You have no one to blame but yourself.

I'm so tired of beating myself up about boys, work, life, boys, my husband, boys and um...boys.

I'm going back to the way I was with him months ago - to the sext equivalent of the high school note: "do you like me? circle yes or no".

From here on out, my only response to your text messages will be "do you want to fuck me, yes or no?" Nothing more, nothing less.

That emotions even entered the equation is just silly and juvenile.

Hamburger

So my occasional fuck buddy (more like 'random, rare occurrence') sends me the following text at 4:30 this morning:

Sometimes when you are not where you wanna be, you gotta look up and say what the fuck am i doing here....

My response to him:

Dude, I just want your cock in my ass.

jeebus fuck

gd i'm boring.

i have been working these extraordinarily long hours at work, which leaves me with little to no social life.

no social life = no blog fodder.

perhaps i'll post some old shit.

Manson

Family, not Marilyn.

They're starting to fall, one by one.

How long will he stand?

I figure that he's the devil incarnate and may never die.

missing...

...one South Carolina-born, South Florida-raised Texan.

Oh wait.

Here I am.

Nothing of consequence has gone on, I've just been busy with this "career" business.

If it's exhausting starting out at damn near 40 then I can't imagine what it's like starting a 'real' career in your 20s and 30s.

I've been sleeping on my sofa lately. I can't decide if I'm just tired of sleeping in my bed because it was 'ours', or because I need a new one. Either way, until the promotion kicks in, I think my living room is my new home.

I get very lonely sometimes - especially around this time of year, so I guess it's a good thing I'm so busy with my budding career and friends and family and stuff.

But if anyone knows a nice boy in my part of the country...

sick to my stomach

you make me sick to my stomach.

you make me want to go home, want to crawl into a strange bed, pull the sheets up over my head and never come out.

reality makes me carry on.

responsibilities. far more than the first time you tried to take everything from me.

perhaps i care more now that i understand you, and am more acutely tuned in so as to know when you're going to bitchslap me upside the head.

you won't win. not this time. not anymore. i won't let you.

i am better than you, even when i can't imagine it could be so.

adjust, readjust. whatever it takes. i'll never beat you, but you won't win.

Calling Dick Tucker...

were you assigned this case?

if so, i want the exclusive.

solicited advice

from one of my most favorite bloggers.

thank you, my friend. your advice always means far more than you could ever imagine.