Saturday, February 28, 2009

Tempest in a Teacup

Storms are sexy.
They are a wonder in of themselves, no regard for consequence, no cares, no emotions, just pure energy.
No two storms are exactly the same, despite their similar qualities.
The outcome and the aftermath is never predictable.
The question really, if there is need for one, is whether to use an umbrella, stay indoors, or flip caution to the wind and go out to dance in the rain.

Either way....the one truth is, they never last forever.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Sixteen Candle Interview - from Rooked

My yes-indeedy-let's-be-seedy blogger friend over at Rooked was nice enough to give me an interview. I was wondering what kind of provocative questions he might ask me and now I'm delighted to share them (at this current moment I haven't read all of them yet though lol) with my answers. No rules, just write.
Here we go!

1. Is there one watershed moment that you feel has transformed your life? If yes…well…what was it and how did it change you?

So many interesting things have happened to me and I've been to so many interesting places that this is actually a tough question to answer. These things have always crept up on me or perhaps I was just so open minded, soaking in everything I could like a sponge that I can't recall a pivotal moment that changed my life. There have been bad things and good things. None really seem to have totally changed my life. I was confronted by a man with a knife when I was 9, but I got away...luckily he told me to follow him around the corner and not make me go first. It was broad daylight at an elementary school in mid-summer right across the street from my house. I suppose later in life I realized that night time was nothing to be afraid of because day time was not necessarily a walk in the park anyway. I am equal opportunity time of day for good and evil. I have been watchful and street smart ever since, but I've never had a problem going anywhere alone. So I suppose I'm glad I didn't get a complex or something.

I think a trip to NYC for new years 1998/1999 was a turning point for me. I couldn't afford to go from TX to NYC - you see, when you don't live near the east coast, NYC is actually a big deal. So when my friend told me she had some guy, an acid dealer who looked more like a computer parts dealer, who wanted some company to NY and would fly us free and put us up in a hotel, I was all about it! We stayed at the Renaissance Hotel with a room overlooking Times Square...and then to the Flathotel for a couple of days. I met a guy at a goth club there that totally took me on a wild whirlwind love affair. Wow was he hot and wild and dreamy. But he was kind of a nutty Jersey boy too. (People who say things like "I should have got you pregnant so you'd stay with me are nutty). My friend brought a guy friend of hers along too. Back in TX, I eventually ended up dating him later (he was closer and nicer and had his shit together) and lived with for 3 years. There was some confusion on my part at the beginning of all of this mind you. I liked them both for a while and couldn't decide what to do. But I ended up with my local southern man. I thought I was going to marry him. He never asked me though. And I was young and stupid anyway. After I moved to PA, he found someone new and married her right after he asked me to move to TN with him. I haven't heard from him since. The funniest part is I have Mr. Whirlwind as a friend on myspace now. I'm constantly passing ships in the night. Now that I live in the Philly area and have been to NYC a few times for various reasons, it's not as magical I guess. I totally love those fresh candy peanuts you get from the street carts though. Nothing like it in the world.

2. Given the current political and socioeconomic climate in Mr. Obama’s America, what are you more frightened of, the Zombie Apocalypse or Werewolves?

Neither. I still maintain that zombis are only made in Haiti and werewolves either don't exist or wouldn't care for what I have in my pantry anyway, so I'm not worried. Unless of course you mean those Furry people. In that case, I suppose I'd have to go with Werewolf Furries because under Obama, they will feel like they can come out more often and try to steal the Turf from my Surf & Turf dinners that I like so much.

3. Do you believe that Bigfoot exists? And Why?

No. I'm tired of hearing about him honestly. I figured if he was real, he would be pissed about Harry and the Hendersons and kill somebody. If God and the Santa don't exist then neither does Bigfoot.

4. At what age did you experience Menarche?

Why would anyone really want to know that? That's like something an OB/GYN would ask or unsolicited information one female tells another when talking about puberty. Rooked isn't an OB/GYN, is he? God I hope not. I was 13.

5. If you could get away with murder, would you do it? (Feel free to elaborate.)

No, I am not a bloodthirsty savage. I wasn't raised by werewolves. I may be a little on the sadistic side, but I don't think I could actually want to kill someone even if it was a freebie. I am exceedingly empathetic yet I must say sometimes it can be an annoying trait. I did a Lakota coming of age ceremony called Buffalo Shield when I was 14 with a Native American girl friend of mine. At one point of our ancient traditional proceedings we had to spend the night outdoors in a circle of tobacco and not kill a living creature - even if it was a mosquito. So I curled up into my giant blanket, covering as much of my skin as possible just in case. I learned a lot about myself, nature and the world during that week.

Sorry if I disappointed! I do love to read and write about murder though. Murder mysteries & suspense FTW! Explain that!

6. One word question: Anal?


7. Why did you start blogging in the first place?

I started one in 2002, My Two Cents, which is now lost for the moment since I had it stored on a private domain. It is now either lost forever or sitting in an archive on my hard drive. I'll have to check some time. Basically it was like a journal, a diary, somewhere to stick all my random thoughts, ideas and funny internet things that I thought I might like to see again. It was also interesting to look back and see what I was doing in the past. Maybe learn something from it. There weren't comments or anything enabled back then and so I wasn't worried about how many people read or if anyone read at all. I did write as if I had an audience, but it wasn't really about attention as far as I can remember. Now may be a little different simply because I've started getting into the comment thing. Not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

8. Do you really feel you have anything of value to say in your writing?

Some days I do. Some days I do not. Most days I do not. But this has been the case with writing songs, stories, and any other writing art form I've done. I can't figure out what it is I would want to say to Everyone. But at the same time, it would be nice to know that they were wondering what's this Teri girl about?

When I am feeling as if my words are useful or important, it is because I've discovered something for myself that I believe could be applied elsewhere. I use analogies constantly. These really seem to help people with problem solving. They can also be amusing. Humor and learning are good bedfellows.

I don't generally feel like I'm a bringer of news. I'm not timely enough for a job like that. So what I bring to the table are tales of the heart, analyzing the psyche, and lots and lots of sex-talk. It's a shame intimate details of sex are so socially taboo, because I'm really good at it. It's not like you can just walk around talking about it because then you're just a slut or something. But I know damn well even the prudest of the prude don't have their kids delivered by the stork. Everyone poops and everyone has sex. Get over it already, people.

I think when I'm old I'm going to be like Dr. Ruth or something....only I won't give out medical advice like "sure condomless anal sex is won't get AIDS that way." LOL

9. Do you feel your life experience can actually help anyone else?

I think we are all connected and can learn from each other....and some people, not from a blog per se, have told me that hearing some of my stories has helped them. In some cases in real life and on the internet, I have been blessed enough to have inspired others to create works of art....and that means more to me than most things. If I could choose to be a mythological creature, it would be a Muse.

10. Have you ever engaged in multiple partner sexual activity? If so…are there films/pictures, why did you do it and were motorcycles involved?

LOL! No motorcycles. No films. No pictures of anything totally shocking. Maybe a shot of me in a bikini and socks, but that was preliminary stuff anyway.

But yes. Multiples. Ahhh.

I've been part of a FFM scenario, but I didn't want the female near my girly bits. I just don't dig chicks that way. So when it came time for her to get hers, I just watched.

Now I am proud to say I managed to get two totally heterosexual, good-looking males to engage in a MFM scenario. Now THAT was a life changing experience! To this day I still fantasize about being a Chinese Finger Cuff. Delicious.

11. What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen (excluding your progeny)?

Just for the record, I had to look up THREE words from your questions in the dictionary. I am both embarrassed AND impressed by your vocabulary. Big vocab is the verbal equivalent of a big penis to me.

Oh yeah, what was the question? Most beautiful thing I've seen besides my kids....

I would have to say Lake Tahoe. There are plenty of beautiful images from space, women, paintings, animals and landscapes that I have been struck by....but I will never forget Lake Tahoe at sunset. Standing on the edge of a frozen, snow-covered sand bank, the water was a lovely blend of violet, lavender, royal blue and periwinkle. The gray, snow-capped mountains in the distance reflected in the water, while the sky blushed a rosy pink, coral and orange. A couple of ducks were waddling nearby as my feet crunched in the resident snow. It was so quiet and peaceful. I was so happy there.

12. If you die and get to meet God, what one question will you most want to ask Him?

What's for dinner and what do we do next?

13. Have you ever contemplated suicide? If yes…what stayed your hand?

I thought about how pathetic it would be if I were to be gone and nobody would miss me. But I know better. I suppose considering some of my family members have considered it before, I am lucky that I have never truly felt like I wanted to or would do it for any reason.

14. Would you rather take Important Advice and Guidance from a Ouija Board or a Magic 8 Ball?

A Magic 8 Ball. At least that is guided by probability, a mathematical guess. You'd have similar odds just guessing for yourself so that works for me. Ouija, man, who knows who the fuck is trying to give you advice? Jack the Ripper? Mae West? Hitler's girlfriend? (by the way, I played once and supposedly talked to Eva Brown. I didn't know who she was at the time).

15. Do you believe in Ghosts? (Loaded Time-Bomb) And why?

I do but I don't know why I do. My mother claims to have had a few experiences with them in her youth. Her stories are pretty cool. She heard sweeping coming from the kitchen at night when she lived with her mother and had to stay on the couch one night. She kept going in there to look but nothing was there. Eventually she yelled "SHUTUP!" and it stopped. The previous owner was an elderly lady who lived alone.

She also claims to have seen a black silhouette walking around the roof of the house across the way one early morning. It turned it's head toward her but still had no features...after it clearly noticed her watching, it jumped off the roof with no sound, disappeared and the guard dog did not notice anything.

I have not experienced anything supernatural.
So I can sort of see how it's possible and have explored many different explanations for it all, but I really am kind of neutral on the subject.

16. If you only had twelve hours left to live…how would you spend it?
I would jump out of an airplane. Eat delicious meals. I would tell my husband and kids I love them. Hug all the family members I could get to and talk to the rest on the phone. I would have sex. I would drive to the ocean and look at it again. I would listen to the waves and breathe in the air. I would kiss. I would make a joke about the life span of Mayflies. I would go skinny dipping in broad daylight. I would finally rent a penthouse suite in a nice hotel. And I would die snuggling.

It's a shame it would be only 12 hours. There are so many places I've always wanted to travel.



Thank you, Rookie.
I enjoyed answering them almost as much as I enjoyed having you ask me questions.
You're a doll - now I suppose I owe you a picture for your "collection"?
(No, it's not gonna be a nudie!)

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Infinite Galaxies in the Wine

In between sleep and awake. It's a special place where so many astounding experiences lie and yet seldom can one remember them.
Dreams, my dreams in particular, are wild, vivid, emotional, colorful, strange, intense, eye-opening, weird, scary and sexy in any random order on any given night.
And I generally remember them all.
I don't know if that's amazing or a curse.

Rarely do people want to hear about them - especially my husband.
"They're just dreams," he says. "They're not real."

Well they matter to me because I dreamed them!
This is MY subconscience we're talking about!

Last night was an extraordinary occurrence, however.
I lay on the couch, curled up in the corner, resting my head on the arm and a pillow; my husband sat upright on his side of the couch. Together we watched a recorded National Geographic special on the Hubble telescope, a subject that my husband is well-informed on and yet still interested in enough to read articles and record these shows about. I am fascinated with the images brought to us by Hubble too, just not as much as he is. So I watch the show and listen to my husband's comments and remember some of my Astronomy, re-learning and understanding better things like supernovae, the birth of stars and black holes.

Eventually my exhaustion and relaxation turn into dozing and then to sleeping and somehow within only minutes REM & dreaming. Every now and again something would arouse me, either a word or a prod from my spouse or from the television. Each time I fluttered awake, I realized what I was dreaming and what I was hearing. Information was still pouring into my ear and being processed and understood by my brain even though I was dreaming about events from the day. Morning coffee, evening wine, I can't remember it all now, but you get the point.

What is astounding is that I was learning, processing, and applying information in my dreams....and coming up with new ideas. At the time, these ideas were only profound when I woke up.

I dreamt of a close up of the dark burgundy red liquid, held so delicately in a sturdy glass, only within that liquid were galaxies upon galaxies. Infinite galaxies, swirling and moving, existing separately or colliding if too close to each other's gravitational pulls.....I imagined them glittering and burning for ages and all they entail, countless stars and minerals and elements and life forms. Floating in a sea of red, yet was contained in a glass that I could hold elegantly in my hand....

After a few more minutes of dozing, another epiphany: Concept Synesthesia.
If you don't know what synesthesia is, here is the definition.
It is a blending of sensory experiences, usually hearing and vision, sometimes other senses. Like tasting a color or seeing images or colors when hearing certain sounds.

What I experienced was somthing I named "concept synesthesia".
The concept was Singularity. A singularity has a few definitions (mainly mathematical) because it is a difficult concept to wrap your head around. Basically it is "a point in space where any of the properties of matter or space-time become singular - i.e. infinite or zero. Thus in the limit density, pressure and space-time curvature become infinite and volume becomes zero."
In the case of supernovae, those that are so huge and dense in matter, those that spin so fast and so hot and are so unstable, the energy it has blasting outward is burned up and they eventually explode in on themselves, yet the insane amount of gravity pushing in on itself still remains, therefore pushing all of that matter in on itself until it is so small and so dense that it becomes a singularity in which no matter and no light can escape. In other words, a black hole.

It was this concept of singularity that I was considering while dreaming and while I woke up at one point....and in that moment between sleep and awake (which we shall call In-Between), my brain also considered the specifics of In-Between, whatever you call it for real, and decided at once that it was at that moment of clarity that my concept of the In-Between and the concept of singularity at the same time was actually a singularity in itself. And that blew my mind.

Then my husband told me I should get up so I could go to bed.
Which I always thought was such a ridiculous thing to say to someone, even if I'm the one saying it. It's like something you'd hear someone say on a sitcom. "Wake up! So you can go to bed!" Duh.

There were so many other really out there ideas flowing in my mind at the time, but those are the two that I made a point to remember as I was lying in bed trying to go back to sleep again. I would have written them down but I was too comfortable to get up and find a pen and paper without my contacts in.

The image of galaxies floating in a glass of wine was so cool, I can't even explain it because it was more than just the imagery -it was the idea of what they all contained, the infinity of it all in the direction of smaller and not larger was really different. When I think of infinity, I usually think outward, or linear, far away from myself.....but this time, it was something smaller than me and getting EVEN SMALLER and it wasn't even from me, it was in a glass, totally separate from me, and I had nothing at all to do with this amazing relationship between a container and infinity...only an observer.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Fuck Me.

Jesus God Christ Fuck.

The title of this post is like a double double double entendre.

And why the fuck isn't entendre in the spell checker dictionary?
What a stupid piece of shit this spell check is!

Wanna know what happened today?
Well, too bad!

Took Whinocerous to observe a ballet dance class that she will probably be attending on Monday mornings. The teacher is a new friend of mine, our husbands work together.
I think she will love it. She participated in the last 5 minutes of class with the only other girl in the class who is 3 and she did everything she was instructed to do. I was proud. But once the "ballerina" left, she didn't want anything to do with the instructor, the ever genuinely saccharine sweet and beautiful Noell. Usually people who are chipper and cutesy and sweet annoy the crap out me, but she is actually genuine and is super animated and excited so I have grown quite fond of her.

Then I have to take Little Guy to the doctor this afternoon to get him some immunization shots. I waited for an hour before I saw anyone. I hate that. I mean I got him weighed and stuff, but still. The grumpy old fat nurse with foundation make up way too dark for her face asked me if I wanted to guess his weight. I said 19lbs.
She says in a most flat you-were-wrong tone of voice, "No. He's 18lbs 9oz."

OH shut the fuck up, you crotchety old biddy. Next time I'll give him a bottle and then you can shove your couple of ounces up your ass. She could have just said "Oh that's close!" or "Almost!" or she could have just said "Hey $20 bucks if you guess his weight EXACTLY TO THE FUCKING OUNCE." Give me a break. Just don't ask me next time, asshat.

So anyway....shots to cute babies are no fun.
You don't really need to details. But keeping a 1 year old busy at a pediatrician's office in a little room with NO TOYS (yea WTF, a PED WITH NO TOYS) is no east task. Plus I didn't want him touching anything because who knows what kind of germs are laying around from other sickly kids. Last time I was there for a WELL VISIT, my kids ended up sick from some shit and we never go anywhere so I know it wasn't my house.

Blah blah blah, we did potty learning today too.
I'm pissed because my husband tells me that we can't afford dance class really even though we are cutting out Comcast phone and premium cable channels and I'd have to potty train her or something to cut costs on diapers or something to be able to send her...which totally bums me out. Something fun without repercussions? Oh NO! Not that! It's always something. Ugh. I hate money.

So I decide well fuck I might as well try again - off with the diapers!
I put her in panties before I left for the doctor so my husband could have to watch her like a hawk while I was out since it was his idea anyway. One might call that passive aggressive....but I like to think I am blatant and obvious when I'm pissy, I don't do that sneaky shit if I can help it.

Well she pissed on the floor while I was gone.
And she pissed a few more times until the 3 pairs of panties I actually had for her were soaked, so....just let her be half naked. We got maybe a few dribbles from the aftermath into the potty, but I guess that's how you start.

I made my husband remove the industrial carpet area rug we had in the living room out to the trash. It was nasty anyway from baby puke, pee, poo who knows what else has been spilled on it over the past few years. It was time for it to go anyway. I'm not potty training on a carpet. FUCK THAT. It's much easier to clean up a hardwood floor. So that's that. She's back in diapers for the night though. Baby fell asleep early but as I was putting her to bed she tells me "Mommy, you poop." Which means "I pooped" but hey, he she you I whatever. So I turn on the light because I don't want to go back downstairs after we just did the turning out of the lights routine to changer her and of course the baby wakes up and I'm pissed and I change her damn poop and then I have to go make a bottle which I wish my husband would have done while I was changing the diaper even after I said go make one but he just stood there trying to shush the baby.....omg what a run on sentence......anyway I give it to him and he goes quiet with it and after some nice (very strained attempts at nice at this point) soothing talk and breathing in and out exercises she goes to bed. And here I am. BLoGGinG and Wine-ing....yet again with the wine. Had to finish off that bottle from the other night before it goes bad.

And when I say "Fuck Me", yeah it means "WHAT A DAY!" but I could use a good fucking in bed too. That's for sure. Oh but's that time of the month. Lucky me.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Clarification on Open Drunkeness

Normally I don't do this: make a new post based on a couple of comments from my last post....but I believe I have been a little fuzzy in what I was trying to say.

I know I wasn't drunk/wasted/obliterated etc. Haha!
I know what it is to blather on to people when you're sloshed.
I know that 2 glasses of wine = a healthy hearty dose of tipsy.

I think I came across as kind of a newbie to alcohol or something LOL and that definitely isn't the case at all!
I was trying to be sarcastic because my good buddy zip bag of bones has been trying to goad me by telling me I'm drunk when I'm not which I'm only guessing is supposed to be some kind of joke or insult that my every day thinking and style of talking is kind of whacked out/loopy/crazy/dingy/god who knows what that girl is thinking anyway. She better be damned excited that she not only got one but TWO posts about her little messages to me because, whether she knows it or not, she obviously has some kind of effect on me OR I just care too much about what she has to say.

Besides, it's obvious I wasn't totally drunk otherwise I wouldn't have even recognized that I was doing those silly tipsy things like calling everyone on my list and shooting the breeze.
If I was that drunk I wouldn't have been blogging OR if I was, I wouldn't have checked my spelling or fixed my numerous typos from typing too fast and never correcting my keyboard/typewriter fingering when I first learned.

Now, if you don't mind, I shall go back to my morning tea.

English Breakfast Tea.

Saturday, February 21, 2009


Tonight I had some wine. The effects are teetering off now so I'm not feeling as giddy or self-righteous or nostalgic anymore.....BUT.....I am feeling the chill in the basement air where I am sitting and I am READY to say publicly that I got tipsy tonight.

Now there is a certain SOMEONE who has been playfully insisting that I am drunk whenever I leave her internet messages....but they are all LIES. TOTAL. LIES.
You hear me!?!?!

I am naturally carefree and whimsical and silly and many other things that most people have to swill liquid courage in order to do. Not my fault.

So I am setting the record straight!
I was drunk tonight! Listening to blues on the radio. Well, almost drunk anyway, I wasn't smashed or anything after 2 glasses of wine.....but still. And I called like 10 people on my cell phone. At first I only called people who were musicians that I knew because the blues inspired me to start singing again. Then I started calling people from my past and started going down memory lane with the ones that actually answered their phone. I got a few numbers that didn't work anymore or belonged to someone new and did some updates. It was really good to catch up with old friends though. People I didn't know were really friends because it had been so long. I need to remember to warm up those old tin can and strings sometimes. It's a cold winter. We could all use some warmth.

Oh shutup, Cat! You old shit-talker you!
I'm on to you! I can smell your sarcasm from...wait I gotta pull up Google maps....from 5 states away! Or 3 states and 2 Great Lakes if you take the north route.....but yeah! THE JIG IS UP!

Friday, February 20, 2009

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I Got in Trouble at the Kiddy Museum

Yesterday I took my kids with a friend and her kids to the Please Touch Museum.
They have all kinds of neat pretend activities and exibits they can touch and play with. But I got carried away with the "do what you want" aspect.

ter1byte: I got in trouble at the Please Touch Museum
ajnkjsmom: no
ter1byte: while in the kitchen play room, we were sitting at a dining room table and kids were serving us meals and baking bread and whatever
ter1byte: Marilyn dropped something off the table and I started to tell her to be careful and not to make a mess
ter1byte: then I was like, wait we are at the Please Touch Museum, it's play food, they can do what they like here
ter1byte: so I said "let's be free! just make a mess, I'm too anal about it at home"
ter1byte: so in my liberation I started flinging things off the table on to the floor
ajnkjsmom: LOL
ter1byte: an attendant came over and told me they don't want things on the floor for safety reasons and that they try to teach kids to do things on their own the right way and to put things back etc....I was being a bad example.
ter1byte: I felt like shit.
ter1byte: So much for liberation of being a mess nazi.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009


You know, I am ashamed of myself and taken aback by something I have learned just reading your post.

When my toddler makes messes, I get mad at her. I fail to see the child-like beauty that comes from her little genius mind....I don't even see it that way when it happens. For someone who claims to think outside the box, living a creative life, I am a mommy who has been way too anal about how clean that damn Box is.

My poor little Devil....I am so mean to her when she creates masterpieces, and I have the nerve to call them "messes" and "yucky" and "Why-did-you-do-that?s". I feel just awful. And I wonder why she acts out at me.

Too peppery pork chop bits swirled in a cup of water.

Cereal milk dribbled on the table and spread around with finger-painting smears and a complimentary splash on the floor.

Raisins spread out in a perfect copy of a fireworks blast, even some stuck down in the seam of the plastic picnic table that she sits at...what detail.

I've decided not to yell or ask her why she did that or grunt Marge Simpson grumbles, or hiss "GOD!" when I have to clean these things up.

The only hard part is not resenting the fact that even if I do concede to consider them works of art, I still have to do the dirty work after the fact. I can't imagine my husband coming home to sticky-milk-floor, raisin confetti and cloudy water and hearing me say "It's Art."


Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Too Sick in the Head To Take a Joke

My grandmother sent me this joke in an email. And yes, it was kind of funny.
But I discovered that my mind is so twisted, I couldn't exactly enjoy the joke for it's simplicity. No. Read the joke and I'll tell you what I mean.

Two hillbillies walk into a restaurant. While having a bite to eat, they talk about their moonshine operation.

Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough. After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in?real distress. One of the hillbillies looks at her and says,"Kin ya swallar?"

The woman shakes her head no.

Then he asks, "Kin ya breathe?"

The woman begins to turn blue and shakes her head no.

The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue.

The woman is so shocked that she has a violent spasm and the obstruction flies out of her mouth.

As she begins to breathe again, the Hillbilly walks slowly back to his table.

His partner says, "Ya know, I'd heerd of that there 'Hind Lick Maneuver' but I ain't niver seed nobody do it!"


Hardy har, right?
Well the first thing that came to my mind when he pulled her pants down was, "Oh shit, it's gonna rape her because she can't do anything about it." And of course I was all fucked up about it - you know what a horrible thought - and so the joke wasn't as funny as it could have been. I suppose this is how I think of primal man. Sad, isn't it?

Sunday, February 15, 2009

COMING SOON - Spatially Aware Toy Blocks?!?!? AWESOME!!!

This has to be the COOLEST THING in technology involving how we humans interact with digital media that I've ever seen.

I totally want some for me and my kids. The ideas using this kind of technology are endless!

Just watch....this is the future people. It is upon us.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

The Truth About Blogging

Bittersweets & Brownies

I went ahead and made those brownies from scratch a la Doll Face Daily, only I didn't have light brown sugar so I used dark brown sugar which I did have. Unfortunately it was all hard as a rock and clumpy, so I spend about 20 minutes with my clean hand in the batter, manually squishing up each sugar rock so it could be mixable.
I have never been so intimate with a batter. o.O

I didn't stop there with the change ups either....instead of dark chocolate chips I used Ghirardelli milk chocolate chips, which is more my style anyway.

Well, they turned out pretty good. As far as scratch brownies vs. box brownies, I think this recipe indeed gives Duncan Pilsbury Crocker a run for their money. And I didn't even have to run out and get anything to do it! I had all the ingredients in my pantry already which is amazing to me. I'm usually missing one or two things. Granted I didn't actually have light brown sugar, but I figured since I'm using milk chocolate, I could make up for the missing "dark" using the brown sugar haha.

I licked the batter from the bowl and the beaters. Yum.
AND I even had a piece when they were ready.
So if I can not be totally sick of it by the time I slime my gluttonous face with batter to eat the finished product, I know it's good. Rock on! And thanks Doll Face.
You made my VD nice and sweet and chocolaty. *thumbs up*

That recipe is going in my "Yummy Recipes" book.
If you read my blog, please leave a comment and tell me what name I should give them.
Doll Face Brownies? Or perhaps the name of whoever came up with the recipe.

Oh yes and let's not forget the Bittersweets.
Tonight I will be attending a little Anti-Valentine's get together at a friend's house. I purchased some Bittersweets from a website and will be bringing the "Dumped" version.
My favorite one reads, "CELEB8 THX2U". *chuckle*

Friday, February 13, 2009

Kill Your Inspiration Then Sing About Your Grief

I've been happy.
I've been too happy to write beautiful things.
For some reason it is so much easier to write like a champion when you feel like shit.
Or at least melancholy.

But when one is can you lift your fingers to the keyboard or pick up a pen?
When one is content....what do you say?
How do you describe happiness without simplifying it and sounding like Bjork fiddling with herself?
Even her best stuff spawned from something awry. OR at least some unquenchable desire she had.

In a forest pitch-dark
Glowed the tiniest spark
It burst into flame
Like me, like me

My name Isobel
Married to myself
My love Isobel
Living by herself

In a heart full of dust
Lives a creature called lust
It surprises and scares
Like me,like me

When she does it she means to
Moth delivers her message
Unexplained on your collar
Crawling in silence
A simple excuse

I suppose when I do try and get the old creative juices flowing, it doesn't help either that my children are the children who never sleep. Constant interruptions in private time and much needed sleep time can drive a person who wants nothing but to be a good mommy to the brink of postal meltdowns and face-melting anxiety attacks. That guy at the end of Indiana Jones Raiders of the Lost Ark comes to mind.
At least he got a decent night's rest before his face melted off.

But I digress.

I could be a Southern Lady sippin' sun tea on my back porch, sittin' in mah rockin' chair, fashioning a good ol' murder mystery.
I could be a laid back yet well-to-do wine maker living on a northern California vineyard enjoying my latest 2 year concoction ripe with hints of plum and chocolate, fetching the last details of my tragic romance novel.
I could be sitting on the deck of a bungalow on a beach either in Thailand or Bora Bora, glancing at sea turtles, sipping fresh piña coladas, smelling the sweetness of just-picked orchids, pounding out chapters of a psychological thriller.

But no. I am sitting in a basement, wishing I was travelling somewhere, yet loving every minute of any time I get to go out to a place and eat, whether it's pizza, cheese steaks and beer like tonight, or twin rock lobster tails like last weekend. That shit just makes me happy. And when I'm happy, I just want to sit on the couch, listen to relaxing music and fall asleep.

But I don't really want to fall asleep.

I have a problem. It's called - not allowing myself to relax.
If I sit down for a few minutes I feel like I have to spring up and do something.
Unless it's a lazy day. Then I just whine about how I don't feel good and don't want to get up, but that's not REALLY relaxing you see, because I make myself miserable the whole time by telling myself I should be doing something else.

So I was at that point tonight.
I put the kids to bed. Hubby went to his friend's house for a party.
I put on some soothing music so the kids could hear something going on in the house and not scary silence.
And I sat down.
And I listened.
And I was soothed.
And I got drowsy.
And I realized that I didn't plan on sleeping so soon.
I realized that I had wanted to bake brownies from scratch from a recipe I found on Doll Face Daily.
I realized I wanted to write something poignant in my blog for a change instead of the slew of pictures I've been putting up of my kids and of things I thought were funny today (even though nobody commented probably because they didn't think they were as funny as I did or because they were looking for something thoughtful and not silly and stupid but whatever, that's entertainment people, shutup and get over it if that's the case *deep breath*)

And it hit me.
What the fuck do I write about?
I've got all this talent and creativity and ambition.
All these ideas spew forth from me constantly (food critic, novel writer, song writer, singer, pastry chef, studier of humanities and international cultures).
But my motivation is a joke. I have no motivation other than moving myself forward in some direction.
And the punchline is.......I have no direction! Well, technically I do, but if you didn't notice, they all point in different directions. I might as well be Alice in Wonderland.

But I can't even keep up with a decent fucking blog.
I write a few good lines one day and I'm all excited.
Then the next day I realize....this is a big fucking joke, isn't it?
My large voice is really in a tiny room with a tiny window that a few people look into from time to time.

And that's fine.
There's nothing wrong with touching a few people.
Sometimes 1 out of 752398462394523 people will be touched in such a way that their entire life may be changed or possibly have a new perspective thrust upon them which is a catalyst for some kind of positive thing. Butterfly beats its wings.

You know I saw a therapist once for all kinds of unrelated stuff.
When I brought up a problem I have about being late or not making decisions on school or careers ever - changing my mind constantly, always wanting to do too much and everything instead of just one thing.....
Well, I told her I was late to my own wedding.
I don't know about you, but I didn't think it was possible to make a therapist drop her jaw and say "you're kidding".
At that moment I knew she wouldn't be able to help me, but I told my tale, saw her a few times and then quit.

I was very happy tonight, living my real life.
So why am I so depressed, mourning the unborn life of my creative writing world?
My characters? My novel? Where are they? How do I get them out of my brain?
I have an unfinished story with missing motives and undefined characters.
All I have for sure are a few vividly described scenarios but no earthly idea how they got there.

Do you have to be unhappy to unleash your inner-writer?
Let's ask Bono for good measure and call it a night, I guess.

It's no secret that a conscience can sometimes be a pest
It's no secret ambition bites the nails of success
Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief
All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief
Oh love

And shame on me for complaining about having a happy real life when so many people tell their beautiful tales of woe and sorrow, despair and desire, longing and needing, loneliness and pining, pain and suffering, confusion and restlessness.
Shame on me for resenting my good days and prosperous family times.
What's a girl like me to do?
Surely nobody should be feeling sorry for me....what a narcissistic jerk I am.
Ugh....and look what is this? A pity party for myself?

So you see, I'm happy and I make myself miserable and then I cry about my own self-made misery. Pfft. Lame.

I'll make brownies tomorrow.
I won't be starting my novel tonight either.
I won't even play WoW like I thought I might since husband isn't home.
I'm just gonna go to bed and maybe get some sleep.

* "Isobel" - Bjork
** "The Fly" - U2


Thursday, February 12, 2009

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Pics from the Casino

So we go from stuffing my face with crushed up crackers that I found in my purse before we head down to the pool (since I couldn't handle the taste of gin & tonic with no lime)....

(we totally laughed our asses off when he snapped this photo).... artsy photos before we head down to dinner & gambling....

Amazing how many looks a woman can has.

My Kind of Fishie

One Day'll Do Ya

Oh what a fun trip.
We didn't win big money at the casino or anything, but as far as the gambling goes, we broke even. Even on the way out I turned $10 on the roulette table into $80, so that pretty much took care of the $60 breakfast we had lol.

It was a great time.
Hotel room $39 bucks.
Sex priceless of course.
Hot tub 6 floors down (although it was the family fun center and not the beautiful pool where there were kids in there) - we didn't have much time before the main adult pool closed (have to remember not to go on a Sunday next time DOH) for it to be worth it so we went to the one that was in our tower and stayed open an hour longer. It was fine though. We weren't all about swimming anyway. Back to the room, took a shower.

A little slot machine action (which I disapprove of because to me they are just money sucking vampires with no real payout).

We had a divine meal at McCormick & Shmick's Seafood restaurant and I had the twin rock lobster tails while he had the surf & turf (tail & filet mignon). Absolutely wonderful. I love going out to eat and it was right outside of our elevator!

Then off to the roulette table! I had never played that one before, I was into Craps for some reason, but we learned and now it's my favorite. More chances to win, more ways to spread your money around which makes it more fun to me.
We lost and won and lost and won and pretty much broke even. We did try some Blackjack even though we were intimidated, and we won 2 times in a row. Then I said, "Okay, that's enough." Something about that game makes me nervous. I loved it as a child and still like it, just not playing for money. It's so easy to lose lose lose! But we won twice and I was happy and decided I couldn't handle the anxiety lol. So we went back to the roulette.

We were kind of annoyed that there hadn't been a waitress to our area in 2 hours and we were not happy to be getting sober, so we went to the slot machines to see if we could get a drink. We waited and waited not wanting to put more money in the machines and then a waiter came out and we asked if he could serve us. He said he would love to but he could only serve in his area....You see his area was dead and he wanted to make some tips of course. So I asked him where his area was. He told me and I said, "We'll go to your section if you just please get us drunk." He said he would love to. I laughed.

I turned to my husband, "Let's go!"
He was like "what?" and I said "Get up! Follow that waiter!"
So we sat down at some nickel slots and stuck our cards in and played about $5 each. He kept coming back and forth with our drinks and we had nice conversation with him. He was a friendly dude, not like the zombies we saw earlier - especially the ones at the Trump Taj Mahal. (we had stopped there on the way to our casino hotel for some stupid reason and ended up having a ridiculously expensive lunch with crappy service and zombified servers then didn't even gamble because lines for shit were overflowing with really slow old people and their paraphernalia - wheelchairs, walkers, giant rolling suitcases, whatever). We didn't even gamble there because it was one deterrent after another....even the money wheel wasn't open which was all I wanted to do anyway so we left to go where we should have gone in the first place.

So our waiter dude was really cool, he was Greek and a few years younger than us, and I even admitted to my husband later that I thought he was pretty cute. He didn't want to hear that of course, but at least I'm honest I said haha.

Anyway, so we got toasty and I decided we should go back to the room and not spend any more money. It was 1am after all lol. We were so tired we didn't even get to do some more romping like planned and passed right out.

We woke up at 10am. I dreamed some really weird shit.
I know I woke up in the night with a bad dream about the kids.
But before I woke up for good I remember dreaming something about taking over some choir as the conductor and had them singing some crazy version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I think I even dreamt about some of my exes that I sometimes do in a "I still want to be with you" kind of way, but this time was really cool because it was more of a "here you are but you know what, I don't think I want to be with you anymore" kind of way....which was nice because I was feeling justified being in the present and not wishing for some pipedream kind of past. Ahhh how refreshing. To actually be content with where you are in life. Plus or minus a few minor things, but that's human nature.

We thought about what we wanted to do.
Husband wanted to go work out, I wanted to see the big beautiful adult pool and hot tubs, and of course there was the matter of breakfast. I wanted a diner because I have a soft spot for diner food breakfasts, but we didn't want to leave the casino resort to do it, so that was out. All I know is I wanted some pancakes. There was also the matter of fulfilling part 2 of my Christmas present - a green tea foot and hand scrub - to be applied to my feet and hands by my husband.

Plan of action for day of departure.
We got dressed to go work out. Well it required a $10 fee so we said screw it, it was only for 30 min anyway. We walked around the pool and saw a sea of old fat walrus type people and decided this wasn't a good idea either. So we went across the way to the giant cafe which was decorated very modern and cozy. We had a delicious breakfast. I got my blueberry pancakes and sausage links. Coffee. Orange Juice. Husband had a ham & cheese omelette, which much to his dismay, contained Whiz, not real cheese. I said even shitty dive diners put real cheese on their omelettes. LOL
Cheap bastards. And came out to $60 after tip. Rip off casinos, I swear haha.

We went back to our room to finish up the plan, hot bath drawn for me, feet callouses scrubbed with a Dead Sea salt and oil scrub which was heavenly, then my hands, then rinsed off in the shower. We got all clean and dressed and gathered our stuff to gtfo of there. We felt so rejuvenated and we marveled at how much one day could do for you.

I cashed in a voucher for $19 from the slot machines the night before (if I ever win anything over what I put in a machine, I cash out lol). I put $10 on our favorite roulette table. So did my husband. I win $35! He loses. I put down $10 more. I lose. I wait a few turns because I'm nervous that I will lose all my money which would suck. My husband tells me to play or he's gonna play. So I go and I win again. $35! I play one more time and I bet on the 00. 0 hits! I was pissed! I knew I should have put something on both of those green fuckers. Oh well. I decide that $80 is good enough because I'm afraid of losing all that too. At least it paid for breakfast. Next time I say we will know better how to play our money. Roulette! All in all it was a good time. For pretty much breaking even, we did good - got 6 hours of play last night, lots of drinks, and only spent about $200 for room and meals. A fabulous getaway.


Saturday, February 07, 2009

The Littlest Snowman

You know, yesterday afternoon, I took the itty bitty kiddies outside in the front yard to make a quick snowman. I did all of the work of course, and loved every moment. My adorable little Whinocerous girl picked up snow and ate it, exclaiming, "Mmm! Delicious Snowman!"

Little Guy just tryed to crawl toward the steps to the sidewalk, up the stairs to the front door or get caught in the rosebush. He is all about living on the edge. Snow and twigs? BOOORING.

I didn't get a chance to take a picture yesterday but I took one today after it had melted a bit, so the mouth is a little wonky.

It's a cute little thing.
It takes care of the mailbox so I'm sure the mailman saw it too.
While thinking of a title to this post, a giant frozen tidal wave of nostalgia bashed me in the face and I remembered a book that I used to have my mom read to me over and over and over.

The Littlest Snowman

He was super cute and he came to life much like frosty only it wasn't because of a hat. And they made snow-friends and had a snowman and snowgirl party and they ate tons of ice cream. They even got him to sit on top of the town Christmas tree. But the temperature rose and they all melted into horrendous piles of ice cream and snow puddles. It was so sad. The snowy carnage. The poor Littlest Snowman was all alone and he melted the slowest, most agonizing torturous death. The townspeople were sad.

But have no fear! The children brought him back to life with TONS AND TONS OF ICE CREAM! (I don't know who paid for it all, but the townspeople went to serious work with the stuff) and he came back and they had some Christmas tree celebration and I can't remember all the details now but I believe after they all had fun and got what they wanted out of the little frozen fucker, there was an explosion of ice cream everywhere and all the snow was multicolored and delicious and the children of the town all ate the snow and had a good time digesting their magical friend.

I guess I'll have to get it for my daughter and read it again.
I am clearly not telling this story right. HAHA!
All I know is I loved the artwork, the cute snowman and all the snowgirls eating those cute little snow cones and ice cream.

This morning I was super tired.
Little Guy is regressing more and more and woke up 3 times for a bottle and a change of diaper in the night. UGH. Two times a night was bad enough. I don't know why he slept through the night for a week during the holidays. I thought it was just because he was sick and coughing that he was waking up but he's getting better and I know it has nothing to do with a cough. He just wants his damn bottle. I can't let him cry it out because he shares a room with his sister and she wakes up. Sigh. Spoiled brat!

But he is the supercutest. (Lucky him!) One of the happiest babies I've ever seen. At least during the day lol. Tonight before bed, he was trying to blow on my tummy like I do to him. He would lift up my shirt and put his slobbery mouth on my tummy and om nom tickled and made me laugh.

I <3 my Little Guy.

I <3 my little Banshee too.

Friday, February 06, 2009

When the Shit Hits the Fan, Go for a Walk

Yesterday, my daughter let me know she wasn't being paid enough attention to in non-verbal terms.

She shit on the floor.

Yes, well, at least she's taking off her diaper now and trying, right?
I sit her on the potty all the time and she just won't go on it.
But yesterday I left her downstairs in the basement playroom where my computer also is, because the baby woke up from nap. So I fed him, and I started doing dishes thinking my little almost 3 year old was perfectly find watching her movie.

She comes upstairs with no pants on.
Then she tells me "poop".

Every fiber in my being went from 0 to 160 in 2.4 seconds.
So I cleaned her butt and put on a new diaper.
Then I went downstairs to find her diaper.
There were the pants, the diaper inside.
Whew, ok, I thought.
I thought.
Only pee. No sign of poop.
I thought her butt looked strangely clean for a diaper poop.

I look and look and look. I don't see poop anywhere in the mess of toys and books.

She comes downstairs...
"Where's the poop!??!" I say in an angry tone.
She shows me.
Poop stuck to books.
Finally, the major turd, unscathed in the corner by a box.
I used paper to pick it up and toss it.
But the books with poop.
The random toys with tiny poop marks.
Everything in the vicinity was sniffed and sorted - no poop in the toy box, poop smell in the laundry room for later disinfecting or trash, depending of the level of cleanability.
Meanwhile baby is screaming bloody murder from the high chair.

I call my husband to complain and whine even though I know he can't really do anything to help me over the phone. He tells me I really need to figure out my schedule and time management during the day. I know he's right.
I spend too much time on the computer and not enough time with them and they watch too much TV. I suck. He said any more of this and she will start throwing turds at me. FAIL.

So after I yell and scream at her not to EVER POOP ON THE FLOOR AGAIN, and a lecture about using the potty (which probably won't work), I get her and her poop feet (yes them too so gross) and myself in the shower while the baby gets put in the pen with a bottle. I get everyone dressed.

We head out in the snow on foot, baby in a camo print side sling, camo purse on one shoulder, and Whinocerous holding my hand walking beside me. We walk 3 blocks to get some contact solution and some Spongebob "crabby patties" in a Valentine's Day heart shaped box.

We head back home and stop at a local Victorian inspired coffee/pastry café. We sit down in the corner and order a giant slice of chocolate mousse pie. We share it together. I take some pictures. We have a good time.

When we got home in the burning cold wind, I let Whinocerous run around in the backyard for several minutes before she tells me she's cold and we go inside. Unfortunately at this age there is no appreciation for the near past, only crying and tantrums for the present in which I tell her it is time for a late nap. Oh well. She was out in 10 minutes.

I put baby in the pen to watch the evil TV and I proceeded to finish cleaning up the entire basement, sorting poop books and toys, cleaning them, vacuuming and whatever else needed to be done to get the place clean. Meanwhile I am wiping things with Clorox wipes and my fingers are dry and cracked and bleeding and of course stinging at that point. Misery.

So I stayed up late and played WoW which I haven't in a while because I needed an escape from the reality of child psychology and bodily fluids/solids.

Today I am tired. I tried to put them down together for a nap, baby a couple of hours later than normal, and Whinocerous, an hour and a half before, so that MAYBE they would sleep at the same time and I could take a nap too.
Baby passed right out.
Little Whino, still up there talking to herself. I already caught her playing with toys and changed her diaper. She just isn't tired I guess. I can't sleep with her still awake, it just can't happen. So here I am, typing on the internet hoping she falls asleep now that it is her actual naptime. I just hope if she does fall asleep that the baby STAYS asleep too. Sigh.

I can't wait for this weekend. Hubby and I are going to Atlantic City without the kids so I can gamble, drink alcohol, swim in a pool that they turn into a night club, have lots of sex, watch a movie, pass out for the night with no interruptions, sleep in late, and go get some diner type breakfast. That's what I want. And if I'm lucky, I'll win some cash too, but I won't bet on it. lol Get it?

The End.

Oh, P.S. They are both up now and I am devastated that I had no chance for a nap thanks to my daughter. Sometimes I don't like her even though she's mine and she's cute. Sometimes...I just want to get away. :(

Thursday, February 05, 2009

Teri's V-Day Gift Ideas....

and who needs candy, when you can have:

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Music: What Gets Me Off

It appears I've found an unexpected muse over at Sheri's World yet again. Not that I agree with all her girly tastes or anything, but I must say she just comes up with stuff that gets my train of thought moving one way or another.

Well this time she put up some music that I didn't like. LOL sorry Sheri!
Not only Sheri, but I found another blog that I simply adore, Doll Face Daily, and she had a blog a while back about getting together a group of people and bringing a bunch of their favorite things to share.
So I figured I'd just put up some of my favorite things (music related this time) for the hell of it.

U2 - "Until the End of the World"
This song was a big time favorite of mine all through high school. It's one of those haunting and sexy and tragic tunes that I love.

U2 - "Ultraviolet (Light My Way)"
Here is some concert clip I came across. Oh how I wish I could have been there. I swear I was in love with that man all throughout high school and beyond. I own so much U2 crap, you'd be scurred. (I won't blame you if you skip this one, it's some jerk who can't hold a camera steady, but I just wished I could have seen the MacPhisto show.)

Bjork - "Bachelorette"
LOVE this song, but damn if her videos aren't bizarre.
Personally I think the video takes away from the music - I get a totally different picture in my head when I hear it. But hey, she's the artist. lol

Ogi G Cash - "Colours" (Automate Vox Remix)
I couldn't find this particular song very easily since it's one of those you have to be a DJ to find it, but I found this cool site that lets you embed samples in a playlist. Make sure to listen to the Automate Vox remix otherwise, it's totally not the same song. It should already be set to that song.

Lost Daze - "Make Me Feel"
This is just another breakbeat song that I enjoy listening to.

Chemical Brothers ft. Richard Ashcroft - "The Test"
I just want to say, that I've loved this song for YEARS.
But funny thing, I've never seen the video, well, I just watched it and it kind of FREAKED ME OUT because I was seeing a few images that reminded me very much of my recent storytelling adventure - submerged underwater, walking on a beach, etc. Weird.
Anyway - THIS VIDEO IS AWESOME. Plus: If you've ever done acid, this video will make sense, if not, probably won't (I won't be one of those people lol betcha didn't know that), but it's still cool.

Richard Ashcroft - "On A Beach"
I'm telling you people, Ashcroft is one of the most underrated singer/songwriters ever. LOVE HIM.

Juan Magan & Marcos Rodriguez - Bora Bora
This song is a booty shakin' song. I danced my ass off to this on a boat party last July. Play this and get off your ass and dance, bitches!

Ok I suppose that's enough for now....

I would dig some comments on this one. Enjoy!

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Love Comes Tumbling

Statik had been dreaming. She suddenly heard the wind again, the honest truth of reality crackling in her ears, not the muffled softness of the muted dream world she had been in. She dared not open her eyes just yet as she felt the breath of another softly on her shoulder. Adrenaline consumed her, flowing rampant from the back of her neck, between her shoulder blades, around to her chest and beating heart. Her heart...beating louder and louder in her ears. She did not yet open her eyes in order to hide her new found consciousness from the Other, but she feared her flesh would betray her uncontrollable heartbeat.

His scent was metallic and earthy. She could bear it no longer and opened her eyes. The wind blew again titillating her droplet-covered skin and she saw the night and the landscape. She breathed in deeply and turned her head to face him.

Eyes. Black eyes. His eyes held a faint golden glow, like those of a cat's. His dark hair was long and matted, his clothes torn and tattered. Bloody and dirty, it must have been a difficult journey. She marveled at his muscular physique, rugged and rusty with the rosy blush of one whose blood pumped at full power. He tilted his head to one side, his angular jaw and rounded chin prominent in the shadows of the flickering firelight. His black eyes pierced her to the core; she imagined them as the dark water she'd been enveloped in before. He did not say a word. She wondered how long he had been sitting beside her.

"You found your way," she said finally, sitting up.
The Other stared at her solemnly for a moment and said, "It became clear that all roads would have lead to where you are."
Statik mused, "I can't imagine that I am that important."
"I can't imagine why you are here then," he toyed, a black tendril of hair falling in his eyes. "Perhaps I am not so important either."
"That's not what I meant...."
"I know. I am only saying you don't have to be coy."
Statik gave her look of slight frustration, "I wasn't being coy. Just....humble."
The Other leaned in towards her, putting his hand behind her on the rock, smelling her, "I can tell that you are anything but humble and no other could I imagine sitting out here in the Desert alone like this. I have come at your beckoning." He bowed his head, more hair falling, draping over his eyes.
Statik looked up at him. The dirt on his face could not conceal the beauty of his porcelain skin; if anything they only highlighted the intense contrast of his dark hair and brooding eyes.

His head still lowered, her gaze fell upon his darkened lips, relaxed and tempting. She reached out and slid her palm against the smooth curve of his jaw and lifted his face to hers. His eyes were sad yet dangerous, beautiful yet cunning. She traced the outline of his face with her fingertips, gently, from his forehead to his ear, then slid her fingers through his tousled sable hair.

Filled with longing, he sprung to life and eagerly returned the gesture with both hands, palms gliding around her waist and neck, pulling her to him. Statik parted her lips and felt his upon her, the hot metallic moisture of his tongue against hers, shooting flames throughout her body until she was on fire. She moaned. His hands searched her everywhere, roaming endlessly; her body arching into him, burning him.

The muscular Other stood up with her clinging to him. She could not let go of his wild black hair as she tasted him again and again, wrapping her hunter's legs around him, tightening and sliding them down his body. As they neared the dark water, the wind protested but remained ignored. Statik looked behind her briefly, threw back her arms and her head and fell into the water, sinking slowly, beckoning him to follow. He grinned and did not look away from her, did not look out into the Desert, did not care where he was going. He reached out to her and dove in.

The lovers reunited, limbs entwined, tangled up in each other like branches competing for the light. Their lips locked again, tongues touching and releasing. She sucked his bottom lip, drawing it in; he bit into hers gently, tasting a hint of blood; his manhood swelled against her. She reached down to feel it in her hand, brushing against it, holding it, squeezing it, releasing it only to guide it into her.

They surfaced for air. She held on tightly as he grabbed her hips, her bottom, penetrating her forcefully. She writhed in overwhelming sweet release as he dipped in and out, wincing, taking his time and driving the moments onward. He slowed his pace as not to end it too soon, but after a time she urged him on....faster, deeper, it just isn't close enough even though you are inside me, it still just isn't close enough. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, the muscles underneath moving, working, holding her up. He stiffened and quickened his pace, unable to resist her urging. His breathing turned to panting and he growled into the air as he began to climax. Statik could feel the swelling in her, skyrocketing her into her own simultaneous contractions.

He leaned her back over the rocks, smoothing his hand over her breast, squeezing, admiring. Again they kissed, her pouty lips blood red from the moments before. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, she sighed through her nose with a satisfied smile. The Other collapsed next to her, weary from his new found freedom.


Ok well, holy shit! I don't think I can write any more. lol
The ball is now in ol' Irish's court now, but I believe this will be my last post in the Jaguar story. It was an interesting collaboration to be sure! (Ok, I know this kind of seems like a Wam Bam Thank You Ma'am kind of thing considering the content of this post lmao, but I am ready to go back to my own world without the responsibilities of another person's character.) I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. Muah!

In case you were wondering, I was listening to Love Comes Tumbling by U2 when I wrote this.

BALE OUT!!!!!!!!

This is the dopest shit out there lmao!

I am currently listening to Christian Bale freaking the fuck out remixed by RevoLucian.


Here's an Article

And the TMZ site it originated from with the actual clip.