I’m Bitey Too.



You know, I find myself writing on friendship a lot. Perhaps with the elimination of a romantic relationship I focus more on my friendships? Or as I think it to really be, perhaps as I get older the more they mean to me. In turn, they affect me stronger. When they are good, they are great, and when there is a bump in the road, I feel like the Princess and the Pea. I feel that damn pea with every move I make.

Add the socializing I do between Faire and Travel on top of my normal life, I am lucky enough to meet some really cool, interesting, — truly fantastic people. Some develop into real friendships. Some we don’t see each other much outside of these areas, but it’s always a warm reunion when we reconnect.

I guess ultimately I consider a friendship real if I would be willing to host you in my home. I take my home serious, and I take my friends serious. So combining them both is equivalent to having earned your badge in Friendship to me. I think my friends are pretty aware of this, because I seem to host a lot of small get-togethers.

Have I mentioned that I took badge earning in Girl Scouts pretty damn serious? 😉

There is also the flip side to these quick meeting friendships, because you are sizing everything up in very short spurts of time, mostly during times that consist of alcohol and frivolity. Two of my favorite things. 🙂  I love everyone after a cocktail or two, which is hindering, because I definitely do not love everyone the next day. Additionally it really doesn’t give you a good and true indicator of a person’s character if you only spend a few days a year with them, and maybe talk via text or Facebook.

Your bullshit meter reader, your intake of what sets these people off, what makes them good, bad or indifferent has to be pretty tuned up, or you’re bound to have hurt feelings or worse. Those who know me well, know I had a recent friendship born of my travels turn very ugly, and very southward. I regret nothing (she screams, as she is led to the gallows!) outside of allowing this charlatan of a person into my home. See, back to how serious I take my home. The rest is on me.

Sometimes it’s the little things that shine the most light.

I was having a conversation with someone I was bonding with this past weekend at the Opening Weekend of Faire. We were in those early moments of drunken friendship love when she mentioned to me quietly, “You know, I really don’t like many people…” and I responded back, “Me either!”, laughing in agreement, which is honestly how I felt that moment. Not that I hated everyone, but that I could relate to her comment about not liking everyone.

I realized in a more sober, less fawning moment I would have clarified that statement to say, “I like most everyone I meet, I just don’t become friends with them easily.” – Close friends I should clarify. Those few rarities where the friendships move at lightning speed?  They have a tendency to end like the above mentioned charlatan. I am a sloth when it comes to friendships that will last. I am moving very slow so that I can size things up, because if it moves too quickly and I get caught up in? I will ignore my meter readings, and ultimately – well I’ve explained it twice now. 😉

I think I am pretty damned friendly. I might be quiet when I first meet you, because deep down I am shy. I know, laugh your asses off over that, but trust me it’s true. I overcompensate that shyness most of the time with an overabundance of in your face love, but that’s usually only after a couple of drinks, and then I’m just like a big friendly Saint Bernard, licking and slobbering all over you.

I’d say most like me when they meet me. That’s how I feel when my confidence is at a normal rate. I’d say most tolerate me, on those days my confidence is ebbing low. And let’s be fair, some simply won’t like me for whatever reason. I have a few of those too. But through it all, my mother raised me to be nice and damnit I am, no matter the circumstances. Manners are a huge thing to me, and I try my best to abide by what I was taught.

What might change your meter on whether or not you like me is that I am direct. Very direct. Not Asperger’s direct, but a hair away from that. I won’t ever embarrass you (unless it’s something I think you could take, or if you’re embarrassing someone else, because I loathe meanness), but unfortunately If I get to know you, and feel comfortable with you, I might overstep some boundaries. More than likely it’s because there are times I really think we get one another and for that reason it’s okay for me to ignore those boundaries. Or think they don’t really apply to me.

Like I might try and counsel you, or give you unsolicited advice. I really am trying to work on that, and if you give me a moment to reflect I will realize my boundary crossing was out of line, and trust me I will slobber apologies all over you.

I did that with a new friend I had met on my last cruise; She was one of those super sweet gals who wouldn’t hurt a fly and I (inadvertently) got in her face (metaphorically because I’m not a physical in your face person unless you really piss me off. Like nuclear piss me off, which has probably happened once or twice in my lifetime) with advice she neither asked for, nor needed. Truth be told I was a little frustrated with her issue, and I liked her and I was a little too comfortable with her too soon. Honestly the second I looked back at not what I said, but how I said it, especially with someone I really didn’t know all that well, I couldn’t apologize enough to her. Today when I think back, I realize despite my intentions (which were good) I cringe to think I offended her.

So there is that. I stick my foot in my mouth way more than I should. That would be the side effect of having me as a friend. May cause diarrhea, stomach cramps, bloating, and foot in the mouth said the announcer off camera. And I feel horrible about it, because hurting people’s feelings is a big no-no for me.

I do get that I am not everyone’s cup of tea, and that either you will be on the end that gets me and loves me, or you will be on the end that is possibly offended by me. I offer sarcasm, a wretched potty mouth (that ironically is always at its highest volume carelessly, when a small child is around), a wicked sense of humour, linebacker sized shoulders to cry on, tons of humility and ferocious loyalty. I’m like if a Dog and a Cat could mate, this weird hybrid thing would be me. Not like CatDog the cartoon (for those of you who had children in the 90’s). I’m aloof and speak what I think a little too freely, but I will run and fetch that stick if it makes you happy. I’ll protect you, even if I am the size of a Chihuahua. (Which I’m not)


When Eva, my cat, needs attention, she talks to me. When I am dense, or playing dense because it entertains me, she bites me. Not hard. Never broke the skin, but enough to say, “Hey! Stop being a total dick here and play with me or talk to me!” I don’t get mad at her for biting me for those reasons, because she’s not getting through to me in other ways, and I know she didn’t mean to hurt me.

Are you following the parallel here?

Now there have been a few times when I am being lovable, or tending to her needs and she is just in a crappy mood and her bites come thru a little harder. For no reason, other than she is being a dick. Once when I thought we were having cuddle time (or as close as cuddle time is possible, because this cat doesn’t cuddle) she almost bit my ear. Now I was the pissed off one, and telling her to stop being a total dick. Do I think she was aiming to maim my ear? No, I just think she wasn’t paying attention to how hard she was coming across.

Totally get that. Pissed me off, but I totally get it.

Sometimes I am irritated, or sometimes I am dense and I totally don’t get how I am coming thru. But the times that the bite came thru stronger, it wasn’t because I aimed to hurt more. I get that Eva doesn’t understand if I call her a total dick (which for the record I haven’t used that term with her. Not certain why I am using it here so much), but she KNOWS if she has gone too far. My words, my tone – they tell her. Does she care? Well, she’s a cat, so no, not really, but let’s pretend she has some human or at least dog tendencies. – Anyway, my point is getting buried in cat fur here – my point is that if I bite a friend I usually know based on their reaction. It’s rare that I find out “Whoa, that comment you made back there really offended/hurt/angered so&so” leaving me in absolute surprise and confusion.

But guess what? Sometimes I apparently have no idea my teeth brushed by you. Maybe I didn’t even bite. Maybe I growled. Fuck, maybe I smiled and you took it as a growl. I know with some animals you aren’t supposed to show your teeth, because it’s a sign of aggression. I think that must have been what happened. I smiled, or just apparently breathed wrong at this new friend and offended him.

That manner’s thing I mentioned above? I really mean I have good manners. I am an abundance of “Thank you” and “Yes, please” and “Excuse me” and “I’m Sorry”. I’ve never had an issue with saying “I’m sorry”. When I offended the sweet travel friend, I didn’t excuse my behavior by saying “Oh that shouldn’t have offended you.” No, I said, “I’m so sorry.” And I meant it.

Sometimes I will even say I’m sorry without knowing why I am apologizing. Not because I am a pushover, but simply because something I did – carelessly or by mistake – offended or hurt you. BUT – so that I know not to do this again, I really appreciate you at least fucking telling me what I did wrong. I mean, seriously.

This weekend during a conversation I offended a friend. I didn’t know because this friend said something, I knew because they didn’t say anything. I could only get out of him that I did something. I asked and got no reply. I groveled a little bit and asked again. Crickets. By the next day, we all pretended it was good. I wasn’t completely vested into the conversation that day, so I sort of let it slip thru.

Only by that next day, that VERY DIRECT side of me? She wanted answers. Not rudely. I tried to sit on her, because I realized “Hey, we apparently don’t know this person that well, and you might just offend again!”. I tried to muzzle my direct self. Muffle her questions, but to no avail. I didn’t think it was rude of me to ask what I did wrong, so that I wouldn’t do it again.

But apparently it was. I was overstepping those “boundaries” again. I was, I believe the word used was presumptive. About what? Your guess is as good as mine. I had fretted over it the first night, tossing the conversation to and fro. Re-reading it (because it was all online) and for the life of me, couldn’t find a thing. I looked at from an outside perspective and still came up blank. And just when I figured “Oh well!” and moved on, it happens again. Bite me once, shame on you. Bite me twice, and — fuck you.

I could have been a bitch. I certainly toyed with the idea. Like Eva, I’m bitey too. Only unlike Eva, I do sometimes leave marks, and it’s nothing I am proud of. I figured if I already offended him without trying, what kind of damage would I do if I did try? So I rearranged the issue, and didn’t make it mine anymore. I figured this was something that I discovered about this person that ran absolutely the wrong direction of who I am. Instead of direct, this was evasive and well — to be perfectly frank and since we are so fond of the word in this post – a little dickless and cowardly — but “who am I to judge?”, she says in her most judgy voice.

It bothered me to think I hurt a friend, but later I realized I didn’t have the friendship with this person that I thought I did. A friend, even a burgeoning one, would have answered my countless questions asking what I did wrong? How can I fix this? Maybe I assumed too much. Maybe I was too freely Me. Thankfully, after this post, the issue is no longer mine and seriously I am okay with it.

I AM a good friend damnit. Confidence high or low. I am a flawed human, but a good damn friend. And if you don’t believe me, just ask my cat.

But watch it. She bites.


Friendship: 2017 Style


I had this very all-over-the-place, yet poignant piece written on friendship and BOOM I must have deleted it at some point. I do that. A lot. Write, and then feel like it’s not where I wanted it to go, so I delete it, instead of saving it and using it later when I can clean it up.

Which is a great metaphor for my life right now. Not exactly minimalizing, because I love STUFF way too much, but getting rid of a lot of stuff, because it’s not what I need, not where I want to be in my life anymore.

I think for the most part it’s pretty damn healthy of me. A huge sign of growth. After all, I’m a clinger. A collector. I’m waaaaaay too sentimental, and even things that meant something to me 30 years ago, I have a hard time letting go of. I have a box of Valentines Day and birthday cards from friends in middle school. Middle School!!

But of late? I’m sort of digging this quick, slash and trash. People, things – there seems to be no limitations. But let’s stick with friendships, because that’s where this piece began. Stay with me, because this really will circle around.

The First Best Friend

I think like most kids we probably met in first grade. Kindergarten is that venue where a lot of us are practicing our people and friendship skills while our little brains are piecing together so much to be learned. I did have a first real friendship in Kindergarten with a neighbor girl named Linda. It was short lived after she threw a stick at my head when I called her mother a drug addict, leaving me with a lifetime scar that taught me two things; Never repeat gossip about another’s Mother, and duck when something comes flying at you unexpectedly. I suspect Linda and I were simply friends out of proximity to one another anyway. And if I didn’t apologize then, Linda I should have kept the gossip about your mom to myself. I apologize profusely and hope you grew up in a relatively sane household. Free of flying objects.

By first grade, you’re really starting to become a pro at this peopling thing, so close friendships are created. We shared our class together and both went to the same after school day care, so commonality was already established. She was this tiny little pixie of a girl named Tammy with waist length hair and a little turned up nose sprinkled with freckles. She dressed in the coolest clothes, with me specifically remembering this deep violet corduroy short pantsuit, that she paired with white go-go boots. Very 70’s, ala Partridge Family or something. The fact that I recall this outfit, including the shoes with such detail says a lot about who I would eventually become, but I digress.

I probably would have Single White Female’d her if I had the chance, because she was the epitome of what I wished I was versus my reality of a short low maintenance pixie cut (read part possible lazy mom and part every little girl in the late 60’s seemed to have this cut, thankyouMiaFarrow) and my cute but very run of the mill dresses, usually paired with Keds or Hush Puppy Mary Janes. One or the other. Definitely no white go-go boots. White Go-Go Boots, meant you had several pairs of shoes to wear, not just the school vs play shoes most of us had. Ultimate shoe envy was born from those Go-Go Boots.

I just remember really liking her and was so happy we were best friends. I wasn’t friends with her because we were neighbors (ala Linda) or siblings I couldn’t escape from, or worst yet a cousin who bullied me, but for weird reasons I still adored. This was a chosen friendship, which really are the best. It’s ordering off the menu, not having your meal picked out for you.

On some weekends she would take me with her to spend the weekend at her Aunt and Uncle’s house where we would drink hot black coffee so saturated in milk and sugar it was nearly beige. We would play dress up with real make-up in a real tree house, with a backyard pool, albeit a Doughboy. Looking back I realize these were probably her dad’s custody weekends, and he had her bring a friend so she wouldn’t be bored. I guess her dad lived with his family. I just knew that her Aunt and Uncle were so sweet and they put up with our six-year old screams and running around all hyped on the caffeine and sugar, until it was time to settle down for some Lawrence Welk. It was my first foray into the world of Lawrence and his bubbles. I fricking loved those weekends, Mr. Welk included.

I loved the drive out to the valley, and the tree lined street her extended family lived on. It was so very different than the concrete jungles of Los Angeles that we both lived in. But all that love turned green with envy when I learned that there were other friends she was bringing out there on weekends I didn’t go. They were sharing and enjoying what I thought of as “our” weekends. Hello Friendship, meet Possessiveness – this will be a thorn in your side for a while. My first bout of true dark jealousy came from two of those girls who were zoning in on my time, and I think I even had an argument with one of them about who was the better best friend. I might have imagined the fight. I wouldn’t be surprised because that’s how deep my ire went.

A couple of years later we moved from the oh-so loud hot concrete urban life into the suburban bliss of a beach city. Tammy and I said our goodbyes, and promised to keep in contact. Which lasted for approximately three months. Maybe. I think that is about the attention span of a typical nine year old. We may have wrote each other once each. I found new friends, and I imagine (now) that my leaving was felt for about a day or two, until her current friends just sort of absorbed the space I once took.

I recalled that friendship (and apparently the hotpants & boots that went hand in hand with that memory) for a lifetime, and it really held a sweet spot in my heart in my ethereal Mental Box O’ Memories. Enter Sentimentality. I think everyone has that one person they place in the First Best Friend category. Some are lucky enough to still be friends with them, and some are more along the lines of mine, and are nothing but sweet memories. Or were.

Fast forward to my mid-thirties, and the aspects of reconnecting with people via the internet is starting to explode. Classmates comes out, and I think I registered for every school I attended, including that elementary school in Hollywood. There her name stood out with a half a dozen others, none of which I recalled but hers. I reached out to her. I sort of had to. She was the mecca of best friends, built up by a 6 to 8 year-old’s memories that had just flourished over the years, building her and that pantsuit into something out of this world! I knew we wouldn’t have much to share, but when her response was one of near puzzlement on who I was, it was like my Unicorn Candy Walls of Childhood Memories nearly dissolved.

Oh she recalled me. I was the “one with the short hair, right?” – Damn my hereditary lack of illustrious follicles! And she did recall the weekends at her Aunt’s house. Actually she recalled everything, but not with the fervor or excitement that I did. Which is normal by anybody else’s standards. Our contact did start with the above mentioned sentence about my hair, which just weakened the foundation of how I recalled her. We weren’t on even grounds. I wasn’t really crushed, but it reads better to sound like I was. 😉  I think that like back then, we exchanged one email – she got me caught up on her life since 3rd grade, and despite her cute nose and fantastic fashion sense, she seemed like she had turned out as fucked up as the rest of us. Divorced. Living in Las Vegas. Single Mom. Regardless of all this — I still recall her as my first best friend, no matter how she recalls me – it just doesn’t come with a twinkle anymore.

My point is, I take my friendships pretty damn serious. I’m still friends with my neighbor that I met after the abovementioned move when I was 9. Interestingly enough, she and I too went thru a period where she moved and we lost touch as kids, but when we reconnected years later by chance, the friendship picked up stronger than it was before. Now some 40 plus years later, I consider her my closest friend on the planet.

There is that saying that goes something along the lines of friendships being there for a season, or a reason or something bumper sticker worthy. In other words, maybe not all friendships are supposed to be for a lifetime. I agree on that one. I think all people, good and bad enter our lives for reasons we don’t really need to know. They shape us, teach us and on occasion hurt us.

I also think some of us are one-person type friends, and others do great in groups. I wish I did better in groups, but my reality is I don’t function as well. Oh sure, I love parties and no one can go to Faire as often as I do without doing well in a group setting. But 95% of the time you find me in these settings I’ll be alone, talking with one or two individuals. It was a hard lesson to learn; this group setting. I was possessive of friendships and preferred that best buddy kind. I guess it was my need to be top dog. I wanted an Ethel to my Lucy (Yes for the record, I always see myself as the Lucy; but you don’t have to be a dowdy Ethel, just one who is willing to sign-on to my shenanigan’s.) As the years have gone by, I have learned to do better in small groups. 3-4 works perfect for me. I’ve learned that the possessiveness in friendships can be as undermining as possessiveness in relationships (which weirdly enough has never been an issue for me. Go figure.) – and most recently?

Slash and Trash the Bad.

I thought I had learned the whole Toxic Friendships blahdy-blah-blah about ten years ago when a really fucked up friendship entered my life. Except I didn’t really slash and I definitely didn’t trash. I tried to go quiet in the night. The higher road and all that sorts, said in my best snooty voice. But see that sentimental part of me that I’ve mentioned, emotionalized the little bit of good we had together, and allowed parts of the friendship back in. And then eventually I got kicked in the proverbial face with the fury of a thousand angry goats, with her horrible actions, followed by her screams of “Victim, Victim!” into the dark night. How does that go, Bite me once, shame on you; Bite me twice, shame on me? I have no ink on my body, but if I ever got any, it should be that saying, because damn I need to learn it.

I did it with another friendship, that truth be told wasn’t probably as Toxic (can we all just admit toxic is the most overused word of the past ten years?), but just as unhealthy. Lather, rinse, repeat in forgiving most all sins, and then wait for it – the goat kick to the face.

Damn that kick hurts.

Anyway, anger is usually the only thing that can really sever any ties of friendship permanently for me. Or it used to be. You know getting face punted can make you pretty damn mad after a while. It’s enough kindle to start the needed fire that burns the legendary bridge. I’ve only had one friend come back from that fire, and our friendship is cemented now, but it took work on both our parts. We WANTED the friendship to work.

Today, I think the reason I need anger is because I’m too much of a marshmallow. I recall the good parts and nostalgia kicks in and VOILA. Read above.

This last time though? It was different. Maybe the permanence of ink isn’t needed after all. Maybe after being kicked by these angry goats enough I recall that I don’t need the pain. Or the stick thrown at me when I was five. MAYBE when I see the ingredients listed in the friendship of these people, I can surmise on my own that they are not healthy. Not only unhealthy, but downright nasty. The ingredients are simple enough:

  1. They love to talk shit about others. I mean intimate, mean details about people you don’t even know. Or people you would swear they were close friends with. I assume this is to make you feel more important. Like you are special enough to get the inside scoop. Or – is it to keep you away from the ones they talk crap about because — trust me, if they are talking that crap about others? They are talking the same about you. Don’t think differently. Don’t think you are above it. Ultimately they don’t want you comparing notes. 😉
  2. They have relatively few past friendships. Look at them. Do they have close long term friendships outside of you? Probably not, and if so, very limited. Look at the family connections too. If their own family won’t have anything to do with them, that says something. LOUDLY.
  3. They become best friends with you almost overnight. Nothing more to that one.
  4. They see the negative in Every. Single. Thing. – They can be at the most beautiful locations in the world, and find something hateful or negative to say. The food is bad. The service sucks. The weather could be warmer/cooler. NOTHING makes these people happy. I surmise this is because they are so effing miserable, they simply cannot find anything happy to discuss.

There are more, but I’ve found these to be the most common. Sadly I’ve had a couple of these friendships before, and honestly didn’t recognize them for what they were initially. I just knew at some point they exhausted me. Most recently I had another, and did recognize it. This is what I learned there.

That thing about ending friendships peacefully. Just walking away? I believe these need to be burned. Not physically, but metaphorically. It doesn’t have to include drama (which seems to be the lifeblood of these friendships and probably should be #5, but I didn’t want the list to go on and on.), but it needs a firm “This is Over”. I tried to ghost this most recent toxic friendship. I didn’t answer the texts. But they just kept texting. I didn’t take the calls, but the calls kept coming. I didn’t want to hurt the person, so at one point I did initiate light banter, thinking we could keep things at minimal contact. That was probably confusing, and when push came to shove, my quiet resignation was not accepted, I needed to be fired. Suddenly *I* was the bad friend and it made me chuckle. Maybe it made them feel better. Years ago this might have burned my ego. “You can’t fire me, I quit!” Today? Fire me, either way the result is the same. I am okay with it.

Slash and trash, my friends. Walk and don’t look back. Don’t make it pretty, and don’t make it dramatic. Just cut and run.

Either way, find a way to have healthy friendships. If you have them, hold onto them. They are as precious, if not more, than family. After all, we chose our friends. Our families are usually assigned to us. Learn from those first few innocent friendships, even the ones without cool boots.

Now in closing I mentioned the Ethel to my Lucy. I am so lucky to have a few fantastic Ethel’s in my life (and quite possibly I am Ethel to a few Lucy’s, myself but I live in a world of Denial) and to them I say:

If you’re ever in a jam, here i am!

If you’re ever in a mess, S-O-S

If you ever feel so happy, you land in jail, I’m your bail

It’s friendship, friendship, just the perfect blendship

When other friendships have been forgot, Ours will still be hot. ❤

Viva Las Vegas

Las Vegas

I had a pretty cleansing albeit kickass weekend in Vegas. I think despite some of the lost fundage (donations I like to think of them as), it was a greatly needed micro-adventure to clear my head. Which was desperately needed. I sort of felt like I was becoming this hamster spinning on the same wheel, while trying to pretend I wasn’t obsessing over the same thoughts. I use the word pretending, because a couple of very close people to me knew how bad it was getting for me. I couldn’t pretend with them. Getting out of town – especially into Vegas, hanging with friends and the frenzy that is Vegas and the strip, sort of whipped everything up into a froth, and by Saturday I was open to possibilities.

I’ll admit than when I woke up five hours after doing the Friday night Strip crawl I might have still been the teensy weeniest bit buzzed. Or at least I had some vodka vapors swirling around my head. But I sucked it up and proceeded to layer long skirts, leather bodice and other clothing in anticipation of the faire. It’s crazy what Ren Geeks will put themselves thru all in the name of their kind of fun.

Let me first say that it’s quite amazing the difference between Southern California heat and Nevada desert heat. It was unrealistically cooler in Vegas than back home. WTF? Who says, “Hey I think I’m heading to Vegas to cool off for the weekend”? The reality was, the heat of faire was much more palpable for me to handle, because of zero lack of humidity. I absolutely melt in garb when it’s in the high 80’s at home. I whine and stall, until finally I step forth and deal with it. I think it had to be in the mid 90’s this weekend, but as long as I had shade I was okay. Forget the hair and make-up. I was in Faire for all of ten minutes when I twisted my hair up and left it there for the remainder of the day. Sweat took care of the make-up fifteen minutes after that. By hour two I had lost all dignity and was bird-bathing and soaking myself in the drinking water fountains.

There was a touch of a rough spell about three hours into arrival when what small of a group we had — all split up and went our separate ways. Some dropped like flies in the heat. I was lucky enough to recognize that the only liquid I needed in me was water (along with something to eat), and no sooner did I quit drinking beer, I was feeling that much better.

I finally got the text from my cousin and his wife, who I was really really hoping to spend time with. They live out there, and as close as we are to one another you’d think we’d see each other more often. Not the case. We found each other in the crowds (how did people do this prior to cell phones?) and of course beer drinking recommenced. We stayed in the shade for a bit longer, got caught up in one another’s lives, and probably bored his dear sweet wife to tears with stories of growing up together. By the time he had to leave, I was leaking sodium from my eyes (tears). So very sad that our time was so short, but they had obligations to meet that evening. I love most all people when I’m drinking (I am that I love you maaaaan, kinda gal) but put me with someone I really truly love and there it was. Not blubbering. Just leaking. How fortunate for the people around me. 😉

I met up with a friend I hadn’t actually ever met in person – we know each other thru Facebook only, and he kept me very entertained for the remainder of the late afternoon, early evening, while I re-sobered up for the second time in the day. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t really nice, although the initial meet up was momentarily painful in one of those minor ways of embarrassment. 😉

To top that all off, I think — well, I’m pretty certain I have resolved the man from the past thing. We were texting at one point on Friday night, but that may have well been booze related on my end. My friend suggested breathalyzers on phones to keep people from doing ebacon and eggsxactly that. She sweetly sat there and listened to me lament back and forth on what I was going to do about the situation at hand, — knowing what I needed to do — while we both inhaled a really bad breakfast of bacon and eggs at 2 in the morning. Damn I love me a greasy breakfast in the middle of the night.

By Saturday morning I felt focused on the present, on the here and now – and it worked. I mean part of it was just being too damn busy, part of it was being too damn distracted and part of it was some resolve that I finally mustered up when I found myself alone at the end of the night. I mean seriously – why is this a question?

Because I am me, and my choices with men are not always the smartest, the most clued in, or the most cognizant.

I want sweetness. If I’m getting back out there, I want someone who is good. This other stuff has too much history and too much – really bad karma just waiting to flatten me. I mean it is enticing …. Jesus Christ is it enticing, but the bad news that would come with it, is nowhere near where I want to be in my life. Ultimately it has absolutely zero benefit to offer me, and huge amounts of pain, so move along little cowboy.

Aaaand I hope that’s all I ever write about in this situation again.

I’m in flats today because the heels of my freaking feet are so flipping blistered I cannot walk on them. I have no idea on how that happened except that I think my faire shoes might be a tad too loose on me now too. On top of that yesterday I woke up with my crotch feeling like someone had taken sandpaper and a hammer to it. I am assuming it was hard benches with good posture, plus the forced angle a bodice has you sitting in, I think literally bruised it. I’ve been doing faire for how long and never have either of these things happened. I told the friend I was sharing my room with that I should have at least had some action for having felt so beat up. Between walking like I had ridden a horse while wearing no panties, and only being able to walk on the pads of my feet I can only imagine the show I put on leaving the hotel yesterday. Fortunately today the nether regions are healed, so it’s a barely noticed tip toe thing I am doing.

So Emotionally – I’m up a few points. Mental is about an even keel, with Physical — well judging from above, let’s say down a couple points. I think this means ultimately on this trip I broke even.