...now - it's not just because I have a schoolgirl crush on you but now THIS - you are so great.

...are you tough ?

Could you take me in a fight ?

Are you FIRE or are you ICE ?

From where does "toughness come", or does it grow ?

Am I a Bully because I would pick on you first, or am I your Hero because I would defend you no matter what the risk ?

My mother is Irish, My father is Norwegian - Fire & Ice...I'm a mutt with a violent - hidden temper. I rage, I storm - yet I do it in private. I feel fury and rage - still I express it by silence. My cruelest moment is in the moment where I offer only a stare.

I will slug you - yet not utter a word - my passing breath, my single punch...whispering your name.

I'm a cock-sucking masochist, a little S.O.B. I am my fathers violent temper - hidden by his invisible pain. I am my mother's outrageous display of fire - viewable from near and far.

I can't decide if this means I can defend myself when needed or if I'll tear myself apart before they even have a chance.

The Grind. No - not brought to you by DownTown Julie Brown (Wubba-Wubba) or Eric Neise (Man I wanted to nail that guy!) - but by my life.

In the final stretch (a couple of hours of reconcilling numbers to reality) before sending over the Q2 portfolio to the CPA. Ugh I'm wiped. I was at work til 9pm, then went home and wrapped Lucky's Xmas gifts (I'll take a picture - it's really embarrasing how much I get into "beautiful" wrapping - presentation is everything), then back to paperwork til 1am - up at 6am to reclean the house before the termite inspection. I can't wait til this choo-choo train slows down. I'm taking Xmas Eve and Xmas Day off - figure I'll finish painting the office.

Anyway - gotta jam, gonna be late for the prom - GREAT pate!

Going to hear and see the seductive song stylings of Ms. Tori Amos.


 

 

I love when you reminisce.

Baby - your like a burning in my groin, that hot flashing pain everytime I piss - that undeniable feeling that somewhere, somehow, you finally picked something up - something that so strong - that only time, or penicillin, could tell where it would lead to... you know that feeling baby ?

I still remember the 1st anniversary of the second day we had spent together, just you and me cuddled together naked and shivering in the top bunk of rusty ole bunkbed at the downtown YMCA. What a magical day we had had - Weston-Oil, Crisco-Grease style lovemaking, followed by a trip to the methadone clinic for Sunday Brunch (...remember you said you were full - let out a girlish little belch - and we just laughed and laughed for hours at what seemed like almost nothing), and then we went to the 'Tammy Faye Art Museum for Modern Women of a Lesser God', you cried (real tears!) when you say the oil on paper bag rendering of Ms. Faye as "Mary" and confided how she made you feel all the more closer to your personal lord and savior - Bergdorf Goodmans. We cruised public restrooms - knocked over a Stop-N-Go, baby - how did it all fly by so quickly ?

I admit, I thought we were headed for rougher waters on the 4th anniversary of the 3rd day we had been in love (you know - you called it "Hump Day" - tee-hee) when I had bitch-slapped you at the "Down-N-Out" during 2-4-1 "Colt 45" Happy Hour, not because you were bad or less than me - but because that morning you didn't manage to arrange all my corn flakes in my favorite commemorative "Dukes of Hazzard" cereal bowl by size and shape, how I like them. But you understood, as a man , I had to draw the line - I only do these things because I love you - and because loving you baby makes me want to be a better man. Just this morning I was down at No Mo Money Pawn Shop looking for a lavender cubic zerconium wedding ring to place on that pretty lil finger of yours.

I'm sticking it in baby - nice and deep, just breathe into it - relax, relax - aw yeah - that's Daddy's baby...