Thursday, May 22, 2003
Hi, my name is…
What?
My name is!
Who?
My name is!!!!
SO GENERIC SIT-EE!
I am stuck in the middle of boresville today. It’s rainy, nothing exciting is really going on, and I don’t have too much to write about. I mean, what am I? Selfish? I just had a wonderful date two nights ago and now I sit here complaining that nothing fun or exciting ever happens to me. OK…I have to understand that downtime is needed at some point. Snores.
Here is a quick story…
My brother (who is currently in Baghdad) called my mom two weeks ago and was really shaken up over something horrible that had happened. Winfield was upset because a man in his unit had started freaking out over the fact that he was in Iraq fighting in a war. He bugged so badly that the chief officers stripped him of his artillery and weapons. They classified him as a level 9 or some shit. I don’t remember what level it is when you go mentally insane. But that was the level that they classified him as.
The night before this kid was to be sent home, everyone else in the unit was sleeping in the barracks in order to get rest for the next day’s mission. My brother was woken up due to a loud noise echoing throughout the building. He immediately jumped up, along with the rest of his men, and ran to where the noise came from. When they reached the room, my brother was horrified to see the “Level 9” guy lying in a pool of his own blood. Apparently, this kid had saved one bullet before his equipment was taken away. He snagged one of the other troops’ guns and used the lone bullet to kill himself. My brother and his men were in charge of cleaning up the mess, despite the fact that they were witnesses to one of the most disturbing things any of them had ever seen.
When my brother spoke to my mom, it took all he had not to burst into tears with her on the phone. He gets 20-minute time slots to talk and there is usually a line out the door. He didn’t want to break down in front of his fellow men. Now, I don’t tell this story lightly at all. I just find it easier to disconnect with the emotions of what actually went down. I can’t even begin to imagine what my brother must have felt when he found the dead body. I don’t think my brother has actually seen a dead body before this whole thing happened. It makes my heart hurt and it makes my stomach turn to even conceptualize such a horrific event. Poor kid. I wish he could come home now.
Changing gears…
Paul and I had a very long talk last night about my date with Ahmad. He literally forced the information right out of me. I wasn’t going to tell him originally because the idea of hurting him deliberately in any way destroys my insides. But Paul and I have been together for a long time and he is able to pull things out of me, whether I want to talk about it or not. I told him everything. Well, almost everything. I didn’t tell him that my friend Joanna was the one that set me up on the date. I didn’t think that was fair to her. Paul handled it all with grace and dignity, as he usually does when he finds out that I am interested in another guy. He grilled me on different Ahmad related questions for about an hour and then he continued to make jokes about it for the rest of the night.
Paul is definitely jealous over the fact that I had a great time with Ahmad. I explained to him that if he would just step up to the plate and be a better boyfriend, or at least a much less neglectful boyfriend, I would drop Ahmad instantly and be with only him. He laughed my comment off and told me that he is still “not ready”. When I told him that I would continue to see Ahmad, Paul said “Maybe it is better that we both date other people for awhile”. Sure Paul. You go ahead and date other people. THE ONLY REASON I AM DOING THIS IS BECAUSE YOU DON’T PAY ANY ATTENTION TO ME. Gah! He will take it more seriously once I start to have real feelings for another guy. And at that point…at that point it will be way too late. I won’t love Paul anymore.
This morning when I got out of bed, Paul was already in the shower. I deliberately waited for him to finish, rather than joining him in the bathroom. When he came back to my room, he was all “I love you so much, I missed you while we were sleeping, I can’t wait to spend time with you tonight.” Barf. Why was he putting on this show? I gave him a brief and very un-passionate kiss on his way out of my apartment. Why does he do this? Why does he LOVE me one minute and DESPISE me the next? Why do I have so many mixed emotions about all of this?
I have to do what is best for me. And more importantly, I have to keep telling myself that it is ok that I am doing this. I am someone who is constantly carrying unnecessary guilt. Yet, no matter how much I tell myself that it is okay to do the things that I do, sometimes I can’t convince myself of it. When I saw the look in Paul’s eyes after I told him that I stayed over at Ahmad’s apartment, I thought I was going to vomit in misery. He looked crushed. I explained that I didn’t hook up with him, that there was no dick play. He handled it well, but that look...
God, I hate hurting people. Hate it hate it hate it!
So yesterday, as I am leaving my job, I see this incredibly attractive guy walking down the sidewalk toward me. At first glance I knew he was straight, so there was no reason to scope him out. However, as he approached me, he stared directly into my eyes and I did the same to him, even though I knew he was not sexually interested in me. (and I don’t know why not…I mean, even straight guys like to stick their dicks into a random tight hole sometimes, right?) As the guy and I passed each other, I saw him check me up and down and go “Tisk”.
I was like “Tisk”?
“Tisk?!?!”
Did this guy just give me the once over and then basically tell me that I wasn’t even close to his league of hotness? That’s exactly what it felt like. Like I was inferior. It was such a minor thing, but I have thought about that moment over and over and I wish I had said “Tisk” before he did. Or I wish I whipped out my cock and slapped him in the mouth with it. Don’t tell ME “Tisk”.
Fucking Tisk.
A tisket a tasket I should have shit on his face.
I’m dating a Muslim. I love saying that to people. There is this lady at work (keep in mind that I work for a Jewish agency) who is constantly eavesdropping on all of my personal phone conversations. Yesterday, when I was talking to Mariah about the previous evening’s adventures with Ahmad, she happened to be walking by my desk. Well, when I got off the phone, she came over to me and said:
Co-worker: “Are you dating someone other than Paul?”
Me: (GOD WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SPY ON ME ALWAYS!?!) “Actually, I did go out on a date last night. How ever did you know?”
Co-worker: “I always know, Joe. I pick up on these things.”
Me: (sigh) “Yeah, you are SO intuitive.”
CW: “So…what’s he like?”
Me: “He’s handsome and a gentleman and successful and treated me like gold. What else could I want?”
CW: “What did you guys do together?”
Me: (Well I took him back to my place and proceeded to fuck the shit out of him.) “Well, we went to this classy French restaurant and then back to his place for conversation and some wine.”
CW: “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Was it romantic?”
Me: “Incredibly.”
CW: “I am so happy for you!!”
Me: “Thank you, me too. You know, it’s weird…he is the first Muslim guy I have ever met, much less dated.”
CW: “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?????”
Me: “whaaa?”
CW: “He’s Muslim? I, uh…oh neat.”
Me: “Yeah, it is pretty neat.”
CW: “Um, I…(at this point I think she is pooping in her pants) what are you having for lunch?”
Me: “Probably something Muslim.”
CW: “AY YI YI!”
Ok, so the last two lines never happened. But wouldn’t it be funny if it did?
Yeah. Yeah it would have been. Oh well…too late to go back now and erase what I typed. Computers just don’t work that way.
It’s now 3:38pm. I can’t wait to get out of here. I want to curl up in a blanket and watch a movie. Maybe make some popcorn, snuggle up close to a Muslim. Yeah…now THAT sounds HOTT!
Rain, rain go away, cum in my face another day.
What?
My name is!
Who?
My name is!!!!
SO GENERIC SIT-EE!
I am stuck in the middle of boresville today. It’s rainy, nothing exciting is really going on, and I don’t have too much to write about. I mean, what am I? Selfish? I just had a wonderful date two nights ago and now I sit here complaining that nothing fun or exciting ever happens to me. OK…I have to understand that downtime is needed at some point. Snores.
Here is a quick story…
My brother (who is currently in Baghdad) called my mom two weeks ago and was really shaken up over something horrible that had happened. Winfield was upset because a man in his unit had started freaking out over the fact that he was in Iraq fighting in a war. He bugged so badly that the chief officers stripped him of his artillery and weapons. They classified him as a level 9 or some shit. I don’t remember what level it is when you go mentally insane. But that was the level that they classified him as.
The night before this kid was to be sent home, everyone else in the unit was sleeping in the barracks in order to get rest for the next day’s mission. My brother was woken up due to a loud noise echoing throughout the building. He immediately jumped up, along with the rest of his men, and ran to where the noise came from. When they reached the room, my brother was horrified to see the “Level 9” guy lying in a pool of his own blood. Apparently, this kid had saved one bullet before his equipment was taken away. He snagged one of the other troops’ guns and used the lone bullet to kill himself. My brother and his men were in charge of cleaning up the mess, despite the fact that they were witnesses to one of the most disturbing things any of them had ever seen.
When my brother spoke to my mom, it took all he had not to burst into tears with her on the phone. He gets 20-minute time slots to talk and there is usually a line out the door. He didn’t want to break down in front of his fellow men. Now, I don’t tell this story lightly at all. I just find it easier to disconnect with the emotions of what actually went down. I can’t even begin to imagine what my brother must have felt when he found the dead body. I don’t think my brother has actually seen a dead body before this whole thing happened. It makes my heart hurt and it makes my stomach turn to even conceptualize such a horrific event. Poor kid. I wish he could come home now.
Changing gears…
Paul and I had a very long talk last night about my date with Ahmad. He literally forced the information right out of me. I wasn’t going to tell him originally because the idea of hurting him deliberately in any way destroys my insides. But Paul and I have been together for a long time and he is able to pull things out of me, whether I want to talk about it or not. I told him everything. Well, almost everything. I didn’t tell him that my friend Joanna was the one that set me up on the date. I didn’t think that was fair to her. Paul handled it all with grace and dignity, as he usually does when he finds out that I am interested in another guy. He grilled me on different Ahmad related questions for about an hour and then he continued to make jokes about it for the rest of the night.
Paul is definitely jealous over the fact that I had a great time with Ahmad. I explained to him that if he would just step up to the plate and be a better boyfriend, or at least a much less neglectful boyfriend, I would drop Ahmad instantly and be with only him. He laughed my comment off and told me that he is still “not ready”. When I told him that I would continue to see Ahmad, Paul said “Maybe it is better that we both date other people for awhile”. Sure Paul. You go ahead and date other people. THE ONLY REASON I AM DOING THIS IS BECAUSE YOU DON’T PAY ANY ATTENTION TO ME. Gah! He will take it more seriously once I start to have real feelings for another guy. And at that point…at that point it will be way too late. I won’t love Paul anymore.
This morning when I got out of bed, Paul was already in the shower. I deliberately waited for him to finish, rather than joining him in the bathroom. When he came back to my room, he was all “I love you so much, I missed you while we were sleeping, I can’t wait to spend time with you tonight.” Barf. Why was he putting on this show? I gave him a brief and very un-passionate kiss on his way out of my apartment. Why does he do this? Why does he LOVE me one minute and DESPISE me the next? Why do I have so many mixed emotions about all of this?
I have to do what is best for me. And more importantly, I have to keep telling myself that it is ok that I am doing this. I am someone who is constantly carrying unnecessary guilt. Yet, no matter how much I tell myself that it is okay to do the things that I do, sometimes I can’t convince myself of it. When I saw the look in Paul’s eyes after I told him that I stayed over at Ahmad’s apartment, I thought I was going to vomit in misery. He looked crushed. I explained that I didn’t hook up with him, that there was no dick play. He handled it well, but that look...
God, I hate hurting people. Hate it hate it hate it!
So yesterday, as I am leaving my job, I see this incredibly attractive guy walking down the sidewalk toward me. At first glance I knew he was straight, so there was no reason to scope him out. However, as he approached me, he stared directly into my eyes and I did the same to him, even though I knew he was not sexually interested in me. (and I don’t know why not…I mean, even straight guys like to stick their dicks into a random tight hole sometimes, right?) As the guy and I passed each other, I saw him check me up and down and go “Tisk”.
I was like “Tisk”?
“Tisk?!?!”
Did this guy just give me the once over and then basically tell me that I wasn’t even close to his league of hotness? That’s exactly what it felt like. Like I was inferior. It was such a minor thing, but I have thought about that moment over and over and I wish I had said “Tisk” before he did. Or I wish I whipped out my cock and slapped him in the mouth with it. Don’t tell ME “Tisk”.
Fucking Tisk.
A tisket a tasket I should have shit on his face.
I’m dating a Muslim. I love saying that to people. There is this lady at work (keep in mind that I work for a Jewish agency) who is constantly eavesdropping on all of my personal phone conversations. Yesterday, when I was talking to Mariah about the previous evening’s adventures with Ahmad, she happened to be walking by my desk. Well, when I got off the phone, she came over to me and said:
Co-worker: “Are you dating someone other than Paul?”
Me: (GOD WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SPY ON ME ALWAYS!?!) “Actually, I did go out on a date last night. How ever did you know?”
Co-worker: “I always know, Joe. I pick up on these things.”
Me: (sigh) “Yeah, you are SO intuitive.”
CW: “So…what’s he like?”
Me: “He’s handsome and a gentleman and successful and treated me like gold. What else could I want?”
CW: “What did you guys do together?”
Me: (Well I took him back to my place and proceeded to fuck the shit out of him.) “Well, we went to this classy French restaurant and then back to his place for conversation and some wine.”
CW: “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Was it romantic?”
Me: “Incredibly.”
CW: “I am so happy for you!!”
Me: “Thank you, me too. You know, it’s weird…he is the first Muslim guy I have ever met, much less dated.”
CW: “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?????”
Me: “whaaa?”
CW: “He’s Muslim? I, uh…oh neat.”
Me: “Yeah, it is pretty neat.”
CW: “Um, I…(at this point I think she is pooping in her pants) what are you having for lunch?”
Me: “Probably something Muslim.”
CW: “AY YI YI!”
Ok, so the last two lines never happened. But wouldn’t it be funny if it did?
Yeah. Yeah it would have been. Oh well…too late to go back now and erase what I typed. Computers just don’t work that way.
It’s now 3:38pm. I can’t wait to get out of here. I want to curl up in a blanket and watch a movie. Maybe make some popcorn, snuggle up close to a Muslim. Yeah…now THAT sounds HOTT!
Rain, rain go away, cum in my face another day.
