AUGUST 2007

Footsie Fetish

Not only am I a bad mother because I use Aria's dirty clothes to clean the bathroom floor, sink, and toilet before throwing them in the hamper after pulling them off of her, or because I curse and use the word 'fuckin' in front of her face and not only as an adjective but as a noun, pronoun, and adverb but also because I let her whimper at my feet while I scope out potential online dates.

If I was addicted to checking my email, I'm rabid about logging on to the personals at nerve.com.

I'm scared Aria is going to develop a foot fetish from worshiping at my feet while I refuse to play with her and continue to aimlessly 'online date.'

A quasi-boyfriend I was once entangled with, years back, a classic foot fetishist in the true sense of the word, said he developed this obsession because his mother refused to pick him up while he clung to her feet looking up at her, desperate for some good old-fashioned mirroring. As an infant, he transferred his desire for love, affection, and reflection onto his mother's feet and shoes, and they became the love object. And today, the depressing detritus of his mother's cruel dysfunction is that he can only get a hard-on by looking at, touching, or making out with a woman's foot, sometimes with even just a shoe.

Oh no, come to think of it—one of Aria's favorite words is 'shoe!' She's screaming it all the time, SHOE, SHOE, SHOE!

Oh crapper. What have I done? If she didn't already have OCD and bipolar disorder—now she's a freaking foot fetishist!

Ok, ok, first thing in the morning, upon checking to see if anyone has written me, I'll make sure to attend to her, pick her up, cuddle, give her some milk in a sippy cup. Then again, I could just fold my legs up and sit crossed legged on my chair...I mean, kinda solves the problem without messing up my dating check-in schedule.

SEPTEMBER 2007

Saturday Night Fever

It's too hot to think.

Though I did keep checking my oven today as I thought it must have been on.

It wasn't.

So I supposed I did think a little during this HEATWAVE.

I have some random thoughts now though as it is Saturday night, 8:45 and I'm home (of course) in bed and it's cooled down a bit.

First of all, heat makes me eat. All day. So besides rolling around in my bed today with Aria, as it is the only air-conditioned room in the apt, I took breaks to stuff my face with everything that was not nailed down. Would have eaten my dogs but Baba has some weird skin condition that I'm in denial about and Flo's breath really stinks due what's left of her rotting teeth. And I'm always eating all of Aria's food. She's lucky if she can get a mouthful. I'm like, 'Hey, you eating that? No? Ok, it's Mommy's then.' My mother even commented on how the child never gets to eat because I'm shoving all of her food into my pie hole. What can I say? You gotta be quick on the draw with food around me. Ask my friends. I'm the Appetizer Hogger, The Desert Devourer. In other words, if you want to share something with me at dinner, don't. You better order a defensive dessert cause I'll take it on down in five minutes or less.

I threw Aria in the tub, as she likes, no loves, no is obsessed with sitting in it while the AGUA runs and she sticks all kinds of toys in the running water. She did this for two hours today. Now, if the plug is not plugged and the water is not filling up at all, is it considered a bath? In other words, can I go fuck around on the computer while she's dilly dallying and making me sit there forever while she stares at water filling up a cup? Just wondering… Not that I... I mean I would never leave her... And go check email... Or get a tasty snack… Or anything... No, really...

And now, I'll go scour the personals.

Personal Ad "Headlines"... gotta have one...

What's in a name?

From these headlines, I truly have no idea.

Here is a sampling of some of the headlines people are required to write underneath their name (or 'handle' as they are called) on the personal ads. You have to write at least ten words, or letters or something like that...Let me know if you are as miffed as I am.

Pack your bags, we're going on a guilt trip.

Helen Keller said, "Life is a daring adventure"

I hope you are who I think you are

We dream but this world is no dream

disturbing the universe

"Between the viaducts of your dreams..."

I'm tired of being treated like a Mime

I shall be obedient and cheerful

metaphlowers & gaian tango

make a muscle in your head but use the muscle in your heart

I have five sisters

will you love me like a sailor?

who here likes riboflavin?

Soylent Green is people!!!

Master of the opening scene

avian bird flu

Precious and Free

Looking for a mutually beneficial situation

I'm watching "Rescue Me"

Single male looking for a woman to connect with intellectually and personally

I'm not afraid of your children

Slightly removed yet high functioning

Being alone is safe but boring!

SO WHATS WRONG WITH ME

Models/Actresses Go Away!

I like to hike and I am just as comfortable in a tux as I am (um, i think he forgot the last part of the sentence here)

UGLY STUPID BORING (this guy was actually quite handsome, sexy and well, I wrote him)

ONLINE DATE UPDATE

a very cute guy, a writer, AND lawyer with a headline that read: UGLY STUPID BORING, which I couldn't resist, well, he is also incredibly handsome, wrote me back (oh yeah, I wrote him first, obviously) saying my profile made him spill his peas*** and he thought I was attractive and a good writer, but alas, he was 'hanging out' with someone he met online. He said it was going well but hadn't checked the freezer for frozen body parts yet. I responded with something quippy like, if he does indeed discover any parts or an arsenal of weaponry to please give me a holler.

And now, I'll go scour the personals.

*** Oops, it was someone else—'hairy muscles' spilled his peas... not 'UGLY STUPID BORING.'