A few months ago Mona Darling, from Dead Cow Girl was
putting together a compilation of short stories that the subject matter was right up my alley. I
submitted a little story about something risqué. Something dirty. Something
that is a different experience for everyone. Something that every gal should be
in touch with.
Sexuality. Sex. Sexy talk. Female sexual experience in all it's glory.
And guess what? It was accepted to be in the final book. I
couldn’t be more excited! I've kept it hush hush until now. I can’t wait to order my own paperback version of it.
This weekend was the first long stint of being alone I’ve
had in quite some time. Was it relaxing? Not in the least.
I spent most of Saturday hanging out with two of my favorite
Chihuahua clients. We watched Lifetime movies and ate goldfish crackers. Well,
I ate the crackers, I don’t share.
I don’t have cable at my house, and have never really wanted
it. Especially after my old roommate would get high as a kite and watch marathons for hours but never pay her half of the cable bill. Anywayyyys. I watched some terrible movie about a woman whose boyfriend beat her up and
gave her amnesia and then lied to her about the two being engaged so he could
get her fortune. I know, you’re already hooked right?
Afterwards a local photographer friend came over to try out
some new (expired) Polaroid film he had purchased and to get some old Polaroid
cameras I was giving to him. We took a few digital shots as back up as well.
I'd show you some of the film shots but I showed more skin than I'm about to show on this blog. At least for now. Nothing wrong with a little peek-a-cheek.
Oh - and he gave me a book he put a few of my photos in. I love helping out local artists. It makes the 3rd book I've been in within the past year.
I haven’t been sleeping very well since Kh went out of town.
I had a couple of glasses of wine, took the dogs out for potty time before bed,
and was so looking forward to passing the hell out Saturday night. Do you think it went down
that way? Of courseeee not.
I go to put on my pajamas and finally go to bed when what do
I see? A big old pee spot right in the middle of Kh’s pillow. Now I know I
didn’t crawl up on that bed, drop my pants and piss on it. I know Kh didn’t pee
on it before she left. For one, it was real fresh, and for two she’s just not
that kind of girl. Aweeesomeee. At least it didn't get on the bed. I would have been real mad.
Sunday I was just so damn exhausted I tried to do as little
as possible. I had a few clients I had to see, and couldn’t drag myself away
from pixel people. I’m obsessed. I get off the internet to go to bed, and then
play on the internet on my phone in bed. For a couple of hours.
Tonight I did what I absolutely hate more than anything, household chores. It was mostly to stop myself from falling asleep on the couch at 6:30pm. When I went into the bedroom to fold some laundry, I found a present from one of my dogs. A nice pile of puke. Right on top of my clean towels. Have I said aweeesomeee yet in this post? Cause that's what it was.
Next weekend you’ll hear all about how drunk I got. That’s for damn
sure.
On Friday I dropped Kh off at the subway station, and watched
her disappear from my review mirror. She was on her way to a flight out West.
To sunny California (at least it’s got to be sunnier than Massachusetts).
She’s going to be gone until next Friday. Her company is
doing some work for TED, and she’s one of the lucky few that get to go. They
went last year, and she got to tweet with Bill Nye. Neat, right?
I mean, Bill Nye tweeted her scribing, and then she retweeted
his tweet of her scribing and they took a picture together. Does that all make sense? Twitter
confuses me!
When we first started dating, Kh was often traveling for
work. Brussels, Germany, London, all over the US. But within the past year or
so her promotion and role has changed considerably and she doesn’t travel
nearly as much. We lived in different apartments then, and it was easy to get
my alone time. Now I have to squeeze it in whenever I can.
The first afternoon without her coming home to dinner I’m
all “le sigh”. Then the second day I’m all “ok, I can do this, lets get shit
done!” But after that I slowly get lonely and miss the shit out of her. I've been making her facetime with me instead of talking on the phone, this way I have to pay attention and can't jut "uh huh" her to death.
Ohhh do I love my alone time.
My top 5 favorite things to do when I’ve got the apartment
to myself. And try not to think of anything dirty here people. That’s usually a
given.
1: I find any and every excuse to take a million naps on the
couch. 2: I stay up until 1am drinking wine until I’m either too
tired or to drunk to stay awake any longer. 3: I watch tv
shows like The Vampire Diaries, because no ones here to yell at me and tell me
it’s crap. 4: I go on a culinary tour of exotic places via my foodler
account. 5: At the very last possible moment I rush around doing
various chores to make it seem like I didn’t spend the entirety of my time
alone doing all of the above. This is my least favorite, it means dishes.
I’m using this next week as a time to recharge myself. I’ve
been running low on steam, and letting a lot of every day things slip by
me. I haven’t been in a positive,
nor productive mindset in what seems like a very long while, and my mission
this week is to kick my own ass back into gear. Whether it be finishing
projects that have been sitting on the shelf, do some early Spring cleaning, or
finally take that last step needed to be on my own business wise. I’m going to
get it done. And I’m not going to be watching any paranormal movies while doing
it. Serial killers? No problem. Psychotic disfigured beasts on a rampage? Ok,
let’s do it. But ghosts? Scare the shit out of me when I’m alone.
Finding the right time to make a big change, one that will
set into motion something I can’t stop for a long time to come. It’ll make me
have to take on full responsibility of tasks I can normally default to only
being a middle woman on. I’m slightly terrified, and stressing out every second
about when’s the right moment. But, there’s never the right moment and you have
to just take the plunge and create change for yourself, if you ever want to see
changes come.
And the length of my hair. der.
Working on ::
My website for said change. I’m going over every single
detail making sure it’s perfect. Almost obsessively.. So, see above?
My etsy shop. My artwork. My uncanny ability to ignore
problems. I’m always a work in progress.
What if I admitted to the fact I was working on facebook stalking a girl I used to sleep with, would you judge me? What if I said her newest girl friend is close to 10 years younger than her and was totally wearing a completely sheer shirt with a yellow bra while opening presents with her family and it was totally fun to be grossed out in my own head and admit it on my blog?
Thinking about ::
What day this weekend I can spend the entirety of it in my
pajamas watching movies I haven’t seen in forever while eating ice cream cake. And
probably drinking.
Oh, and the fact I get to sleep the * bleep * in
tomorrow.
Anticipating ::
Next Friday when Kh gets home from being away this entire
week. She’s only been gone from my sight for about 11 hours and I’m already a
huge mopey bitch.
Listening to ::
Absolute silence and it’s AMAZEBALLS. Once in a while a dog
will let out a heavy sigh, but even that is tolerable when I have all other
sounds turned off. I need this.
Eating/Drinking ::
A tall glass of merlot. With the bottle right next to me.
Yes and please. Even though it's having the affects of drinking fermented grape juice. I don't like this kind one bit. Mer.
Wishing ::
I don’t find it’s beneficial to wish on things, as I’ve
learned wishing doesn’t bring anything to a culmination..I sound like a
cynical old biddy.
Ok, let me try that last one again so I don’t sound so much
like a crankfart…
..eh..I wish this wine wasn’t crappy. There! A wish!
Linking up with The
Paper Mama for her Self Photo Challenge!
I liked this little link up. I used to be obsessive about
taking self portraits as a way to document the ever evolving, ever elusive
manifestation that was.. is.. and might always be.. Stephanie Marie. Dun dunn..
Ever since photography school I took a step back and haven’t really done much behind/in front of the camera play. I liked goofing around and getting
nothing good out of this photoshoot but still using a shot.
One of the dogs just barked and my precious silence is
ruined.
I slacked off last week, and I’m sorry for that. I skipped a
coffee talk, and I’m ashamed.
Not really, I was just too busy to really get my head out of
my ass and put together a post.
Being busy has its ups and its downs. The upside? Making
that money, getting those clients and working hard towards a goal. The
downside? I want to go to bed by 7pm, I’m barely awake long enough to get my
buzz on, and I’m not getting nearly enough online window shopping in.
I made it a point to take a few moments to get in some me
time this week. I did some window shopping and played with my polyvore account.
I haven’t touched that thing in forever.
I can't really complain about this past Winter, as it really hasn't been too bad. But holy moly am I ready for Spring. I'm sick of the snow, and the temperatures going from 48 all the way down to 10. Get out of here already.
To psych myself up I made a few Springy outfits.
I love a nautical theme, especially a subtle one. I'd even wear the red shoes.
It wouldn't be my type of outfit without a skull theme to it. Now would it?
Since I don't want to bore you with just my polyvore outfits, how about a few things I've been lusting after while window shopping? Ok, sure Stephanie why not!
I am loving the graveyard leggings so so so much, but they might even be too goth for me. I, of course, had a million other things I loved and put into my cart but never intend to buy. They just sit there all "wahh buy me I'm even on saleeee!" I hate telling cute things no..
Not really. No is my favorite word.
A post that should have taken me 30 minutes to type up has now turned into a 3 hour escapade and it's driving me bonkers. You ever feel like the second you get on the computer, or start to do something on your own every living thing in the house needs your attention? Yeah, that's my night.
My day. Was. Rough. I got started before 10am, and didn’t
actually sit down (other than in my car driving like a mad woman) until after
7pm. My client list for the day quite literally doubled overnight. While it’s
stressful the day of, afterwards I feel really great and exhilarated how well I’m
doing almost completely on my own.
At my last stop of the night, I told Kh I’d pick her up from
the subway (or T if you’re a Boston local). I was about 10minutes away from her
and asked if she’d mind grabbing me a bubbly water (aka seltzer, carbonated,
amazingness). And maybe a sweet treat.
I’m not a big sweets eater, but (sorry to go there) I got my
period raging bad last night and all I wanted was something chocolatey, a
bottle of advil, a hot water bottle, and my pajamas.
I pull up to where I’m supposed to meet Kh. There she is,
standing in the rain holding a bag. She gets in the car and I suspiciously eye
the logo on the side of the bag.
Do you know what that mother-licker got me? A fucking oreo
ice cream cake from JP Licks aka my favorite oreo ice cream making place ever.
Holy shit do I love her. I came home, put on my pajamas, and
ate a piece of it. Before dinner. I didn’t even care, and it was so good I
pretty much died a little.
That was my Tuesday, and shit did it ever end on a good
note.
I wish I had one of those weekends full of crazy adventures
and tomfoolery. But, I didn’t.
Let’s start my recap with Valentines Day, since I’m such a
grump-puss about the whole holiday.
I had an excruciatingly long day at work, but Kh was able to
surprise me with flowers, a box of chocolates (for myself, kh and our friend to
share), and other little trinkets that were just perfect. For me at least.
She got me a bat shit crazy card (the inside was the cutest
thing ever), a porcupine quill necklace, and a nylon ring that is coated in spf
so when I start tanning (not on purpose mind you, I don't do that shit) I’ll have tan lines that shape. Cute.
That night Kh, our friend, and myself went out to eat at
what’s becoming our favorite walk-to-so-we-can-get-drunk place. 3 glasses of
wine, and enough food to make me pop made the walk home pretty difficult.
Friday was another exceptionally long day for me. I don’t
know what it was but last week really kicked my ass and then some. I got home
and took the longest shower ever. Right in the middle of our “what do you want
for dinner?” discussion (that can usually last an hour if not more) I got a
text from a friend who was getting dinner at a Italian place that’s right down
the street from my house. We gave in and went.
The place itself is just what you think of if I were to say
“That local family owned Italian restaurant with a lot of shit on the walls.”
I had a salad and mozzarella sticks. And by the time I got
home I was writing out my will and quite sure I was dying. My toilet became my
best friend, and I’ll just leave that up to your imagination to fill in the
blanks. I should have known better when I saw the fruit flies swarming around
our table.
Saturday I was able to pump
enough life into my veins to dye my hair and the extensions. I might have
made a mess. To dye the extensions I just placed them on a piece of aluminum
foil and painted the color on. Making sure to work it in realll gooood.
Who doesn't love a behind the scenes look at someone making a complete mess of themselves while dying their hair?
Sunday? It mother-truckin snowed
again. I know it’s New England, but can’t a girl get a break? I’m ready to
retire these winter boots already.
The only thing really productive
that happened on Sunday was getting my hair cut and my extensions put in. Hair
surgery!
Left - first glass of wine. Right - my third.
In total it took close to 3
hours. We ended around 11:30pm, and my poor friend had to be up by 3am to catch
a 5:30 flight. Even if he was half asleep, my hair came out just how I wanted
it. He filled in the front with about 20 pieces per side to start making the
shape of a bob.
I know it's not the craziest of differences. It's about 2 1/2inches longer on each side of my face. Which is just what I needed to not drive myself crazy while growing out this mop of mine.
I'm sure I'll post more photos in the following week. It's the first time in a long ass time I like how my hair looks. So that says something.
I’ve decided on Sundays I’m going to try and write about
something going on in my personal life that’s making me feel guilty, or just
something I need to get off my conscious. Or just random bull from my life in general.
Just recently I blocked my very first user on instagram.
I’ve had instagram for a long ass time now, and for me to just now be blocking someone;
you know it must be serious.
I do contracting work for a local-ish company. With this come
a lot of consultations, meet and greets, schmoozing. This past Monday we had a
client consult at my house for an overnight boarding request. This is the first
time the owner of the company I contract for was at my house. It weirded me out
a little, but a lot of things weird me out. Like peanut butter and jelly in the same container, or belly shirts.
What tipped the line of weird-stephanie out? The second she
walked in the door she introduced herself to Kh and said she “practically knows
her from all my posts on instagram.” Then she tripped up and even said that I
was a “post-a-thon-er.”
Eh, what? Kh instantly turned red, and I played it off like
“yeah sure, I’M the insta-crazy here.”
Over the next week I couldn’t stop thinking about how she pretty
much said she stalked me on instagram. I don’t know her at all, and what I do know of her, I'm not overly fond of. So after getting over
my guilt for not wanting her in my business, and getting the "it's ok" talk from my friends, I googled how to block someone on
instagram.
I know it seems a little weird, since I have plenty of
people I don’t know following me on instagram. But there’s a fine difference
between people you don’t know and could potentially get to know, and someone
that’s in your life that you completely don’t know, and possibly don’t want to
know. There’s also that unwritten rule about never revealing you stalk someone
online. My grandma breaks this one often.
“I saw those pictures your friend N posted on facebook,
where was she? Who is that guy she’s with? Is that her cat? Did she buy new boots?”
Gram, shhhhh.
Am I crazy for doing this? Maybe. I still feel a little
guilty about it, but since then I’ve made my profile private and I’m on
lockdown. I know the internet and any public forum is fair game, but blocking
features exist so why not use them?
-->
There you have it. The history of my hair in pictorial form starting
with little high school me. Yeah I was in a tube top bra and stockings. Didn’t
everyone hang out in their bathroom like that? Then we move on to college me, first move to Boston me, Philadelphia and Portland me, Salem me, and this past Summer me.
A couple of photos show my natural hair color.
Gosh do I miss my angled bob..
I’ve made the decision recently to grow my hair out. I’m
quite sure once I get the long hair I’m aiming for, I’ll hate it and want to
cut it all off again. I’m ready for a bit of change, even if it means being a
hair-hating grouchy pants until I get it.
My good friend, who happens to be my hair stylist (and has
been doing my hair on and off since I was 19) stays at my house every 6 weeks
when he comes up from Florida to do clients at the old salon I used to work at.
This works out smashingly for me, as I get salon quality cuts in my kitchen.
(So does Kh.)
This time around he brought up some extensions that we’re
going to color match to my hair and throw in to frame my face. Yes, and yes!
And don’t be fooled, by color match I simply mean we’re dying it the same
box-color I dye my own hair. Box color’s pretty bad for your hair, but ain’t
nobody got time to go to the salon! (By time I mean money). I’m even more excited by the fact I
don’t need to go back to the salon I used to work at to get it done.
Yeahhhhh-whoooo!
My hairs going to go through several stages. All of which
I’m going to hate immensely.
Right now I’m at the helmet head stage. My hair grows out in a thick bulky mess
and then starts to lengthen. My head looks about 2x bigger with all this hair
just hanging out on the top of it.
I won’t scare you away with photos of that look, but
tomorrow I’ll have a new cut and some fine ass extensions to be whipping
around.
Valentines Day. Pffffttttttt! (if you were wondering, that’s
a fart sound coming out of my mouth.)
Kh and I recently took a trip to Target. I found myself
walking through the seasonal section and seeing nothing but prepackaged
chocolate filled cardboard hearts, lollipops shaped like glistening beacons of
love (ew?), and bears clutching to hearts with LOVE written in white script. I was probably more irritated by the apparent lack of Reese's peanut butter treats than anything else.
I, personally, have been over Valentines Day since I grew my
first pube.
In my high school days the weeks leading up to Valentines
Day were absolute torture. My hickville school had a fundraiser that allowed
people to buy roses for girl friends, boy friends, secret admirers, crushes,
you name it. You could send them anonymously or put a name to it. I would hold
my breathe during homeroom secretly wishing I’d get a lame-ass rose. I never
did, womp womp. Not even from a friend. My blonde haired, cheerleader best
friend? Oh, she got plenty over the years.
Bitter? Yeah, a little.
I dated a guy
long distance for most of my late teens, and the most memorable Vday gift I
received was a box containing a bear, chocolate shaped hearts, and a wooden
“Dutch” love spoon. Complete with a heart on the handle. Yeah, seriously. His
uncanny way of picking out the perfect gift was only matched by his tribal
armband tattoo and love of Transformers.
Ok, fast forward over 10 years later. Last year Kh surprised
me with a rose and tickets to see Casablanca (one of my favorites of all time)
on the big screen playing at a local theater. I love that
she knows me well enough to surprise me like that. It really takes a lot to get
to know me, I’m a tough cookie.
I love her every day of the year. Tuesdays, Fridays, and
even on mornings when she forgets to pour me a cup of coffee. I believe our
relationship goes a bit beyond making sure we send each other flowers and a
card on a random day in February. I put a lot of thought into each gift I
give/make her, and I’m so thankful to have her in my life. Even if I hate Valentines Day and its manufactured consumerism with the after taste of love.
What I’m getting at is I’m completely stumped what to make
her this year. Womp womp.
Today’s life lesson: When doing a craft that calls for you
to leave it out in direct sunlight to cure, don’t start the project at 4pm
while the sky is slowly getting darker and darker. And after said craft, don’t
fall asleep with your face directly in front of the space heater, you might
need to drink a gallon of water and put on some moisturizer.
I feel like an old nanna today. I have a pillow behind my
back, a blanket over my lap, and my laptop on a pillow on top of said blanket.
A space heater is pulled up real close to me. If I could I’d put the blanket
over the space heater and call it a day.
Sunday night the street outside my house looked like this.
I knew there was no way I was going to be able to drive my
car on it.
Anyyyways. Long story short. I walked 5 miles total on
Monday. In these brand new ugly ass winter boots I had to buy. My back has been
killing me ever since. I have an icy-hot patch on it and I’m feeling damn sexy.
Is that a sweet tattoo? Oh no, it’s just my icy hot
patch.
I had two large marks on my lower back all night after taking it off. I thought I was burned for life.
In anticipation of V-day tomorrow Kh and I went out for
dinner and drinks at one of our favorite places this evening. Our friend is
coming into town tomorrow so we won’t be spending it just the two of us. I find Vday to be overrated, and it's super hard to find a place that is still open for reservations. Shh, don't tell Kh that first part, I'd be sleeping on the couch.
My girlfriend sure is handsome.
I ordered Jade Mountain Chardonnay. Classy? No, it was the
only wine I could pronounce without sounding like an asshat. Kh got a fancy
cocktail, as per usual. We also ate deviled eggs and apple cobbler. Uh –
whatttt!
Chalk that up to one of those precious moments you're glad your pants have an elastic-extendable waistline. (Maybe that's just me, I'm ok with it.)
