make me purr

Yeah, ok, I had a pretty good New Year’s Eve. So good that I’m recovering still today, and I think I picked up a cold or something. Got a tickle in the back of my throat, at least…

We showed up at the usual haunt at 11:30, got in line for drinks, and waited. and waited. and waited - finally got our drinks at about five minutes to midnight. I had to politely tell a couple of line-cutters that the line started back there,  and with a minimum of fuss they evaporated into a cloud of embarrassment. Yeah. Don’t get between me and my booze on NYE, of all nights.  Or my birthday, but that’s not for a few more months.

Once each of us had a drink or two in hand, we glided over a table our friends were at, shouted at each other over the noise   music, and counted down. Pretty standard stuff. At midnight, I locked lips with my sweetie, providing one and all with a glimpse of hot girl on girl action, then turned and kissed anyone else who didn’t move. I still say a couple of my gay male friends are the best kissers out there. Saw a male friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while. Grabbed him by his long, flowing hair, licked his tonsils, then stared him straight in the eye and told him to stop telling people that he “didn’t want to act like sexykitten”.  I’m not that much of a slut anymore.  Then I went back to kissing everyone, and groped a few too.

Bummed a few ciggies, had a couple of conversations, and promised to keep in touch with a few people I haven’t seen in months.

Like I said, I think I picked up something - a cold, a cough, a sore throat.

meh.

Here’s to hoping this year will be better than last!

Who is the state to think they can dictate who can and who can’t get married? I would think that would (and SHOULD) be up to individual churches or religions. The Catholic church won’t (or it didn’t used to) marry a mixed-religion couple. Both people had to be Catholic.

I would say - let each religion and church decide for themselves if they can tolerate homosexual marriage.

Then also let each couple - het, bi, straight, - go to the city courthouse and sign some form of domestic partnership papers. Then, whether or not a couple is married “in the sigh of the church”, they can still be married “by law”, and deal with all the pros and cons of that.

But - to have the government say “No, you can’t get married” is like having them say “No, you can’t get baptized. You, over there, you can’t convert to another religion.” Marriage itself is a religious thing. The government’s recognition of a couple SHOULD NOT be tied to a religious ceremony.

Imagine the government saying “You. You’ve been baptized a Christian. You can own a house. You can take out a loan. You can have a tax break.”  Think that would fly? OH HELL NO!

That’s what they are saying. “You. You and your sweetheart have been together for years, but WE refuse to recognize you. If your sweetheart financially supports you, she can’t claim you (like a het couple can do, when one stays home to raise kids). Only SOME of the jobs out there will let you claim your sweetie, so you both can have health insurance.”

However, any man and any woman can get married “just for fun”. They can divorce a day later.

Who exactly are they protecting? Do “they” just think gay couples are too “icky” to deserve marriage? Are their own partnerships so fragile that if I get that tax break, or if she wears that ring, that suddenly they will be forced to fall apart?

We went out this weekend to our usual haunt. She’s lost some weight, and was looking incredible. I looked ok, but not anything that special.

Lo and behold, as soon as we got there, one of the most attractive boys in our little social circle (and he’s single, and he’s bi) started rubbing up against me - so much so that I was wondering just how drunk he was.

Over the course of the night the three of us discussed all kinds of future possibilities…

Nothing happened that night, but it’s kind of been on my mind. He needs a place to stay pretty soon. We could use a houseboy. Even if absolutely nothing sexual happened between the three of us on satin sheets after a few glasses of red wine, a collective back massage that turns into something more… erm, yeah. Even if nothing happens, I could use a hand around here. He can cook, he can help with gardening… and he’s really, really pretty.

Still, I’m puzzled why he chose to hit on us. He could snap his fingers and have so many prettier, younger people all over him - why the cougar types who are in a relationship with each other?

eh. Might have been something in the water - another friend of ours was rubbing up against me too… remind me to wear that perfume again this weekend.

As Bowie said, “I don’t want to go out, I want to stay in….”

I could go out tonight. *We* could go out tonight. I don’t care. I would, however, like to talk her into wearing a short miniskirt and fishnets for a little while, and flirt with her. We haven’t gone out clubbing in a while. I have a little headache, but I could get over it. I’d like to feel pretty - and then I’d like to pounce on her and make her scream. It’s been at least a month since I did anything of note *to* her.

I was going to write about the cornbrator, which is a toy I have never had the pleasure to try: I’ve only seen it online.

Then I remembered that someone recently called me a libertine. I returned the compliment with a dark red, lipsticked sneer -or maybe it was a smear. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter, I was probably on my second Black Orchid by then.

      Black Orchid (approximately…I’m not quite sure what goes in it, but this is close to how they make it where I go)

      equal parts Gin, Vodka, Tequila, and Rum over ice in a pint glass

      add some chambord for color and a bit of 7-up, and a cherry on top.

I guess it’s like an Adios MotherFucker, but purple.

Anyway, back to the cornbrator. I ran into photos of this on a website recently. Reminded me of a certain candle I had a mad affair with. See, I went through a time when I not only couldn’t afford sex toys, but even if I could, I was too shy to get them. I did, however, have a very respectable candle collection.

One day on my way to work, I wandered past a store that was getting rid of seasonal items. Among those items was  a candle shaped like an ear of corn. Not as large, but covered with the little nubs. I stopped right there, suddenly hot and damp and blushing a little. I  ran in and bought it, and scampered off to work with my new love. I could hardly wait to get home - the day dragged on and on, and while I thought about taking a break and running off to the women’s room, well, I knew better…. Finally I got home, slid that sweet, sweet candle into a condom (it was painted, and I didn’t want that paint coming off in awkward places) and fully enjoyed myself.  I don’t remember what happened to it - I just know I don’t have it anymore. I probably wore it out and squeezed it into some unrecognizable form. Once those nubs wore down I wouldn’t have had much use for it anyway.

This has been a rough month on me.

I had an uncle die - after a nine year battle with prostate cancer. His wife stood by him every last inch of the way. His kids got some quality time with him, and he hung on long enough to meet his grandchildren, too. I heard that because he had been in such great shape (he once had been a marathon runner), he lasted longer.

Makes me want to be a couch potato.

I also lost my last grandfather. I lost one last year too, and one when I was only eight. I had one set of grandparents divorce and remarry before I was born, so I started with six. Now I’m down to two grandmothers.

My father’s mother, (let’s call her F) had a penpal halfway around the world when she was a little girl. As the two girls grew up and married, they remained penpals. The other girl - now a woman - sickened and died, but F continued to write to the family she had grown to know through the letters. F and my grandfather divorced somewhere in the midst of this, and she travelled to meet this family halfway around the world. She fell in love with the man who had written her for so long, and they married. I always liked that story - it sounded so romantic to me. My parents once caught them holding hands and watching Godzilla Meets Mothra… Now he’s gone. I’ll always remember the stories he told about the kangaroos and parrots and crocodiles.

Now this week, my sweetie had surgery. Nothing serious, but enough that she spent the night in the hospital. So did I. I guess that’s what you do… Held her hand, wiped some of the blood off her, helped her into the bathroom, things like that. Slept on a crappy little cot, waking every time she coughed or her machines beeped or made a suction-y noise.. Exhausted today, but I’m at her beck and call, getting her ice packs, feeding her, things like that. It’s what you do.

I’m thankful the hospital staff didn’t put up a fuss or anything that we’re a girl/girl couple.. I think legally they still could have, but this place has heart.

Nothing sexy about it, but it was tender. and it was our two year anniversary, too.

We went out drinking last night too. I haven’t gone out in drag in a while, so I threw on some spirit gum and crepe hair as well as a cute piratey outfit.

I’m told when I try I can pull off a pretty good “Cap’n Jack Sparrow” pretty well, and I perform as a drag king on occasion too.

 Anyway - so two bi girls, two bi guys, a gay guy and a lesbian walk into a bar… Had a few drinks, had a few ciggies…One bi guy and the gay gay want the other bi guy. That bi guy spends all night hitting on the two bi girls, who wanted none of it (just each other). The lesbian wound up dancing and getting overheated. Much fun was had by all…

Towards the end of the night I walked her outside so she could cool off, and had a cig and chatted. This random guy walks over and starts flirting with us… No, flirting is too nice a word. Make that “rudely hitting on”. Well, he *did* offer us cigarettes when we were out, so I guess he could have been excused for thinking he had a right to inspect our undies, huh?

She went inside, and he stayed outside trying to talk to me. Guys - when you are trying to pick someone up, DON’T say things like “I have a girlfriend, but I don’t care, she’s not here..” and then go off for the next five minutes about how beautiful she is. Sure, I’ll talk to you about that - and your upcoming trip to visit her. That’s fine. When I say I’m not interested, and that I have a girlfriend inside the club, I’m NOT interested. Playfully calling me a slut isn’t going to score you any points, either.   When above mentioned girlfriend comes outside to rescue me, and you start hitting on her too, DON’T start asking if her breasts are real or not. Not cool, dude. DON’T call her a slut either, and DON’T start loudly going off about your girlfriend… and…DON’T start off anything with “I’m straight, I’m REALLY straight, but…” to a woman. Nothing that comes after that in a sentence is going to interest us romantically in you…

The guy will never know how close he came to getting smacked. Fortunately for him, some other guy distracted me with a vaguely coherent one-sided discussion about the modelling and photography business. In LA. Really. This is *not* LA, and I don’t care.

The pics from the night are fabulous.

hey, guess what, I chat on blogs with a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a lady who knows Paul Farmer.  also thought I’d mention Garrison Keillor.

That is all.

No, it’s not.  I discovered last night that I know someone who knows someone who knows the Peter Pan guy (from teh interweb fame). Weird.

The only thing hot and throbbing and pounding right now is my head. Yeah - got one of those !@# headaches. I’ll live, though - but whether or not everyone else around here does is still kinda up for debate. As long as I have a clear path to the chocolate, everything will be ok.

That is all.

Why, oh why am I deluged with spam comments? There’s even one on my prom post that I can’t seem to get to to delete!!!

*headdesk*

and I have plenty of stories to share, I’m just getting sick of so. much. spam.   …. and no other comments. *coughcausticjcough*

It seems we have a new poster, kitten. I had to laugh, seeing your name, kitten, thinking of the two of us (and who knows, there may be others) as a couple of little kittens crawling around in a bunch of kitty toys and pillows and blankies and other things kittens have.

mew