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| Blogs > MsStig2010 > Meanwhile Back At The Ranch |
I love you like a back alley loves crack
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I love you like a back alley loves crack That was a text I woke up to this morning. Today was slightly emotional as my grandfather's ashes were laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. Unable to join the family this week for the ceremony will be the one and only thing I regret in my life. Suffice to say, I have a few things to jot down that by no means connect other than they must have rose from the B-12 infused haze of my mind. B-12 you ask? Why yes. As a Celiac, the precious auto-immune disorder that reacts to gluten, my immune system is mildly weakened. Early on in my diagnosis I recieved regular B-12 injections to help with my digestive system but the added benefits alleviate depression, increase metabolism, and encourage proper nutrient absorption. I have been a fan of vitamins from an early age, perhaps the Flinstone vitamins trained me. After a recent stint taking pre-natal vitamins for the added iron and to help add luster to my hair I realized I probably did myself more harm than good. You see ladies, pre-natals seem to trigger something in your body that says, " Hey! Added nutrients?! Let's make a baby!" However a baby is not in the plan and the baby making craziness was not working for me. So I've switched over to a new vitamin regime which seems to be working out well and not sending false signals to my uterus. Except that my mind seems to be in continuous motion. I just saw a commercial for a Cuisinart blender that has 3, yes 3 temperature settings so you can go from easy blending, to making soup, to frozen smoothies in the same damn vehicle. It's shit like that which makes me all dreamy eyed about a wedding registry. Yet, as a grown ass woman with income, why not buy it myself? I think I'll create the single gal registry. Honey, when a single gal just has too much fabulosity, such as myself these days, for one man to handle it's time to buy myself the nice things in life. Like a blender you can make soup or margaritas in. Yet as I write the aformentioned of course Christina Perri's " A Thousand Years" comes into rotation on my Itunes. As much as I enjoy being single, because the majority of my adult life has been spent solo and slutting it up, I'm still holding out that there will be an epic romance and even more awesome marriage in my cards. I'd be a great wife. I mean come on, I cook excellent meals I clean like nobody's business, and I've reared ( yes, reared people. You raise corn, not ) my 2 dogs which are essentially my with love and patience. I have wifey material written all over me. And the absence of a gag reflex is an added bonus! Speak of which, I've realized that little trick will need to be tucked away on top shelf for the next poor bastard who dates me. Better not unload all the goods, right? Why buy the cow if she's giving the milk for free? But....the satisfaction of a job well done is too hard to resist. Lana Del Ray has been on my radar for a few months now. I think her performance on SNL didn't warrant the reaction it recieved. Then again, any hauntingly sensuous artists always speak volumes to me. Greg Laswell's rendition of " Girl's Just Want To Have Fun" just sends chills down my spine, and my hear melts for Straight No Chaser's version of ," Can't Take My Eyes Off You." I'm a sucker for a vocalist. I always had a thing for guys in bands or the occasional choir nerd. Ironically, although the Queen Fag Hag my gay-dar in high school wasn't so finely tuned. Hence my years were spent chasing men with amazing voices who would later come out of the closet balls ablazing. I know how to pick 'em. For some reason, and I'm not sure why, I have this aching desire to be face down on someone's couch with my ass in the air, Priscilla in all her lovely-ness inviting a rather sizable cock. An aggressive fuck without apology, something primal with hair pulling, spanking, and perhaps oh just perhaps some episodes of my name sake. Some day. The time it has taken me to finish this post is simply unacceptable. I've been getting up to fuss at my and chase her down with some antibiotic spray for this little patch of irritated skin she continues to lick and the sound is driving me nuts. I've been picking clothes out for work tomorrow so there are now 4, yes friends 4, outfits out for tomorrow. I've also been shuffling around my itunes attempting to find the least sappy music to listen to yet I'm going back to Bayside's acoustic album.And now The Civil Wars' "20 Years" is playing. ::: Le sigh::: time to weep into my pillow, and get some sleep. I bet a 100$ if I woke up with a 9 inch cock tomorrow I wouldn't be this emotional. All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be. |
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1/19/2012 5:37 am |
love to chat with you sometime
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My condolences, belated, about your grandfather. And the vitamins. But not the sexual imagery. Smart as a horse and hung like Einstein.
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