Tuesday, June 28, 2005

My poor Butt Itches

Due to a lack of material (that I can publish), today’s post is about two people - both of whom you know.

To follow suit with the stories of the last week or so, I must share a story that Auburn Aries shared with me, Hot Toddy and Thor a couple of weeks ago.

Picture me, Hot and Thor on my deck off the dining room. It’s one flight off the ground. Within our hands there was a Patron Margarita, a Maker’s Mark and a Captain Morgan’s and Diet Coke, respectively.

Picture Auburn Aries playing on the play structure in the backyard.

“I have a story to tell, wanna hear it?”

The three of us focused our attention and the story began.

“Once upon a time there was this woman who had a baby girl and she named her baby Butt Itches.

When the baby grew up to be a kid she had to start school. On the first day of school the Mom said to the little girl, ‘Now, whatever you do, don’t tell your teachers your real name.’

So the little girl goes to school and forgets she wasn’t supposed to give her real name and the teacher asks, ‘What’s your name, little girl?’ and the little girl says, ‘my name is Butt Itches.’

The teacher didn’t believe her and asked her again. ‘That’s not your real name. Tell me what your real name is.’ The little girl was, like, ‘No, my name really is Butt Itches.”

The teacher got mad and told the little girl she was going to send her to a different teacher since she wouldn’t tell the truth.

The little girl goes to the other classroom and this teacher asked her, ‘What’s your name, little girl?’ and the little girl tells her, ‘My name is Butt Itches.’ Well, this teacher didn’t believe her either so she told the little girl, ‘If you’re going to lie to me about your real name, I’m going to have to send you to the Principal’s office.’

So the little girl went to the Principal’s office. The Principal called the little girl into her office and said, ‘I understand you won’t tell the truth about your real name. Would you please tell me what your real name is?’ The little girl sighed a big sigh and said, ‘MY NAME IS BUTT ITCHES!’

The Principal got angry at the little girl and told her that if she wasn’t going to tell the truth, he was going to have to call the Police and have her taken to jail. (Hey, it’s not my story, people).

So the Policemen came and took Butt Itches to the police station. They asked her what her name was. When the little girl told them her name was Butt Itches, they put her in jail for lying. The Policeman called Butt Itches’ Mom and told her to come and get her daughter.

The Mom got to jail and when she walked in, she saw her daughter in jail. She started to run to her and was yelling, ‘MY POOR BUTT ITCHES.’ The Policeman said, ‘What?’ and the Mom said ‘MY POOR BUTT ITCHES.’

Thuh End.”

Today several of us went to lunch and I witnessed probably the most funny thing I’ve seen in, well, days. (I keep pretty funny company and am never at a loss for laughter).

While walking back to our office, one of the people in our group (who was leading the walk back) announces, “My butt itches.” I started to laugh.

I saw the reach around, albeit brief, jokingly attempting to scratch said itch. I was shocked. “What the hell was that?!” I blurted. This person would never scratch in public. I called out to said scratcher “MY POOR BUTT ITCHES “ and kept laughing.

Then this person jokingly reached around with their soda cup and pretended to scratch the itch with it. We kept walking and laughing all of us sucked into the vortex of comedy.

As we neared Company X, said person walked up to a parked van, turned around and started doing a butt rub against the corner of the van. I couldn’t get a hold of myself.

We proceeded to the light post at the crosswalk to wait for the signal, at which point the scratcher turned and placed their bottom against the pole. Up and down, back and forth in search of that soothing relief. (It was a long light!).

Why is it seeing someone do something completely out of character is so hysterically funny. Especially when they are doing so to the extreme to make you laugh.

We crossed the street at which point said butt scratcher walked up to a three foot pillar, turned and backed up to it and started rubbing against it. Not realizing the pillar wasn’t secured in the ground the attempted butt scratching failed having almost knocked the pillar over. The rest of us were dying. I had to pee and if the comedian didn’t stop, I was going to be in big trouble.

We walked past the bushes in front of the building and the comedian turned and side-stepped along the bushes so the bushes would whack said person in the ass. “Oh, man, my butt itches.”

I was about to lose it. 20 ounces of Dr. Pepper with lunch. This wasn’t good.

As we approached the steps to Company X, the comedian was ten or fifteen feet ahead of me. I was concentrating on not peeing my pants at this point, I was laughing so terribly hard.

It was at this point that the comedian walked up to the handrail that runs up the center of the front steps, straddled them and started to grind on the handrail.

I stopped dead in my tracks. “You ass” I yelled, “You’re killing me. I’m going to pee my pants! Stop it!”

I couldn’t move. I had to think of something else to get my brain off the last five minutes. All I could think about was the hand scratch, the cup scratch, the van scratch, the crosswalk post rub, the pillar rub, the bush whackin’ and the handrail grinding. The images flashed through my mind in succession.

There I stood paralyzed, eyes closed, praying for a break in the comedy.

“I love it when I make her laugh so hard she almost pees her pants, look at her.”

Our group focused their attention on me and now I had become the comedy. My pain was their pleasure. How dare they?! It’s funny when Butt Itches is in pain, but not so much when it’s me, the dirty bastards!

I did make it up the elevator ride and to the ladies room. Good Luck Comedian… better luck next time!

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Traumatized by a Towel

I think I have adequately established the love I feel for my daughter, Auburn Aries. I also believe I have sufficiently portrayed what type of child she is. I have opened up our lives to you with complete honesty.

I have shared my heartache and my joy where she is concerned. I’ve laughed so hard I’ve cried at some of the stunts she’s pulled. I’ve been proud of her time and time again. Every time her heart has broken, mine broke right along with it.

I sometimes walk the path of motherhood with uncertainty hoping that I’m doing the right thing. I know that generally I’m not tough enough on her. She gets away with more than I’d like her to and I know that’s my fault.

I am not the best at tough love. I thought I would be, but I’m not where she’s concerned. Several people have said they’d hate to cross me or be on my bad side – but when it comes to Aries, the same rules don’t apply.

She is part of who I am. A little human being with emotions and laughter and love, all still miracles as she discovers herself and the world around her.

This morning I was unexpectedly reminded that she is, indeed, eight years old.

“Mom, Momma Kitty keeps licking herself and won’t stop.” (Momma Kitty is Thor’s cat who has taken to lying on the top of my couch cushions – the ones behind your back).

“I know, baby, it’s what cats do.”

“But she just keeps licking and licking. It’s gross. Why is she doing that?”

“She’s cleaning herself. Cats don’t like water and they’re just built to do that.” (I guess that’s an answer. I’m not a cat person so I’m pretending to know the answer to the cat-licking question).

“Yeah, but she’s getting hair on her tongue.”

“Yeah, don’t tell me that, it’s gross.” (Though I like Thor’s cat and Fairy Godmother’s cat, I don’t particularly care for cats).

“But, Mom, how does she get the hair off her tongue? It’s not like she can go…” (picture an eight year old pretending to pull a hair off the tip of her tongue using forefinger and thumb)

“Well, honey, what happens is she gets a fur-ball all wadded up and stuck in her throat. Then when it bugs her she goes… (insert me, gagging and pumping my head forward like I’m, well, puking up a fur-ball, complete with gagging noises) and pukes it up on the carpet.”

“Oh, great, now we’re going to have to walk around looking for fur-ball puke to clean up.”

“No, Thor will.. She’s Thor’s cat. She’ll puke ‘em up downstairs.”

“Oh, no she won’t! She’s up here more than she’s down there!!!”

Kind of lost my appetite for breakfast after that conversation.

And in case that wasn't proof enough she's eight…

After Auburn Aries’ bath this morning, I helped her dry her hair and had handed her back the towel to finish drying off. I turned away to tend to something when I heard her say (through solid laughter), “Hey Mom, LOOK!”

There she stood, bath towel stuck in her butt crack. She took off running through the house like a super hero with a misplaced cape.

I started laughing so hard I couldn't quit.

She stopped, at which point I thought she was going to remove the towel. I mean, for cryin’ out loud, I immediately told her to cut it out the instant I saw it! Though I suspect laughing that hard took the power out of the request.

Instead, she put her hands above her head like a ballerina and started twirling. Big towel o’ tutu hanging out her crack (or her “butt-er” as she calls it).

“Aries” I shouted, “take that towel out of your butt crack!!!”

She put her hands down and gingerly walked toward me, towel following her like a giant tail.

When she got close enough and in one swift movement she reached around behind her, yanked the towel out of her fanny, holding it like the Statue of Liberty's torch and says, “Wanna SMELL it?!!!”

Yep, that’s my kid. It was incomprehensibly funny and a memory I’ll never forget.

I’m just curious to know what went through her head right before she tucked the towel in her ass!

And please indulge me for a moment while I apologize to my friend Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven. I know butt humor isn’t so funny to gay men – but Ms Karma and I laughed at this story so hard we cried.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Bad Habits

While standing on the deck at my house:

Auburn Aries: "I wish there were no more cigarettes."

Hot Toddy: "I'm smoking them as fast as I can."

Hmm. Guess you had to be there.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

It's Incomprehensible

Yesterday morning:

At 7:15 a.m. I pulled up at the ATM and jumped out of my car to quickly make a deposit. Auburn Aries was in the car writing a story or doing art – hell, who knows… my entire back seat looks like a combination art supply store and library.

Cognizant of the fact that I left my child in a running car with the driver door wide open (next thing you know, I’ll have her running errands to the liquor store), I was rushing to complete my transaction. I parked three spaces from the ATM.

Faintly in the distance I hear her.

“Maaaaaaahhhhm. Can you blaaaah blaaaah blaaaaah?” (inaudible blathering)

Was that my kid? There’s no one nearby in the parking lot so it can’t be anyone else’s kid. No, Auburn Aries knows better than to yell like that. I glance over my left shoulder and make eye contact.

“Hey Maaaaaahhhm. Can you blaaaah blaaaah blaaaaah?” (again, I can make nothing out)

I hold up the “wait a minute” finger and say, “Just a minute, I’m almost done.”

Again she does it.

“Hey Maaaaaahhhm. Can you blaaaah blaaaah blaaaaah?” (and, again, I see her lips moving but I have no idea what she’s yammering about)

I stood there growing increasingly frustrated. Why can’t these effing machines work faster? If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late for work. I should have made this deposit this weekend. I still have to take her to day care. Good GAWD why is she yelling like that.

This time my "wait a minute" finger it is accompanied with my “knock it off” look as I mouth the words, “JUST. A. MINUTE.”

My transaction finishes and I head back to the car. Before I can even get my sundress straightened beneath my bottom she starts in.

“Mom, Can you……………………”

“WAIT. JUST WAIT A SECOND, AUBURN ARIES. (I can see her in my rear view mirror). At what point in your eight year old life have I EVER told you it was okay to scream at me from the car when I’m right in the middle of doing something?! Or EVER, for that matter?!”

Dead silence. It’s the “oh shit I’m in big trouble and there’s no right answer” look.

“Well? When??”

She lowers her head, which ordinarily would have reminded me that perhaps I’m treating her like she’s fifteen and that I need to reel it in a little. Except this time, she scowls her face at me. SHE’S actually looking at me like **I** did something wrong.

“Oh, no, no, no little one. Don’t cop your attitude with me. At what point did you decide that yelling like that was okay?”

“Mom! Mom! Just listen. I need something from you and it’s important.”

I take a deep breath thinking she better be broken or bleeding to constitute her behavior. I take in a deep breath and lose my bar brawlin’ attitude.

“What is it, Aries?”

Now she’s clearly giving me back the attitude I gave her (damn kids for being such copy cats anyway). With a snippy tone in her voice:

“I needed to know how to spell the word club.”


“No, Mom, I’m not kidding you. I couldn’t remember if there was a silent “e” on the end.”

“CLUB!! CLUB! C. L. U. B. CLUB.”

Totally frustrated and feeling like I’m running late to the point of wanting to drive like Mario Andretti, I whip out of the parking lot and drive her to daycare.

After five or six minutes of silence (also known as the regroup from coming unhinged), I speak.

“Auburn Aries, I’m sorry that I got so upset with you, but in the future, I would appreciate it if you could wait until I’m back in the car to talk to me instead of yelling.”

Still looking at her in the mirror, she crosses her arms across her chest and looks away, still scowling.

“You might want to lose that scowly face.”

“It’s my scowly face and I can keep it if I want to.”

“Look at me.”

Still looking away.

“Aries, if you keep your face like that, it’s going to stick that way. You don’t want to go through the rest of your life with that face do you?”

“Fine. Next time I’ll wait to talk to you.”

She tried to stay mad, but couldn’t. Gradually the corners of her lips started to smile. She laughed at the face-sticking comment and then we laughed together and it all went away.

Fast forward to this morning:

“Mommy, can I read one of my Calvin and Hobbes books to you on the way to [daycare]?”

I agree.

She begins reading.

“Blah Blah Blah. Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah. Can you believe how incomprehensibly vast the universe is?”

Whoa, wait a minute. Did she just say that?

“Hey, wait a minute, hold the phone there, Ace. Did you just say incomprehensibly? How incomprehensibly vast the universe is? Is that what the cartoon says?”

“Yeah.” And she repeats it again.

“Are you kidding me?! Yesterday you asked me how to spell club to find out if it had a silent e and today you read the word incomprehensibly without even having to sound it out?!”

“What? *insert innocent, puzzled face* I didn’t know if it had a silent e.”

“Never mind baby, keep reading. You’re doing a great job!”

Kids are, indeed, an enigma wrapped in a riddle.

Monday, June 20, 2005

No room for singles on Noah's Ark

Why is it that women travel in packs? Droves, really.

As a woman, I’ve never really bought into that whole girls going to the bathroom together thing. I always go alone. When in a lesbian bar, I will use the men’s room to avoid a line. But then, I’m not a typical woman I guess. There is a masculine side to this femme’s brain!

When I started working in IT 16 years ago, I fell in love with it for many reasons – one of which was due to the fact that there were few women in the industry – let alone Unix Engineers such as myself. I work better with men. I don’t do that whole “water cooler/hen session/let’s have a pot luck” bullshit.

This weekend was Gay Pride here in Portland.. Or what I prefer to call “the biggest shopping day of the year!”

I knew women would be out having a great time and this year I was really looking forward to it. I’m not in a relationship, my kid was at her Dad’s and I wanted to cut loose.

What I found was no different than what I usually find when I go to the only lesbian bar in Portland on any other night – except there was just more of it.

Everywhere I looked there were throngs of women all gathered together in their usual little packs. The hard part is figuring out who the hell is single and who’s paired up. For cryin’ out loud, it’s like Noah’s fucking Ark.

Even the single gals are engaged in conversations or dancing with one of their buddies. It makes it hard figure out if it’s their friend or a girlfriend.

So I’d hang back and observe trying to get a feel for who’s with who. Just about the time you think the woman who’s caught your eye is alone, up walks Little Miss “gonna-screw-with-your-plans-to-hit-on-my-woman” woman and you realize they're not just friends.

This is one of the reasons I don’t care for bars. I was talking with Hot Toddy and Thor about it this weekend. I’m not a bar person especially when it comes to seeking companionship. My standards are too high. I won’t go home with just anybody. Regardless of How. Bad. My Body Wants It.

On the flip side of that, I’m an energy person. I have to be able to get into someone’s energy to feel what they’re all about and you can’t do that in a bar where the noise level is too high or there’s too much alcohol involved.

Though on this particular weekend, Miss Right Now would have done just fine but, again, I have a lot at stake – namely, my self-respect.

When I was younger, scoring with women (or men) was a non-issue. I was never alone when I didn’t want to be. Now things have shifted. At 42 years old, I don’t want to waste my time on pointless relationships. Does this mean I’m willing to wait for Ms. Right?

Anyway, amidst all the eye candy Portland has to offer, I found myself moved to tears a few times. I see groups of parents marching with signs that say, “Closets are for clothes, not for people, I will not hide my gay son” and I am moved by that unconditional love.

I wish my parents had felt that way when they were alive. Instead I lived as bisexual hiding the women in my life from them but keeping a man around to cover it up. My parents were proud of me, but they were proud of a woman they never truly knew.

I see the booth that sells floggers and single tails and I get a lump in my throat.

I see women that spark an interest and weep inside because they are with their girlfriends. Dirty Noah’s-Arc-paired-up-mo-fo’s.

I see women walking around topless with nothing more than tape covering their nipples and I want to cry…not out of sadness but to keep my eyes from bleeding. Why is it always the women who SHOULD be covered are the women who feel they need to show the world what we’d really rather not see?

I see the bartender toss out the Margarita that won’t fit into my glass and a little piece of my heart breaks that Patron ever has to find its way to the sink never to touch my lips.

Yes, overall it was quite a weekend filled with highs and lows. I’m always glad to see Pride come and even happier to be a part of this wonderful community. Portland is weird, indeed, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Actors, Actors Everywhere

Monday night I attended the Drammy’s with Hot Toddy. When he invited me, I immediately accepted because of Toddy, the potential for an award and I knew it would be fun.

However, I quickly realized how great it would be to be around all those actors…all those actors…hmmm… There’s bound to be one fun lesbian actor in the bunch who's single. That might be fun. Dating an actor. I’ve met so many through Hot Toddy and I have yet to meet one that I haven't liked. They’re a great group of people.

I clearly had my own agenda once I thought it through.

I had planned what to wear and try as I might to get to Auburn Aries’ day care to pick her up and make it home in time to change and hook up with Toddy at The Vortex, it didn’t work.

I ended up dropping Aries off at a friend’s house who lives nearby and drove directly to Todd’s wearing the casual clothes I wore to work (my Levi’s and a blue and white striped Eddie Bauer pullover and Nikes)

Yes, I was about to attend an evening function with a huge ballroom full of actors who care a great deal about their appearance and I would be in my sneakers. My gawddamn sneakers. Furthermore, most of Hot Toddy’s band of brothers are gay men… which makes it even worse. Gay men are SUCH snappy dressers. They put us lesbians to shame most of the time!

Now, granted most of these people have seen me without makeup, in a Mariner’s cap doing the Patron happy-dance, but that’s not the point.

My best friend could have potentially won an award and could have chosen to thank me, Auburn Pisces, for my undying love and support (yeah, and Maker's Mark might be available in the drinking fountain). The crowd could have all turned to get a glimpse of this wonderfully loyal, supportive friend and there I’d be, decked out in my dyke wear (minus the boots).

He could have and they could have but they didn’t. And though I am sad Hot Toddy didn’t win an award that night, I am also grateful. I would have been mortified had anyone noticed me.

On the one hand, who am I kidding. I was cruising through the Crystal Ballroom with a 6’6” blonde-haired, blue-eyed actor wearing a black cowboy hat, black shirt, Levi’s and black boots. I was nowhere near as invisible as I’d like to think I was. He looked hot, confident, ten feet tall and bulletproof and everyone noticed him.

On the other hand (truth be told) I'm sure I wasn't even noticed. But that doesn't eliminate feeling so self-conscious about my attire.

My saving grace was this: While having a smoke and a drink just the two of us, I said, “Look at the bright side Toddy, if anyone asks who Auburn Pisces was you can say ‘she was the one in the blue and white striped pullover’. I’m certain everyone will know who you were talking about.”

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Let Them Be Little

Auburn Aries’ last day of second grade is tomorrow. My baby girl, the one I just gave birth to yesterday, is going to be a third grader. My little angel face who changed my world by crawling at five months and walking at ten months is growing up. In many ways it’s very cool. And in many ways it’s sad.

With each passing year she becomes more intelligent. Dwindling are the days I can recall something quirky she said because she was little and didn’t know the difference. With each new brain cell that develops, it overrides the innocence.

For instance there was:

“Rain, rain, go away, come-a-back another day.” Now she knows the real lyrics. Come-a-back is gone now.

The way she’s always said exercise… Extercize. Gone.

The way she would ask me, “Don’t you hate it when you get the leftovers of the pen?” referring to ink that balls up on cheap pens. Now she just wipes it away and moves on. Or uses one of my expensive pens I thought I had hidden.

Or the time she was explaining a game they played in P.E.:
“Yeah, we played never-ending tag. It’s like real tag, but with a chicken.” Don’t think for one second I was able to stifle laughter at this conversation. By the time we were done we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t get control.

Now she loves math, reading, art, science.

She reads constantly. She used to spell out loud the words she couldn't figure out. Now she knows them all.

Now she no longer needs me to sing Wynona’s “To be Loved by You” before she goes to bed. I started singing her that song when she was a newborn. When she was eight months old, she was hospitalized with acute asthma. I stayed in the hospital with her and never left her side. I was up 48 consecutive hours, was dead on my feet and that was the only song that would soothe her. I sang that song through tears of worry, fear, and exhaustion.

I’ve sung her that very song every night until a little over a year ago. She knew all the lyrics by the time she was four.

I would lay next to her on her bed with her snugly wrapped in my arms and stroke her hair. She’d sing it with me - she couldn’t sing on key, but I never cared. By the time the song was over, she would be sound asleep. It was our moment that we shared every day. I looked forward to it from the minute I woke up each day.

Now she crawls up in bed and gives me a kiss. She listens to music instead of her Mom.

Now she uses terms like, “I’m at the end of my rope with ‘snotty girl x’ at school.”

Now she negotiates everything believing wholeheartedly she can sway the outcome. Pisser is, most of the time she can and she knows it. Sometimes I suck at sticking to my guns.

No one warned me of the true impact a child has on your life. I doubt seriously that there was anything anyone could have said to have truly prepared me for that reality. I am changed. I am no longer the woman I was ten years ago. Nor would I want to be. A tiny little girl that weighed seven pounds twelve ounces changed the course of my life.

It’s as though I went to sleep and when I awoke, she was eight.

Nothing, however, will ever change the feeling of her little arms around my neck, hearing her say 'I Love You Mommy' or knowing that somewhere inside of her - no matter how strong a woman she becomes - she will always need me.

She will always be my little girl. My Auburn Aries. The daughter that changed my life forever.

Who would have thought it – I’m actually sad to see second grade end.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Why am I not getting any work done today?

Can you cry under water?

How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

If money doesn’t grow on trees then why do banks have branches?

Since bread is square, why is it sandwich meat is round?

Why do you have to “put your two cents in”… but it’s only a “penny for your thoughts?” Where’s that extra penny going?

Once you’re in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buried in for eternity?

Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They’re going to see you naked anyway.

If a 911 operator has a heart attack, who would they call?

Why is “bra” singular and “panties” plural?

Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet soup?

Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, “I think I’ll squeeze these dangly things here and drink whatever comes out!”

Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp which no normal human being would eat?

Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?

When your photo is taken for your driver’s license, why do they tell you to smile? If you are stopped by the police and asked for your license, are you going to be smiling?

If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a stupid song about him?

Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?

If the professor on Gilligan’s Island can make a radio out of a coconut, why can’t he fix a hole in a boat?

Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don’t point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?

Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They’re both dogs!

What do you call male ballerinas?

Can blind people see their dreams? Do they dream?

If Wyle E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn’t he just buy dinner?

Why does a round pizza come in a square box?

Why disease did cured ham actually have?

How is it that we put a man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?

Why is it that people say they “slept like a baby” when babies wake up like every two hours?

If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?

If you drink Pepsi at work in the Coke factory, will you get fired?

Why are you IN a movie, but ON TV?

Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog’s face he gets made at you, but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

How come we choose from just two people for President and fifty for Miss America?

If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Is Disney World they only people trap operated by a mouse?

Do the Alphabet Song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?

Why did you just try singing the two songs above?!

Why do they call it an asteroid when it’s outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it’s in your butt?

Friday, June 10, 2005


So there was a woman I saw for a brief moment in time. A woman who was far more into me than I was her. We didn’t see each for very long.

She had sent me a poem during the time we saw each other. She said she thought of it while at a friend’s house. The structure, the rhythm and the way it rhymed were, well, Dr. Seuss-like. I never said anything to her about it - it was the thought that counted.

Then, while I was out of town recently, she said she was working on another poem for me. I had no idea what was in store.

What I found in my email when I got home was this:

I whisper your name good night before I fall to sleep. I have your image in my mind as I drift off. I sleep knowing tomorrow I will do it all over again.

I close my eyes. I see you. You're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I smile, knowing you are with me. I think about you and how you feel, smell, taste. My desire for you is intense.

Feel the electricity as my fingers tease your supple body and the musky perfume of passion fills every corner of the room. Revel in the sensual softness of my skin against your warm body. Dance with me in endless rhythmic waves of pleasure as the music of our breathing becomes our metronome. Explore the heights of ecstasy and the depths of desire as we find our essence in worship of divine Shakti.

I am a tantrika and I long to find a woman with whom to share my desires and worship as the goddess she is.

Open the door to yourself…

It was immediately very clear to me that the same person did not write both poems. I called Hot Toddy and was telling him about the two poems. I read him the first – we giggled a little.

I read him the second poem (above) and he immediately blurted out, “She did NOT write that poem. There’s no way. The two writing styles are completely different.”

Though I vehemently agreed with him, I was just going to dismiss it. It seemed unworthy of my time since I had, the night before, ended the relationship.

He suggested I Google a line of the poem just to see if I could discover its origin. Not really caring to expend one more minute of my time on it, I pulled the procrastinators classic line, “I’ll do it later.” I mean, why put off today what you can put off until day AFTER tomorrow!

So today during a lull in Toddy’s day, he Googled it for me. And guess what he found listed under Craigslist in the women seeking women section? That’s right. Here it is:

Date: 2005-05-28, 9:42PM PDT

Feel the electricity as my fingers tease your supple body and the musky perfume of passion fills every corner of the room. Revel in the sensual softness of my skin against your warm body. Dance with me in endless rhythmic waves of pleasure as the music of our breathing becomes our metronome. Explore the heights of ecstasy and the depths of desire as we find our essence in worship of divine Shakti.

I am a tantrika and I long to find a woman with whom to share my desires and worship as the goddess she is.

I seek a woman who is confident, mature, open-minded, knows how to live in the moment, takes care of herself and understands the power of sexual healing.

Open the door to your Self…

The date and time appear to be when it was posted to Craigslist. May 28th. While I was out of town.

So, here are my observations:

1. If she pilfered it from Craigslist, well, how pathetic is that – passing off someone else’s writing as her own?

2. If she wrote it herself, why did she post it to Craigslist in the women seeking women section while I was out of town when, at the time, we were still seeing each other?

3. Did she seriously think I wouldn’t have figured this out? Eventually, I would have gotten around to researching it. I mean, if you’re going to kype poetry (or a personal ad of someone else’s), wouldn’t you kype it from Craigslist in New York and not in our own home town?

You have NO IDEA how much Confrontational-Aub wants to call her on her on this. Unfuckingbelievable. I should respond to the email in the ad and meet this woman just to see who it is.

It took Hot Toddy and another friend talking me out of calling her. “All it’s going to do is stir everything up in your life again. Don’t do it.”

“But, this is a confrontational person’s dream come true. It’s black and white. I can’t let her think she got away with this.”

“Yes, you can” Hot demanded. “It isn’t worth it. Let it go.”

“But I can’t! I’m busting at the seams! I have no self-control regarding this!”

“Then you better find it…. *long pause*…If you have to get it off your chest then blog about it.”

And here I am. Writing about this insanity. I can honestly say that it’s peeled me down off the ceiling and some of the power has gone out of it. Once again, Hot Toddy was right (I hate it when that happens).

I can’t help but imagine the fun I would have had if I could have done this face to face. Good Goddess, a girl can dream though! Or the girl can “…be a tantrika looking for a woman with whom I can…” Puhlease.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Now I KNOW it’s True Love

Company X is located in south downtown in Portland. Finding a restaurant in “sodo pdx” for lunch can be challenging. The restaurant selection is sorely lacking at this end of town. There’s the usual Company X cafĂ© where everything tastes the same. This declaration was made a couple of weeks ago when The Math Whiz and Hot Toddy and I were dining together.

Company X gives a 35% discount on meals when you order healthy entrees. Hot Toddy ordered a burrito filled with a multitude of healthy ingredients. About half way through his lunch he disparagingly tossed his fork onto his plate and exclaimed, “How is this possible?!” There are how many different ingredients in this burrito all of which taste great individually – but somehow when they wrap it in a tortilla it tastes the same as the pizza and the salads and the sandwiches!”

Needless to say, our trek across town continues in an endeavor to find an acceptable culinary experience.

Every time we go to lunch, regardless of where we go, we always come back down a specific street. On said street, there is a tiny little store wedged in between Paradise Bakery and New York Burrito. The curator of this tiny little store is a thirty-something Asian man, er, dare I say, Asian Bodybuilder with biceps the size of Volkswagens.

Hot Toddy has a thing for Asian men and we walk by the little store because Hot Toddy enjoys the glimpse of eye candy he receives as he passes by. Ms Karma and I have come to realize that regardless of what we’re saying to Toddy, he will tune us out until after he passes the store. He has, on countless occasions switched sides with me because at 5’10” tall, I might block his view. He and I have gone into the store to buy water and a Men’s Fitness magazine just so Hot Toddy could be near this guy.

Well, today Hot Toddy and I dined together at a Thai restaurant. It just so happens that this Thai restaurant is on the same street at the little store. Though we took a different route to the restaurant, we took our usual route back. We were walking along chatting and walked right by light where we usually cross the street so we are on the same side as the store.

I said nothing.

We proceeded down the street and as Toddy continued his story, I frequently glanced up to watch him take in his Asian stud.

But something was amiss. He was walking along with his eyes straight ahead. The closer we got to the store, the less time in between my glances. I wondered what the hell was going on. This can’t be… I tried to be inconspicuous as I watched him – I didn’t want to evoke any response. And then it hit me.

As we approached the next stop light which was half a short block ahead of us, I stood in shock.

With all the conviction in my heart, I said it.

AP: That’s it. Now I KNOW it’s true love.
HT: What are you talking about?
AP: The little store. The Asian guy.
HT: What?
AP: You just walked right by the little store and never looked over to see the Asian Bodybuilder guy.
HT: Oh my God. I totally didn’t even think about it.
AP: Like I said, now I KNOW it’s true love.

Call the media, tell your friends… Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven is, indeed, on broil. He’s never been more off the market than he is now.

Sorry, Asian Bodybuilder Guy, you had your chance.

Thor, you’re one lucky bastard.

Monday, June 06, 2005

True Love & Thor's Pecs

Writing about my funk last week took the power out of it. I felt much better having verbally vomited all of that up via the keyboard. I don't get like that often and I'm grateful for that.

Saturday night I had dinner with The Handsome Prince. I had such a lovely time. It isn't often he and I get time alone to visit. With Toddy and Thor unavailable until later in the evening, it was my opportunity to spend time with someone who can say something besides Thor. Thor.. Thor... Thor.... And I mean that with the utmost love and respect.

You know how it is when you're best friend is in love... It's like those cartoons where the character gets conked on the head and slides to the ground with a halo of little birds tweeting around their brain, except in this case Toddy is still functional but so preoccupied one must remember not to speak of anything important.. It would appear his braincells are Teflon coated with thoughts o' Thor!

I am very happy for both he and Thor. Everything about this relationship seems right. It flows effortlessly and I truly believe these two men were meant to be together. I knew from the minute I met Thor that they were destined to be together and I love the fact that I get to watch it unfold. Probably the most difficult thing was not saying anything about it to either one. If it was fate, it would have to happen on its own. And it did.

I have a twinge of jealousy about their relationship. Not evil jealousy but the good kind. The kind where I hope I will be blessed and find what they have someday. I would love to share my life with someone that I know is my soul mate. My life partner. Someone who loves kids; someone who understands what an Irish temper coupled with red hair means and who can let some of that go without holding it against me; someone who doesn't question my Piscean nature but accepts who I am; someone who appreciates me being a Pagan; someone who thinks the sun rises and sets in my eyes the same way I think that about them; someone with a sex drive as intense as mine and who understands what being a leather woman means.

As you've probably gathered, I ended it with Sexy Girl. Though she has a lot to bring to the table, it wasn't clicking for me. I felt too disconnected from her and decided it was best not to waste each other's time. After seeing Toddy and Thor together, THAT is what love is supposed to be. Anything else and your just settling.

Hot Toddy has found love. I can have it too. Until it gets here, I'm perfectly happy chillin' with Auburn Aries and doing my thing. When the time is right it will all come together. Until then, I won't force fate.

After dinner when Hot Toddy and Thor returned, we visited (wherein I shared way too much information about my past) and then headed out for the evening. We ended up at C.C. Slaughter's. It was there I made the switch from drinking a great Australian red wine over dinner (okay, a whole bottle) to Margaritas. This is bad. Very bad. Don't ever mix alcohol. I was pretty slammed by the end of the evening when we closed the bar.

I ran into some old friends while at C.C.'s and my attention was divided between Toddy and Thor and these other people. One of them (who Thor referred to as "Pretty Boy") and I engaged in quite a bit of conversation and dancing. We hadn't seen each other in months.

You know how last week I was writing about feeling jealous because the other kids get to stay out and play and I don't get to? Part of that jealousy is, at times, due to the fact that their My Boys and sometimes other women just need to step off. It's become a standing joke between Todd and Thor and I.

Well, Saturday night there I was paying attention to other gay men and it happened. Thor leaned across Toddy tapping me on the shoulder and said, "I thought WE were Your Boys... Not those guys. Why are you paying so much attention to them? Now I know how you feel."

It would seem that My Boys care more than I realized and it made my day.

Later on with the evening winding down, Pretty Boy and I were still yammering when I reached up to touch his pecs. Pretty Boy is, by all rights, exactly that. Very, very pretty. Lean body, very built. This wasn't the first time I've touched his chest, but I gotta tell ya, the urge to reach out and touch him overtook me until I had my entire hand cupping one of Pretty Boy's pecs. It was extremely firm, well shaped and impressive.

Then I heard it. "Oh, THAT'S IT! From now on I'm working out every day until my chest is huge and when we go out you won't want to touch Pretty Boy's chest anymore, you'll only want to touch mine and feel how big it is."

Now, just as a matter of record, Thor is no slouch in the "being built" department. I see him running around the house in a pair of shorts and no shirt and even *I* have to take a double take. He's yummy stuff, that man.

And work out, he did. While I recovered Sunday from an evil hangover, Thor did, indeed, start pumping iron.

Poor Toddy, I hope he doesn't explode from having Thor for a boyfriend and being THAT built... From what I understand, he's close to exploding already!

Friday, June 03, 2005

Lonesome Heart

I'm in a funk today. I don't like it. Could be PMS. Usually the only signs of that are my salt/sugar cravings and I tend to cry more. Could be a lot of things, I guess.

My best friend is in a new relationship and as such the dynamic of our relationship has been altered. Not negatively so - it's just different than it used to be. I'm starting to miss it. He’s sewn into the fabric of my life and I am very used to his presence in my heart. Because I can always feel him, I can feel his energy has shifted. He’s still there, it’s just different.

Even my talks with Thor have changed. He's another one whose energy I feel without him being anywhere near me. Feels like I haven't actually conversed with him in weeks. He's such a phenomenal housemate. He's so much more than that. He's my friend.

It would seem there is something in The Vortex that has pulled him away the last few days. Can’t imagine what that is!

Auburn Aries asked me this morning where Thor has been and when she was going to get to see him again. All I could do was shake my head realizing how much he's grown to mean to her and reassure her he would be around soon. He's only been busy the last couple of evenings and she's already missing him.

Being a parent is the most rewarding job in the world. And other times, I pine for my kidless life. Not that I want it back permanently as I could not imagine one day of my life without Aries in it. But there are times when my friends are all out and I have to leave the bar to go be somebody's Mom and it's frustrating.

Sometimes I feel like a kid being left out of the game. What makes it worse is knowing that the kids who get to stay are the kids in the neighborhood who always play together. Hot Toddy, Thor, The Handsome Prince, The Math Whiz, and Ms. Karma - and I don't get to play. Perhaps I'm just overdue for a Mom night out and a babysitter.

I've missed my brother, Willie, so much today. He and I were so close. He died on my Dad’s birthday in 1996. He never got to meet Aries. I got pregnant with her four days before he died. She'd have been the apple of his eye. I said aloud this morning while brushing Aries' hair, "I wish Uncle Willie were still alive." She just looked up at me not knowing what to say, but understanding all to well what I was feeling.

She brought home a tissue paper art piece she did at school of her Grandma. She got a prize for it. The caption around it spoke of how much she loved Grandma because Grandma always believed in her. She died almost two years ago. Aries knows what I’m feeling.

Willie was who I always talked to when stuff was going on. We’d meet for a drink and talk about the serious stuff first and end up laughing and being silly together. He lifted my heart to where it needed to be no matter what was going on.

I'm certain all of this will pass. It always does. I just feel lonely today...very, very lonely - even in a room full of people and with Hot Toddy and Ms Karma by my side.

"...The sails out in the harbor, are searching for the wind."

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Disneyland and The OC Vortex

I had a kick-ass weekend!! Though I was draggin' my cans Thursday morning having only three hours sleep the night before, it was worth it to have dinner and cocktails with Hot Toddy and Thor before Auburn Aries and I left town. Of course, the cocktails didn't help expedite the packing process.

Even though Auburn Aries was tired, she seemed to have found her second wind once we checked into the hotel which was two blocks from Disneyland. All I wanted was a nap but it just wasn't in the cards. This weekend was about her and nothing else.

Tired, run down and listless (and no, I do NOT poop out at parties), I threw on sunscreen and shorts and off we went. Fairy Godmother was a blessing. I had back surgery a year ago and can't ride roller coasters.

We made an afternoon of it. Aries' little face spoke a thousand excited words every time I looked at her. She said she thought Disneyland was going to be more about Disney stuff - movies and things you look at. She didn't realize it was all about cutting loose on rides and spending wads of her mother's cash.

She had a blast.

In the afternoon, Fairy Godmother was going to ride the Matterhorn. Auburn Aries piped up and said she wanted to ride too. I took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the mountain. I pointed out the speed at which the bobsled moved and she didn't back down. I thought, go ahead, get on it... I'll be here to pick up the pieces when you get back.

I took pics of her getting into the bobsled. I could hear her screaming inside the mountain. There is no mistaking that shrill scream of terror that emitted from my child. I stood holding my breath as the sled descended to its original spot.

There she was, eyes as big as silver dollars, yelling (through absolute excitement) "THAT WAS THE FUNNEST RIDE EVER!!!!!!"

My eyes swelled with tears. I took every picture of her excitement that I could, though no picture will ever capture a moment that real.

She saw me, stepped out of the bobsled, threw both fists into the air above her, her head looking toward the blue sky and screamed, "I LOVED IT! IT WAS THE BEST RIDE EVER. MOM, DID YOU SEE ME, I RODE THE MATTERHORN!"

She approached me with a new found confidence. This, my little girl who was scared to get into the pool for swim lessons just did the ballsiest thing of her lifetime.


Everyone around her just watched and laughed. I walked and cried hiding the tears behind my Oakleys. I kept pumping her for information so she'd keep talking. I didn't want that moment to end.

She and Fairy Godmother spent the rest of that afternoon getting back in line for the Matterhorn.

The next morning, she and FG headed off as soon as the park opened (I joined them around noon) and they rode the Matterhorn, Thunder Mountain and Indiana Jones Adventure thingy pretty much all day long.

In addition to Auburn Aries making me cry proud tears, I was blessed to have met my sister by another mother, Pua, her husband Charlie, and their kids.

Pua is truly an Earth Mother. She is the most grounded person I've ever met. She was waiting for me outside her home as I pulled up and from the moment we embraced it was as though I had known her a lifetime.

Pua is beautiful in every sense of the word. Her spirit embraces you, her soul is open and loving and she is a happy and content Polynesian beauty. She's taller than I originally thought she'd be based on her own description. She has long hair and an olive complexion that people are willing to pay a fortune to get.

Her house is immaculate and as warm and loving as she is. The front yard on which she and Charlie labored, is spectacular. She has a neighbor that has a yard that looks like it was landscaped by Dr. Seuss. Not that that has anything to do with this story.

Charlie is the equivalent of Pua except with different body parts. His spirit is kind, he's funny and the best damn Host on the planet. It’s no wonder their marriage is as strong as it is and has lasted this long. They are truly made for each other.

The OC Vortex was amazing. Its is every bit as welcoming as HTTO’s Vortex. Once I stepped into it, I didn’t want to leave. Lucky for me I didn’t have to. There was a bounty of food, the best guacamole I think I’ve ever had, Patron Margaritas – I didn’t know they sold bottomless Margarita glasses in OC - and I don't know that I've ever finished a bottle of Patron in one sitting. Now I can say I have and with two of the best people in the world.

Charlie grilled chicken that had been marinating in Pua’s secret teriyaki marinade. It was the best.

We laughed and talked and shared for hours.

I had the privilege of meeting Caris, Averie and Bryson. They are all talented, loving people each with the same embracing spirit as Pua and Charlie. I felt like their Aunt – the kind of Aunt they could call if they ever needed anything at all.

I watched as Caris prepared for her prom. What a beautiful young lady she is. I asked her prom date what hotel they’d be staying at to try and trick him. He promptly replied they weren’t going to a hotel. “Good answer,” I exclaimed. I’d have hated to have had to kick his ass before his prom.

I attended Averie’s play. Averie is every bit as beautiful as Caris and vice versa. It was a series of small plays, some of which she was in and others she directed. I don’t know when I’ve laughed that hard (except for your plays, of course, Hot Toddy).

I have to admit though, I have never snickered as hard as I did when we returned back to Pua’s following the play. Bryson was convinced someone had been in the house as the front door was unlocked when he got home (he had to have forgotten to lock it when he left), and there was a candle lit on the mantle.

With all the conviction in his heart, he believed someone broke in and lit that candle. Man, I’m hoping those evil candle-lighting house-breaker-inners don’t ever come to Portland. There are 17 candles on my mantle.

Overall, it was a Memorial weekend I will never forget. There have been only a number of people in my lifetime to whom I feel completely connected and Pua is one of them.

My life is blessed and when it comes to the love of good friends, I’m the luckiest person alive.