Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Things I shouldn't say, period

Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Ok, trying not to panic
Been trying to e-mail the one guy tonight, because I haven't heard from him, and I just wanted to find out what's up, etc., and neither of my e-mail addresses are going through. Instead, I'm getting this:
Posted by Broad9:08 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Ne mas! Ne mas!
Over on Gawker, my link to all things NYC, it links to an article put out by the N.Y. Press about the underground fetish world may or may not be excited about the RNC being in the city. No shocker there; after all, I tend to agree that the more repressed someone is, the more fucked-up the shit they're into is. But anyway, so the author naturally does his interviewing at some of the fetish clubs and discovers there's a practice called the "pink shower." Go over there and find out what it is. I dare ya.
Posted by Broad7:49 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
The lust that shouldn’t speak its name
So I have talked to Mer a couple times since she got back to Brooklyn; she's fine, although exhausted from a) her visit, b) her winding down from some personal crap she was dealing with before she came out and c) from Rebecca finally moving out and into the downstairs apartment (so it's like she hasn't really left, but at least Mer has her own new furniture in her crib. Meanwhile, Rebecca has yet to call about getting a phone hooked up or utilities switched, so Mer is making sure to enjoy as much air conditioning as humanly possible. Can't say I wouldn't do the same.). The thing that freaks me out? Apparently, the physical relations were such that she actually wants to hit it with our pal again.

(shudders)

Why does this affect me in any way, shape or form? It doesn't; I mean, whatever it takes to get your rocks off, right? And it helped her feel better about her stuff going on at home, so good on him. I'm still just irrritated that he was such a giant jackass to me when she was here that I'm just like, ick. It's like, I set the deal up, so you can at least not a) screw in my house, like I asked you not to, and b) not try to push my buttons over and over and over until I want to poke your eyes out with my pen.
Posted by Broad7:39 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Man, my boobs hurt
Jeez, you'd think I was knocked up or something. Good Lord. I'm NOT, but ... wow. I liked it better when they were smaller.

The mood is slightly less crabby today -- had a good time at the luau last night (although can I say getting high with your soon-to-be 26 year-old former neighbor that you used to crack upside the head for being a dillhole when you were kids? Tres surreal), got my hair pruned and touched up today and just had dinner and muy strawberry margaritas with Kaffy and her Winston, who was quite lovely and rather hot in a distinguished sort of way. Didn't get to swing home and pick up the camera, so photos of the damn ugliest Hawaiian shirt on the face of the planet (tm) are still forthcoming.

But crabby's crabby, so I'll leave you with a song:
Posted by Broad6:24 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, August 09, 2004
Sinister ending to an otherwise fantastic week
Well, Mer got off to the airport in one piece yesterday morning at -- oh, I guess it was something like 6:30-ish a.m. when I got her there, still somewhat reeling from my booze and pill-addled nightmare earlier Saturday. I'm not going to be more specific, other than to say that:

1) No, I did NOT OD on anything, but while I'm not turning into a raging pillhead, improper use of pharmaceuticals can be a damn good time;
2) I did something I've never done before and thought I never would: go out on a boat drunk and without a lifepreserver. After I got over the initial terror of holding the seat for dear life, it was all Kate Winslet-stylee for me (except this time, I held onto the windshield for dear life; I don't swim very well, and I bet I really wouldn't swim well drunk); and
3) In what can be described as a kind of drunken girlie hissyfit, I left Mer in a strange setting with people she didn't really know, and for that, I'm horribly, horribly sorry.

So there you go. There were no scenes out of The Accused going on or anything -- Deliverance, maybe, but nobody got hurt. I'll post more pictures later.
Posted by Broad5:14 AM • (0) Trackbacks
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It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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