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winter makes me want.


I am a warm weather girl for sure. Born in the south, raised here, I've just adapted to bare-feet and tank tops. I am happiest with the sun on my shoulders and a cold drink in hand. But there is just something about Winter that makes me want to live. Maybe it's that our winter's aren't that harsh. I always picture myself moving somewhere like New York, or Chicago, but I know that after one long season of trudging through below-freezing temperatures, I would be miserable.

I can't remember the last time we had snow. I do remember though, three years ago when we had a horrible ice storm. I was living alone, in my dad's old place. The power was out. The guy I was dating at the time came over, and we decided to venture out into the ice to see if we could find some place that was serving food. I lived only a few blocks away from a handful if restaurants, but the wind and slick pavement were so intimidating, we decided to drive. He drove a huge old grandma-ish Pontiac. As we ventured down the road, we noticed only one restaurant on the strip that had their lights on. So we pulled into the parking lot. A few cars were already there. Some that were parked on a slight incline had slid into each other so slightly. Not leaving any damage, but leaving the owners in a little predicament once they came back outside. Getting out of the car and trying to walk was the hardest thing. We were sliding all over the place, falling into each other, laughing through chattering teeth, and freezing. It was what I call Awful Cold. So cold that after 1 minute outside, toes are numb and walking is close to impossible because your body keeps trembling. Maybe I'm over exaggerating, but whatever. It was damn cold.

The weather so far this season has been wonderful. In the last few weeks, it's just started to get cold. It's the season for my blue, trench/pea (trea) coat, my woolly scarf, all over-top my boyfriend's borrowed hoodie. Smokey basement bars with red wine. Pink cheeks, visible breath and ice skating in the park. Getting drunk beneath city lights and falling in love all over again. Knee high boots with tights a short skirt.

I drove through downtown on Saturday night. The boyfriend in the passenger seat, his hand on my knee. His friend in the back seat, smoking a cigarette out the open window. We were all a little buzzed off some Blue Moon seasonal ale. The iPod blared songs that we all knew by heart. Singing loudly, drunkenly, maybe a little off key. The city swirling around us. Cold air and the smell of smoke. Winter makes me passionate. It makes me nostalgic. Maybe it's the holiday vibe. Maybe it's just that the cold kind of wakes you up. The heat will make you tired, relaxed, lazy. The cold makes you remember. There is nothing like the city in December.

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he likes my knee socks and fake brown hair.


Sitting at the kitchen table, discussing weekend plans over a shared plate of bar-b-que. Possibly going to see a band that is playing on Friday night.
Him: They have a really hot asian bassist.
Her: You know, I don't need to know every time you think a girl is hot.

In her head she was thinking, especially when that girl is super-hot and talented and looks nothing like me.

Him: Just because I think she's hot, doesn't mean I think she's hotter than you.

Touche.

Her: I have insecurities that go way back. Way back to an ex-boyfriend who would point out all the flaws in strangers on the street. Tell me he thought so-and-so was fat, or so-and-so was ugly. Girls that look like me. Girls that weren't fat, and girls that definitely weren't ugly. So I'm weird around girls now in general. It takes a while for me to not constantly compare myself, even to strangers.
Him: So does it bother you that I have a lot of girl friends?
Her: No. Well, just one of them bothers me.
Him: Which one.
Her: I don't want to talk about this right now.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then she blurted out the name without even looking at him, staring down at the food she was pushing around on her plate.

Him: I figured it was her.
Her: I just remember that when you and I were first starting to date, you were telling me that you and her had always been attracted to each other, but one of you always had a significant other, so nothing ever happened. And I know she's a freak in bed, and all that other stuff that guys fantasize about. And plus, she's hot.
Him: She's not really hot... But I do remember now that she got all weird when she first met you.

Um. Yeah.

Sometimes, girl friends can be more intimidating than the ex he dated for 5 years. I am a strong advocate that at some point in a "friendship" with the opposite sex, someone always wants more. Even if it's something small, like a drunken night with the beer goggles that leaves you thinking the next morning, "Why the hell did I confess I wanted to have his children?!"

I'm not saying that men and women can't be friends without wanting to rip each others clothes off. But I have never been friends with a male where the idea of "something more" hasn't crossed my mind at least once and in most cases, for only a second. And then reality kicks in and I remember why he is just a friend in the first place. Sometimes it takes a little more, like a kiss. And then you're all "Whoa! Yeah, totally can't go there!" and you never speak of it again. Other times, you might take the full-on dating train and either end up with a very awkward break up, or be one of the ones who literally married their best friend.

What is so intimidating about girl friends is the idea of the unknown. Ex's are no big deal to me. There is obviously a reason why she is an ex, so there's no threat really. Been there, done that. Girl friends are uncharted territory. And in the case of the girl friends who are super hot, or really smart, or freaks in bed, the possibilities are endless. And also, because I know that at some point over the course of friendship, one or both of the parties has or will want more, even if its only for a moment. And it's even harder to swallow when you find out that friend is a cute red-head he pursued his entire 4 years of college, despite the fact that she repeatedly turned him down. And then he sent an e-mail professing his love for her while you were out of town one weekend. But I digress...

I realize that there are two types of girls in the eyes of men. There's the girl who is the girlfriend. The girl who has long term potential. The girl you take home to mom and buy a ring for. Then there is the girl who is the girl friend. The girl that maybe you hooked up with once a few years ago after too much tequila. The girl that has her nipples pierced. The girl who you just take home and won't even buy breakfast for the next morning. I have always been the girlfriend. When being single, I think I tried to be the girl friend but I was never that hard core. I even failed at a one-night stand, and turned it into a 2 year relationship. Face it, I think we have all wanted to be that girl at some point. No holds barred, having strangers take shots off our chest and know that when we walk away, they are looking at our ass picturing what we look like naked. Granted, we would never admit that. I'm admitting it. I used to wonder what it was like to be a slut, and sometimes I'd be jealous of the girls who could pull it off. Every girl wants to be the girl that he thinks about when he's having sex with someone else, to be the best he's ever had. To be the one that got away.

But, it's good to be in love. And to be in a relationship that, despite all the lures of the girl friend, still brings him home to you with a smile on his face. Which is what he's wanted all along. Slow dancing in PJ's and kisses on the forehead last a lot longer than the hang over you accumulated with the suave talker that one night in Vegas.

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something new for the holidays.


Growing up, my brother and I had live-in nannies. My parents had a basement apartment, that connected to our house via stairs in the kitchen. After my parents divorced, my mom (who worked full-time and sometimes crazy, long hours) decided she needed a little help with my brother and I. We had nannies from all over the globe. Literally. I don't know if my mom sought them out, perhaps to try and culture her kids, or if that's just who she ended up hiring. Most of them were exchange students at Emory who lived in the apartment downstairs in exchange for taking care of the kids. One woman was from China. She spoke very broken English, but loved Eric and I. And she made killer dumplings. My favorite memory had to be the time that Eric slipped in the bathroom and hit his head on the sink. It wasn't that major, but since she couldn't speak English very well, she instructed me at 6 years old to call and inform my mother. My very words were, "Mom, Eric is bleeding and it won't stop!" I guess I was a dramatic child, and after my mom rushed home from work, she found a small cut buried beneath his hair that barely required a stitch. Sorry mom.

We also had a woman from Zimbabwe. She always let us eat junk food. And she drove a Probe. I remember thinking that she was the coolest college kid ever. And she was gorgeous. Everywhere we went, men would hit on her. One time a guy asked her if Eric and I were hers. She replied, "What? Are you stupid?" I don't know if it's because she was young or because she was very black and we were very white. I think it was the latter.

Then there was this other chick. She wasn't foreign, but she was a total bitch. She wasn't a student either, but a budding real estate agent. Her boyfriend always came over. Not to our house, but he would hang out in the apartment. She was mean. Really mean. And she watched a lot of Oprah. And she told me to not eat so much, because I would get fat one day. I was 7. She drove a sporty red car, and had a car phone. I remember thinking, a real car phone! It was one of those bulky things that came in the suitcase and took up half of the passenger side of the car. As much as I really despised her, I couldn't help but be jealous of her humongous car phone. She even let me use it one time. The reception was horrible.

Then. There was the most lovely woman from Germany. Renata. She was, by far, our favorite. My mom's favorite too. She cooked us authentic German meals, and always smiled. She really treated us like we were her own children. She has since moved back to Germany, but my mom has still kept up with her for the last 20 years. At first, it was letters at holidays or to announce special occasions. Thus far, she's gotten married and has had her two of her own kids. And now that my mom is finally using her e-mail more often, they chat a lot more. Renata recently asked my mother if she knew of any family with teenage kids who would be interested in doing an exchange program for a few weeks. One of her son's is now 14, and she wants him to have a chance to stay in the states for a while. Unfortunately, all the "kids" my mom really knows are now the age of my brother and I. That didn't stop my mom. She wrote back, "We'll take him."

For some reason, I wanted to cry when my mom told me. I guess this is her way of giving back, for all the love Renata gave my brother and I, and all that cheesy crap that I hate to love. Not to mention, now she has an in if any of us ever want to travel to Germany...

So, he'll be here sometime within the month, probably around Christmas time. And he speaks very little English. I'm excited! Now I get to do all the touristy stuff that I've forgotten about, since living here my entire life. Dustin and I already called dibs on taking him to the World of Coke. Anyone in? And no, you cannot teach him dirty words.

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everyone deserves a second chance


Well, aside from my last ex-boyfriend. I actually saw him last night at the grocery store. He was with another girl. Strangely, I was relieved. But that is another story.

I'm trying to make amends with someone who I'm not sure how I pissed off in the first place. She just doesn't like me, and she makes it obvious. And for reasons that I can't figure out. So rather than sit down and have a (very awkward) chat, I'm just going to be nicer than normal, talk to her often, and even get her a Christmas present. So there.

The job front is so-so, for reasons I won't blast over the internet, because I don't know who reads this crap. I'll save that for when I work for myself. Then I can really bitch about the job, and about what a bitch the boss lady is. Because you all know I'm such a rager, I'll leave you with a headache the next morning.

I'm just rambling right now. My head was swimming while I was in the shower, ideas that I just had to jot down. Some that I'm posting else where because I want to use them in that song. You know, the one I've been writing for years now, the one that I will always be so afraid to sing to anyone. That one.

I have decided, I don't hate winter as much as I used to. Maybe that's because it hasn't gotten THAT cold yet. But still cold. Now that I have no yard, I have to walk the dog. And I kind of like it... I bundle up, new coat, gloves, scarf; and walk him down the block. A big part of it now is people-watching. I pass coffee shops, salons, bars, restaurants. I love to see the people. Others with their dog who don't get too close, because mine looks mean. Kids in strollers. Joggers with iPods and ear muffs. It's the sights and sounds of the city, the city that I love.

That's all I have.

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circa august 2007


blog.


i once dated a boy who had a car, but no license. he rode his bike everywhere. i would drive him to work. one time, we were drunk the night before and he over-slept. he got fired. he also had some pretty bad BO. probably from all the bike riding. that was a deal breaker. but he did write a song for me. a terrible one, at that. but i guess not so terrible at the time.

i once dated a boy who worked a suit job during the week but did shrooms to phish on the weekends. he had a cabin in kentucky, and two huge dogs that weighed more than me. we had different political views. we worked together on the weekends. he would flip pizza and i'd flirt for our beer money behind the bar. he always encouraged that behavior.

i once dated a boy who was 13 years older than me. i guess that makes him more man than boy. we didn't date for very long. he liked to borrow my clothes. and he always took my picture. he thought it was a bad idea when i adopted my first dog. i should have listened to him. on our first date, he wore scarf. with sunflowers on it.

i once dated a boy who sold christmas trees during the holidays. our very first kiss was in a trailer. he never washed his hair. we were friends first and are still friends now. sometimes i feel like it never even happened. he now lives on the other side of the country.

i once dated a boy who would klepto things from my apartment. my friends joke that he was making a shrine. he got drunk one night and called to try and serenade me with some bongo drums. he took me to eat italian on our first date, and told me he loved me shortly after. i almost got nauseous.

i once dated a boy who lived far away. i would always drive to see him. his room mate walked in on us having sex one time. his parents owned a restaurant. he called me by his ex's name twice. we bonded over baseball and vegetarianism. he introduced me to dive bars and PBR.

his key.


I was in sort of a horrible mood yesterday. Mostly brought on by myself, and only partly having to do with PMS. I hit these slumps every now and then. Sometimes I think I'm more emotionally charged than most females. I cry a lot. Over stupid stuff. Over commercials. So either way, I was in a horrible mood. I didn't want to work. On the way home I listened to Death Cab and started to cry behind my big, cheap sunglasses. And I don't even like Death Cab that much anymore. I had texted the boyfriend earlier to say that I just needed some time, that I was in a horrible mood, and for him to just call me later. The entire ride home, behind my tears, I played out over and over again what I was going to scribble in my "real" journal when I got home. It involved lots of cursing. Now I wasn't just upset, but my emotions over took me and I was angry. Angry at myself for letting someone else get the best of me. So the rough draft in my head turned to a hate letter. A letter that I would never send. But one that would sit in my journal for me to read over and over again and just put me in an even more foul mood the next time around. See, I totally bring it on myself. What is wrong with me.... But I got home, and walked in the door, and there on my dining room table was a little surprise. A bottle of merlot, and a note. I started crying again, but only because I realized what an idiot I was. And then again, how lucky I was.

I dwell a lot on the past, and on ridiculous crap that I've let get the best of me before. And it becomes easy to feel sorry for myself after a bad day. So whatever. I chalk it up to being a girl.

weeds.


It's been a while since I've web-logged anything. Not that I don't have anything going on... lots has gone on since August! I'm going to try and keep this shizz updated. Not for you, I don't care about you. But I personally have a horrible memory. So there.

The summer was magical. Seriously. Tangent: I have been called a serial monogamous. I'm ok with that. I love love. I like relationships. I'm not insecure, I don't need a boyfriend. But when something clicks, I think you'd be stupid not to go for it. So with that said, after ending an almost 2 year relationship, I started another one a few months later. The summer was bliss. It's still bliss.

Breaking up meant moving out. Quickly. I answered an ad on Craigslist. The girl who posted the ad seemed normal enough, and we had a mutual friend so I thought it would work out perfectly. Another guy answered the ad as well, and before we knew it, we were room mates. My rash decision to move wasn't the best. The house was dirty, the male room mate (in particular) was gross and disrespectful. And the shizz finally hit the fan when I walked in to find him naked in my bed with a girl. So after only 2 months, I decided it was time for me to move on outta there. I spent a grueling month trying to find someone to move in, while also trying to find a place for myself. Eventually, and after eating around $800, I was finally in a new place. Alone. An apartment for just me and my dog. It's cute, and cozy and very close to bars, which is always good. Yum.

October came and went. I found a bike in someones trash that I'm hoping to turn into treasure. With my other bike, I've started going on weekend rides with my dad. The last few months have kind of been like a do-over. Though they have left me poor and a little confused, I'm hoping to regain myself. Which is stupid, because I should have never slipped away in the first place. I cut my hair off. It's still brown. I'm thinking about making it darker. Halloween was kind of a bust, which sucked because it's my favorite holiday. But I did dress up and I watched Frankenhooker, which is the best movie of all time (and no, it's not a pr0n). My best friend growing up moved, literally, walking distance from me. Her husband and my boyfriend are fast becoming friends. It is good all around.

It's cold today. Yesterday and today have been the coldest days of the season so far. I complain a lot about the cold. I see myself in New York or Chicago, but then I squeal and cry like I a baby when it's 50 decrees outside. I'm just not meant for cold. The boyfriend thinks I need more iron in my diet. I am always cold.

I have also decided recently that I need to weed some people out of my life. Which is sad, because I don't really have that many good friends left. Joy is moving to Costa Rica. Amanda is talking about moving to Portland. Bernadette doesn't return phone calls. Parker is already in San Fran (but coming to visit soon!). The rest are mere acquaintances. Maybe an e-mail here. Or a myspace comment. Or a promise to meet for drinks, but never a follow up. I've written this before, but I feel like I'm a little behind. I don't feel like I should be (almost) 26. I still feel like I'm 21, trying to figure out what the hell is going on and then forgetting it all in a bottle of vodka. Everyone is getting married, or already married, or getting preggers, or moving away, or being all grown up in some other fashion. Sometimes, all I want to do is go listen to a band I've never heard of, and drink shitty beer and meet new people. Even if it means falling asleep smelling like cigarette smoke.

I am so emo.

So recapping the last few months: moved, met boy, cut hair, moved again, re-discovering lost loves, taken to song writing again, re-kindling friendships, dissolving others, moving forward, planning happiness, more cooking, more baking, more laughter, cheap aquarium visits where I bought a kick-ass necklace, going to the zoo, street festivals, fireworks on rooftops, bike rides, love love love. Oh, and my dog has worms.

I promise I won't stay gone so long next time. Actually, I'm secretly hoping that people have forgotten this blog even exists. Then one day, someone will stumble upon it again, months later view it as treasure. I hope.
xoxo, L

Life is good folks. I think it's only getting better.

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natural beauty


boss: are you hung over?
me: -confused- what? no...
boss: you look tired. or hung over. maybe even still drunk!
me: -silence-.... i didn't wear any make-up today.

-more awkward silence-

boss: .... uhhh.... -walks away-

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babies mama's mama's


It's been a while since I've written about Pie Guy. That's because not much has happened. We've had our encounters, creepy as usual, and gone about our days. It's nothing like it was a few months ago, when I would slip in his drool every time I walked by.

The latest incidents haven't been much to write about. He sort of sexually harassed me one day by telling me my legs looked nice in my skirt. I've gotten to where I just smile. No response. Just smile, nod, and walk away.

I had another incident last week. Our copier broke. Our fucking copier is always breaking. This time, no amount of man-handling would get it working again. We had clients waiting on their 50 pages of copied divorce documents. My fellow co-worker looked at me and sympathetically asked (no, told me really) to go next door and ask to finish making the copies. I put on my brave face as I trudged down the hall and asked to make some copies. I didn't see him in the office. Hopefully, I could get this done and get out of there without being seen. I think I actually willed the copier to copy as fast as it's little mechanical heart could. Finally, it was finished. As I gathered the paper to make my exit, I run into the one and only. He looks stunned to see me in his office. It's kind of like when you were in middle school and you'd run into your math teacher at the grocery store. Like, really? You exist outside of that tiny bubble? I had no idea!

Then the small talk starts. Actually, all he really says is "Look. I can't get you to go get a drink with me after work. I can't get you to go to lunch with me. I can't even talk you into walking to the parking lot with me. But, I've lost 50 pounds so I'm almost there!"

I don't get it... You've lost weight? I see that. BUT YOU'RE STILL CREEPY!

Again, smile and nod and run like hell for the door. As I get back to the office, we realize that the last 3 pages didn't copy completely. I plead and plead to never make me go over there again. They don't.

And so then there was today. Just now actually. I'm sitting at my desk. Minding my business. The door opens. He sticks his head in, like usual. I look up and say hello. Then he looks down and says, "Can you say hello to the pretty lady?"

Ok, see my desk is kind of in a weird position. So I have to strain my neck to see who he's talking to. It's a little kid. A child. HIS child.

He brought his effing child into my office to meet me. AND his child's name is Chip. No offense if your name is Chip but, REALLY? Need I say more.

At least he didn't introduce me as mommy.

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