Ironically, even if I’m blogging it, today I have sworn to take off from any sort of work. Blogging isn’t work, right?
A few notes from my week:
I had my eyebrows waxed a few weeks ago and, honestly, I wasn’t happy with the results. She asked me if they were ok, and I thought, “what are you going to do if I say, ‘no?’” Since then, I’ve had the recurring thought about what women do when they’re not happy with their bikini wax job. Please, put my pubes back.
I went to a drum circle on Wednesday that slapped me in the face with some healing issues I still need to confront. I’m warning you all now, I plan to blog about abuse. Hopefully, you’ll understand.
Speaking of abuse, I’m now volunteering for our local Abused Women’s Shelter and will start training next month. I am stoked.
There are days when moving back to Arkansas seems to be a good idea. Sapphire is a fantastic marketer and I should hire her someday.
Guitars are awesome.
School starts in about three weeks. There is a light at the end of that particular tunnel… then, I realize that “homework time” will begin, again, and I just want to cry.
My feelings on porn have been pretty wishy-washy. A potential client has really given me reason to examine a lot of the issues surrounding porn. I like to note the synchronicity when it happens.
I’m bummed there’s no Equality March this year.
I need to come up with some information for a Tarot class I’m teaching in fall. I also need to advertise my own biz. Both of those are work, though, and cannot happen today. Even my horrorscope said to take the day off.
Online stalkers make me giggle.
Annnnnd, that’s it for now. What the fuck am I still doing here?
1. Cashier at a major grocery store in the Cleveland suburbs. Had to fake my birth certificate (I was 14, they wanted a 16 year old) and got in trouble for wearing a skirt that was too short (the apron was longer than the skirt).
2. Library prototype in the middle of the mall, specifically the children’s section (think 4x4 space). The problem with the children’s section is that kids are there and they don’t realize the value of alphabetizing books OR the beauty of the Dewey Decimal System.
3. Cashier at a small grocery store in Arkansas. Learned all about Arkansas culture and Country Music. Hated that job.
4. Wendy’s. I was the Super Bar girl and eventually worked the drive-thru. Spicy chicken sandwiches and all. Got the job because I was cute and had boobs and kept it because I was a “closer,” which meant I quite often did not have a curfew.
5. KFC. That one lasted two weeks when I was told that I wasn’t allowed to put chicken in a bucket until I’d been there longer. Evidently, I surpassed the chicken learning curve and scared a fellow employee with my super intelligence. I figured it was best to move on at that point.
6. Daycare. Was appalled that the teachers didn’t play with the kids. Had to move on.
7. Marshall’s -- the discount retail establishment. I was the fitting room attendant, which meant I got to practice (in my head) for college auditions and stuff because, well, there was nothing else to do after handing out numbers to customers.
8. Afterthoughts. I was a closer there, which gave me plenty of time to “sample” the wares and practice piercing my own ears. I also learned about outsourcing by paying a mall rat to sweep the floor for me.
9. Girl Scout Camp Counselor (Summer #1): 9 weeks of summer vacation before college devoted to camping, swimming, teaching young girls how to line dance. I also learned how to fix a toilet and got promoted because I was awesome. One of my favorite jobs.
10. Lifeguard at college pool. Too easy to not show up and still get paid. Got to watch hot Latin boys in speedos… and hide from the not-so-hot ones.
11. Girl Scout Camp Counselor (Summer #2): Stayed for maybe 48 hours before having a nervous breakdown.
11.5 Lifeguard at Country Club. Got really bad tan lines and was never paid for the two weeks I worked there.
12. Humane Society. Got to scoop poop, clean cat jizz, drive frozen dogs to a dump and help adopt out animals (or put them down *sigh*). Hard, stinky work, but still an amazing experience.
13. College snack bar girl. I gave out a lot of free food. Sorry about that, but college friends are hungry and who am I to deny them a chicken sandwich?
14. McDonalds & Subway. I tried to move off campus and had rent to pay, plus stay in school. I failed miserably. Oh, and being at McDonalds at 5am sucks ass.
15. Humane Society + Night Watch. In exchange for being on-call at night, I got a crappy apartment above the animal shelter where I could listen to the sounds of dogs barking and howling all night. The oven worked enough to emit toxic fumes, setting off the smoke detector during an important board meeting. Oops. Plus, I had the added bonus of a roommate that I never wanted who pretty well fucked my life for the next year.
16. Library #2. Working in downtown Little Rock was an interesting experience. I still have nightmares about the man who would walk in with snot streaming down his face, the boy who tried to kill me and the rumors of men masturbating in the stacks. Oh, and the Dewey Decimal System angst still held true. I loved that job, though, and I threw it away because of a dress code issue. I’m sure the apron would still have been longer than the skirt I wore that day.
17. Computer Store Tech/Sales. First real experience with sexism. Girls cannot possibly know anything about computers, but, I must say that your pregnacy-swollen boobs are delish. Now, can I talk to a man about why my speakers aren’t working? Oh, and first time seeing roaches scramble out of a man’s computer.
18. Dot.com: Hired as a receptionist for up-and-coming web design company. Spent much of my time bullshitting with the boss and smoking cigarettes. Was fired after a disgruntled employee was caught spying on our e-mail; coincidentally at the same time my promotion and raise was about to take effect, I was outed for working on a website with my co-worker. I was innocent, by the way, and thank you for firing a single mom looking for her own place to live, assholes.
19. Temp Work: the pipe layers. Receptionist. Too smart for job, much like KFCatastrophe (“we’d really like to permanently hire you, but we think you’re too good for this job.”) I read a lot of books while routing phone calls and counting up pipes on blueprints.
20. The B&B. A beautiful 1880′s mansion transformed into an incredible B&B… in the hood. Was hired as a personal assistant which meant I got to do the booking for the B&B, run insurance reports (she was an agent), keep the computers working and networked, help decorate for the holidays, parties and various TV spots, maintain and improve the website, create party favors and basically be her bitch. I loved/hated her, and learned a lot… and even got to tell her once, during a “chat” about my job, that I hoped she realized just how hard it was to work for her. She, in turn, told me that I needed to update my look to something more professional and less like a “hostess.” Short skirts are my curse. Not long after that, I was pregnant again, and opted to just work on the website from home.
21. Aside from various web and writing jobs over the past 10 years, I also was a tarot reader on one of those psychic friends phone lines. I was shocked, somehow, to find out that they really didn’t want psychics or readers, just people who could schmooze the callers. I’m so not a schmoozer, but I landed a pretty cool headset phone out of the deal.
22. Online sales of witchy items. Fail.
23. Online consignment. Fail.
24. MojoWriting.com (you had to know that the plug was coming) -- totally awesome and amazing. So there.
I’m listening to The Cranberries, so the title has nothing to do with the blog… yet.
For the record, I’m much better now. The baboon ass has quelled to little more than the ironic need for sex + none available, and I can handle that much better than being a walking reproductive billboard (well, sorta, since my tubes are tied… but whatever).
Something funny, though, and it could be in my head (because what isn’t in my head these days?) but during that time of the month (ovulation), I get more stares and attention than normal from the opposite sex. I’m convinced it has more to do with my not-so-subconscious “come and fuck me” vibe that I intentionally put out there (baboon vagina) than some sort of psychic awareness on anyone else’s part, but I could be wrong. Biology is fun.
Taking my Midlife Mama friend’s advice, I’m trying to not freak out so much about everything. These things take time and panicking isn’t helping matters, at all. It will all happen when it should, and until then, I’m going to enjoy what I do have -- amazing children, fabulous friends and me, because I rock.
In other news, my birthday is rapidly approaching. 35 years. I’m about 10 years past what I thought would be my expiration date, so I’m not so sure how to take this decade development. Obviously I’m still here to wreak havoc, and I should celebrate my havoc wreakingness. I’m officially taking suggestions and presents.
I am about to say the most unthinkable statement that has ever come out of my head.
Well, no, there have been plenty of these thoughts, but this is the one I choose to admit. Based on my blazing entry into fertility yesterday (just scroll down, k?), I have been walking around naked, wearing only a cock ring.
Name that movie and the first celebrity I wanted to… oh fuck, I can’t take this.
Oh, that wasn’t the unthinkable statement. I’m drawing out the anticipation, yo.
My mind is afire with visions of sex. It is swallowing me whole and in between these hot flashes (heh), I keep having a visual of a fucking baboon’s ass. My subconscious has linked my vagina to a primate’s ass.
I’ve been home all day with the kids, except when I ventured to the grocery store and did a double take at the little bottles of “chubby” drinks for kids. Then, I spent two hours on the phone with a client while trying to keep my composure. All I have is this blog, and its not exactly the release I’m looking for. At. All.
No offense, of course.
I am about to hit the streets with my flaming baboon ass vagina and proposition the first adult who walks within 200 feet of me. I’m hoping its the neighbor dude with a snow blower so that this winter I can call in some favors, but at this point, I don’t think I’m going to be that choosy.
A Virgo explains sex, in the throes of needing to get laid so badly that life is even more painful than the evil ovaries she is harboring within.
Many, many years ago, there was a nagging and baffling pain in my side that would follow me for a few days each month and then fade away. I don’t think I ever mentioned it except to a doctor who told me it was ovulation pain (mittelschmerz), and something few women experienced.
Yay. For. Me. Searing pain on each side of my pelvis to remind me that I was, indeed, able of creating life even though I was told I couldn’t have kids because of the slant of my uterus (and didn’t I prove that doctor wrong!). Even today, there are times when the “discomfort” almost convinces me that its a good idea to take a fork and gouge out my ovaries. It kinda hurts. A lot.
Many years later, I noticed that right around the time the pain hit, all I thought about was sex. Dirty, nasty, cannot-walk-for-days, I-don’t-want-to-know-your-name-just-fuck-me sex. This led me to my conclusion that reproduction isn’t so much about creating life with the one you love, but its purely on an instinctual level. That the two (to twenty) times each month I wanted freaky, all-encompassing, no-need-for-foreplay-because-I’m-ready, fuck-me-raw sex with anyone who walked by was merely a biological function (as opposed to the less frantic, slightly more romantic sex that requires at least a first name). Otherwise, sex was only on my mind maybe 50% of the time. There was a noticeable freak difference in many, many ways. Ahem.
Tonight, I ovulate. I ovulate like I’ve not ovulated in months. I am a professional, please don’t try this at home, yo.
Its bad, worse than normal. I’m pretty sure its because I have nobody to screw and my ovaries are throwing my eggs at me, laughing.
August 21st, 2010 
Melia 
