Dreamy

I cycle though life. Maybe we all do, but I have such definite reoccurring phases, I think I should volunteer to be part of a study. My current phase is sexually frustrated. This phase is more often prominent in dreams, but if you can’t get a good lay in a dream, where can you?

For several weeks I’ve been enjoying exceptionally vivid dreams. About a month ago the dreams were adventurous. I had one that I still remember well. There was a serial killer in the area. I knew who it was. Rather than involve the appropriate authorities, I took it upon myself to follow him and catch him myself. I was Nancy Drew-like. I would participate in stake-outs. I would hide behind buildings. I would walk right past him nonchalantly. I didn’t seem to connect the dots on this one. After all, he was a serial killer, targeting women, having recently abducted and killed no less than 10 victims, and there I was, putting myself- alone- within 50 feet of him at all times, with no training or experience in self-defense. Hell, I don’t even run fast. The dream was so vivid I remember that he had man-breasts.

About 2 weeks ago, the dreams shifted to be sex dreams. All right! The blog just got spicy, right? Nah.... I’ll use last night’s dream as the example.

There was a group of 3 guys (don’t predict, it’s not going to end that way), none of which I actually know. I found myself attracted to one of the guys and, apparently, he felt the same. The stage is set for this be a raunchy, sheet tossing, sweaty dream that ends with me waking up with a smile on my face and a mission to find this man in reality. But will my subconscious allow such debauchery? Hell no.

I was in college without a place of my own, so, apparently I was living with a variety of people including my PARENTS. This will totally cramp your style. The first half of the dream was littered with attempts to find a place to be alone with this handsome, charming, undeniable man. The middle of the dream was cluttered with awkward attempts to enjoy the moments we were alone. The end of the dream was dominated by me asking, several times, “When are you going to....?” and saying “Oh. I must have missed it.” Progressively he became less and less handsome, he lost his interesting edge, he was no longer articulate but rather a pimple-faced redneck who I think had an extra chromosome encoded in his DNA. So, instead of having a fulfilling sexually charged and satisfying dream, I woke up in the same state as my dream- pissed off and bored.

The good news is that I go through phases and my cycle of attractiveness, which is on a 7-year rotation, is only 4 more years from re-surging. I’m really looking forward to those 3 months… I need ‘em. BADLY. 

Philippines Travel Log 4

The Ark of Manila

This is now my third time to write this post.  This computer has eaten it twice before.  If it happens again, I might end up a small Philippines prison, sort of like Midnight Express, but not in Turkey.

Okay, for Pete’s sake, we left Tagaytay via air con bus for a whopping $3.50.  We could have kept it real and paid $1 to take a no frills bus, but we are Americans and that always means two things:  We will attack other countries when bored and we will always pay extra for air conditioning. 

The ride back to Manila was uneventful and it had not seemed to change much in our short, three day absence.  We made our way to one of two parts of Manila we like to stay at, found a decent hotel, and then checked out the local scene. 

Apparently over night we slept through a horrific typhoon, but when we walked outside to get a cab to the other side of town, it was just a little over cast, and everything was wet. 

We were taking a twenty minute cab ride to be closer to the airport so that when Manius arrived the next morning he would not have to go as far to meet up with us.  The cab ride would become a life changing event.

We went about four blocks before hitting the worst traffic jam ever.  The traffic in Manila is really bad in normal circumstances, since all traffic laws and traffic cops are merely seen as suggestions and not really binding. 

After about thirty minutes we had gone a total of six blocks, turned a corner and entered a small lake.  The streets were flooded with knee deep water. 

Some cars could not quite make it and were being pushed by their occupants.  Our little Toyota taxi apparently had more spunk than other vehicles because it managed to power through.  We did start taking on water however.  Soon the floorboards were ankle deep in what I assumed was toxic acid rain. 

Every intersection was jam packed with cars from every direction.  As soon as a line would move a few feet a new car would plow his way into the hole creating what looked like a tile puzzle that you would give to a gifted kid to solve.  Unfortunately the traffic cops were not gifted kids, so there was little in the way of solutions.

At one such intersection the traffic cop was standing in knee deep water half-heartedly waving to cars to stop, or move forward.  No one was paying him any heed, so it did not really matter.  It was sad to see a man in the prime of his life with his spirit broken so completely.  I think our cab driver might have run him over in an attempt to cut off a presumptious school bus full of little kids.  Either that or he just decided to give up and let the water wash away his dismal existence.

The only person making a difference in all this insanity was a crazed homeless guy who was wearing a LA Lakers jersey.  He was standing in one of the worst intersections screaming manically and banging on cars to move.  He would often go as far as to jump in front of non-compliant vehicles and push back against them to bend to his will.  It was the most organized location in Manila on this day.

We jetted though that intersection and made it about twenty yards before hitting the next wall of traffic.  By now almost two hours had passed and we were still far from our destination.  Our young cab driver began to complain of how hungry he was.  There were vendors rolling carts full of roasted peanuts through the onslaught of water, but none of us wanted to roll down the window for fear of a sudden wave surging up and drowning us.  I thought maybe I could crack the window enough to drop a make-shift fishing line out, but I did not have any bait.

After thirty minutes of being stuck in the same location, the crazed LA Laker traffic advisor came wading by screaming and hitting all the cars.  He made his way up to the next intersection and within a matter of moments we were moving again.  He would get us through several intersections in this manner.  We would move forward and wait for him to get ahead and solve another traffic quagmire.  Unfortunately we would soon end up leaving the path he apparently had chosen to clear, and were back on our own accord.

Finally after three hours we made it to our hotel.  When we said goodbye to our taxi driver it was a touching moment.  It was as if we had just been through some catastrophic adventure and now we knew we would never see each other again.  I imagine he drove off and immediately began weeping for the loss of our company.  Or he sat cursing how little we tipped him for all the work he had just done.  We didn’t want to cheapen the moment with monetary issues.

Manius would arrive the next morning with a record breaking thirty minutes through customs and the cab ride over.  It had taken me three hours just to get through customs.  I guess I just look guilty.  That and my marijuana scented hemrhoid cream always attracts the wrong kind of attention from the drug dogs.

We allowed Manius a short nap before showing him the adventures of Manila night life.  The next day we would wake up hung over and catch a short flight to the small island of Boracay.  That is where we have spent the last few days.

Relaxing on white powdery beaches by day and enjoying ice cold beers in breezy bungalows by night.  It is a hard life, but we will trudge on.

On a side note:  I got more ink done in another third world country.  It is all part of my Hepatitis C by 43 campaign.

I am posting this without attempting to upload pics or spell checking or even previewing, because those are the exact things that have caused me to re-write this damn post three times.  You better damn well love it!

Sunday’s To Do List

I LOVE this. Heather, over at the DKY Bar and Grill had this posted yesterday. I went in and made my own card for the catalogue. VIRTUAL office supplies! It’s like getting a raise or something! Thanks Heather! Quick! Tell me! What ELSE is out there?! I’m jonesin’ babe! I need a new fix BAD!!

I work with executives at our company. I cannot WAIT to show up with my virtual card as my “To Do” list. I will have it printed and tucked inside my Dukes of Hazzard notebook. They already question my sanity. This should answer all lingering questions, don’t you think?

I have to make 20 hamburger patties today for a cookout we’re having at the office tomorrow. I tried to get out of it, but my plan was foiled because the boss was in full support of me being the hamburger helper. Ugh. Cooking is only fun when you’re in the mood. I am not in the mood. I’m on page 425 in The Deathly Hallows. How can I be expected to think about raw meat at a time like this?

Not only did I post yesterday, and today, but I have 2 post saved in the archives to be published on tomorrow and Tuesday. I am doing my very best to keep you in the loop during Killer’s absence. However, I am going to have to complain to management. I think I’m getting carpal tunnel syndrome. I’m not sure what kind of Health Care Package Killer has for his “talent”. I’m ready to file a claim. I guess I should have looked into that before I accepted the job. Damn. Low wages, no benefits, a shitty vacation schedule.... It’s like working for the State. At least, much like my State job, I can show up drunk.

** DAMN IT! I can’t figure out how to insert a picture into my entries! I had a cute “To Do” list made for your viewing pleasure. I have it saved on my desktop, but I can’t figure out how to import it. The link sends you to a blank page. God! I knew I should have not been drinking paid attention when Killer gave me a tutorial! 

Winter Wonderland

I hate to ruin your morning, but I have to tell you that I sleep nude. I remember the transition. I was living in an apartment and had been told by many how wonderful night nudity was. I wasn’t comfortable doing that, but slowly, over time, I got accustomed to it and everything every one had told we was correct. It’s so much better than getting tangled in your nightgown or waking up with a wedgie.

One of the best parts of sleeping naked is the housecoat. Mine is soft and pink and long-sleeved. Even in summer I put this one on. I have a shorter one, but it’s not so plush, so it hangs unused on the back of the closet door. Saturday I woke up, put on the housecoat, and made coffee. I sat down in front of the computer and heard thunder outside. The air conditioning had kicked in and the house was cool. The sky was dark. I wondered back into the bed room where I picked up Harry Potter and started reading. It reminded me of Winter: I was participating in self-induced house arrest. I was snacking every hour. I refused to take a shower since I wasn’t going out. I was snuggled under the covers and the cats were curled at my feet. All the agony that has been this summer had escaped. No more 105 degree days. No need to shave my legs. No humidity to frizz my hair. The cats wanted to be inside. It really, really felt like Winter.

And it was nice.

Part of my being a “cycling” person- and that has nothing to do with bike, it’s about the ebb and flow of life- is that I find myself looping around to a hub of experiences or thoughts or emotions. Every year in summer I have a surge of Christmas spirit. It’s been this way for at least 10 years; more likely 20. I had assumed that the whole “Christmas in July” sales were in response to my karma making them happen and not because of advertising assholes. I still choose to see it this way, even though I know it’s not real.

So now I’m fighting the urge to buy and wrap Christmas gifts, make coco, and address Christmas cards. But I do love sitting in front of the fireplace in nothing but my plush pink robe. It would be a perfect night for it. I’m even longing for the Charlie Brown Christmas Special- by far one of the best specials ever made for TV. I love when the kids dance and I love when Linus quotes from the Bible.

This feeling won’t last long. It won’t come again until Thanksgiving, so I’m holding on. I know as soon as I open the door and step outside the heat will melt the joy. But until then, peace on Earth, good will toward men.

Watch it Wiggle

Today is a happy day. I found, for the first time in 15 years, Jello Pudding Pops in the frozen food isle of the Piggly Wiggly. When I was in high school my brother and I got into a fight over the last Pudding Pop in mom’s freezer. I removed it from the box and we realized it was the last one. The pushing and pulling match began. It ended with me beating the Hell out of him with a block of hard pudding. Ah, good times, good times.

I think they should make frozen cocktail pops for adults, loaded with alcohol and fruit flavored. I’ve had Jello shots but I’m thinking more like a Fuzzy Navel on a stick. Maybe like a Push-Up, as melting and waste would be too tragic to bear.

I’m also excited because this weekend I’m planning on going car shopping. Here’s what I’m thinking about:

If that doesn’t work, try:

Coupe

I built a coupe on line and selected the Dark Slate, with the leather interior, the Bose stereo, and the moonroof. Quite a step up from the ‘02 Corolla! I’m not going to make a move until January, but it’s not too early to start test driving! Testing now means that I can experience the car in summer and fall before a winter purchase. The dealership is going to HATE me. My only worry is about having a car note again. It’s amazing how much more cash you can find every month when you’re not throwing $400 toward wheels. 

If I have to give something up so that new note doesn’t pitch too hard, I think I’m going to give up smoking (third times a charm, right) and buying books I never read. Total, that’s probably around 2 grand a year. That’s not enough. I may have to give up bottled water, too. And humus. And pool toys.

God. Maybe I should stick with that Corolla after all.

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