Wish list
◊ For my birthday, which is November 26, I want:
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A blowtorch -- a small one would be fine.
A CD/DVD player that holds at least 5 CDs and DVDs.
A Tom Waits poster.
A plush Care Bear, for mutilation purposes.
Several My Little Ponies, for the same reason.
Tequila.
Some good books would be nice, too.
Those of you that aren't especially creative can get me gift certificates to local independent record stores.
If you're cute and broke, feel free to offer sexual favors.
Speaking of sexual favors, it sounds like my ex has been doing some deserved and safe knockin' of boots. Eek. While it would be very stupid and very hypocritical of me to feel jealous, I think I'm allowed to feel a little sad.
Mostly because I'm not gettin' any right now, that is.
But it is a little odd to hear about it from his blog first instead of from his curved and talented lips. I feel like Just Anyone Else now, hearing about his escapades from what is essentially a broadcast.
As weird as that is, it would be even weirder calling to notify each other of what we're up to before it goes public, so I guess I'll deal with it.
I don't know if I can keep reading his blog, but I don't know how not to. I wouldn't want to miss all those in-jokes and shared experiences that he talks about.
I guess it's his new experiences that make me feel a little sad. But it's nothing more than I can handle.
Ah, blogs. It's like "journal meets press release and short fiction at a friend's kegger and fucks them on the couch in the rec room while dad watches TV upstairs." Every time I hang out with a friend who blogs, I wonder if the event is going to be documented. It's like surveillance done by people who know you.
And I do it, too.
If I were getting paid for it, maybe it would sound less perverted.
I'm gonna go kill the last of the Black Bush now and crawl under the electric blanket and feel sorry for myself, if you don't mind. I don't feel like being productive. I feel like drinking whiskey and Kahlua-and-hot-chocolate.
I think I'm only allowed a certain amount of brilliance per day, and I wasted all of it thinking about the birthday party I'd like to arrange. Which is stupid, because it mostly would involve drinking nearly toxic amounts of tequila, and that would pretty much plan itself.