Where Laughter Abides

Things he says or has said that tickle me...

*Playing Scrabble*
Me: Really? That's the move you're making?!
Him: Man, that was luck. I didn't even know 'won' (pronouncing it as 'Juan') was a word.
Me:(pausing) You didn't know what was a word...? (giggling)
Him:(bursts into laughter)Oh, man...


Me: (faux indignation)Cheerio? What does that even mean?
Him: (with confidence) The British. You know they're always hungry.
Me: (playing along) Is that why they have tea between lunch and dinner?
Him: (nodding and smiling) They're like, "Cheerio!" As in, "Hi, do you have any (Cheerios)?"

Him: "What makes a serial killer a serial killer?"
Me: "I don't know."
Him: "Hm. I bet eight boxes a day will do it. Actually, one box of cereal a day would make you a cereal killer."

LoL T'rr'bl!

Can't Help But Laugh

Today was a pretty good day at work, if I look at it from all angles. Now, truth be told, I don't have a whole lot of those. I had a good time with my consumers, I had a good time with my coworkers, and I got to enjoy beautiful weather, to boot.
So it's no wonder that I decided to lengthen my great day by lingering to chatter with a co-worker.
Now, let me say this. I spend my days (and some evenings and nights)running around DC. If there's one thing I can say without prejudice, it's that dudes don't hesitate to speak. It's a rare day that I walk any distance without a "Hey beautiful," or "Wanna spend some time with me, pretty?" I've perfected my polite and appreciative responses for one simple reason: I've yet to get one of those disrespectful hollas that makes a lady's smile curl into a disgusted snarl accompanied by a pair of rolling eyes and a sharp tongue. Whatever my response, supported with a smile, I always get a respectful nod and well wishes for my day/walk/life/whatever. I can definitely appreciate that in the path-crossers of DC.
Anyway. Back to today. I come out of the office, still jubilant over a triumphant scavenger hunt. (Yay, team! lol)I'm standing on the corner with Monster, just talking about how well everything had gone and how there would definitely be a stronger sense of camaraderie in the office blahblahblah. A guy pulls up to the stop sign behind us and we both reflexively glance over. We both do a double take when we see the driver (middle-aged, poorly groomed, angry looking) staring in our general direction. Monster turns back to me and says (without moving her mouth), "Is he ever gonna stop looking this way?" I chuckle out loud. In my peripheral, I see the man is still looking our way.
And then I hear something.
"Huh?"
I look back at the van, questioningly, certain that van-dude is on a Bluetooth. He was silent, lips unmoving. I turn back to my in-progress conversation and there it is again! I look back toward the van, eyes clearly confused. "I'm not looking at you two!" Confusion bubbles to my lips. "Excuse me?" He flails his left arm wildly in our direction. "I'm not looking at you two. I'm looking over there. At the building! Not at you!" My confusion turns into astonishment and...amusement. I start laughing uncontrollably, as Monster fusses "Why'd you have to say anything?"
But in the end, what could I do besides laugh?
lol

A Guide For the Childless: How to Be a Supportive Friend

Disclaimer: This is not by me since those who know me, know I am not yet a mother. However, I would like feedback from those who openly (or secretly) follow the blog. How would you feel if this advice was given to you? And for those who have children, do you agree?

*Begin quote*
1. don't call. first off, mom and dad are catching zzzz's when they can. it's totally random and unpredictable. if you call and leave a message, you put the burden on them to call you back. send an email. send a text message.

2. don't expect a handwritten, proper thank-you note for generic baby gear that you purchased. if you want to be sincerely and profusely thanked, see#4,5, 10, 11. thank you notes, though important, are just not priority. gift your mom friend the peace of mind that she does not owe you a thank you note and you do not expect one. plus, be honest. you're going to throw away the dumb note anyway...

3. don't ask how you can help. say, "i'm going to do X, Y, Z..what time can i come by? and you better not clean up 'cause I'm coming over."

4. bring/send food. don't ask what they want and from where. surprise her with what you think they'll like.

5. when you come over, grab a load of the baby's laundry and put it in the washer. start the washer.

6. don't come over expecting to sit in the rocking chair and hold the baby. mom needs help with housework, not baby holding.

7. don't ask to hold the baby. if the mother offers, then promptly get up, go wash your hands, hold the baby, and ask mom if she needs to go do something (pump milk, take shower, brush teeth, take a short nap, grab something to eat) while you hold the baby.

8. don't come over if you're sick. even your claim that it's "just allergies" will make a new mom nervous.

9. don't stay long (unless you're doing something productive for the family) and don't expect a long leisurely, thought-provoking and engaging conversation. hello? the woman just grew a human for 9 months, gave birth (no description necessary, right?) and is nursing non-stop and getting little sleep with no end in sight. this is not the time to talk about Obama's latest proposal or the crisis in North Korea.

10. bring books, magazines,...and food.

11. if you can afford it, or if you can organize a friend pool, pay for a maid to come over to do the heavy duty cleaning than mom probably won't get to until the baby is crawling.

12. listen if she feels like sharing her birth story, but don't prod too much. not everyone wants to talk about what it feels like when the baby is crowning.

13. don't be alarmed if mom seems down, not herself, tired, not giddy that she has a cute little baby to call her own. refer to #9 if you need to be reminded what she's just been through. this is not the movies. this is real life. real work.

14. offer to babysit when the couple feels comfortable leaving their baby with someone. but if, when mom is changing baby's diaper, you freak out at the sight of orange poop, or if you get upset that your cashmere sweater just got spit up on, don't be offended when they don't call you.

15. one last note, for those who've had a baby. don't forget or worse yet, sugarcoat
what life was like those first 6-8 weeks. be the friend you wish you'd had.
*End quote*

Reservations and Nightmares

“If I had some… reservations about my relationship and told you I wanted to try a relationship with you, what would you say?”

I hiccupped. He couldn’t have possibly said what my ears had heard, could he?

I almost laughed, but I was afraid of what the laugh might mean to him. And to me.

We’d been in a similar scenario before, years before. But then it had been a marriage proposal and as much as my being screamed for me to accept, my mind crawled to it’s knees and asked the logical question. Asked if the proposal was a symptom of watching one of his brothers take that walk down the aisle. My question broke the magic of the moment, and it was gone. Like the residue of a burst bubble it clung to me, to us, invisibly. Maybe that’s when I started to feel the change. But the question never came up again. And I still dream dreams dredged in regret that I hadn’t said what my heart had begged of me.

So, I stepped toward this new question lightly. I was terrified, trembling, and on the brink of tears thinking of all the things I should say, needed to say, and wanted to say. The real question was, how would I answer? How could I? Why hadn’t I seen this coming?

I was afraid to hope, but prayed none of these things were evident in my voice. He knew me too well, but his distraction with the asking of the question kept him from pointing out the elephant in the room.

“Uh, I don’t know.” I cleared my throat, hoping to ease the squeak. I needed time to think; to really think. About what had been, what hadn’t, what could.

But the scary part of me wondered, “What if it’s all a trick?” It really wasn’t fair to him that I wondered. He’d never given me a reason not to believe in him. Sure, I knew plenty of other people who probably shouldn’t trust him. But, me? No. He’d be honest with me to a fault. I’m sure there had been occasional lies to spare my feelings (though he denied them).

I wanted to cry. This moment represented years of hopes and dreams and love. But I’d never been so close to what I really wanted. Material gains mean nothing. Location is just what you see outside of your window, where you go to earn a paycheck, where you rest your head. I’d asked one thing of life. I’d asked for him. And here he was, quasi-offering himself to me.

“Why?”, I queried. I couldn’t help myself. If I told him the truth right away, I might not get a chance to ask later. I could hear the tired preparedness, the practiced nonchalance in his reply, “No reason. Just wondered.” It was a lie. I knew it and I was surprised. I knew he’d lied before, but to be caught in the boldness of such a lie. I struggled not to scoff in my disbelief. I could hear the people around him and knew the moment he’d chosen to ask the question was not a moment in which I could get my answers. I bubbled with curiosity as a small rage began to burn in my throat. But I swallowed it. Hard. Putting aside all the thoughts and feelings that were choking me, and bidding him a pleasant evening. I couldn’t sleep that night. And by the next morning, he knew it, too. I sulked silently for days. And then, I realized the only solution I had. I told the truth. Would I explore the possibility of a relationship with him? Absolutely. Not a single doubt in my heart or mind. I didn’t tell him that, of course. I just said it was a “highly probable yes.” I didn’t sleep any better for the rest of that week. I was practicing my patience in the most heartaching way. And then we began another week. No answers, no sleep on the horizon.

I was at work. It had become a struggle to even show up, let alone show the same enthusiasm for a job I actually I liked. Not hearing from him felt like a window shade had been pulled over my normally sunny outlook. My co-workers told jokes that could hardly produce a smile, let alone my usual peals of laughter. But I couldn’t explain to anyone, couldn’t admit to myself, that I’d dimmed my shine in protest of his lack of communication. I half-sulked through my work day, and forced cheeriness was even more difficult during my free time. Time that literally meant I was free to bury myself with questions and wonderings. I knew I had to get myself together, but part of me relished in the sulk, soaking it into myself for future reference.

I had just gotten home, grumbling to myself about nothing at all and flipping moodily through the mail. The only mail with my name on it had a vaguely familiar return address written in very familiar handwriting. The inexplicable semi-script that had written me nonsense notes and jokes and things of that ilk in the past. I carried the envelope, my bags, and myself up to my room where I sealed myself inside before opening the envelope. I told myself to be calm, that there were only so many things that could be in the envelope. But a tremor coursed through my hands as I opened the envelope to find a letter. I put it down and sighed. I was always a fan of writing. If I couldn’t get face-to-face contact I always preferred something in writing. I didn’t know if that’s why he’d decided to write, but my soul was touched just the smallest bit. I unfolded the sheaves of paper, pleased that he’d actually written and that there was more than one page.

I’d read both sides of the first page before coming anywhere close to what I’d been looking for. He was… saying so much to me. We’d always communicated well, but there had clearly been a lot that he’d never been able to tell me. I’d waited years to hear what he was now telling me. And now it meant nothing. An experimental notion to test waters he’d never meant to travel.

No idea how I got in this position. Again.

I dreamed a dream of you. It was a sweet dream... while it lasted. Sadly, I awoke to my nightmare... I miss you.

The Un-Single Life

An oldie, but a favorite :)

On the flip side of the wonder that is being single, there's the obvious alternative. To honor the occasion of my friend getting married (yay, Theo!), I did a somewhat-limited survey to find some good reasons to get married (in no particular order)

1. you can put out as much as you want and never be called a ho (a guy told me this)
2. tax benefits
3. paying half or less of the rent, even if you don't have any money (it's OUR money)
4. relatively free meals
5. a standing date for special occasions
6. a reason to get uber-dressed up and hang with the people closest to you
7. the bed gets warmed up faster
8. someone else can take out the garbage and/or do the dishes
9. someone else can get up and see who's at the door
10. someone to get or give breakfast in bed
11. someone to watch while they're asleep (from the guy who told me #1)
12. save money on phone bills, gas, and condoms b/c you have a live-in booty call (a girl told me this one)
13. easy explanantion for being knocked-up (or getting someone knocked up)
14. constant companionship (you already have friends)
15. always having someone to talk to
16. someone to come home to and who comes home to you
17. someone to get old with
18. someone else to lie to your bill collectors and/or boss
19. someone you can use the good handcuffs with/on
20. you can finally relax: stop lying, meet yourself, and be the person you knew you could be once you've caught/found your soulmate

BONUS!
Someone you'd feed to Audrey 2

Questions, comments, concerns, and suggestions can be sent to... me.

Soap Bubbles

A trail of soap bubbles trickled toward my navel as he dragged the washcloth over my breasts. I smiled, more to myself than at him, luxuriating in the feeling of being bathed. Of being bathed by him. Something about how tenderly he cared for me in the most intimate of ways. Standing in the shower, surrounded by drifts of steam, it felt like it was just the two of us. We didn’t even have to speak; he just nudged whatever body part he wanted or needed me to move. He pulled me against him, scrubbing my back in circles. If we’d been anywhere but the shower, the move might have been the beginning of a sexual interlude. But our showers were sacred, time we took just to appreciate each other’s bodies outside of sex.
I looked down at the top of his head as he kneeled to wash my nether regions. I literally felt my love for him washing over me, warmer, thicker, richer, and stronger that the water that rinsed me as he washed. I felt his words before he began to speak. “Lai.” He made my name sound like a question, and the lack of surety caught my attention. I hummed a response, maintaining my peace. “I think we should… pull back for a while.” I kept my face neutral as I felt the first pinch of pain. I hoped my voice was steadier than it felt, “Any particular reason?”

I couldn’t figure out what puling back might entail considering our current, uh, arrangement. We weren’t even dating casually. We were, however, having very serious, very frequent, very exclusive sex.

Too much time was trailing between my question and his answer. For a moment I wondered if I’d even asked it out loud. “No,” he finally answered, “I just thought we’d try something. That ok?”

It wasn’t, but I nodded my assent, anyway. He stood and hugged me, our skin slipping and sliding against the sudsy water between us. I leaned my head back to look at him as he murmured, “Don’t worry. We’re just trying something.” I wasn’t sure which of us he was trying to reassure, but I didn’t bother asking, either. He kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, my lips and my chin in the way he knew I loved. I smiled for him, just for him, and turned to rinse myself off, then him. That was the last shower we shared.

Three weeks later, he ended what we had and what we didn’t have. I cried for an eternity. Taking a shower could bring on a fresh batch of tears and launch me into a crying jag that could last for hours. I sometimes look back and ask myself what I’d done wrong. Had I loved him too hard, causing him to slip away rather than burst like a caught balloon? Was I too compliant, too willing to do whatever it took to keep us happy? Did I demand too little, offering my all and accepting the tiniest bit of him in return? Even now I find myself wondering these things. He long since moved on. Became attached to a woman he found more worthy of what he had to give, a woman I wanted to hate. And I, the believer in eternal endings and glorious goodbyes, hoped foolish hopes. Spent my time watching, waiting, dreaming, and thinking about soap bubbles.

Green Shirt

I saw him from the corner of my eye, body moving to the pulsing beat. I turned my head in his direction, keeping my gaze traveling while watching him the entire time. His green button down shirt blazed under his vest, while his sunglasses gleamed from the back of his head. Yes, the back of his head. Still, I was intrigued. His height and slender build fit my type, and his bright skin tone was icing on the cake. I kept my groove, exchanging comments with my girls and dancing as the rhythm moved me. As was my ritual when I was in the spot, I traveled the building, pausing in various spots to enjoy the atmosphere.

Despite my meanderings, I kept seeing him. I was unsure whether it was my group was following his, his group following mine, or simply kismet. In time the inevitable occurred, the two groups melding into one, gyrating and undulating to the throb of the music as the flashing lights made everything more mysterious and enticing. We talked (loudly), danced (mmm), laughed, wandered the city. Best of all, this man, no, these fellas were Southern gentlemen.

Where you from-What's your name- How old are you (Gotta keep an eye out for jail bait).

The classic leave behind- The hilarity of Jim Carrey- the blatant hating on celebrities and their damn cribs. Good times.

Offers for beverages (alcoholic and otherwise) and seriously JUMBO slices of pizza, toned down sexual overtures, genuinely good conversation and that almost imperceptible drawl.

Damn.
I didn't know how much I'd missed a good ol' country boy. Mmm, yes.

Shout out to the fruit of North Carolina, Western Carolina University (just heard of y'all), but definitely not them Panthers that got whooped by the Giants ;)

Liar, Liar

Everyone lies. Maybe not often, maybe for the "right" reasons. But it happens. Years ago I figured there were only two reasons for lying.

Reason #1: You are afraid of the consequences of the truth, either the ones that affect you or the person you're lying to.

Reason #2: You're too lazy to explain the truth.

Don't bother wondering. Yes, it includes all lies even the little white ones and the ones you tell to protect another's feelings or position.
Now I've explained this theory to quite a few people and get a lot of different reactions. But, most people were pissed. I'm sure they were trying to determine whether their last lie was the product of fear or laziness. *smirk*
I'd be lying if I said that I don't lie anymore. I definitely fall into the laziness arena although I did catch myself lying out of fear. I actually laughed aloud when I realized I was doing and then backtracked and told the truth. Still, I did start the lie so I guess it counts.

I guess you'll be thinking more on the next lie you tell, huh? Well, before you do that, tell me about the LAST lie you told :)