Meringue.
My plan has been to turn myself into a meringue this summer – light and fluffy. Enjoying small things, putting worries on the back burner and just taking things day by day.
Already though, the plan has backfired. Instead of simply enjoying the company of The Lad, I have begun to develop feelings for him – hell, who am I kidding here, I like the guy far too much for my own good. I am fairly disgusted with myself. I have stepped over the thin line from hedonistic to masochistic in a matter of days. Red flags galore. There is nothing right about this situation - innocent as it actually is - that I have created. (Yes, I know. Raise your hand if you saw this coming. Why I am surprised, nay, blindsided by this I can not imagine.)
Added to the drama is another vexing masochistic program that I have myself on. As a Mountain Dew addict, I am trying to learn to like the diet version. I hate it. Really, I do. It is awful. I have been trying to choke down the same can for about 5 hours now. It is awful. I am starting to appreciate water, which I suppose is a good thing. Oh, I am out of cigarettes too and have denied myself the simple trip to the store to replenish the supply. I theorize that if I am to suffer, it may as well be on a grand scale.
Otherwise, I am burying myself in work today. Let’s see if it offers respite. Likely not. My major (additional) project has been put on hold until Monday – perhaps that distraction will prove to be helpful. I am eager to find out.
The dogs must know that something is up. They are more attentive and demanding than usual. The horses too are being remarkably cooperative, with the exception of Killarney who still wishes to kill me. Dodging her flying hooves definitely takes a great deal of concentration on my part. I am really beginning to appreciate her.
Dino Corvino said:
I suggest this. When I was at a local college, I told my assistant to be like Paris Hilton. Kiss all those you want who are willing. To love freely and often. To make out savagely, and walk away quickly.
To embrace the juice, rather than thinkk the pulp holds something better.
For now, the juice, the dance, the drinking too much, the peeing of ones pants both literally and figurativbely, is fine.
Make out often.
Just bring out your inner Paris Hilton.
June 5th, 2008 at 12:54 pm #
Dino Corvino said:
Nothing has to mean anything, in fact lots of things do not mean anything.
It is all just a cookie, and a bad movie, and all the rest.
Not all of life is the stuff of poetry except to the poets.
Sometimes life is making out with the woman sitting next to you no a flight to Ireland, because you have 22 hours to kill. And not even knowing her real name.
Sometimes life is just a three musketeers.
Sometimes life is fart jokes.
Sometimes life is just the anonymous, yet fun, stuff.
June 5th, 2008 at 12:57 pm #
Billie said:
Dino, I am smart enough to know this and act accordingly - have in the past, will continue to do so in the future. You’ve known me since the beginning of time and have seen the inner Paris countless times, so I’d like to think that you are hip to the fact that she exists and has let her hair down more often than not in years past. This is a continuation of my idiocity. There isn’t even anything to mean anything. Thus the conundrum and attendant frustration.
June 5th, 2008 at 3:20 pm #
Dino Corvino said:
There is none of that. Just make out with people. Drink. Make out. From time to time make some money.
Then make out with the cute boy.
June 5th, 2008 at 8:34 pm #
Billie said:
I know. I will have to take up drinking far more seriously, the debauchery will follow.
June 5th, 2008 at 9:35 pm #
Billie said:
Actually, I had an interesting offer last week… a hide-a-bed, all of the cushions and an afghan… (I still laugh out loud every time I think of this) - not that this fellow is any kind of candidate.
June 5th, 2008 at 9:38 pm #