Friends, Lovers or Nothing

she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes--
she sits
and waits

her hair a jumbled brown tangle
roughed up from the friction--
from the sheets and his skin and his hands--
her cheeks slightly rosy,
complexion dewy, that perfect blend of porcelain and flush

she sits--
her pale hands nervous,
her delicate fingers with the nails painted plum--picking anxiously,
anxiously at the sheets,
twisting themselves in the 600 count cotton--
she sits
and waits

the door creaks--
she bites her lips,
her pulse thudding loudly in her ears,
she strains for a reassuring glimpse of his shadow--
and sees it in the doorway
she breathes a sigh of relief

he enters the room,
and as always, she is amazed--
how could someone, so perfect, so beautiful,
how could someone as marvelous as him
see something so marvelous in someone like her--
she marvels in the absurdity

tall, strong, masculine, blonde
she allows herself one hedonistic moment
one selfish moment to just stare shamelessly and drink him in--
her turquoise eyes meet his, and she feels a splash of warmth across her cheeks
the smoldering intensity behind those ocean eyes makes her heart race

this isn't love--it can't be,
she insists
purely lust, unrestrained and running wild and free
and yet, what else could it be?
how else could she even begin to explain how he seemed to occupy so much of her mind?

she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes,
aching, yearning,
she sits
and chides herself as nothing more than a fool
she sits, and she waits--

he sits then, on the edge of the bed,
flashes her one of his trademarked smiles--
crooked and boyish
playful, yet purely seductive
maddening yet utterly heart stuttering--
leans towards her, and envelops her in a crushing hug
she closes her eyes, and much like an addict, breathes him in

he lets go, without the words she longs to hear
reaching down to the floor to pick up his jeans
and he puts them on, making some joke about something trivial, insignificant--
and she laughs, though her heart falls to the floor

she quickly dresses, folding up her feelings deep inside herself
while he steps outside to have a smoke
and as the door closes, she lets her head fall into her hands
and allows herself one controlled moment to break into a trillion jagged little pieces--
before he comes back and she has to exude cool indifference

she sits--
on the edge of his king sized bed,
her legs tangled in the tumult of sheets,
she sits, she waits,
but for what...in that briefest flicker of moments,
she isn't quite sure--

--"friends with benefits", 05/25/2011.

Dickhead

So I really think Blogger is fucking with me.  I could have sworn I had a new comment (and follower) when I was on here yesterday, and now the comment and follower is gone.  What the hell, Blogger.

It's 1:52 am Friday night.  I am currently laying in bed composing this entry on my iPhone and wishing I was asleep, seeing as I have to get up in about five hours for my ten-hour workday tomorrow.  Why am I up?  The people who live upstairs in the duplex next door got a brand new puppy I think today and they have it on their front porch and it has been crying for the past hour.  It is this loud, high pitched yipping that will go on for ten to fifteen minutes straight, stop just long enough for me to start nodding off, and then start back up.

Is it wrong for me to want to throw something at said puppy?  It added howling into the repertoire, and I'm exhausted.  I want to go next door and punch the stupid wannabe gangsta chick that lives there in the face.  It's bad enough she'll roll in from the bar at like three-thirty in the morning with the bass blasting and Gucci Mane personally waking me up with his latest little ditty about money, cash, and hoes (high fives to anyone who caught the Jay-Z reference).  Ugh ugh ugh.  I wish I didn't have a job so that I could fill all my time with being a badass bitch.  Really, it must be nice.

Well, Señor Puppy must have cried himself to sleep because I haven't heard him in five minutes.  I'm going to try to go to sleep now, darlings.  Good night.

Meet You There

So...X Factor was a bust, but whatever.  I got to go to Chicago and have a blast!  I'll share the sordid details later, but for now I'll share my trip in pictures:

In the Escape before hitting the road!

Rain rain rain in Cleveland :(

Fuck you Mobil Gas!

Freezing in Indiana.

Yay, Chicago at last!!!

Looking fabulous in line for X Factor registration.

All registered and ready to hit the city :)

Sharing a good laugh with Bob Newhart.

A tender moment with the sculpted children of Chicago.

She totally started it.  You didn't see what she did to get this kick.

The obligatory self-portrait in the reflection of the Bean.

Cloud Gate, aka The Bean.  A stop in our exploration of Millennium Park.

A really good shot of the skyline in Downtown Chicago.

All dolled up for the auditions!  I looked good before the 2.5 hour wait in the cold rain :(

Patiently waiting.

Some of the line on audition day.

Float On

I like making lists, it's a good way to summarize the thoughts in my head without writing an entire novel in one blog post.  So...

*I woke up this morning with a headache.  I think it's from falling asleep with my super heavy and super thick hair pulled tightly up at the top of my head.  I popped two Excedrin and took my hair down...

*BUT...I realized that the argan oil that I put in my hair could very well be causing the nasty outbreak of acne I've been getting along my jawline and my lower cheeks and hairline.  So I pulled my hair back.

*However, the argan oil makes my stupid hair behave, so I'm trying to find a brand that I could use that won't break me out.  I heard Josie Maran makes a good oil.  For now I'm just putting the oil at the ends and hopefully I won't break out anymore.

*The Floridian Flasher struck again last night.  I was kind of like "wow, why would you send me a picture of your junk two months after the last picture you sent of your junk...especially after I completely ignored you and blocked you on Facebook?"  I guess that's some serious desperation, hahaha.

*Happy Easter, if Christianity is your cup of tea.  I drink from the mug of Catholicism--it tastes kinda like some really strong espresso, with quite a kick.

*I leave for Chicago in about 22 hours.  I audition for X Factor in less than four days.  Very excited.  Starting to get nervous.  There's something pretty intimidating about Simon Cowell.

*I was suspended three days this week from work.  I can't really go into it since I'm still working there, but I'll tell you that I didn't do anything wrong.  Perhaps I can go into it soon.  Just cross your fingers for me and perhaps I'll have an entirely new chapter to tell.

Closing Time

Hey darlings, it's time for Thirsty Thursday over at For The Love Of Blogs, so I will share a delicious drink recipe with y'all...Enjoy!!!



A Piece of Ass (taken from drinksmixer.com)

1 shot almond amaretto liqueur
1 shot Southern Comfort peach liqueur
Sweet and sour mix

Pour liqueurs over ice in a glass.  Fill with sweet and sour mix and serve.


I'd like to thank all of you that stopped by from FTLOB!  Hugs and kisses to you lovelies, and please feel free to check out my other posts.  If you like, comment, and if you lurrrrve, please follow!  Also feel free to "like" my Facebook page...And if you show me love, I'll gladly return the favor.

People Watching

I am kind of cheating, so I'll give you a full entry later on today.  I was going through my videos on my computer a few minutes ago, and I found this delightful little gem that I'll share with you guys at the end of this post.  I think Nicky was about four or so, he might have been five already, this is from around this time last year.  I think it's pretty cute, so enjoy my adorable little bunny:

Sunsets & Car Crashes

Ah...Today calls for a good old fashioned playlist.  Take a listen to the playlist, and I'm always open to new music, so feel free to post a song or band/artist you think I should check out in the comments section below! 

The Thank Goodness It's April (And Friday) Playlist:

1. "Pretty Bird", Jenny Lewis, (Acid Tongue)
2. "Assassin", John Mayer, (Battle Studies)
3. "The High Road", Broken Bells, (Broken Bells)
4. "Blue Blood Blues", The Dead Weather, (Sea of Cowards)
5. "Hard To Explain", The Strokes, (Is This It)
6. "1901", Phoenix, (Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix)
7. "On The Radio", Regina Spektor, (Begin to Hope)
8. "Mouthwash", Kate Nash, (Made of Bricks)
9. "Come Round Soon", Sara Bareilles, (Little Voice)
10. "22", Lily Allen, (It's Not Me, It's You)