and they move on. I then ordered a tall half regualr, half decaf coffee and as I do so, I realize I feel such tenderness. My eyes water. The Barista fella just smiles at me.

Why did this moment touch me so? As the evening went on and I went about my business, it came to me when I wasn't even thinking of it…I knew why…

Because as so many things have been on my mind lately, one of those things is family and connection and the absense of blood-related family. I am struck by the not new realization that this is it for me. No kids. Nothing of me will go on. No trait or characteristic solely belonging to me will be passed to anyone else. Of course, I made a decision long ago that I never wanted to bear a child. I have never wanted the experience of being pregnant. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of adopting a child. Well, unless I come into some windfall of money, that will not happen either. Perhaps because of my age, 36, I am realizing some of the lost opportunities. I do not regret my choice to not want to give birth, but this does not mean that I don't feel loss of that opportunity to care for and teach and nuture and love a little human being as they make their way into this world.
I know there are plenty of other ways to be involved in a childs life, but its not the same. And there are other things involved too. I have never known my father and my mother is deceased and I was THEIR only offspring. So, truly, I am it. Something about that stoppage is sad to me.
I envy people who have long lineages. People who truly can talk about their family tree, their history. It's neat and valuable, in my opinion.

With every choice, we are making a decision that will involve loss and gain. Sometimes, I don’t think we realize what we lose, yet it seems we see the gains so soon. In a perfect world, I would have had the money and the stability both inner and outer, to adopt a child when I was a it younger. Of course, there would be no physical charateristics, but I would have had an opportunity to be a part of a life in a very unique way.

This is all sort of coming from who knows where…thanks for listening.

Machete me in two, my love
For like the thin blade
I make myself thin and
Stradle the tightrope
Caught between the worlds of
Leaving & Staying
Pressing or Abandoning
Taking Care &
Caring for

Let the tip of the blade
Poke just underneath my chin
As the chill it would surely cause
Is the same as i sit here now
With my vodka glass, worn eyes
And a shakily written letter to you,
My love,
Crease and tear me down the middle
Leave the edges jagged
For surely,
That is how I will be
Jagged, rugged,
Bent, even
From the time of cowardice
That yanked, shook and shaped me
Into a person who could not jump
But only be pushed.

uurrrr

I seldom vent on this blog, but this is a vent today directed at the coffee shop employees, customers in the deli line and in the grocery line.

1)Don’t stand and talk to your co-workers about personal things while customers are waiting. They should be your first priority. It is especially rude if you make eye contact with customer, and CONTINUE to chat away with co-worker!

2)Don't stand there and chit-chat with customers about their hair, their dog, the weather or your boyfriend while other customers are waiting. (it's wonderful that you are being friendly, but while you are being oh so nice to customer A, customer B, C, D, E etc.. Are getting angry


3)Don’t be on the phone while you are trying to order from the DELI

4)Don't get all the way up to the DELI person asking for your order and THEN decide what you want

5)Don't wait until your large grocery bill has been tallied before you decide to THEN open your purse and dig around for your check