Happy Hoopla 2!

(The 2nd anniversary of the day Hoop discovered this blog)

May I present to you...

THE HOOP INTERVIEW!

Also known as a really long and pointless Hoop conversation. Although I'm 99.9% sure there are no small children that read this blog, I would like to point out that this post has some mature content in it. So, flee little ones! Quick, before I corrupt your innocence! Are they gone? Good. Enjoy!

Hoop: How many questions are there?
Tink: I don't know. I'm writing them as I go.
Hoop: This should be interesting...

1. Would you say that you're a boob man, a butt man, or a leg man?
Hoop: Didn't you ask me that one last year?
Tink: I don't think so.
Hoop: Ass man.

2. What's your least favorite movie?
Hoop: What's the last shitty movie that we saw?
Tink: Um, The Happening.
Hoop: Yeah, put me down for that one.

3. If you could magically get any three items in the world, what would they be?
Hoop: Every card that I've ever wanted to collect.
Tink: You do realize what a nerd that makes you sound like, right?
Hoop: Every video game I've ever wanted.
Tink: You mean to tell me that if you could have ANY three things in the world, you would choose cards and video games for the first two?
Hoop: I already have everything that I want. What else is there?
Tink: Oh I don't know, what about a sweet car?
Hoop: Sure.
Tink: *Sigh*

4. Where do you see yourself in a year?
Hoop: King of the world.
Tink: Pfft. You would. No, seriously.
Hoop: In a ditch-
Tink: Hoooooop.
Hoop: -sleeping... in a box.

5. Which are scarier, vampires or wolverines?
Hoop: What? Why would I be scared of a wolverine?
Tink: Oops. I meant werewolf.
Hoop: A werewolf.
Tink: *Scoff*

6. Which is better, Pepsi or Coke?
Hoop: Pepsi.
Tink: Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb?
Hoop: Pibb.
Tink: Costumes or lingerie?
Hoop: Lingerie.

7. Would you rather live in a mansion in Iowa or a shack in Hawaii?
Hoop: The mansion.
Tink: But, it's in IOWA.
Hoop: So? I'd just fly to Hawaii whenever I wanted.

8. Would you rather lose a pinkie or have Ebay shut down FOR-EV-ER?
Hoop: Lose a pinkie.
Tink: That was a quick answer.
Hoop: I'm just kidding. There'd be another Ebay eventually. It would be stupid to lose a pinkie over nothing.
Tink: True.

9. If you were a cartoon, which character would you be?
Hoop: Elmer Fudd.
Tink: Great.
Hoop: Why don't you ask me what superpower I'd like to have?
Tink: I think I asked you that last year.
Hoop: So?

10. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
Hoop: Ah-would-be-um, what do you call it? Invincible! And I could fly.
Tink: That's TWO superpowers.
Hoop: Superman has both.
Tink: That's because Superman has more than one super power.
Hoop: Don't tell me what I can't have.

11. What's the best T.V. show of all time?
Hoop: The Office.
Tink: Really? More than Chuck?
Hoop: Does Chuck come on next Monday?
Tink: *Sigh* No... again. Chuck doesn't come on until this fall.
Hoop: Oh. Then, no.

12. In your opinion, what is the most annoying habit someone can have?
Hoop: Breathing loudly through their nose when they talk.

13. Would you ever have plastic surgery done on your body (for purely pleasurable purposes)?
Hoop: Nah. Unless you wanted me to get a penis enlargement.
Tink: You want me to put that down as your answer?
Hoop: Hey, it's your interview!
Tink: Actually, it's yours. But oh-kay.

14. If you could live anywhere in the world for a year, where would it be?
Hoop: Canada... or Hawaii... or Australia.
Tink: Wow, babe. Those are three totally different places.

15. This is called "2 Truths and a Lie". You have to share three things about yourself, two true and one false. Then the blogosphere has to guess which is which.
Hoop: Do they have to be interesting facts?
Tink: I guess not.
Hoop: I have three balls. No, that's too obvious. I have no gallbladder. I have no life insurance. I love Mustangs.

16. Would you ever go on a reality show?
Hoop: YES.
Tink: What if you would have no idea what the show was about until you were on it?
Hoop: YES.

17. Is there anything that you've never told me before that you would like to tell me now?
Hoop: I have three balls.
Tink: I think I would know if that were true.
Hoop: I used to be a woman.
Tink: Moving on.

18. Is there something about me that you've always wanted to know but have never asked?
Hoop: Have you ever done another girl?
Tink: How would I DO another girl?
Hoop: What do you mean?
Tink: I mean, I don't have the necessary equipment to DO a girl.
Hoop: *Sigh* Have you ever touched the flesh of another girl in an sexual manner?
Tink: No.
Hoop: *Grumbles* Fine.

19. What's your favorite cuss word?
Hoop: Fuck. No, douche-bag. Wait, is douche-bag a cuss word?
Tink: Can you say it in church?

20. Would you ever kiss a dude for $10,000?
Hoop: ...
Tink: Hello?
Hoop: Yeah.
Tink: What? You would kiss a dude?
Hoop: For $10,000? Definitely.
Tink: Wow. I- Wow.

21. What was your favorite toy as a kid?
Hoop: A vibrator.
Tink: Wha- NO.
Hoop: Transformers.
Tink: Thank you.
Hoop: Is that it?
Tink: Isn't that enough? !

Look for the top 5 Hoop conversations in the post below...

Hoopla Continued...

Tink's Top Five Hoop Conversations Since Last Hoopla:

5. January 4th
Tink: I love you.
Hoop: I love you more.
Tink: No you don't. I love YOU more.
Hoop: That's impossible.
Tink: Nuh-uh. I measured it while you were sleeping.
Hoop: *Blink*
Tink: Your love. I measured your love while you were sleeping.
Hoop: Whoa.
Tink: Yeah, that came out wrong.
(While spooning on the couch)
Hoop: *Whispers*
Tink: No you don't.
Hoop: How did you hear that?!
Tink: You were whispering into my ear.
Hoop: Oh yeah.
Tink: Dork.

4. September 9th
Hoop: Do you think the dentist will let me take my wisdom teeth home?
Tink: I don't see why not. Just let them know before they put you under.
Hoop: That would be awesome.
Tink: What're going to do with them?
Hoop: I don't know.
Tink: Maybe the tooth fairy will come.
Hoop: Or maybe I could put them in a statue!

3. October 17th
Hoop: I'm going to take a power nap so I can study later.
Tink: OK.
Hoop: Wake me up at 9:30.
(An hour later)
Tink: Bay-be.
Hoop: Wha?
Tink: You told me to wake you up at 9:30.
Hoop: *Mumbles* OK.
(30 minutes later as I'm changing for bed)
Tink: Bay-be.
Hoop: Wha?
Tink: It's 10 o'clock. I tried to wake you up at 9:30.
Hoop: And you did.
Tink: Then why are you still sleeping?
Hoop: Because every time I wake up you have less clothes on.

2. September 19th
Tink: Did you shake the rug for me?
Hoop: Like a baby.

1. September 7th
Hoop: Quit tickling me!
Tink: Or what?
Hoop: Or um... I'll kill you.
Tink: Kill me and you get NOTHING.
Hoop: That's what you think. I took a life insurance policy out on you.
Tink: You can't do that! We're not even married.
Hoop: Yes I can. There's this thing called "insurable interest." If your death is going to effect the way I live, I can take a policy out on you.
Tink: So you're saying I could take a policy out on anyone?
Hoop: If you can prove insurable interest.
Tink: So I could take a policy out on our waitress?
Hoop: I don't think her death would effect your quality of life.
Tink: What if she dies before she can bring us our food?
Hoop: You're going to insure her for the cost of a hamburger?
Tink: Maybe I'm really really hungry.

Have a great weekend Homebloys!

Moving On

It still feels surreal.

If I concentrate on other things, I can almost pretend it didn't happen.

Almost.

Of all the dangerous things Chris was involved in... I mean, he was going to Iraq next spring. We just never expected something to happen to him 45 minutes from home. I guess you never know. Hoop and I were finishing up a serious conversation when we got the phone call. I'll never forget that moment, not as long as I live. We had just decided to start doing certain things that would make our lives easier; we'd agreed on setting a few wheels into motion. In a second it all seemed so unimportant. Who cared about commutes or crappy jobs? Who cared about wedding deadlines and plans for the weekend? Chris was dead.

I can still feel the pit, somewhere between my ribs, where the pain flared up when I heard those words. It was like someone had poked a hole in me. I wanted to run from it, but it was attached to me. Every time I looked at Hoop, touched him or thought of him, the hole ached. He was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do. No comfort was big enough. No promise worthy enough. My own hurt was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, and to think that it dwarfed in comparison to whatever he was feeling... I'd do anything to ensure he never felt that kind of pain again.

The funeral was beautiful. Chris' entire platoon showed up and then gave him an honorary gun salute. The only florist in town ran out of flowers and plants trying to meet the demand for all the condolences people were trying to send. Hoop and Bob took the shovels from the gravediggers in the end and refused to let anyone else bury our dearest friend. I think Chris would have been touched... and amused. The casket was blue with pink sparkles and adorned with gigantic crosses. Bleh. We sat in the pew discussing all the ways we wished we could fix it. Like maybe painting it black with a couple of large guns on top.

For those interested, the articles on the accident can be found here and here. He was on the phone when it happened. The poor girl he was talking to will probably need extensive therapy. But fortunately, it appears that he died on impact and felt no pain. It was also a blessing that his 4-year old son had gone home four days earlier with Hoop's other brother, who had also been visiting. We're currently petitioning for custody of him. In fact, Hoop and I can think of nothing else that would make us happier. I really think we could give him a good life. But the subject isn't being discussed just yet. So say a prayer, OK?

Thanks to everyone who commented, emailed, and offered love/support/donations. I can't express to you how much that meant to us! Hoop and I read and reread every one of them. No donations are necessary though. Chris had some life insurance policies and Hoop's Dad has assured us that the little guy will be well provided for. That said, I'm going to try and not discuss the subject on here anymore. It was difficult enough coming back, not knowing what to say or where to begin. I need a break. I need the laughter of friends. So forgive me if I just try to carry on, at least until the hole closes some.

The 3rd Annual PB Contest was supposed to start tomorrow. Since I'm a bit behind, it has been postponed until August 1st. The Anniversary of the day Hoop discovered my blog is on July 25th. Arabella Day is on July 30th. The WWC has been extended one more week. I'll have my submissions and the new words posted next Tuesday, July 22nd. Thank you all for your patience. I'll make sure the goodies for the contest are extra good this year. Like maybe photo-cards and mixed CDs good. Ohhh yeahhh.

So, what did I miss in your world? Tell me something good.

My Mom Loves Gay Techno

Which is either a fantastic title for a book, or a great reason for group therapy.

Ever since I bought my Mom an Ipod for her birthday, we've been swapping music on a weekly basis. For the most part we like the same stuff. Scary, I know. Did I mention that my Mom owned an Eminem CD before I did? Don't worry, we're beyond that now. Lately our lists have been peppered with artists and groups like Spoon, Yoav, Hellogoodbye, and Lily Allen. But every once in awhile, in the middle of a perfectly normal playlist, my Mom will throw in something completely different...

Gay techno.

I'm not using that term figuratively either. I mean no offense. I used to live with a bunch of gay clubbers. One of the guys used to borrow my clothes and the sad part was, he looked better in them than I did! Every night it was the same music, the same bubblegum beats. I have a vision permanently burned into my memory of the chubby one dancing around the house singing "Simon saysssss, 'Take off your clothes!'" And now here those songs are again, embedded in my perfectly boring mix of alternative and pop.

It's like biting into a black licorice jelly bean when you thought it was blueberry. "Tell me you're joking. You're joking, right?" I asked Mom the first time it came up. She laughed, admitting her strange obsession and said, "Aren't they great?" No, they're not. They're weird. The other day I was happily listening to Beck and all of a sudden a song titled, "What heterosexual males fear the most" popped up. I wish I was making that up. The group is Delphinium Blue. Check it out and tell me if I'm wrong. I'm working on an intervention.

Speaking of interventions, a male coworker pulled me aside yesterday to confess something... He doesn't like my shoes. Apparently, my super-comfy Easy Spirit sandals are "old ladyish" and only fit for "garden work". But it took ten minutes of buildup to figure out what he was even confessing to in the first place. He started out with the whole spiel of "Don't be offended. I'm only saying this to you because I consider you a friend. Friends don't let friends look stupid, right?" I was starting to get scared that maybe I had some kind of gross stain on my pants.

Like that time [name removed] sharted and told us he'd sat in chili. But no, my only offense was wearing unhip and ugly shoes. I am never going to hear the end of this from my two favorite fashion-savvy homebloys. Yeah, you know who you are. Please, no citations! After I got over the shock, and then the relief, I hit him with my best WTF?! face. How dare he! I don't talk to him about his outdated, stripe-down-the-side 90's dress shirts! Can you feel my outrage? I'm mentally punching him in the face with every "!" mark. Take that! And that! And that!

But you all didn't come here to hear about my Mom's weird fetish for Gay Techno, or my ridiculous shoe intervention, or even the fact that my pants are wearing out in the ass pockets. Surely a sign that I have too much junk in the trunk. You came here to hear about the rest of my vacation. Well it all seems rather anticlimactic now. I'll give you the inebriated abbreviated version. The day after we bought the car, Hoop and I heard the death cries of our starving bank account and decided not to spend any more money for the rest of our vacation.

We opted to check out some local parks instead. The first stop we made was to a little known forest that was mainly used for horseback riding. About halfway in, we realized the map we'd snagged from the park stand was five years old and completely outdated. In short, we were lost. After about an hour of hiking in the Florida sun, with no other hikers in sight, Hoop decided to air out his "boys". This followed him stripping off his shirt. Not to be outdone, I decided to strip my shirt and bra as well. We walked like this for at least forty-five minutes, grinning like fools and carrying our clothes.

Then something blue flashed ahead. I dropped to the ground, scrambling to untangle my bundle of clothes. "What is it?" Hoop asked, not even perturbed. It was two horseback riders. They were on a different trail, but still in plain sight of us. Fortunately, neither of us were seen (I hope) and we eventually found the end to the trail. All that stripping of clothes though led to some interesting tan marks in varying degrees. I think next time we'll bring sunblock... and perhaps a better map... and maybe some lube.

Rated Arrrr, Mateys!

Around The Water Cooler:
Sales Guy 1: Kathy was telling me about this costume party she had last night.
Sales Guy 2: Costume party?
Sales Guy 1: It was an all girl costume party, if you know what I mean.
Sales Guy 2: Like... Pirate costumes?
Sales Guy 1: What? No! Like lingerie. I think they had blow-up dolls and stuff there too.
Sales Guy 2: Oh. Well, that makes more sense.
Tink: Really? Because I'm actually more confused.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(Dedicated to Mamatulip.)
Hoop: Bay-beeee.
Tink: Yeah?
Hoop: I need lovin'!
Tink: You're low?
Hoop: Uh-huh.
Tink: Want me to fill you up?
Hoop: Uh-huh. Right here. *Points to crotch*

Random Conversation:
Car Salesman: You'd be amazed what people tell me about the cars they bring in for trade.
Tink: Oh yeah?
Car Salesman: This one chick pulled up in a car that had a broken dashboard. She told me she'd busted it while having sex.
Tink: She told you that?
Car Salesman: So I got a good look at the chick, because you have to after hearing information like that.
Tink: Right.
Car Salesman: I came to the conclusion that the fella musta been trying to get away. Because that girl had dirt in her ears. Both of 'em! Nasty.

Have a fantastic weekend Homebloys!

Mondays Blow

Weekend Recap:
1. I think I have gamer's elbow.
2. Not to mention gamer's forearm, wrist, thumb, and pointer-finger.
3. It pretty much hurts if I make the gun sign with my hand.
4. I knew I should have stopped after two hours of continuous play on Friday night. But I couldn't let Hoop kill more bears than me!
5. He totally whooped my ass at squirrel hunting too.
6. Which he fails to see, makes him a bigger redneck than me.
7. Saturday morning, Hoop went off to work and I got gussied up to hand out resumes at the bank.
8. *Ahem* TO the bank. I wasn't standing on their street corner or anything.
9. Unfortunately, the representative there gave me the brush off before I could properly sell my soul.
10. "Have you ever worked at a bank?" "No, but-" "Because this is a very busy bank." "I'm-" "If you haven't worked at a bank before, it's doubtful that they'll hire you for this branch." "I'm used to working for busy-" "We'll let you know something soon." "Hm. Ok. Thank you."
11. Ah! I forgot how much job hunting makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.
12. Because of this, I've always prided myself on being a polite interviewer.
13. Even to that idiot who came 30 minutes late on Thursday and then confessed that she lives three hours away.
14. Although the young woman who gave a lengthy explanation as to why she was "wrongfully" accused of battery was a close second.
15. Sunday morning, Hoop and I rode out to Orlando to meet up with the wonderful Mary and her two adorable kiddos.
16. I'd originally picked Downtown Disney because it's free and rarely busy, and between the Lego center and the live shows, there's usually something interesting for children to get into.
17. What I didn't know was that this weekend they were putting on a chalk show. The crowds were at least triple what they are normally at this time of year.
18. But it's hard to mess up good company. So none of us minded the people too much.
19. My favorite part of the day was when the kids were given chalk and a small square of sidewalk to make into their own masterpiece.
20. Clara was working on some flowers while her brother, Jacob, made a nice Mario and Luigi scene.
21. Meanwhile Hoop, who was hell-bent on showing me up, worked on a large Tinkerbell portrait. (Pictures to come)
22. At one point a gentleman walking by asked me, "And how old is YOUR child?" Hmm. 30 going on 5. ;)

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: You know what's gross?
Tink: What?
Hoop: Shit. I'm pretty sure 'shit' is the grossest thing there is.
Tink: What about a rotting body?
Hoop: Hm. That would be second on the list.
Tink: What about a pus-filled boil?
Hoop: Ewww! That would be third.
Tink: I don't understand how 'shit' is still number one.
Hoop: I base it on what I would NOT be willing to rub on my face.
Tink: So... You would rather rub a rotting body on your face than poop?
Hoop: Hey, 'shit' is pretty nasty. What- what are you doing?
Tink: I'm pretending to rub a dead body on my face. I don't care what you say. This is much more gross.

We are SO mature.

Don't forget the WWC tommorrow. The words for this week are RED and ARCHITECTURE.

The World's Gone Mad

Most of you have already heard about Andrew Meyer, the man who was tased during a Kerry convention on Monday. Because it happened not far from where I live, it seems to be the center of discussion. Everyone has an opinion. Most are of the mind that Mr. Meyer deserved what he got. I do not. I'm not defending his character, mind you. He seems like a complete idiot. But you can't tell me the SIX officers arresting him had no other recourse but to tase him.

A taser, no matter the intention of the device, is still a weapon. Each officer is told before being issued a taser that he or she should only use it if they feel their life is threatened. Yet officers seem to be using the weapon, all over the United States, for circumstances that are not life threatening. Almost, rather, as an easy way to end a situation or as a display of power. Last year in Jacksonville, a woman in a wheelchair was tased ten times. She DIED. The officers justified their actions by explaining that the woman had a hammer and two knives on her.

So they electrocuted her. Because that's what you're basically doing when you send electricity through someone bound to a metal chair. Or how about the Ohio woman who was tased while wearing handcuffs? Did she pose a threat? Yesterday, officers in California tased an autistic kid because he was running in and out of traffic. What would have happened if the boy had been shocked to the ground just as a car was coming? How about the 70 year old woman who got a broken nose and hauled off to jail because her lawn was dry?

This lack of judgement and compassion isn't just in our police system. It's throughout our entire justice system. Back in June there was a judge who banned the words "rape" and "sexual assault" in a sexual assault case against one Pamir Safi. Because the victim was limited on how she could describe the events, she believes the pauses and breaks in her testimony hurt her credibility with the court. It was a hung jury. That's the message we're sending out. Not "If you do wrong you will be punished!" but "If you are wronged we're going to humiliate you for it." What the fuck?

I'm sick of the news. I'm tired of hearing about people in positions of power abusing people who aren't. I know they keep telling me that we live in a "free" country. It flashes up all over the place in bold red, white, and blue. But I don't FEEL free. I feel restricted, and angry, and scared. I'm sick of sitting like sheep. Aren't you? Haven't you noticed it too? Where are the people supposed to go when the protectors turn on them? Because if you haven't thought about it yet, you need to.

For Something A Little Lighter: Check out Rex, a mentally disabled music savant. This young boy is proof that there is still wonder and beauty in this world. (Link has been fixed)

P.S. Don't forget, the WWC words for this week are URBAN and COUNTRY.

Have a great weekend!

Au revoir August

August Hit Statistics:
1. The primary day for hits was Thursday.
2. The most popular hour being 4pm.
3. The top referrers were the ladies at So Many Blogs So Little Time (who have just called it quits) and Mamalujo.
4. The most used search term was, "semen slang." Might I suggest "Manthrax" or "Dong Water"?
5. My favorite search term was, "dangers of sticking finger in your belly button." Because there are just so many.
6. The highest hit post (231) was on August 20th, the day I was showered in awards.

31 Quirks For 31 Days:
1. Men can believe what they want, but I DON'T have penis envy.
2. I have intestine envy.
3. How is it that guys can drop brown several times a day and I struggle to do it once in three?
4. Oh yes, I'm going there.
5. You never hear men discussing fiber pills or Activia. Do they even make that stuff for them?
6. Men think the solution to constipation is eating "something with a tomato in it," or sitting on the toilet playing video games "until something slips out". Slips out?!
7. Further more, I think it's awful that guys can poop anywhere. It took me two years to feel comfortable enough to poop in the company bathroom! Even then I had to the run water and hum.
8. I have been smoke-free for 5 days, 19 hours, 37 minutes, and 11 seconds.
9. Ask me how I am. Go ahead, I dare you.
10. That pooping conversation didn't come up for nothing.
11. I hate Oprah.
12. It's not because she's black, or female, or rich. It's because she picks shitty books.
13. I will never understand how a $2 salad becomes a $9 meal at Ruby Tuesdays. Unless by charging so much they hope you enjoy it more. Which I do. Because damn it, if I'm going to pay $7 for a salad I'm going to lick the plate when I'm done.
14. If Hoop had been born in the 1960's and female he most certainly would have been a bra burner.
15. His biggest beef right now is the "click it or ticket" law. He believes it should be our choice whether we wear a seat belt or not and that telling us we have to is against our freedom.
16. I disagree, since I know he wouldn't wear one if there wasn't a law.
17. For awhile I only humored his theories about how Congress is limiting our freedom little by little. Until Jacksonville started talking about a dress code law.
18. $500 if you're caught wearing baggy pants or bottoms that show your ass when you bend down, no matter your age or sex. I swear someone has transported me back to high school. Next they're going to be outlawing baseball caps and bandannas.
19. When I was three I broke my leg.
20. I was on visitation with my Dad. My Mom didn't find out until two weeks later when he returned me. He lamely told her I'd fallen off the bed.
21. I still wonder about what really happened.
22. My favorite flower is the lily.
23. Of all the taste buds, sour is the one I'd pick to lose.
24. I LOVE sugared pecans.
25. At age 19 I thought I ruled the world.
26. Now I think the world rules me.
27. Whenever I'm feeling really blue, I read about someone who had it much worse than I do. Like Rachel Plummer....
28. Then I feel even worse.
29. I think all humans are a little masochistic.
30. It's the reason we pick scabs and listen to sad music when we feel like crying.
31. If someone ever writes my life story... (I don't know why. Maybe I invent the cure for ugly) ...I don't want the last sentence to be "The End."
32. Or, "and then the clowns ripped off her face."
33. I'd rather it say, "She was one cool chick."

Purge

(09/17/07)

It wasn't an accumulation of things.

It should have been. But it wasn't.

**********
When I was one, my Dad threw my Mom down a flight of stairs. She walked in the pouring rain, bleeding, to the nearest payphone. No one stopped or offered help. She had to whisper where she was to my Grandmother because the fall had broken all of her ribs. After my father was served with divorce papers, he set fire to my Mother's things. This included a rocking chair that had been in my family for five generations. My Mom and I moved into an apartment next to railroad tracks. Sometimes in the middle of the night, you could hear my Father bashing in her car over the blare of the train horns.

I saw my Dad on and off from the age of two through eight. He went to jail several times. Three times for possession of drugs and once for shooting at a girlfriend. He would always take me to Red Lobster on his visits, filling the table with anything I wanted. We'd go shopping and take trips to amusement parks. He'd light up a joint and tell me it was our little secret, that Mom would take me away if she knew. When he knew he had my silence, he started taking me to drug houses. I was nine when I found out what coke was. A fifteen year old girl showed me her stash while my Dad and her Mom played with needles upstairs.

Once my Father had convinced my Mom he was trustworthy, I started spending weekends with him at his twinkie trailer. We shared a bedroom for awhile, until my Mom told him I needed my own room and he kicked me out to the couch. He took advantage of the "privacy" by inviting girlfriends over. He always had six or seven. None of them knew about the others and it was my job to remember their names and not slip up. Each night's sleep was broken by the sounds of squeaking bed springs, or the yells of the women as they exited the trailer after a beating. I never asked. He never offered details.

Christmas night, 1993, my Dad had just finished a case of beer. I was going through my presents when a small stack of "Boys II Men" CDs caught his eye. He tossed them out into the snow and told me I could either give them up or leave. So I left. Fortunately, I had a friend who only lived a couple blocks away. I didn't sleep well that night and headed home just after dawn. I knocked on the trailer door for twenty minutes before my Dad let me in. On the couch, MY couch, sat a woman with a bashed up face. She never looked at me. She didn't even speak when my Dad ordered her to the car. He paid her with the Christmas money my Grandfather had given me.

In the winter of 2005, my Dad came to stay for a month. He was on the lamb, but he seemed of good mind and health. During his stay we built a fence around my yard for the dogs. He cooked pasta sauces and canollis while I was at work. When he wasn't cooking he was fixing my car or making landscape plans for the spring. We went to movies and took pictures down town. I thought he was a changed man. He said he'd quit drinking and doing drugs and I wanted to believe him. I wanted him to be the father I never got as a kid, the one I always felt I deserved. But things had changed by the next time he came around. He didn't laugh or smile anymore. No food waited for me when I got home. It was like a light had gone out for good...
**********

Two nights before I kicked my father out, I found my stash of liquor. I'd hidden them in my bedroom closet. They were all empty. Then I found out from the lady at the gas station that he'd been stealing my car at night and driving to the store for beer. He called my friends at 2am rambling threats and apologies. I came home each afternoon from work to find that he was still sleeping. Our conversations stopped making sense. He became erratic and confrontational. It started with an argument over my bamboo plant, which he insisted I take outside and plant. "You're killing it!" he screamed. I realized right then that he was completely drunk.

I dug around in the trash until I found an empty vodka bottle. I pleaded with him to get his life together. I loved him. I'd always loved him, despite his many faults. But he didn't want my love anymore. "You're not my daughter!" He screamed in my face. Which was the scariest thing of all. Because being his daughter was the only thing that had ever saved me from his wrath. "You're someone else's kid. You were supposed to be your Mom's fourth abortion. But I stopped her. I saved you!" It wasn't true. None of it. But he continued screaming it for the next hour. He almost won. He'd already convinced himself that my life was forfeit, and my heart was completely broken.

But somehow I managed to stand my ground. I told him to get out. I told him that if he truly believed that I wasn't his kid, then he didn't need to be in my house anymore. He was gone in the morning. I never saw him again. He text me a few months later with an apology. But I didn't reply. Then his number got discontinued. Then I moved. It'll be three years in January. I don't regret doing it. I truly believe that he had reached a point where he was capable of anything, a point of no return. But I DO miss him sometimes. I'm sure that's hard for you to understand. I don't expect you to. My Father was a bad man. But I loved him because he was mine.

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Men can get turned on playing video games.

So sue me if I need a little more than that.

I was horny on the way home yesterday. Horny enough to call Hoop and prepare him for the mauling he was going to get when I got there. Then I had to stop at CVS and wait twenty minutes for a prescription. When I pulled into the driveway, still horny, I saw the empty trash cans by the side of the road. I was a little less horny by the time I'd dragged them to the garage.

Then I looked through the window on the way in. I could see Hoop's video game on the big screen. "Thanks for bringing up the trash cans, babe." "Sorry about that," He mumbled while shooting an alien. I paused at the table, waiting to be rushed to the bedroom or at the very least receive a "hello" kiss. When nothing happened, I trudged to the kitchen for food.

"We have thirty minutes until we have to leave for the movie!" I shouted toward his back. "What do you want to eat?" He stood up, controller still in hand, and said. "Hold on. I'm almost done." I closed the cabinet in defeat. "There's nothing quick to eat." Hoop rushed over to lovingly nuzzle on my neck. "I know what I'm hungry for," he mumbled into my hair. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." "What's that?" "You."

Sweet, no?

"I don't think so," I grumbled, pushing him away with my elbows. Hoop barely spoke to me the rest of the night, choosing instead to fume in silence. I tried to coax him out with light conversation, but the damage had already been done. His own girlfriend had turned Cock Tease on him. *Snort* Don't get me wrong, I LOVE a little romp in the sack now and then. OK, OK, I'd have it every day if there were time.

But that doesn't mean I can turn my libido on like a switch. I need some attention! Bait the tiger, so to speak. That's where men and women differ. Men like the end result. Women like the journey there. So where's a good middle ground? I'm exasperated. What do you do (or have done) to spice things up? Got any funny sex stories? What's your biggest turn on/off? Break the rules and dish.

Comment anonymously if you want, but I'm going to call you something "dirty" if you do. You've been warned.

P.S. I would also like it to be known that Hoop and I are fine. I realize this wasn't something I should have necessarily been mad about. It just sparked an interesting topic about sex and the difference between men and women.

UPDATE: Twisted (Tink) has been updated with another revised chapter, "The Other Side." Only one more revision to go before the new chapters start! Thank you all for your patience. You've been WONDERFUL.

Politically Incorrect

I always feel bad when I see those "missing pet" posters hanging around the neighborhood. Except for this one.

Don't mind if I hope your cat STAYS gone, dude. Although, this might explain the sudden rash of new posters. Hm.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: You know we live in the south when the waiter asks the customers if they're Christian or not.
Hoop: When did that happen?
Tink: Just now. Our waiter asked the couple behind us if they were Christian, then he started promoting his Christian rock band to them.
Hoop: That's crazy.
Tink: I know, right? When did that become OK?
Hoop: No, I mean, I could have sworn our waiter was gay.
Tink: *Blink*

August Search Terms:
(What people put into search engines that bring them here)
1. if i knew it was that kind of party i'd stick my dick in the mashed potatoes I bet you don't get too many Thanksgiving invitations.
2. picture of very old man in speedo No! Now leave this blog immediately.
3. what goes with white trim? Um, EVERYTHING.
4. stick your finger in your navel and smell it Mmm. Linty goodness.
5. funny sayings for 65th birthday roast You're so old, when you were born the dead sea was still sick.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Tink: Pamer said it be awesome if we opened one of the bananas and a bunch of baby spiders crawled out.
Hoop: Ew!
Tink: Right? Blech. But I don't think we have anything to worry about.
Hoop: ...
Tink: ...
Hoop: So, are we moving the bananas?
Tink: You bet-cher-ass we are!

Deep Thought Of The Day: What would you do if your boss asked you to do something you felt was morally wrong? What if it could potentially get you in trouble? At what point do you choose your standards over your job and visa versa? Discuss.

Weirdees

Thank you Folioweekly for providing the blog fodder.

Women Seeking Men

HERE I AM WHERE ARE YOU? Widowed too young, white, 49, Leo is my sign, let's meet to wine and dine, just to talk would be fine. I smoke, letting you know- so you don't choke, plain simple folk, lots of fun, try me hon! A rhyming ad. How... cute. Maybe you and your date can hit up a Dr. Seuss convention.

SEEKING SUGAR DADDY. Slim, curvaceous, attractive professional single female wishes to enhance her lifestyle with personable professional having life's finest amenities. This classy beauty boasts 0 baggage, 0 tolerance for drama. Highly effective Kama Sutra adventuress. Qualified? You know business is slow when the prostitutes are advertising.

SIMILAR INTERESTS? Travel, Jesus, family, divorce, romance, passion, honesty, commitment, beach, canoeing, shopping, dining. Similar interests? Write, print, stamp, send. I should request an ad space next to hers...

"SIMILAR INTERESTS? Local, Satan, hermit, bachelor, torture, obsession, lies, kidnap, desert, hunting, robbing, cannibalism. Seeks opposite. I'll. Find. You."

Men Seeking Women

SEEKING SEXY SMOKER. Handsome, divorced, white, 5'10" 180, 57, well-educated, financially secure, affectionate, quality traits. Especially prefers a woman who smokes! Should be reasonably attractive, affectionate, monogamous and appreciate a man who will love you completely and your cigarette smoke too. Oh yeah. Because there's nothing sexier than dirty talk through a mechanical larynx.

FRESH OUT OF B.S.! I'm the big 5-0, 6', 205, gray-white hair, physically fit, non-smoker, non-drinker, restoring my aluminum castle. Enjoy being with open-minded, sensual women that know ideal men are indeed imperfect! "Restoring my aluminum castle." Is that a fancy way of saying "Getting my trailer out of hock"?

EXCELLENT DANCER. Mature, Bostonian, excellent dancer, sports car enthusiast seeks elegant ballroom dancing partner. Romantic co-pilot for mutually good times, experience preferred, willing to train right candidate. Life is a romantic banquet, let's not starve. Most people shoot low once they get to the point of needing an ad. Not this guy. He wants a ballroom dancer who knows how to co-pilot a plane. I hope you're rich, Buddy. Otherwise you'll be enjoying that banquet alone... With some Vaseline.

I Saw You

BE MY CHILLI PEPPER! You: pierced hot tamale who makes me wanna get spicy! I hope your nacho bell is grande. Me: Sista you can't resista', red beans and rice didn't miss her! Come dip your chip in my salsa anytime. Mmm. Taco Hell. I'll have a Chalupa without the side of stupidity please.

ASIAN ELVIS. You: more Elvis than Bruce Lee. Me: Short haired minor. Saw you first on the wrong side of the tracks in San Marco. Haven't stopped wanting you since. Could you bring my heart back across the Buckman? Elvis always did love minors.

RED BOWTIE AFFAIR. Saw you, Pee-Wee Herman look-alike, at UNF sporting Greek letter AT. Is that frat house as much fun as the playhouse? I hope so. Me: Cowboy Curtis. I think we were made for each other; let me lasso you down. I always thought those two had a thing for each other! Curtis was always telling Pee-Wee, "You know what they say! Big boots...big feet!" Uh huh. We're on to you Curtis.

Joi gin, June!

June Hit Statistics:
1. The primary day for hits was Friday.
2. The most popular hour being 4pm.
3. The top referrers were Lefty and Mamalujo.
4. The most used search term was, "fraudulent hermaphrodite."
5. My favorite search term was, "female pudding wrestler." As long as it's chocolate.
6. The highest hit post (200) was on June 14th, the day I hit 365 (+2) posts.

30 Quirks for 30 Days:
1. The other day my Mom called to say, "Your brothers and I would like to unbury the crystal beneath Fate."
2. Which probably sounds like a bunch of gibberish to you.
3. Ten years ago, a girlfriend and I buried a large Quartz Crystal at the base of a tree. It was "our" tree, the one we met at each morning and snuck out to each night.
4. We had named her "Fate." She was the last on a lot, saved from the saws. Unlike the grove around her, which had been covered in KKK symbols and then chopped down so as not to cause offense.
5. Three years after we buried the crystal, our friendship dissolved. We agreed to leave the crystal behind. I think we both wanted to believe that it would protect the tree in our absence.
6. Or maybe it was so that some part of us would still remain, a trace of all that was.
7. I think about it sometimes. I wonder how my friend is and if the tree is still there. I wonder if she ever went back and got the crystal...
8. I guess there's only one way to find out.
9. When I was four, the fire sprinkler system at my KinderCare malfunctioned and flooded the school.
10. I remember being scared and wondering why it was raining in the building.
11. But most of all, I remember hiding in a fireplace.
12. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a fireplace in my classroom.
13. Maybe I had been eating glue that day.
14. I taught my dog how to snort like a pig.
15. I figure if she looks and acts like one she might as well SOUND like one too.
16. Not only am I a compulsive hand washer...
17. ...but I'm a compulsive hand sniffer too.
18. Which kind of goes hand in hand if you think about it.
19. I don't have penis envy. But I AM fascinated by balls.
20. One night I asked Hoop all kinds of questions about them until he started blushing. Which is as rare a sight as Nicole Richie eating.
21. In my opinion, balls prove that God (should you believe in one) is a woman.
22. Because if God were a man, those things would be covered in steel.
23. Hoop says I'm secretly obsessed with sex. I like dirty humor. My favorite songs have to do with the horizontal tango. I look up from whatever I'm doing whenever there's a scantily clad person on the tube.
24. To which I responded, "And this BOTHERS you?!"
25. Apparently I have a lot in common with other people's boyfriends. One of my leading search terms for the month was, "my boyfriend's nipples taste like onions."
26. So between that and the "obsession with sex," I'm pretty sure I was a dude in a previous life.
27. Maybe I was Elvis! I can wiggle my hips AND I like blue suede.
28. Although in all likelihood, I'm probably a reincarnation of Billy Fury. He died the day before I was born.
29. Wow, I bet he was disappointed.
30. If you want to know who you might be a reincarnation of, you can check the famous death listings here.
31. Why do these lists always get weird the further I get down them?

Second Annual Blog Header Show Down:
And the winner is...

A Few Good Sporks

Thanks to everyone who voted. I'll have the new layout done soon.

For those Americans who don't have to work tomorrow *Grumble*... Happy 4th of July!

Ma'assalama, May

May Hit Statistics:
1. The primary day for hits was Thursday.
2. The most popular hour being 4pm.
3. The top referrers were Sunshine and Maggie.
4. The most used search term was, "slang for intercourse."
5. My favorite search term was, "dos boobs." Because three is too many, and one just isn't enough.
6. The highest hit post (229) was on May 8th, the day of Sunshine's Blog Prom. Ah, good times!

31 Quirks for 31 Days:
1. My Dad once tried to invent a vibrating tampon.
2. I can't believe I haven't told you this already.
3. I was 18 at the time. He asked my friends if they would like to try it out.
4. They were crazy enough to consider it. If it hadn't been for the threat of shock from the watch batteries, they might have even gone through with it.
5. A few years later I looked it up on the net for a lark. Turns out, someone had already invented it...
6. ...as a means for controlling cramps.
7. Not exactly the purpose my Father had in mind. He was never one for practicality.
8. I fully believe the "dirty old man" gene runs through my family line. My Grandfather owned a bar, an underground gambling ring, and an adult toy store.
9. When he died, they found 33 black trash bags filled with porn in his garage.
10. Every morning on the drive to work, I fight the feeling that I'm crossing over to the dark side.
11. I'd switch jobs, but I'm not sure what my alternatives are.
12. My Mom, the professional career counselor, says I should find something that uses my natural talents.
13. So far I haven't found anything that requires an experienced daydreamer.
14. It's very disheartening.
15. I've been doing these monthly quirks for over a year!
16. I figured I would have run out of things to say by now.
17. Apparently, you all and Hoop provide ample fodder.
18. What a cool word. According to dictionary.com, fodder means "people considered as readily available and of little value."
19. Oh. Ouch.
20. Pfft. What the hell do the dictionary people know anyway?
21. I have dimples in my earlobes.
22. I have an innie belly button.
23. I think I have an irregular amount of smell receptors in my nose.
24. Things to me don't always smell the way they do to others.
25. My friend's car smells like butter.
26. My pants smell like burnt wood.
27. The sales room smells like unwashed feet.
28. THAT one I firmly believe is true. The sales guys can deny it all they want.
29. We have a soap thief at work.
30. Full bottles of soap will go missing within an hour of being put out.
31. Who the hell steals soap?!
32. I talked to my boss about it. He asked how I didn't see the culprit, since my office is right next to the kitchen.
33. Which leads me to believe...
34. ...my split personality is doing it.
35. I knew she was evil!

Have a great weekend!

Cover Your Virgin Ears II

(The sequel to "Cover Your Virgin Ears I." Consider the title your warning.)

Why are certain words both erotic and insulting, depending on the context they're used in? Like "pussy." Here's a shocker. I have one. I happen to like it. So why is "pussy" also the term for someone who's considered weak? I do my Kegels. I could probably crack a walnut with this bad boy. And "dick"? Unless you're one-eyed or really tall, why is that an insult? The only time I would consider myself looking like an "asshole" is if I ate something really sour. Why is the phrase, "I want to screw/fuck you," offensive once you take out the "I want"? You never hear, "You're such a vagina." Or "Why are you such a penis?" Aren't they the same thing?

People are appalled by these words. They're taboo, only meant to be uttered between the sheets or yelled when angry. Why? Wouldn't it be more effective if you called them something really foul? Pus Pocket. Sewer Breath. Booger Face. Scab. Month Old Yogurt. Razor Burn. Donald Trump's Combover. Can you imagine someone yelling that out their window in rush hour traffic? You'd laugh. You'd think it was juvenile. But if you really stopped to think about it... Wouldn't you rather be a pussy or a dick? At least they have a function. Geesh.

Give Me A Break: I ordered windows a week ago for three that were damaged in our house. The check for them had been cut to me at closing by the title company. What I didn't realize until yesterday, when I went to cash it, was that they'd made it out to the wrong person. They'd made it out to the seller. Niiice. It's just as well. The window company called this morning to inform me my windows had fallen off the back of their truck. "Just mine?" I asked. "Just yours," the guy sighed. "Of course." So it'll be another week or so before they can order more. Anyone want to join me in a drink?

And because I promised...

Pussy and Make-up (A Hoop-free Post)

I consider myself a very liberal person. About three years ago I lived in a Flop House. A Flop House is the nickname I give to any place that houses more people than it should. Ours had four renters and eight strays. Our motley crew consisted of two Cajuns, a lesbian couple, one of their gay brothers, a habitual liar, a DJ, a secretary of a pest control company, an ADHD kid, his hippie friend, myself... and a fuckin' Partridge in a Pear Tree. It was crazy. I loved it for all of two months.

Eventually blow came to blow in the Flop House and I ended up moving into a house of my very own. I was ecstatic and broke. I placed ads for a roommate and prayed I wouldn't have to buy a gun. Finally my ad was answered. Thus began my strange cycle of lesbian roommates. The first girl that came to live with me was very open about her sexuality. I stated straight off that it didn't bother me, but that I wanted it noted I was "strictly dickly." She was a bossy Italian from NY who cooked things stuffed in Garlic, and not the other way around. I loved her cooking, but hated her mood swings. She stayed for two weeks, mostly locked up in her bedroom crying. One night I came home from work and she was gone. Poof. I placed another ad the next week.

The next people that moved in were a bubbly eighteen year old and her dopey boyfriend. A week after she moved in, her boyfriend moved out and her girlfriend took up residence. To say I was confused was an understatement. The girlfriend was psychotic. She gave me a whole new perspective on why guys are so leery of women. Fights would break out between the two of them and shit would go flying. I once watched a pink plastic dildo sling across the room and into a mirror. NO LIE. Another of the roomie's toys made an appearance one afternoon when her parents came over for a visit.

Her parents were extremely snobbish and proper. I had just bought Duff and was trying in vain to keep the dog from getting into trouble and myself from falling asleep in the middle of one of their horrible boat stories. Suddenly, I realized that no one was talking. They'd all taken a sudden interest in the floor instead. I got up from the couch and crossed the space of the living room. There was my dog, looking up so innocently, with half a strap-on hanging from his mouth. The roommate looked horrified. She turned to me, panic written all over her face, and demanded "Are you going to pick that up?!" It dawned on me that her parents had no idea that she had a girlfriend. The nice thing to do would have been to claim the toy and save her the mortification of explaining. But I never claim to be a "nice" person. So I picked up Duff and turned for the back door. "That's not mine," I called back to them. The last thing I heard before going outside was the gasp of her Mother.

I should probably put a disclaimer on these sort of posts huh? I figured the title alone would suffice. :)

Boobless

Hoop is a gorgeous man. Which makes it that much more annoying when he starts nitpicking himself apart. Last night he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, combing his hair in every direction possible. I stared at him from the side, trying not to laugh as he bemoaned his slightly receding hairline.

Hoop: I'm going to get a hair transplant. Would that weird you out?
Tink: Maybe a little. I think you're absolutely beautiful as you are.
...
Tink: Would you be weirded out if I got a boob job?
Hoop: Not if that's what would make you happy.
Tink: Well I'm NOT. I just wanted to see what your reaction was.
Hoop: But a hair transplant and a boob job are two totally different things.
Tink: Oh?
Hoop: Yeah, because I'm just replacing something I already had.

It was at this point where I lost all control of my jaw. I think I left it dangling somewhere around my feet. I stared at Hoop in shock and he stared back in horror. I will never forget the look on his face as he wondered just how much damage he had done. I swear he saw his sex life flashing before his eyes.

Hoop: Oh my God. Babe, that's NOT what I meant.

I dropped all the laundry and slid to the floor... doubled over in laughter. I laughed so hard I couldn't speak for damn near twenty minutes. Hoop kept trying to undig the hole he thought he was in, which only made me laugh that much harder.

Hoop: I didn't mean you have no boobs. You have nice boobs. I love your boobs! You know what I really meant to say right? Right?

Honestly, how many times can one say "Boobs" in a breath? I finally put a hand up to block his mouth and told him "Shut up. Just shut up while you can." He's lucky I wasn't PMSing anymore.

Foolish Eve

Women get screwed. We can't pee standing up. It's never funny when we fart. Going gray doesn't make us look "distinguished." And once a month we're plagued by cramps, bloating, crankiness and the tedious task of changing out a little cotton phallic symbol every three hours. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of beautiful and wonderful things about being female that I could write about. But this is my rant. I think I deserve it, considering I just got denied nookie on account of my monthly oil change.

DENIED.

As I stared into the bathroom mirror, wondering if that very word was stamped somewhere on my forehead, I realized how screwed us women are. Not only do we have to deal with the above gripes, we get made to feel personally responsible for it too. I didn't request this! If I had, I most certainly would have attached it to an "Empathy Clause." That's where any men in the vicinity of a menstruating female instantly drop to the floor with gut wrenching abdomen spasms while simultaneously craving Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream with a Chocolate Syrup chaser and bemoaning the fact that NOTHING fits anymore. Especially not anything attractive.

If men had to deal with half the things us women do, especially periods and childbirth, we'd all be extinct by now. On that note, with the possibility of jumping off the TMI cliff, I have an appointment with a little vibrating bunny. G'Nite all.

Bring out the big balls.

It's official. I'm a nerd. I actually watched an hour of PROFESSIONAL Dodge Ball last night. Did you even know there was such a thing? I almost want to join just so I can put that on my resume. Simply watching the game spawned off a million unanswered questions. Like... Do they advertise the try-outs at gyms, or the "Self Help" sections at Barnes and Nobles? If you had one arm shorter than the other would they disqualify you? Is spandex a requirement, or just a bold fashion statement? Oooh, that last one made me gag a little bit. And finally... Is there a cash prize? Because once my friends find out I'm a PROFESSIONAL Dodge Ball player, they're going to beat the crap out of me. And I really can't afford the hospital bill right now.

On a totally unrelated side note, I almost raped Hoop when I got home yesterday. He practically skipped to the bedroom. Let me set the scene. We're in the process of peeling each others layers off. I'm trying my damnedest to look sexy while squeezing my head through the tiny hole of my gargantuan sweater. Hoop is all teeth as I reach for him in a "Come hither" sort of way. He flips off his shoes and exclaims, "God I love-" the appropriate way to end this sentence would be with "you" but oddly enough, that's not how he finished it.

Hoop: God I love these shoes!
Tink: ... Oh yeah baby! Talk dirty to me again.