Mandatory Sex at the CNE

I have been surfing the internet learning about the after effects of sex.
What I mean by this, I have been looking for information regarding how "sexy" your body becomes to others when they subconsciously realize that you have had sex.
I have heard some say that after having sex, people seem like more sexual beings - even more attractive than before, but with no real changes - aside from the fact that they have had sex. Perhaps that their self esteem has moved up a notch? Perhaps the exercise and sweating has given them a glow? Maybe they are just smiling more? I guess it could be some combo of the above.

I can tell that I feel different after having sex. I always do. Things seem a little nicer, I have a little more bounce in my step. Things are generally less dull.

Too bad you can't just bottle up some of this "post sex euphoria" and put it in the back of the closet for those dead days of February. Of course, if you could do this, then having sex would become inconsequential. We would have a bottle of "our best" and then never attempt to surpass that again, or would we? Depends on who among us is satisfied with what is as opposed to what could be.

The internet has proven less than helpful in my pursuit of this information. The only things I could find were a study on how gay male pheromones attracted other gay males, as opposed to straight males or females ( go figure) and the other was a site for women who did ecstasy and were sluts. Great information for me.

I only looked around for about 30 minutes, but I think we all need to seriously work on this. We need to start a study to see if it is true. Does sex make us better people? And if so - then should it not be mandatory, like the census, voting or vaccinations.

People would go line up at "mandatory sex clinic" held at maybe the CNE or something. You would give proof that you have had sex in the last year - if you had any. If you had no proof, then maybe some sort of little soiree room where you would find your partner and retire to one of the beautifully decorated cubicles behind the fire exit doors.

Sounds like a plan - I am sure that there are lots of people who would greet this "mandatory" event as blessing of sorts. Maybe people would even prep for it, go to the gym, shave what needs to be shaved, buy new underpants.

Oh wait, this is what singles dances and the internet are for.
Damn. Great idea too late.

Go and get laid right now.

That Jerk

*The title of this entry doesn't actually represent my dear friend who I affectionately call Jerk. Though the term is almost exclusively held for him, I do occasionally have other people in mind when I use it. Hence ....



You know what I hate about people? I hate that everyone knows what's best for you, but not for themselves ( myself included). I hate that what seems so obvious to the rest of the planet is the one thing that you just can't figure out for yourself - at least 9 out of 10 times.

Oh and I hate when we all say so matter of factly what it is to the oblivous soul. I may well be the worst of these offenders. I just figure if someone is saying " just tell me - and I will get better" - that is what they really want to hear. This is of course where the trouble starts. Trouble always starts with the truth.


Reasons the Truth is the last thing you should say:

1/ Said person just doesn't believe that anyone can figure them out. We are all fucking mysteries wrapped in riddles surrounded in rhymes and boxed as enigmas. Let me just say, that if this is the case, then no one is special. Oh wait, no one IS special. We are just a piece of shit like the rest of the planet. Oh - I digressed into an angry tirad, let me apoligize and continue in a respectable manner.

2/ Said person believes you. Then whatever they do next - good, bad or just plain disgusting, becomes your responsibility. If your friend says " I know he is going to dump me" (like a million times a day for 6 weeks solid) - and just because you can't take the pity party anymore - you agree. Then the boyfriend flies into town - and breaks up with your friend. Now you are partially to blame for this momentary lapse of hurtfulness ( is it a word? fuck look it up for all I care - you know what i mean).

3/ Said person just gets pissed. They didn't want the truth, your truth. They didn't want anything other that to remain oblivious, cuz they figured out before you - they knowing the truth destroys them a little inside.




4/ Said person ignores the truth and continues along her merry way. Ignoring every piece of proof that says - "They are right", "Get over it -move on".


It just means that admitting you don't know everything to someone who just irks you - well that is too hard a task in some cases.

Stupid Bookworm. Couldn't you just leave well enough alone? We all know you were right. Just drop it - and let me lick my wounds.

I have just spent the last hour trying how to figure out how to remove an embarrassing post. I recently was told by my solid that he has found the site. He wasn't being a bitch about it, just telling me - decent enough. Up until now, I haven't been too concerned about what I write here, and I don't think I am going to start now.

I was of course, trying to retract it, but can't seem to make it work. I am more shamed by the sappiness of the post than anything else. And if you read some of these posts, maybe I should be shamed by more than just the one.

They don't seem like anything out of the ordinary to you - but I am a very private person. I don't express my feelings often if they are the deeper ones. It is just how I have always functioned. It has probably - no scratch that - most definitely hindered me in my life. But letting go, isn't something that I do very well.

This little bog thing has really given me the chance to go on about things in a way that I would not with people. I can reflect on it, and read any comments, not that I get many of those though.
I think of it as an experiment where I just let stuff go. When it doesn't come back and destroy my entire life, I will have overcome something.

Hopefully, this will also stop me from this ridiculous life of a holding pattern. Waiting for the thing that will change my whole life. I think I have realized that this is no way to live.

Or have I ?

May Run

Long weekend. No plans to speak of. What to do. Truth be told, I would love to sit here in my room all weekend, play Catan, download music and do as much drugs as possible. Of course, my mature left brain suggests this is a stupid idea. Counter-productive in the "new" me plan.

What would I do instead of this? Now that is the better question. I would like to have some sex, but there are several factors working against me, these primarily are access and availability.

As far as I can see, the delivery guy who comes to our card nights - is the most interested person I know. Or that university kid. Lets break these two down.

1/ Delivery guy.

He flirts, he smiles. Very polite and very appreciative of the tip. Mexican - is that a race that is known for being a good lover? I don't know. My uncle dates and woman who is half Mexican, half native. He seems pretty happy with her. Otherwise, I have no idea. Of course, he is older and not necessarily my type of man. Sometimes it is all mind over matter in these sort of "emergency" affairs. Right?

2/ Aerospace Engineer guy
Now, I have been refusing this boy for nearly a year. I have spoken to him online a million times, and even have his phone number. He is 22 and looking for someone to teach him the ways of the sex. Really, everyone tells me I am crazy to not explore this. I can see why they would react this way. He is like a clean canvas waiting to be painted.
The only problem with this, is well, it is almost too easy. And what if his tender heart wants more? I don't think I would date a boy so young. Too many problems and lifestyle differences, I am pretty sure he doesn't do much besides school. Since he is always available to talk to me.

There you have it. Happy long weekend Canucks.

Number of the beast

So, I have discovered that the true apocolyspe is upon us. I am not a religious person by any means (unless you consider my complete and total refusal of the idea of religion - as a religion in itself) but I think it is time to pay attention none the less.
I have listened to people talk about the year 2000, then 2001, then 2003 ( Nostradamus picked September 11, 2001 I heard somewhere else)... So on. Everytime one of these days passes, then a new day miraculously appears. We all have to prepare for the hereafter. Prepare. It's not too late to repent for your sins. Jesus loves you - he'll forgive you too - if you do the moon walk or something. But here we all stand.
No balls of fire from the sky, no sinkholes eating entire towns, no blood flooding our schoolyards and malls.


Bah. Fuck that. At least that is what I have always said in my head, out loud, pretty much everywhere. But now I may be changing my tune. I think I have discovered the true "day of reckoning".
I am by no means prepared. I haven't repented. I can't even dance that well. I am cursed. There is no time to worry about this. We all have to stop and pray and prepare. For the time is upon us.

June 6th, 2006.
This is the day. Mark my words. It is best if you all just agree now, and begin.
We haven't long.
Time to forgive and forget.
Time to burn the porn collection, wipe that hard drive clean.
Time to acknowledge your illegitimate children.
Time to return those library books.
Time to turn yourself in for stealing that street sign.
Call your mom.
Call your priest.
Call your dance instructor.

Satan is coming to claim us all.
Hallelujah.

Pete Doherty

Ok - so this is the guy I should be dating. He is a complete mess, fabulously.

I have been reading about this guy since the whole Kate Moss Cokes Out Debacle.

He is the newest version of Sid Vicious or Kurt Cobain.

Today he was at MTV - shot up heroin in front of the crew, then took a syringe of his blood and squirted it at the camera lense.

He has also annouced that he plans to wed Kate Moss later this year. I wonder if Tiffany's has a 8 person setting of "works" for his parties...

Then there is that whole incident where there are pics of him shooting up, not only himself, but some unconscious girl as well ( who is not his bride to be).

Babyshambles indeed.

Does anyone have his number?

My emotions had an echo in so much space

Tonight I paced around my apartment on the phone with a boy. It felt odd. I wasn't nervous, well not too nervous, no more than what I expect from a phone conversation. I tend to get nervous about things like phone conversations, text messages, phone messages and general MSN conversations. There are way too many opportunities for people to miscontrew words you say. These methods also do not translate sarcasm, humour or playfulness very well. Unless you add some dumbass "LOL" at the end of them.

I rely on facial expressions to say the words I don't say, can't say. In some ways, this has been a helpful tool in my life. I have very distinct faces for feelings I don't talk about- even for the safer feelings that I will talk about. Without these expressions, and other body language, you are missing the vital parts of me. The parts that matter.

Regardless - I paced on the phone. I know this boy ( DC - for those keeping track) will not love me. I don't think I could even bare to show my naked self to him. Sure the naked parts of my mind or soul, but definitely not the body.

He is too pretty, and I could not be comfortable with it. Shy and Nervous me would appear. She is great in some situations, but not at naked time. She fucks everything up by thinking herself into a coma.

I have an opportunity to spend the weekend in the woods with him. I will not be taking this opportunity. For a variety of reasons.

What will I do if I get one of my nervous, awkward moments that take over me. What if I am just weird. I need my solid to come with me. (I have referred to my solid in previous posts - you will know him best as "our mutual friend". I think he will now be known as "my solid" or "the solid" - really I could just call him Jerk. That is his real name. But I love him, and cannot shame him in such a manner - live in the blog.) The Solid is not available to come for the weekend with the rest of the Friday night crew. I just think it is best to wait for another opportunity. This will be the second time I have turned down a near "magical" moment with DC. I swear it was everyone working against me, if I didn't already know it is me working against me.

It just doesn't matter though, because I know I am setting my sights too high. I hate the idea that I have to settle for boys I don't want as much. I know you aren't supposed to settle and all that bullshit, but fuck, how long do I have to wait for my knight in shining armour? This fucking guy is getting to be so late. Dinner's getting cold.

I know there is a lot to put up with - when you love a girl like me. There is my refusal of public affection, my stubbornness, my stupid sense of pride - and that just scratches the surface. I just figured that someone would look past all my imperfections, and love me, for all my faults. You know - all the romantic bullshit of the Notebook, minus the cheesy montages and sentimentality shoved down your throat.

By the way, since when is Pride a Deadly Sin. Seriously, I thought taking pride in yourself and what you do is something to strive for. I am so screwed on this Deadly Sin thing alone. Seriously, religion will destroy us all.

Truth comes home to roost.

DW has found a girl.
I am a somewhat green-eyed monster over it. I don't know how serious it will be - surely anyone will notice the problems of dating him. Mind you - it could be love. Maybe this is the girl he has searched for - spent years hoping would darken his step one cold spring night?

The thing that will bother me the most - is the idea that he will come over for one of our little visits - and ramble on about her. I will do my best to feign interest and ask stupid questions. "What is she like?", "What do you two do together", "Does she like drugs too?". Oh sorry about that last one.
See how it will be?
I won't be able to handle this pressure, and Queen Bitch will arrive on the scene to not-save the day. This is how it was with Loverboy in the beginning. Ugly but true.

I can't help it. I like all the wrong boys. I want the boys who don't want me. The boys who fall in friend-love with me, not the real-love. It is my own fault. It is how I choose to pick a mate.

I am the slow crawl girl.
I find a boy who I find something interesting about. Be it his interest in dark things. His ability to piss others off, and laugh about how silly it all is. His need for love, but in denial about his control over it. And I latch onto it.
Sometimes I don't even see the lust in my heart taking over my life. Sooner or later, I just discover that I have fallen for my new "best friend" de jour.

I can't help it. The mind is the sexiest thing on a man in my opinion. After you spend enough time with something, it grows on you. Whether it be a lamb, or a wolf. The details you piece together and figure out who really is that person sitting on your chairs. And one day - poof - it just blows you away.

I just figured by now, my master love-plan would work. That one of these boys would fall back in love with me. Dare to cross over into unknown territory in our "friendship". I sometimes attempt to hurry this along with some half baked, unthoughtout plan.

Usually this ends in some sort of disaster that causes all hope of a future relationship ( or friendship for that matter), to become impossible. Self destruction, is the finest form of flattery?

I know it seems to counterproductive to go after things that are impossible. But I have always been a girl who enjoys a good challenge, it makes the fruit sweeter, right?!?? Most of the time, these friendships begin to shape over the complete lack of sexual tension. There is no possibility of error - then I get hooked. Then the possibility of error improves.

Let's face it.
DW was a bit of a long shot. He hasn't dated in two years ( at least). He always talked about other girls. I knew his mind didn't hold any special moments between us. His complete lack of understanding of who I really am ( calling me rich girl for example) - was obvious from the start.

My not remembering him the first 50 times we met - well, that was just an oversight. I tend to ignore anything that was of no interest to me. He was a tweaker back then. I would have just sensed the problems. Like that night that I recall meeting him - when he was so attentive to me - to the point it just freaked me out.

This was probably the problem. If I didn't remember him, and he remembered me, then I was no cause for the puppy dog concerns that a boy like him has to deal with.

Ha, fooled him. He is so oblivious. It does still surprise me, after not really spending anytime with him in the last two months, that I still feel this jealously about a girl I have never met ( and hopefully never will). I thought I was done with him, or the ideas that I kept deep in my mind, had dried up. Apparently I still have so much to learn about myself.

I really need to get laid.
This is most likely the highest pressing of my problems, aside from my family of course.

Wanted: Someone to love?

So what will I resort to in my struggle for some decent sex? I think that I am not alone in this thought. We all go through times when the idea of good sex - seems so far away. I can't be alone? Right?
Of course, I know that anyone can get laid if they want to bad enough. I think it is just a matter of what they are willing to put up with to fufill this requirement of life. And don't kid yourselves, it is a requirement. Otherwise what is the point? Going to Heaven ? Whatever kids.

Over the years I have resorted and put up with lots of things, in order to satisfy my needs for decent sex.

Drunken sex.
This may not seem like much of a bad thing to people. Everyone ( or a vast majority) have done it once or twice. You wake up in the wrong bed. The flashes of the path to this wrong bed. Things you said, things they said. Lies that passed between these now dirty, sweaty sheets. It can be a fond memory, just so long as you don't have to gnaw off your own arm to get out.

Fake Relationship.
This is when one of you in the relationship doesn't want to admit it is a relationship. Call it "mutually satisfying friendship", "friends who fuck", "friends with benefits". Don't kid yourself. One of you has already gotten into a relationship - they just haven't told the other yet. It will end at some point, and 9 out of 10 times - it gets awkward. But still, the braver of us does it. Perhaps brave isn't the word. Perhaps selfishness and loneliness are more fitting.

Staying-for-the-sex-but-its-over Dating.
Maybe you would have left and started over sooner. Maybe you cheated, maybe they cheated. Maybe you are afraid to leave for one of a billion reasons. Or maybe it is just nice to have sex with someone who has gotten it down to an art. I did this once. The sex got better and better when we talked less and less. The denial that was really over is what fueled us into some of the deepest, passion-filled sex of my life. There are times where I would go back into this relationship in a second - after all, I could enjoy myself greatly - as long as I turned my own brain off. Maybe he could fuck my brains out .... Literally.

One-night Stands.
Now this is a great category. You can really have a good time if you understand that this will be the only time you ever have to see this person. There are no inhibitions. No concerns of going to far, saying too much, making the wrong noise. The entire event is strickly to ensure good, dirty, nasty (if you like that) sex. I have savoured this category over the years for many reasons. Dating and getting to know people may be a good idea if you want to spend forever with someone,but if you are of a different school of thought, that the one person who is perfect for you, probably doesn't live within 35 kilometers of your house, you have time to kill. Might as well hone your skills I say.

Internet Dating.
Now this category can mean many things. It can mean meeting people online, and carrying on some sort of Cyber, phone sex life. Though some people find this fufilling, I think it is kinda lame. I tried it out, years ago. I haven't faked it so much in my whole life. Why do I want to lie to a stranger? All the while banging on a keyboard in "ecstasy"? I know that someone who reads this may be into this... That is good for you. I just wasn't into it... My tactile ways wanted more. Surely you can understand that.
This also means, Lava, friendster,myspace,whore.com and whatever else you can think of. It is where you hook up. For a date, for sex, for a relationship that you eventually stay in. I have heard many stories, and perhaps participated in a few. I don't really like the idea of dating this way. Too many opportunities for rejection. More so than regular dating. No one looks as good as they do on paper, or email, or webcams. It is just the truth.

This is where I lie. Lost in the sea of options. I just want someone to hang out with and occasionally suck on. Is this too much to ask? To have phenomenal sex with some other fun things attached? There are days where I feel this is an impossibility.

What's the Frequency matter?

I think that radio has become extremely underrated. No one is cool if they listen to radio anymore. It is all about the internet and now satellite radio... But that isn't real radio anyways. Besides I heard it isn't doing so well for big mouth new York.. What is his name again. Stern, Howard Stern.

I have always loved the radio. I remember going on long road trips ( living in the north, there were lots of them). I always got a little less bored when Dad would turn off the 2nd playing of Three Dog Night, to see what station was around in the middle of nowhere. I loved how a song would get stronger or clearer as we got out of a valley. Or how there was a local event announced... One night only, tragicomic ( the local band) playing at the Palace ( a dive), $5 cover and shooter specials. How exciting. Too bad we never decided to stop and go to one of these things. But to me the thrill was the idea that we did. I would fall in love with the busboy (as he was the only other person close to my age).

These are just idea going thru my head.

Warning, long post ahead.

I am grappling with a thought. Torn in two directions if you will.

I am not a fan of violence. Well, to be fair, that isn't so true.

I have been only in two fights, no three, in my whole life. Once in the 8th grade, when Colleen S. Was trying to prove how tough she was, decided to punch me out while waiting for the school bus at Beattie after school. I don't think there was any reason behind it... Other than beating up the fat kid.
The first day I just took it. One punch to the face, when I wasn't expecting it. I didn't really think it was going to escalate into anything - so I was in no way prepared for the punch that came from no where. After all I had never been in a fight before.
The next day at school it was all everyone was talking about. Colleen told me in Math, that she was going to do it again. I told her I was not afraid - and I wasn't going to cry. I think this is what she wanted ( at the time this is what I thought). I went to the bus stop, and she was there, and she got on her bus ( it was leaving right then - so instead of walking home, she got on the bus).. That was the end of that - I had showed, to fight. She left. I had taken my stand and won, and without a punch.

The second fight was the night of my 21st birthday. I was on acid. You can see where this is going.
I was wearing my new orange shirt my mom got me for my birthday. Now I love the colour Orange. I have since I was like 10 or something ridiculous like that. And a new orange thing, well that is just the best thing to get me ever... Stupid and true.
I was well into the peaking hour at a party, good times, good ( and not so good) friends. Laughing and talking and singing... You get the picture.
All the time I am in the living room, there is this open vent above my head, and these guys I know are upstairs throwing crap through the vent. It is apparent that they are also peaking and are giggling as they toss paper and crap down on us. I do recall warning them to stop, on account of my new shirt - but peakers are oblivious to such things like other people talking or warnings of any kind. ( I am sure, the drug users among you understand the blanket you wear around your head while deep in the drug haze.)
Sure enough - something bad happens. They toss something down and it lands on me... I brush it off, dirt or something. Only it stains the shirt. There is suddenly this black mark on my brand new orange birthday present shirt. I instantaneously lose it. I march right up stairs and grab the two boys. (This is the moment I first realized that I was not only strong, but absolutely able to take care of myself in all situations - forever. Period. Really defining for me, in so many ways, who I am now) I ended up dragging the boys together, screaming at them, disrupting the entire party. I recall coming out of a haze and seeing myself holding these boys and screaming... And wondering if I could try to wash the mark out instead.
I punched them both and walked to the bathroom. Never had I felt the complete freedom of rage. It truly was a moment for me... Even now as I reflect on this evening...
It was so freeing - to not worry what would happen, what people would say, what the consequences were.

The third fight was with my best friend ( at the time) ... And we nearly killed each other on the steps of a store... Fighting over a guitar. I was still young, the reasons were purely stupid. We never really hurt each other. It made us better friends after. Needless to say, I began to evaluate the idea of fighting and found it futile in its purposes. End of that story.

One good story, two bad. Violence loses.

My reasons for this little fighting blurb? I found out some disturbing information tonight.

I was over at DCs house - running a little errand for my dear friends. It seems that they can't go more than 6 days without pot. Now - before you judge, I don't even like pot, and never ( well almost never) smoke it anymore. It was purely a mercy visit... Or and I got to see DC too. He is still too hot for words. All sleepy/high in his Chuck Norris shirt. Too bad we aren't in love.

He told us a story of when he saw Dreamweaver recently. He seemed hesitant to talk about the story as he was a little shamed.
Dreamweaver has been having a tough time in 2006. He has made some bad choices, and as I have been advised, he is also getting some bad karma back for previous life transgression. Needless to say, the boy is a fucking mess these days. His roommate ditched the apartment with the rent money he owed, only this happened 30 days after they moved in. The Roomie would call or show and promise the money and have some hard luck story to go along. DW seemed hopeful and wanted to believe the outlandish stories - but as the days and weeks went by, he just got mad.
DW is a big boy. Tall, thick in the shoulders, and if the rumours are true, a very skilled fighter. Not the kind of guy you want to make it so he has nothing to lose anymore. The Roomie got scared and just stopped coming and calling. Took up residence somewhere else, and left his stuff.
DW needed to move again. And in a hurry. And with a giant chip on his shoulder, name "the roomie."

Now he has moved. Not to the best place on earth,but somewhere cheap and quick - which is what he needed.
Fast forward to the story at hand. DW is looking for his old roomie. He wants all the money he is owed, and he is pissed. He has warned me not to ask about the roomie anymore, as I may not want to hear the details. I know what this means. This means blood.
Hot DCs story is simple. He has some friend who knows where the roomie is hiding out. She told him where. DC, told DW.
He is shamed as he knows what will happen. DW will seek the roomie out, and who knows what will happen.

This man is broken - and may not see that there can be no good to this violent act. It won't get him money.
Of course, my hope is that he will go and find the roomie and just get some money. Not the violence.

My problem is that I am torn by the idea of violence. Is it right in the right circumstance? Is this the right circumstance. It just seems to me that violence is just a new problem you introduce to an already fucked situation. Does violence make anything better?
I don't think he should hurt this guy. He is wasting his time. It is over and should he not just move on? DC, a pacifist at heart, felt that this situation deemed a nudge - no matter how small -to instigate a progression in a story I had hoped was done.
Was he right to give such info - after all they are friends from back in the day. And it is always good to help out an old friend?
Or has DC helped to further the downward spiral of 2006?

My loyalties to these boys forces me to turn the other cheek, on them, not turning the other cheek.