|
peachesandcream
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Francie
Country: United States
State: California
Metro: Los Angeles
Gender: Female
Interests: Good conversation, hot sex, and emotional stability. I'm kidding. Kind of.
Expertise: I try to be good at all of the above. I also xanga a lot.
Occupation: TA
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
11/15/2002
|
|
| I got a new car! It's a Ford Focus, sky blue. It makes me feel especially baller to stride confidently to my car and enter it from the driver's side door, rather than having to slither across the front seats after entering from the passenger side door. The old car has been passed on, as it was generously passed to me. I hear it's getting its driver side door handle fixed.
I have many China stories and I will tire my friend greatly with telling them, I am sure. I should have brought back more souvenirs with which to bribe people to listen to me.
| | |
| So I have two jobs and an internship and no benefits, except some excellent health coverage from my most excellent dad, but I live an immeasurably sweet life. I work with young, smart, and remarkably good-looking people. My work is inarguably good for people and I work directly with those I serve. And for the next two months, I don't have to work. At all. I'm going to go to China, to study and play and hike the wilderness and fumblingly try to communicate to hitherto unseen distant relatives, and when I come back, I'll still have my jobs.
See you again in August!
| | |
| It's 6:30 AM, I've been up all night grading (though I did take a nap from 3:30 to 4:30 this morning), and there's something kip-kip-kip-kohkohkohkohkoh-ing outside my window. It sounds like a chicken + a rubber duckie + wooden spoons clapping together.
| | |
| Sometimes you just don't know why you are into people. It happens a lot, right? We have our idiomatic expression for this-- "He must have a big cock"-- and so do other cultures-- "She must have a golden vagina." Blogger Michael K has his own, "dickmatized" for those who like boys and "hypnotic vagina" for homewrecker Angelina Jolie.
For example, say your friend fucks some skinny, slightly socially awkward guy for a couple weeks before he packs up his life for some Asian country, a move both he and she knew would happen before they started the whole sexing it thing. She spends the next year pining over him. You can't get her to snap out of it. You also can't get her to stop talking about it. Maybe he had a big cock.
Sometime near the end of the year, you're sitting with her on her bed, which is pushed up against one of the walls in her bedroom, and you're both leaning against the wall. You've been talking but now it's been silent for a while. Maybe you're smoking, at least that's what I imagine in the space in my mind that comes up with settings and rooms for me to write about, though I know it couldn't have been true because neither of us smoke. Everything did feel hazy and languid, though, the way smoking scenes in movies feel. It was hot, nearly summer, because we still thought of years in terms of the academic year so "near the end of the year" meant summertime, and I always feel hazy in the heat.
"Maybe he had a complementary immune system," she grinned at last. She spread out her arms, helpless. "Maybe my ovaries are just screaming, 'Don't let this one go! You will have superimmune children with him.'" I laughed. I didn't know it yet, but this was the last thing she'd ever say about him. Maybe he had a big cock. Maybe he was preternaturally genetically compatible with her. Maybe we just can't help it sometimes, not any more than we can help that we have the same waist-to-hip ratios as our respective mothers, not any more than we can help having black hair.
| | |
| Hey, does anyone know what's going on in Brentwood right now? There have been helicopters passing overhead for more than an hour now. I'm scared to walk outside and look.
| | |
|
