Friday, July 30, 2010

The Overly Dressed Too Much Baggage Woman

Found this photo on Tumblr, and I have to say, I started cracking up. Not because it is a funny photo, which it is, but because I actually feel like this sometimes. roflmao. You too, huh? I knew I wasn't alone.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Ivy Bean, Now I know why I wanted to skip over Wednesday

Late last night, I had a weird feeling.  It was probably around midnightish.  I haven't really felt like skipping a day, and yet, there I was, feeling off, like it just wasn't going to be a normal day.  I had no proof, mind you, and I felt a little silly making a decision about a day that had barely started.  And can it really be considered a new day when you haven't gone to sleep yet?  I was going to wait until the morning, and if I still felt that way, I would post my thoughts on my status on Facebook.  But then I thought, no, no, I really do feel this way.  I really have to write it down, see what other people think, you know, like maybe there was something in the stars or whatever.  So this is what I wrote:

Sooooo. Today is Wednesday. The middle. Like a middle child. Poor poor Wednesday. I'm not really feeling it today. Yes, I'll seriously have to think about whether it's a good day to have at all. I'm thinking I might just fly right over Wednesday and into Thursday. No, I have a meeting on Thursday. Okay, so Friday.... Friday night. I'm just going to skip right on over to Friday night. Anybody with me?

I got a variety of responses.  But here's the thing, nothing really happened today.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  It wasn't a stressful day, or a bad day.  In fact it was overall a happy day.  I even got in a nap after work and found out I lost an inch.  But throughout the whole day, something wasn't quite right.  I just couldn't put my finger on it.  Not until the end of the day, did I figure out what it was.  It all finally came together as I was browsing through Tumblr...  And she died at 12:08am.  How's that for coincidence?

Makes ya think about the strange ways we're all connected.





google found photo:

Here's looking at you, Ivy Bean.  Hope you're living it up, wherever you are.

Lamb, Goat, whatever, still brings back memories






So I know this is a photo of a lamb, but it reminds me of the goats at Grants farm.  Just so sweet.  

We were at a goat petting zoo at Grants Farm a couple of months ago.  One of the ones with the baby bottles and the nibblets that they sell for everyone to feed the cute goats.  Well, some get more ornery than others, not to mention they do have a wonderful time of trying to eat as much of your clothing as possible, even in their calmer moments.  A bit of a neuroses of theirs. 

I question their intent, however, because I think that perhaps they have a different sort of fashion sense than we do and are simply more adamant about this than your average person.  At any rate, one got hold of my grey summer sweater.  I did catch it before there was major damage done, but as we all know, a tiny chewed off edge of sweater is the same as a huge chewed off edge of sweater. 

I can’t seem to bring myself to throw it out, however. Yes, it’s beyond any state of repair, and the goat chewed edge is quite an eye sore.  But it reminds me of that day, and so…. I wear it.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

What's wrong with this picture monday, the pool vac




So I've been thinking about this for a long time.  I may do a grander version on The Pretty Life on Eye on Life Mag, but I thought I'd also post some of these here.

For our first "What's wrong with this picture Monday" I'd like to introduce to you, "The Pool Vac".  You see, this is a lovely pool.  In fact, I'd love to take a dip in it right now, wouldn't you?  In the sunset.  Surrounded by adobe, a gorgeous deck, boulders and stones, various cactus greens, serene reflections...  And yet, there is something there that just spoils the whole dream.  Now I ask you, do you place your vacuum cleaner in the middle of the living room before you take that perfect snap?  No, no you don't.  I rest my case.

This photo does, however, bring to mind quite a few story opportunities.  Something is happening.  Something is about to happen.  And it all stems from, in my mind, "who, exactly, put the pool vac in, where are they now, and what is going on in this house while the pool vac is running?"   Hmmmmm.

Photo writing prompt:  Anyone caring to tackle this possible story or snippet or poem, please feel free to add it to the comments, or on your blog with a link in our comments.  Nothing overly gruesome please, and nothing too sexually descriptive left in the comments, please.  Should prove interesting.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Moments

(Warning: A couple of bad words. Explicit moments referred to.  Note: fiction)

Fuck you and those moments that I want so bad of yours; only mine when I'm in your face, begging, coaxing, making them happen.  All the while, there you are, not realizing the consequences of your actions.  Or do you?  Do you realize them?  Deep down, every fool does.

And you, fool, are choosing to play the fool, at the expense of the nobody girls that would love a piece of your moments, moments meant for me.  And there you are, giving away moments of yourself, moments you can never get back.  And you wonder why you get so lost.

Memories are made every moment.  The second you give away those moments, you have no hope or chance of recovering them.

Moments like tonight, make being struck by lightning a welcome pleasure.  Jerk.

I can tell you whole heartedly, that the seduction of the pouring rain feels so damn good, when the thunder claps and rumbles through the heaviness of the drops.  Better than your cum ever did.  Better because it is filled with pure, powerful, and thrilling energy.  And it comes from a place you will never reach.  It comes from a moment without you.  Never to be erased, never to be replaced.  A moment that came from a moment you chose to relinquish.

If I were never touched again, it wouldn't matter, because it would never be so spur of the moment, so true, that power of nature enveloping me in a moment I thought I would rather be with you.

Stings, doesn't it?  Stung me too, before the cumming of the thundering rain.
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