promotions.

i'm everywhere in books. from one to another, like a dirty whore in a motel 6, i skip from book to book never developing substance just indulging myself in instant gratification my carnal intellect is subjected to feed. today it's the partly cloudy patriot by sarah vowell, a writer and storyteller for npr's "this american life". it's humorous and light and educational if you can get past the plithre of liberal propaganda.
goes well with: a double tall mocha.

last night rach and i watched "thirteen conversations about one thing". i had seen the movie back when it came out but it wasn't till last night i grasped the full extant of how great this movie is. seriously, s-t-e-l-l-a-r.
goes well with: beer and dark chocolate hershey kisses.

and the new snow patrol album hasn't seen the sun in days. i can't get enough of it so in my cd player it stays. song #7-LIGHT UP is friggin damn amazing so much that i have a hard time driving while listening to it-it's spell binding, sing at the top of your voice along; the type of song that makes you wish you could crawl into and build a house, plant a garden, and live happily ever after within.
goes well with: philadelphia rolls and (opps) parliament lights.

yesterday.

the words dance, laying on a distressed bed of scattered blankets, and I, platonic in musing; drifting to starring, at an empty wall, where then my hands find themselves tucked inside a book of collected stories. the air outside is cold, the heavens are drenched in grey, and my clothes are wet, tumbling and tossing in a box of mechanical warmth, i wait; the song that brought me to this melancholy has stopped and the silence unfolds revealing the drone of the space heaters hum. without socks my toes turn to phalanges of ice but i'm comfortable: naked, adjusting my vision away from the empty wall, slowely but surely, nonetheless, happily content. i've been reading. a short story. delightful. and now i'm telling myself it's time to get moving. to get dressed. to either break plans or go. rachel and me have another adventure painted on the horizon for tonight but i'm in one of those moods, a lazy-as-as-a-bum mood, wanting to do nothing, to drive no where, ecspecially not dallas in the middle of rush hour mood of all moods. she called me earlier and told me she was lonely, her (live in)boyfriend is on tour, and so i don't want to cancel on her. i know all to well what it feels like to be without a friend when you, unfortunately but desperately, need that confidence that your not all alone in this world; that someone cares enough about you to go out of their way to be there for you; damit, to make you feel special. life can sometimes throw circumstances and situations and bad days were knowing isn't enough, on such days you need to see it, to fuckin feel it. i've got alot to digest right now. alot on my mind. i started a new job yesterday, nothing of importance, but a job with a paycheck at the end of every two weeks and after countless months of selling my old clothes and cds(or as I know them to be, my children), i'm happy to compromise. it's not all that bad either.....in fact, i like it. part of the reason is that i made a friend from the get-go. cat, that's her name, wants to own her photography studio one day, loves bjork, is married to an aviation pilot whom she religiously refers to as "that guy", conjures with me on topics such as heels and make-up(we rather do without, sorry girls), she loves independence as much as i do but just as I: finds herself clingy when too much independnce is alloted and this bothers and flusters her as it does me, in so many other ways, cat and i are alot alike. and because my new friend and i are so very similar i've been reminded of the hopes and aspirations i gave up, or, i wussed out on, and now i'm stuck wondering, for what?!? it was about freedom-an independence to do whatever i wanted, with no restrications or expectations forcing me down paths i wanted to be the only person in control of... but those reasons are six years old and now i know how stupid i was; how i wish i was on staff at jane or clamour and how now, i'm just that much more behind it every being a reality for not taking the oppurtunities i was given and dropping school when i should have been dropping the cell phone bill and ego instead. i keep telling myself, "all's not lost", and fingers crossed i'll prove myself true. a horse named charlie just grabbed my toes, it feels like their making the Dr.Spock sign, Weird.

After work I picked up the kids from school. As soon as we were all all safe and dry, with seat belts on, I began to ask them the same questions my mother would ask me as a child, such as;"how was your day?" and "so tell me everything you learned?" and then the one they dread, "so did you stay on green?" (green means you didn't get any misconduct points). The consequence of them getting on yellow is no tv and on a rainy day like today the silver screen is gold while red ensures a harsh whooping. Nicole, my niece, has never gotten on anything but green. She is a perfect pupil. Caleb, my nephew, on the other hand takes after his Auntie Missie; he often visits the land of disobdience and ends up sitting in his room playing with plastic dinosaurs or digging holes in the backyard. So I was shocked when from the back seat came a little girls wail. I consoled her. I told her we all make mistakes and not to let it eat away at her. I told her the only bad mistake is the one you don't learn a lesson from. Which spoke volumes to myself and quieted her tears.

Lyrics have taken hostage my thoughts.

No Computer=Library

Set under the monitor is a yellow piece of paper nicely folded in half with a message of adoration intended for my eyes.

And from the corner of my eye, I can see the lady in front of me browse an adoption web site; I am a peeping rose.

The rain outside has silenced itself and classical music, Chopin I believe, has replaced the moonsoon lullaby.

My day has already exasperated and now I wait for tomorrow.

Tomorrow I start a new job.
And no longer pretend to be able to write while surrounded by strangers and with a time limit ticking at the top of the page.
Sebatical fantical.

Perky and Perfect:

The only thing last night was lacking, were my three best friends; but apart from that void, it was perfect. I woke up this morning still grinning, a little too bubbly for 7am and for only getting 4 hours of sleep, but that's just how much fun I had even despite the fact I over-shopped with Gordon Lightfoot and therefore missed the Pre-SFA Party Rachel and I had planned. I hate flaking out on people. Though I think the shopping mission to be a great sucess-by the end of the night he had his crush entralled into every word his Armani Exchange/Banana Republic/in a cool pair of girl jeans that was snug as a bug-ass could offer. Which made me feel incredibly happy that my inate sense of style could help my best boyfriend snag the attention of his pitter-patter. And not to mention, but the Super Fury Animals gave a stellar performance ontop of it all, and I was simply buzzing from the greatness in the air, surrounded by familiar faces I love being surrounded by: people I haven't seen in ages; friends who's girlfriends won't ever friggin let me have a minute conversation at the bar with but that minute is always golden anyways so whatever; a girlfriend whose ball and chain is on tour; and the regulars I can always count on to raise two fists in the air with me engage my smile into laughs.

And today it's beautiful. The weather couldn't be more perfect either,i'm more perky than my boobies, Nickerbocker is going to see El Gato with me tonight, SXSW is coming up, I have an advanced copy of the Snow Patrol waiting for me, I can wear skirts again now that's it's not freezing, and my heart is loving all the wide open spaces i'm running through and to.

:)

All the Links You Don't Have Time For and More:

Happy Trails, loser.

I would have never considered myself a Libertarian but whatever. It's a funny quiz-do take and share.

I read my horoscope today. Shame on me.

My Secret Recipe, shhhhh.

Grilled Greatness-

2 pieces of wheat bread(the fancier the better)
4 thick slices of Cheddar Cheese *or if your super fancy, try using an assortment of cheeses like: cheddar, havarti, and gouda.
1/2 an avocado, sliced * if your so-not-socal, try substituting with jalepenos instead.
2 tomato slices
2 pieces of peppered bacon

A little butter in the pan, a fruit salad, corn chips, salsa, and a heinken; and you'll be well on your way to tackle the better half of the day.

On a Beautiful Day:

(SORRY TO DELETE-i prefer rambles like that one to find space in my dusty diary. I all too aften forget how public a blog is.)

Belle thanks for calling!!! I will finish telling you about "caddy"-corners and space heaters at another time and we will figure out a way in which we never have to live soooo far apart from eachother ever,ever,ever again. A ranch in North Cali still sounds gold to me. I wonder how far away Portland is from that area?

Norah Jones+ a sunny day with the windows rolled down= A Quick Austin Fix

FALL IN LOVE

A Must Read; Now Out You Go, Viva La Vida Danes!!!

"Kerry’s rivals all have access to one or two nerve endings in their stump repertoire: Howard Dean does righteous outrage; Wesley Clark does patriotism; Richard Gephardt did working-class solidarity; John Edwards, the Party’s spellbinding, stem-winding new superstar speech-maker, does the sting of injustice coupled with exuberant optimism so well you can taste the opportunity in the air;...."

Oh the Poetry:

"Two headed boy all floating in glass the sun it
has passed now it's blacker than black I can
hear as you tap on your jar I am listening to hear
where you are...."

Buffet ala Perspective

Time to get lost in the Paper. Time to look around. Time to rebel against complacency. Time to put action in my compassion. Time to recycle. Time to trust. Time to push myself as far as I think I can go and then further. Time to write long letters to loved ones. Time to practice faith. Time to plan a trip. Time to plan relocation. Time to be challenged. Time to grow,grow,grow. Time to prioritize. Tttttiiiiiiimmmmmmeeeeee is on my side, oh yes it is.

I love my sister. I'm so thankful God put her in my life as not only the world's most amazing sister but also the world's most amazing best friend. What would I be without you?!? More like you to compensate.

Like our mother would tell us when dropping us of at school; "I love you so much i'm going to stand ontop of the car and shout it", and we believed her and would beg her to stay inside the car because if she loved that much she wouldn't want us to get picked on during recess for having a looney mommy. Well this isn't a car and your not at school but i'm shouting it across these electric wires to anyone who care to reads, I love you Sweet Pea.

Go ahead call me a looney i'll give ya some tooney to stick up your boowhoney.
:)

Hmmmmm. Mewah Too practical.

The nemesis of idealistic ideology. So very intriguing; the sly maneuvers, the tentacles wrapping themselves around it's victim- unaware, unabashed, in complete belief that it is safe, moreso, it is not wrong in the place that it stands. It is a hero. A loyalist to loyalty. I'll call it flagrant deceit. Self-betrayal. A vendetta against one's own continuity in happiness and integrity, but i'll keep that to myself. Miscellany, whatever. How long will it allow; etc, repeat the past and then defend and justify with the argument of paths being extended or unresolved or innocent, the reasons ever so...blind to wisdom. Content. Stagnant. Stubborn to change. With herpes in the head. Addicted to the fulfillment of winding circles that go nowhere and land it in the place of seeking resolution with memories too deceiving in pleasure and neccesatity to ever convince a true dismissal. I've been out drinking. And smoking. And visiting a cold loft with wicked blue suede furniture in the ghetto. The puppy is sound asleep and in seven hours i'll have to be up-no alarm, just two little helicans waiting for breakfast and for their lunches to be made and to scold the youngest when he forgets to flip up the toilet seat and ends up pissing all over it, and to remind them to put their homework in their back pack with their lunches and oh wait, "did I sign the paper that ensures they did their homework?", then in the car, to be asked why I still don't have a job and if I feel weird that I never have any money and i'm, "like a small adult". This must be how people turn into ragging alcoholics and princess pill poppers. Funny I never resented one friggin moment with Max. He was the perfect kid and i'm afraid lightening only strikes once.

Oh to be on Sugar Mountain.
Check out the Thermals and pay homage to Nick Drake.

Crazy In Puppy

St. Valentines dropped me off a bundle of cuteness last night but there were two little helicans going crazy over the new addition that I hardly had a chance to acquaint myself with the ball of fur and yelps. This morning thoughshe is min e and shebg njhi mn,....is bniting me and messing with the key board knowing i'm about to call her out on her destructive behavior. Within the past thirty minutes Lightening has peed on the carpet once, ate a plant, and licked my face clean. I've let her down and now i'm fearing the erie silence in the living room.

Pictures to come soooon. Oh shit something just broke.

Newtons Figs, Missie's Laws

I've done it again, got myself in that pickle; resorting to the Therapist, leaving starsailing as squeaky clean as possible, posts fumbling in comprehension, unable to disassemble my ever wounded heart from my recently messed with head. I rebuttal to share, to indulge into that which, has reached it's finis la destination; and end, once and for all but in this tale there is no Happy Ending, just the reminder that just because inertia exists it does not constitute velocity to be accurate but that it has motion and will remain in motion towards the same direction until an unbalanced force disturbs it's movement. Unfortunately I seem to loose my sense of panosphy in the motion, and this frustrates me more than anything, because I am not an illogical person, rather, I wish to believe: systematic, analytical, rational, and friggin dern logical. I suppose it is when our desire to materialize, to contrive, falsified hopes; that the equatition, being either now or then, to add up into that which it might that ones sense of panopshy becomes blurred and over-powered by an unproven will of desire instead of facing the (hurtful) facts of what is. In the case which this concerns: a motion of nothingness and repurcusions. Or in the case which it concerns friendsters with political motivated soap boxes: a motion of constant self-induced disillusionment. Better put;

" The only sure thing is that mankind is eager for truth, lives by it, will not let it go and turns desperate in the teeth of contradiction"
-Jacques Barzun.

Rant and Rave

Word on the street is that over in Europe shows are done with by 11pm. I'm beyond envious and straight to insanely jealous concerning this piece of gossip. Somewhere in between 11 and 12 last night I found myself asleep on one of those satin maroon coaches that lines the brick walls in the Tea Room, it had been a long and wonderful day filled with an over-indulgence of cheap beer, hot dogs, the sights and sounds of Quiet Lovely, Deathray Davies, Elefant, (wahhoooooo this Houston band rawked my socks off)Flying Fatal Somethingoranothers, and 25% Toby; and so I was more than content, I was wiped. Though, even if the day had been composed of wet kisses from puppies, an after lunch nap, and endless red bull and jagermiester contraptions, I know for a matter of most likeliness, I would have retired after the Party rather than Rage against the Clock. But Elefant was on the bill, a band I have recently discovered and fallen head over heels for, my name was on the list and earlier cute guitar player flirting seemed convincing enough to stick it out. I woke up to the shifting of the lady next to me, the second band was still playing, I inquired about the time, and decided to find my friend-the one and only Gordon Lightfoot for some pep. He delivered. The show was definitely worth it, no doubt, but the thought that elsewhere in the world, kids are getting to savor the sounds and experiences of great music while still getting a healthy eight hours of sleep has me in a hissy as why in the hell here in the States, maybe just Dallas, that option has yet to fabricate beyond fantasy. Seriously, there are very, and I mean very, few things in this world I enjoy more than going to see a band I love play; it's my ideal first date scenario, my ideal second,third,fourth, fifth, sixth,seventh,eighth,infinity date scenario, my ideal kicking it with the girls scenario, my ideal being by myself scenario, my ideal scenario for Distraction, and my ideal scenario for Satisfaction. It encompasses and invigorates every molecule in my being, the energy and the rhythms, the prescient that your apart of the moment in which the sound is being created...it's Simply Incredible. And this is my justification behind me ranting and the reasoning for the (c)raving.

Elsewhere:
In my car earlier this evening, while listening to a local station here in Dallas, I heard the Spree!!!! This prompted tears of pride and exictment to swell and dance in my eyes-ohhhhh I can't wait for the world to fall in love with them too. Belle I sent you the moment in a kiss I let out into the wind. Candy Girl missed church this morning because of Edward Scissorhands and I missed church this morning because I was too lazy to take a shower and I felt condemnation concerning Friday night's abomination in conduct.

Ewh Periods.

Within the four corners of this world exists other woman, like myself, who go through the depths of hell once a month. We experience the clench of Satan's fists wrapping and twisting our ovaries in evil delight. We curl up in balls of pain pleading the Calvary of Christ to come take us to heaven. We become hostage, crippled, possessed in it's torture; unable to move, to search for the heating pad, to retrieve a cool wash cloth to soothe our hot flashes, to fill the tub with warm water, to push ourselves off the bathroom tiled floor and back onto the soft carpet in the hallway after throwing up, to ring our family doctor and threaten him into calling in a prescription order of vicadin or codeine for us, to pretend not to be irritable and on the verge of crying. We are gluttons of Aleve. We are advocates of the legalization of marijuana for medicinal purposes. We are brave and courageous and should be pitied and comforted.

Usually I brave two days at the most; the first day being a Warning Sign of the Cramps To Come and the second day delivering me The Hell, but today, the day after Hell, I am experiencing a third day, which feels similar to the first day, but since it's not the first day and therefore can not coin it to be a Warning Sign, I will dub it: the Day of Aftermath.

And unlike other girlfriends I know, who share my story, I differ in that mine come and go, which is a blessing in a curse but a curse in a blessing in a curse because it means unless I am experiencing it right then and their I feel no justification in allowing myself to be tucked into bed for the day but instead that I must 'Carpe Diem'; leaving my offensive line in a valley surrounded by the unknown and the lingering doom of an unexpected attack.

I have too many things to get done today and plans for a fun outing tonight but without any Aleve or those heating pads that stick to your panties in the reserves, I hesitate.

Dreams Are Better When Your...

It almost doesn't matter the city, how big or how insignificantly small, the weather, the condition of the streets, the tenacity of the hobos or the uplift nose of the trophy wife glidding out of Neimans-I love downtown. Old buildings mingling and rubbing elbows with newly renovated hotels. It's a sobering blend; a remainder to remember, to reflect, on what could have been and what in turn is.

I walk with my hands in my pocket while dashing from kiask to kiask allowing the rain to fall as it wills on my head, past brick pavement to concrete pathways, side glances and smiles at the rushing faces around me, onward I tarry to Starbucks and then to Schlotzskys.

I'm downtown. I never want to leave. I want to buy a loft right over there in that cool old building. I want to fill it with books and art and tooexpensivefurniture. I want the art to be pieces I bought at my downtown neighbors art gallas where we drink loads of wine and discuss the funniest top 10 SNL's ever and off course Nietzche(or anything deep and philospohical to pretend to care overly about) and then other pieces I had shipped here from Bulgaria or Czech or Italy (something acquired during my most recent trip no doubt). I want us to listen to Serge Gainsbourg and Bjork during these shin digs. I want a pile of those books to be a big stash of my unsigned Pultizer Prize novel I plan on giving in homemade decorated boxes for Christmas to all my distant family members that wouldn't buy it because it was a whopping $25 dollars. I want Christmas to be at my cool downtown loft because i'll have decorated a sad douglas fur with stringed popcorn and metallic stars and a few ornaments from mine my boyfriends childhood. I'll also have fresh baked pastries by the fireplace from the bakery downstairs and fruit and cheese from the Market that I walk too every weekend, so breakfast will be a breeze. And when it's not Christmas morning, i'll drink black cups of coffee and read the NYT that is delivered right to my door mat. I want my downtown to have the back drop of mountains. And I want the mountains to be peaked with snow that better gosh darn glisten at sunset.

I unlock the car door, throw the bag full of sandwhiches in the passengers seat and wedge the coffee next to the emergency break. Take a look behind me, wait for the cars to pass, reverse, go forward, into first, stop, and soon i'm driving out of downtown and back into the world of what is.

Elsewhere:
Elefant is rocking my world. Al Sharpton is cracking me up. But i'll get to that later or as soon as NPR has the sound clip up on their web site. And go back to "Department of Public Seducing", my drivers license picture should be on here soon.

Damnit, I told my niece to send the Senator a thank you card and a bag of those delicious chocolate chews Reisens not that protein toxin extracted from the castor bean plant that acts as deadly agent known as Ricen.

Kids these days.

Department of Public Seducing:

Usually i'm happily suprised with my drivers license picture; my skin seems radiant, my hair shiny, my lips more full than I know them to be, my eyes enriched with a sparkle, however, after anxiously tearing open the letter I knew to be my new license, and adjusting my eyes to see just what cuteness this year has afforded me with, I was speechless.

"Why in the hell am I making that face?!?", I thought.

It's not bad, not at all, it's that I look as if, Ashton Kutchner is behind the clerks counter, giving me the come hither look, sporting only a pair of boxer briefs, while dangling a bag of chocolate covered gummie bears at arms length and i'm about to mumble a dirty, "meow". While truth be told, the clerk was a lady in her mid twenties though looked to be in her early thirties, with short tight jerri curls, no candy in sight and even if I wanted to meowwwww, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

A mystery. And then it occured to me: The candyless clerk had requested that I take off my glasses due to the glare it would cause, this resulting, in my attempt to not be caught squinting, and instead I was caught with a very fixed looked that I was unaware looks like an intense seductive glare.



Which I gladly perfer over an almost sneeze or a pasty skin day but I know the likelihood for witty or suggestive comments amongst those who serve me my Tecates and Merlot and Vanilla Stoli Cokes is inevitable.

And I have no defense against it: a picture says a thousand words, just the hope that in another four years after perfecting my squint, I can get a new non-seductive one made.

I Have A Bone to Pick with The South: My Most Recent Trip to the Video Store.

On Sept 19 in 1979, I came storming into this world, during a, how very appropiate, tropical storm way down South in Hollywood, Florida. Then at the age of 3 my parents packed up and moved to Texas, this was to be a temporary move, my father had no desire for the Inland and my mother wanted to be around the family back in Florida, but after finishing Seminary my father made the mistake of buying a house while he looked for a church to pastor back home. The rest is history: he never found a Pastoring position, the bills began to accumulate, he got stuck working to provide, unable to get ahead to leave with a mortage hanging on his back, I grew up in even more Southern Country than where I had been born. Which could be an explanation as to why storms have always had a comforting affect on me, though being born and raised in the South, it gives no pliable reasoning as to how I find very little in common with my fellow Southerners.

I know I should love country music, college football rivalries, country fried steak, iced tea, big houses ten feet apart from one another, wicker, and the thought of having been married at the age of 19 and with three kiddos by now.

But up until two years ago I had no idea what country fried steak was, let alone, had ever tried it, and I hate country music, though a few exceptions exist: like Gram Parsons or Hank Williams or the alt. country scene of Whiskeytown and Wilco and Lucinda Williams, and no offense to any die hard college football fans, but it goes straight over my head the feeling of belonging to a city or a school enough to cause pride and the perception of grandeur for a sports team, and nothing against tea being iced but I prefer mine warm and I don't understand why in the hell houses are built soooo big if there isn't enough room for a backyard or a side yard to go along with it, and holy SHIT, kids and marriage is serious bizness, I have a hard enough time as it is simply trusting most people to posess enough wisdom or life experiences for It's sucess, but to think you do at the age of 19 is just as insane as someone wanting to decorate anything besides an Easter basket with wicker.

I'm getting sick of feeling like the odd (wo)man out just because i'm 24 and the vast majority of my friends are married or halfway there. I feel too young to have to feel weird about the fact that I don't want to rush into any lifelong commitments and obligations. I'm very happy being single, liking a boy that I love, using wisdom and logic to dictate my future not emoutions and infatutions and insecurities.

Last night; after the Super Bowl, because, just because I don't understand the connection people make to it, doesn't mean I don't enjoy watching men strategizing and displaying great feats of physical superiority in the name of, "The Greatest Day of New Commercials", at all; I went to pick up a movie for Jon and I to watch from Hollywood Video, usually Jon is with me for such expeditions but it was rainy, he had made it to 10pm still in his pajamas and I wasn't about to end such a feat of another sort, plus I just can't bare to tear that cute boy away from his nerdy obsession of computer games for an errand I can do by myself, so off I went, unaware of the clerk that was to hassle me, ask me why I didn't want to watch the movies he was suggesting, why I don't like LL Cool J as an actor, how many times he had seen this and that movie, for thirty furkin minutes while I tried desperately and as nicely as possible to ignore him and blow him off so I could try to figure out what movie to rent before it was too late to start one.

At the end of my movie renting experience nightmare, Mr. Creepy Clerk then proceeded to ask me, "So why don't you have a ring on your finger?", I fought back the urge to ask him, "I'll tell you only if you tell me, why in the hell your so fuckin creepy and nosey?". Instead I snapped back with, "Because i'm only 24", and this dumbfounded the poor idiot who couldn't have been a day over 19.

Only in the South at a video store, I swear.

My Boobs Only

Let me begin by stating that Jon is not my boyfriend and I am not his girlfriend but I do think it's perfectly safe to put in writing that I like Jon and Jon likes me, that I dig hanging out with him and he digs hanging with me, that i'm the only girl in the picture who nibbles on his lower lip and he is the only boy who i'll let grab my ass, so things that shouldn't even cross my mind, inevitability, do.

Last night Jon asked me what I thought about him going to dinner this weekend with his friend Ashley, without hesitation, I told him it was perfectly cool because it is and I was simply blown away in smitteness that he even thought about asking me. He continued to ease any hidden worries by informing me, it wasn't a date at all, she has a boyfriend, and it was simply because a few weeks prior, with no one else to be her Hero, he came to the rescue and this was her Thank-you Dear Clark Gables. But hours later as I was leaving and the goodbyes were being exchanged and the one last "oh yah your going out with Ahsley tomorrow night" conversation was being onced over, the thoughts of her being his girlfriend at one time, right before me, came into play, which in itself is nothing, but as his once upon a time girlfriend, I thought to myself, "that means she once kissed him and, holy fuck he probably saw her boobs too, my Boy ( yes I just called him my Boy) is going to go out to eat with a girl he has seen the boobs of, and now he's telling me (this portion has been dramatized for more impelling reading) she's misunderstood and no one gets her but he does and the reason why he broke up with her really doesn't make sense now and ugh he's seen her boobs!!!" So I did what any girl in a state of possesivness would do, I suggested he take her to the party tomorrow night, not just because he should be there for his friends birthday but, more importantly, so I could meet her, look her in the eyes; to make sure she wasn't going to pull any on purpose "look at my boobs yawns" at the dinner table. What's that ol' proverb: Keep your friends close but your Boys x-girlfriends closer. I'd just feel better if I knew this girl, if I knew she was safe, not one of those girls that gets a kick out of having boys crush her/adore her because she has a low self esteem and needs lots of male confidence to make her feel better about her worth, or, of keeping back ups close even while there in a relationship but a x-girlfriend who likes to play ketchup from time to time with their old boyfriends that, had not been for dating, they'd probably still be buds with anyways and since he was her Superman when she needed a Superman desperately what not a perfect oppurtunity and reason. I'm one of those ketchup gals so I get that. I also get that it doesn't matter who Jon goes out to dinner with, be it Charlize Theron or a x-girlfriend, because if he one day he should like someone else than obviously i'm not the girl and who wants to be in a relationship one day as, not The Girl.

Plus i'm sure my boobs are bigger. :)