Tomorrow, October 31: Halloween. Candy. Orthodontist appointment. (Maybe I'll grow a pair large enough to flirt with my sexy new orthodontist, and even ask him out.)
November 1: Day-after-Halloween sale on candy.
November 2: I have two tickets to "Spring Awakening". I also still don't have someone to take (Charlie's not calling me back for some reason), so if you know anyone... Or maybe I can hire an escort.
November 10: Date with charming guy I met on Lovetastic.
Thanksgiving: Roommate's going out of town. Excuse to eat tons of cranberry sauce.
First week of December: One year anniversary at the Job. Promotion? Raise? Both highly likely.
Christmas: Entire week off of work. Who wants to rendezvous in Aruba?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Dirty Dancing With The Stars
I've never really watched "Dancing with the Stars" before, but this season I find myself just sucked in by it every time I switch to ABC during commercial breaks of "How I Met Your Mother". I don't know if it's the quality of performances or the lust I feel for some of the guys strutting their stuff.
I mean, that cute little blond guy who dances with Kelly Taylor (sorry, Jenny Garth)? Every time I see him I just want to bend him over and...
And Cameron Matheson? I'd bend over for him!
I mean, that cute little blond guy who dances with Kelly Taylor (sorry, Jenny Garth)? Every time I see him I just want to bend him over and...
And Cameron Matheson? I'd bend over for him!
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
Miscellaneous Updates
I saw Hung Bleach Blonde Guy at my secret place today, and he actually talked to me for a bit. He could have easily avoided me, pretended he didn't see me, or acted like he didn't recognize/remember me. But he was the one to first say hello, and we had a short conversation. It's probably not the best for my obsessive personality, but again, he seems like a genuinely nice guy. Maybe he'll email me back this time.
(Side note: Anonymous brought up a pretty good point in his comment to "Just Sex?" when he suggested I'm afraid of being really hurt, so I fixate on fantasies. It's quite possible, though I'm not so sure if real hurt can feel much worse than what I felt the last time I saw HBBG with someone else.)
Also, Sharona called me again today. She wanted to wish me a happy birthday and said she sent me something to my apartment in _________ (she named my neighborhood). Though she's a day early, it really freaked me out that she knows when my birthday is and what neighborhood I live in. Granted, I probably told the Ukranian what part of town I live in, but I don't remember mentioning my birthday. She also said she wanted to jump out of a cake if only I would answer the phone. It's obviously a joke now, but I still get shaken up when she calls, and I have no idea who could be behind it. I accused Charlie, the only one who knew about him, my birthday, my neighborhood, etc., and he insists it's not him. It's still a mystery, and not one that I'm having any fun with anymore.
(Side note: Anonymous brought up a pretty good point in his comment to "Just Sex?" when he suggested I'm afraid of being really hurt, so I fixate on fantasies. It's quite possible, though I'm not so sure if real hurt can feel much worse than what I felt the last time I saw HBBG with someone else.)
Also, Sharona called me again today. She wanted to wish me a happy birthday and said she sent me something to my apartment in _________ (she named my neighborhood). Though she's a day early, it really freaked me out that she knows when my birthday is and what neighborhood I live in. Granted, I probably told the Ukranian what part of town I live in, but I don't remember mentioning my birthday. She also said she wanted to jump out of a cake if only I would answer the phone. It's obviously a joke now, but I still get shaken up when she calls, and I have no idea who could be behind it. I accused Charlie, the only one who knew about him, my birthday, my neighborhood, etc., and he insists it's not him. It's still a mystery, and not one that I'm having any fun with anymore.
Milestone
A couple of weeks ago--he says, realizing that many of his posts begin this way and vowing to try to be more timely with updates--I hit a major milestone in my career.
No, I didn't get a promotion.
No, I didn't get a raise.
No, I didn't file my first sexual harassment suit.
I bought my first official book, all on my own.
Not only that, but it's by my favorite writer of EVER, someone whom I tracked down at my previous job (the one that fired me last year) and reconnected with in August. I read her new book, loved it, and negotiated a two-book deal. She's now my author.
This, my friends, is what every editor dreams of: working with his favorite author. And to think I'm really only starting out. Can it get any better than this? I still get teary-eyed every time I think about it.
No, I didn't get a promotion.
No, I didn't get a raise.
No, I didn't file my first sexual harassment suit.
I bought my first official book, all on my own.
Not only that, but it's by my favorite writer of EVER, someone whom I tracked down at my previous job (the one that fired me last year) and reconnected with in August. I read her new book, loved it, and negotiated a two-book deal. She's now my author.
This, my friends, is what every editor dreams of: working with his favorite author. And to think I'm really only starting out. Can it get any better than this? I still get teary-eyed every time I think about it.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Just Sex?
What is it that makes me fixate on certain people and not others? Allow me to illustrate this with an example...
So I have this kind of secret place in my neighborhood where I go to sunbathe nude. (Don't ask me where cuz if I tell you then it wouldn't be a secret anymore.) It's kind of--ok, VERY--cruisy, and sometimes, I admit, I might partake in the festivities, if the guy is hot enough. Or I'm horny enough. But mostly I just go to bake since I feel less self conscious taking most, if not all, of my clothes off.
About a month and a half ago, there was a guy on the rock just downriver from me, and I was mighty interested in seeing what he had. Long story short, I wound up on his rock, both of us naked and stroking (he was super hung). It didn't last very long, neither of us came, and we kept being interrupted anyway. We only spoke about five sentences to each other, and yet I haven't been able to get him out of my head. I wanted to give him my number when I left but chickened out. I saw him again two weekends ago with another guy and got insanely jealous and depressed. I'm not sure why, really, especially considering it's what goes on there.
There's more to the story about Craigslist postings and ignored emails, but the point is that I've become virtually obsessed with this near perfect manly specimen of bleach blonde goodness.
Yet I met another cute guy online last weekend and ultimately had anal intercourse with him (which I almost never do). He was a nice, intelligent, attractive, well-built guy, but after we were done and he said he doesn't like to repeat tricks, I was okay. Not distraught in the least.
But Hung Bleach Blonde Guy? Crushed. Devastated. Unreasonably attached and torn asunder.
In the end, I guess it's not really that I have so much of a problem separating sex and emotions like I once thought I did. But I still don't understand why I'm inexplicably smitten with someone I barely talked to while I could care less about someone with whom I was as intimate as I could get. Hormones or pheromones, maybe? Could it be that Hung Bleach Blonde Guy is The One?
See, there I go again...
So I have this kind of secret place in my neighborhood where I go to sunbathe nude. (Don't ask me where cuz if I tell you then it wouldn't be a secret anymore.) It's kind of--ok, VERY--cruisy, and sometimes, I admit, I might partake in the festivities, if the guy is hot enough. Or I'm horny enough. But mostly I just go to bake since I feel less self conscious taking most, if not all, of my clothes off.
About a month and a half ago, there was a guy on the rock just downriver from me, and I was mighty interested in seeing what he had. Long story short, I wound up on his rock, both of us naked and stroking (he was super hung). It didn't last very long, neither of us came, and we kept being interrupted anyway. We only spoke about five sentences to each other, and yet I haven't been able to get him out of my head. I wanted to give him my number when I left but chickened out. I saw him again two weekends ago with another guy and got insanely jealous and depressed. I'm not sure why, really, especially considering it's what goes on there.
There's more to the story about Craigslist postings and ignored emails, but the point is that I've become virtually obsessed with this near perfect manly specimen of bleach blonde goodness.
Yet I met another cute guy online last weekend and ultimately had anal intercourse with him (which I almost never do). He was a nice, intelligent, attractive, well-built guy, but after we were done and he said he doesn't like to repeat tricks, I was okay. Not distraught in the least.
But Hung Bleach Blonde Guy? Crushed. Devastated. Unreasonably attached and torn asunder.
In the end, I guess it's not really that I have so much of a problem separating sex and emotions like I once thought I did. But I still don't understand why I'm inexplicably smitten with someone I barely talked to while I could care less about someone with whom I was as intimate as I could get. Hormones or pheromones, maybe? Could it be that Hung Bleach Blonde Guy is The One?
See, there I go again...
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