Le sexe est de consistance généralement plus tendre que le reste du corps. Il est plus sensible
et très sujet au chatouillement.
C’est bientôt l’été. Le ciel est pâle et brumeux. Il est allongé sur le dos, jambes écartées,
les mains sous la nuque, dans la prairie en fleurs au bord de l’étang.
Le sexe est le point où les humains ressemblent le plus aux animaux.

Now that that is out of my system (yea right if you believe that...)

There is something to be said for falling in love. Or for being in love.

Obviously there is something to be said for it or else people wouldn't want it so badly, there wouldn't be so many silly love songs, and french wouldn't exist, but hey, I just thought I would remind everyone just this once...

So Mr. Awesomeness and I were talking, like we do, for about 5 hours two nights ago about everything and anything and the conversation of fading memories come up. No, I shall set the scene for those of you that are not familiar with this plot line, or for those of you that feel as closely as I do to all of this and it feels like forever has gone by, but I only just met the Brotehrs in September. I have seen them maybe less than a half a dozen times in my life and I am still completely in love with them. But, having only 5 or 6 nights of fun and frolicking with the four of them, I don't have a wealth of memories, just a few choice ones. Not that I have forgotten them completely, but remembering their exact features and dimensions is becoming an increasingly challenging obstacle. He noted the same thing, even though I sent him a b-e-a utiful senior picture. This morning , at around 2 am, I get this continuation to the conversation:

Text message from Mr.Awesomeness: "Hey I finally got that picture open... Wow."
Me: "Oh Yeah?"
Mr. A: "Not that i forgot what you looked like but... wow.... You're gorgeous... My Princess..."

Now I would like to take a moment right here to talk about pet names. While under normal circumstances I hate pet names and anyone calling my "princess" is probably being really petty or obnoxious, it was truly a moment just reading it from him. I dont' know what it is about this kid, but waking up from a nightmare, more than half asleep in my brothers bed, reding that message... I have never felt so... I don't even have a word for it... flattered? Special? Set-apart? Complemented? At any rate, it woke me up well enough. I don't know if he knows how many feelings little wordslike that can evoke... I'm not sure that I even fully understand it... but they do and they did and I am... Something.

So a few hundred text messages and some audio phone issues later we decided to cal it a night. Not out of necessity, mind you. Not becausewe didn't have a million thought provoking things to say. Not because we couldn't have spent 5 hours talking eachother into christmas morning...



I'll finish later, right now I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.... if you'll believe that...

I love this feeling. I love staying up until 2 in the morning, talking to him about nothing. I love sighing to fill the sleepy silence in that moment when both of us start to forget that we're on the phone and start imagining that we're right next to eachother. I love the feeling of falling into deep conversation about nothing and everything all at once. I love the way that I can hear in his voice when he winks and when he smiles and when he sighs to fill that moment where he really thinks about how I make him feel.





He might be l'un en dans un millon et digne de mon amour.

...about the way I want to live my life.

I was talking with my mom the other night about Mr.L and why we had to break up and the conversation went something like this:

Super Footwear Girl: Mom I had to break up with Mr.L

Mom: Why, what did you do?

SFG: Nohting mom, we just had a dissagreement and it's just not working

Mom: But why can't you work it out? He's so cute and he seems like a grat guy...

SFG: He is gorgeous and he is a great guy... He's just not for me...

(slight pause, an incredulous look from my mom)

Mom: What do you mean?

SFG: Haven't you ever been with someone you like but you know isn't 'The One?'

(another pause and a truly new expression comes across her face)

Mom: No, I never thought about it like that...


I don't want to waste my time anymore. I don't want to get stuck with someone I feel lukewarm about. I am worth more than that. I am worth the adoration I give to the men that I love. I am worth more than a faint caring. A pssive "go if you want, stay if you must" attitude. I am worth deep, committed, lasting, serious, everything at once love. I am worthy of an attentive and interested friend, lover, mate and partner. Who wants to be "tollerated" in a relationship?

Not this Superhero.

Now that the rant is over, I might actually indeavor to provide my patient readers with a good story. A story about a boy whom I might love.

The Eldest, who needs a name before I start, has racked up more phone time with me than any man alive and, to my complete surprise, he seems to enjoy every minute of it. Mr...Awesomeness is, as we speek, attempting to find ways to earn money with which to visit me. He wants to come visit me. He wants to call me up to talk about nothing and end up on the phone for 5 hours. He wants to play open ended games of 20 questions just to get to know me and he wants to cuddle and he wants to be near me. He wants to make a good impression on my mom and he wants to be my friend.

Then again, don't they all for the first week.

But I think this one really might work. He's smart and strong and capable and he sees right through me and he hears every silent sigh and catches every smile and keeps them for himself. Where he keeps them or if I'll ever get them back, I don't know.

I do know that I have found a new respect for Shakira..."Lucky you were born that far away so We could both make fun of distance Lucky that I love a foreign land for The lucky fact of your existence." While he doesn't live in Behruit, he's certainly not the boy-next-door.

Well... I have to get some sleep tonght... as if it's possible with him running around my brain all night

When one door closes...

Ok I know this will push me past flighty and straight on into psuedo-slut (for lack of a better word, trust me I tried...) but there's someone new.

Not new, necessarily. Just new to me.

No, not new to me. Just new to the realm of possible dating options.

So I have some back story that I just relaized I forgot to give you...

The week of my birthday, The Boys came into town to celebrate. We had an "All November Babies" blowout, with 6 birthdays and about 9 guests. The boys, Night owl, my roomate, Mr. Heartbreaker, Mr. Movie and myself all hunkered down at my roomate's 'rent's shack and utilized their hot tub for some maximum party pleasure. NO, think about that another way. If you know ANYTHING baout me, you know it wasn't quite a scene from the "Real World," but it did include a rousing game of 20 questions in which I can say I learned just enough about all the boys to more specifically direct my intentions and attentions.

Long story short, the night they left I cried my happy little eyes out. I can't really explain it now, but at the time I had no other reaction. It's surreal how quickly I feel like they are my oldest and dearest friends, but I do and I did.

So about a week later, the Eldest calls me up "just to shoot the breeze." (who would need a better reason?) He said something that caught my ear. Something along the lines of "I like you." Ironically enough, he was the reason I was crying the night they left. I could tell when they were here by the way his eyes lingered on me, the way he questioned me, the way he let me smile at him without turning away with shy embarrassment or complete indifference that there was something more than being my friend. Something more than thinking I was a nice enough girl.

Now of course though comes the dilemma. The conflict. The thing that makes my life a sitcom. The physical distance between us, this thing with the Phenomenal Mr.L which, while I am ending, will certainly leave me a little scarred, and the fact that try as I may, I can't figure him out. I can't crack him compltely. I'm picking up what he's throwing down, but I think he's only giving me half a story. Or I'm missing everyother card. For everytime he's intimated that he cares for me, he restrains my level of returning affections. For everytime he leans in a whispers sweet nothings, he pulls away from my mouth. (Proverbially speaking... talking on the phone makes this visual work a little differently.)

But I guess this is old news for me. The good old "How much will they tolerate my affection?" Game.

I don't know how I feel about that, but I certainly know how I feel about him.

Good, in case you were wondering...

Brokenheartsville is a lonely place, it's true.

But is not being broken hearted worth being with the wrong person?

In my first "big girl relationship" which lasted a total of 4 and a half whole weeks, including the "talking" stage, I have learned more about myself and the world than I ever thought I needed to know. I'll admit, up until now I have been painfully naive to how the real world and the relationships we encounter herein work. I thought that people met and either fell in love or didn't. I thought that people were either attracted to one another or weren't. I believed that there was some rhyme and some reason to how people seek eachother out and who makes the cut in each persons personal in crowd. I have discovered that there are so many more grey areas than I could have ever expected.

For instance, you can WANT to have sex with someone without being attracted to them. You can WANT to be with someone even though they have nothing you are looking for in a mate. You can LIKE someone with a twisted mix of sexual tension and sweet naive romantic desires without ever seeing them as someone you could LOVE.

I just never knew it was this complicated. I mean, I am the biggest advocate of complex thoughts and feelings that I know, but this... this is so much bigger than me. This level of confusion is so beyond what I have the capacity to even allow, let's not even assume that I could try to understand it. Becoming a nun would have solved all of these problems. Never feeling his kiss or listening to the soft sweet dreams he had to tell me could have saved my precious naivete.

But I suppose what is done is done. I can't get that ignorance back...

For Shame.

Tonights rant is about speech and when to utilize that portion of your brain's capacity.

It is never okay to talk to someone during a vulnerable and hectic moment in their life about their weight, their height or their make-up in a negative manner.

No one wants to here, in the middle of a kiss, "God, you could so stand to lose these love handles. I don't really love handling them..."

No one cares, in the middle of crying about how horrible their boss is, that you think they might want to invest in waterproof mascara to avoid unsightly under-eye darkening.

Just a friendly reminder from your neighborhood superhero...

So let's talk about not awakening love until the time is right...

If someone can't tell you that they love you, you shouldn't have sex with them.
If you're not attracted to someone, you shouldn't have sex with them.
If someone wants to wait until they are married to have sex or any type of sexual contact, you shouldn't have sex or sexual contact with them.

It just hurts so bad...

i know I haven't had much to say in a while but I am terrified of my blogspot.

I am terrified that whatever I say here is up for any kind of interpretation and I am terrified that anyone can pull it up at any moment and quote me on it. I think someone forgot to read me my miranda rights when i got hauled to court for the contents herein. but so goes my life.

I have found myself in an interesting predicament as of late. I am terrified of everyone.

I am terrified that my boss isn't satisfied with my work and I have lost all initiative concerning such because of my fear.

I am terrified of talking to anyone in my church because God forbid they see something in me that's off white. I am terrified they will see that I am a normal, flawed individual and that they will insist that I need "help."

I am beyond terrified of the Phenomenal Mr. L. TERRIFIED. He's gorgeous and older and more experienced and passionate and suddenly I don't hold any cards and he sees right through me and strips me down to my naked naivete without a second thought as to my modesty and awkwardness. I feel like such an idiot everytime I see him-- like I can't remember how to start a conversation-- believe me, the irony is so not lost on me...

I am just scared that every little thing I say here or anywhere will mean anything or everything or nothing and I'll have nothing left after everyone rapes me of my soul's essentials.

Can you see the dilemma du jour?

Oh jeez.

Mr. L.

Mr. L and his tiny dogs have kept me out late every night for a week solid. Actually, I feel like this thing…. this “relationship” has lasted forever already, but he kindly wished me a “Happy one-week Anniversary” last night. Now don’t get me wrong. Not forever in the sense that dental procedures or “Wuthering Heights” last forever. I mean like twilight sleep, Midsummer Nights Dream forever. I mean like classically, romantically, insanely, softly, sweetly, erratically forever. Not painfully, unfortunately, harmfully, tediously forever.

That makes about as much sense as I feel I make these days. He is just so...phenomenal. He insisted that if I use anything to describe him, in order to keep his reputation intact, it must be the word “phenomenal.” I am having such a hard time recalling anything that has not fallen past his lips in the past week, so phenomenal it is. I can’t place what it is about him and I can’t think of a name for the way I feel and I am pretty sure that I have no idea how he feels or if his feelings even matter, but I know I would rather be with him then, oh I don’t know, get some work done at the office or catch some zzz’s here and there.

Last night we talked about what we want for christmas. To be honest and I hope no one will fault me for the sappiness factor of the next couple of words but I have what I want. All I've ever wanted for christmas is someone who genuinely enjoys my attentions and affections as much as I do theirs and I think I finally found it. Or it found me. Or the magical kismet of how we met found us. I don't know. Two people, completely unrelated, having no other possible connection and just finding eachother...

Ok, I fault MYSELF for being that sappy...

I'm at work so i can't talk long I just had to say somrthing- ANYTHING- about Mr. L before I explode, or implode, or upload, or unload, or forbode.

Mr. L is the newest character on L- TV in a long while. Completely unrelated to any other lifeline as yet mentioned in this here blogspot wonder, Mr. L is Mr. Amazing. I met him.... well I won't tell you how I met him. He's... a little bit older than I am and the only reason I even approached him was because he is b-e-a-utiful and I thought "eh, This kid will never talk to me... no harm in telling him he's hott."

And then he talked to me. And it's been all dowhill from there. Downhill as in I am on a roller coaster heading down the biggest, most climactic, most exhilirating, craziest jump of my life... and loving every second of it.

I have to say, we have this much in common---> * But he's gorgeous and funny and he talks to me and he's just... amazing....

Well so much for that five minutes break. Catch you all later.

Apparently i have decided that I am an android and i shall never need sleep again...

Last week i was swamped- between Footwear, cupcakes, cookies, and Big Girl duties, I slept LITERALLY 20 hours all week. THIS week, my happy butt thought it would be a great idea to take on 27 catering jobs, start another business, be a Big Girl and try to marry one of The Boys. Saturday night and last night i rolled in at 2 in the morning, like I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO AT 2 IN THE MORNING. "That peace that sleep begets" hath not touched my soul in almost a month and I am feelin it lemme tell you. I keep telling myself to just push through one more frantic night of baking, flirting or planning and then I'll take a break, but do I?

No. That would be SANE.

Off to do more work. Writing this blog entry just robbedme of 3 and a half minutes of sleep.

Whatever happened to the Voicebox?

The newest love of my life and I are listening to Bon Jovi, and I sit here, pondering...

Whatever happened to the voicebox? You know that generic WEE--OOOW-OOOWA that Richie Sambora in Bon Jovi would do by singing into a "box" attached to his mic? What ever happened to that technology? That IS what made Bon Jovi awesome and now.... nothing. Noone else has realized the gold theat is the Bon Jovi WEEE-OOWW and I want to know why....

The new love of my life by the way is my iPod. It's not just any iPod, mind you. It is a video iPod. Or what I would like to call, "The High king of all iPodium."

That last statement was proof positive that I am in need of some major zzz's.

TWO DAYS TILL NINETEEN EATS ME!!!
AHHHH

The best kid ever: Adhesives Research

ME: like post-it notes

TBKE: ...no

TBKE: but close

TBKE: and when I say close I mean not even close

ME: ok... so what do you do

TBKE: I'll be a chemical mixer

ME: mixing the stuff that goes on the back of post-it notes?

TBKE: Yeah

Me: Really?

TBKE: NO!

I would like to say that i have nothing to say about anyone. Just this once I have no gossip, anger, rumor or truth to spread, feel, share or intimate about anyone in my life.

Don't get used to it.

In fact, if you know me well enough, you know that this is about someone....

FINALLY! MY USE OF THE WORDS "SHOES" AND "FOOTWEAR" HAVE COME IN HANDY!!

In case you all are wondering where today reandom thought is coming from, I'll let you in on a ittel secret: It is absolutely un-random. The last comment left on my blog was from an annonymous reader say that they had entered "Croc shoe... Something" Into Google and UP POPPED MY WEBSITE! While I feel bad that they found absolutely no useful information about crocs here, i am also severly tempted to list every name of a shoe that someone might attempt to key word search in order to whip up some new readers. While I love my 4 person standard fan base, you all leave entirely too fee comments. I need more love...


Well back to the grind

...about silence.

I wish everyone would just stop talking. I do not understand why I suddenly became a star over night, but I know for a fact that I did not order the optional tabloid treatment when i checked the "Yes" box on my awesome application. But since I am a star, I think I should atleast get paid. As it is now, all I'm getting is judged.

In case you were wondering as towhat I am specifically referring; it is everything. Everybody, everything, all the time. I feel like there is an L TV Station. "L all the time: Interactive and in color!"


It would be super nice if everyone could chill that.

Like ice cream fillin....

The big girl job.

I don't know that I actualy told any of you kids about it but since you know about it i will share some of my joy with you about my Big Girl job.

First off, let me start by saying how glorious it is to be OUT OUT OUT of retail... or atleat how glorious it WILL be when my two weeks is up. Anyone looking to have the desire to kill themselves or atleast rip apart some kids stuffed annimal, call 1-800-footwear and take my job.

My job title is "Marketing Coordinator" and I work for a tiny company that is doing amazingly large things with the federal government. HUH-- what? oh my, how embarassing.... anywho, it is a pretty exciting job and I work for a very.... exciting lady so I can't really complain..... other than this one teeny thing.

My office is temporarily in an internet studio. Cute, quiet and comfortably small, some designing idiot decided it would be really "sweet" and "totally kickin'" if they put in those tiny, scalding hot bulbs that simulate sun shine inside of sellariums. So here I am, tickity tackin on my pc, happy as a clam at the clam bake, roastin and toasting the last tiny bit of my youth away.... charming, int' it?

Aside from that, nothing too new to report. Guess you all will just have to amuse yourselves with this little open game:

What should my new alias be since I can no longer be called "Super Footwear Girl?"

Leave your commments and take you monkeys ;)

SO my big-girl boss told me to take a five minute break before the launching of my first event so i am blogging. Sick, I know. All I wanted to say is thanks to whoever says congrats about my job and boo to those who don't say anything. Have you any souls?

lol... talk to you guys on the weekend when I'm not working at my big girl job... :)

PS. This website was not designed wit hthe intention of informing people about the sacred and misunerstood art of Kare-a-tea. Please, do not regard me as a guru on marshal arts. Cause I'm not...

MY LIFE IS A SITCOM
ACT ONE
SCENE ONE

ENTER Mr. Heartbreaker, my gay ex-boyfriend, and myself, Super Footwear Girl.

Mr. Heartbreaker: i started a new blog because myspace is rotting my brain
Super Footwear Girl: HAHAHA
Mr. Heartbreaker: myspacetherapy.blogspot.com
Super Footwear Girl: I would like to say "I could have told you so had you asked"
Super Footwear Girl: Everyone asks "Hey, y r'nt u on myspace?!" and I say "Because you're a moronic loser that abuses punctuation and so is your whole generation"
Mr. Heartbreaker: but yeah. i'm trying to blog because myspace is digital crack
Mr. Heartbreaker: i know you used to read my old one from time to time
Super Footwear Girl: totally I'm a good blog whore, though your blog was often times too much about people
Super Footwear Girl: you are a friggin toolbox
Mr. Heartbreaker: it was, i know
Mr. Heartbreaker:the new one hasn't had much mention of people
Super Footwear Girl: "people" are okay. mindless recording of events for the sole puropose of recording events is shit.
Mr. Heartbreaker: lol.. i haven't yet mindlessly recorded events
Super Footwear Girl: make your reader love the characters, dont' share with them the people
Mr. Heartbreaker: aside from briefly mentioning things

************SEE www.myspacetherapy.blogspot.com To understand****************
Super Footwear Girl: it's because it's cold and everyone smells better.
Mr. Heartbreaker: hahaha
Super Footwear Girl: no seriously, everyone smells good in the fall.... in the winter they don't care, the spring smells are better than any artificial ones, and needless to say, people don't take enough showers in the summer, thinking that pool water serves the same purpose...fall is better because people care about how they smell
***********************************************************************************
Super Footwear Girl: hey you have a comment
Mr. Heartbreaker: gasp!
Super Footwear Girl: OMG the other day i was going through old old old old old floppys and I found a conversation we had online... like Simba41119 old (4 years, nearly anient in IM years)
Mr. Heartbreaker: you're a whore
Mr. Heartbreaker: btw, LOL
Super Footwear Girl: which comment was for which
Super Footwear Girl: and promise you won't delete that!
Super Footwear Girl: It's your first comment
Mr. Heartbreaker: 1- i won't delete that
Mr. Heartbreaker: the second comment was the Simba41119 reference
Mr. Heartbreaker: do you still have it handy?
Super Footwear Girl: no not handy... I went through all my disks just to see what had what and I'm a complete imbecile because I didn't even label them, I just looked at them and tossed them aside
Mr. Heartbreaker: whore, you know i would've copy-pasted for you
Super Footwear Girl: I'll find it one day and post it on my blog as cyber proof that at one point in time you were in a ridiculously sappy hetersexual relationship
Mr. Heartbreaker: yeah well
Super Footwear Girl: yeah well my arse
Mr. Heartbreaker: i coudl post some of my old songs/poems if i wanted to prove that point
Super Footwear Girl: no don't it's better when it looks like I am "outing" you
Super Footwear Girl:Mr. Heartbreaker was a strait boy! Mr. Heartbreaker was a strait boy!
Mr. Heartbreaker: we should get together and design a "surprise, Mr. Heartbreaker's gay!" web page we'll take pictures of me and i'll pretend to be shocked that you're telling people
Super Footwear Girl: straight
Super Footwear Girl: no no we shouldn't... I've had enough "surprise Mr. Heartbreaker's gay" moments in my life time thank you
Mr. Heartbreaker: so's my mom
Super Footwear Girl: you laugh like i'm f***ing kidding
Super Footwear Girl: you're mom and I are kindred spirits
Super Footwear Girl:other than the fact that I am a whore....
Mr. Heartbreaker: no, i laugh because i know it's true, and i know it's hilarious
Mr. Heartbreaker: i'm asking her right now, and she says she never thought you were a whore
Mr. Heartbreaker: she blamed me for being the whore, really
Super Footwear Girl: good she's a genius, we are kindred
Mr. Heartbreaker: you, and her, and brad could get together and write a book on me
Super Footwear Girl: WE ARE FAMILY!! GAY Mr. Heartbreaker HIS MOM AND ME
Super Footwear Girl: no just me, I think I have sufficient information thank you
Super Footwear Girl: I alone could write a three part series: The Hero, The Heated, The homo: an epic poem in three parts
Mr. Heartbreaker: the hero?
Super Footwear Girl: I did like you at one point you know
Super Footwear Girl: and I couldn't think of anouther good h word
Mr. Heartbreaker: ah
Super Footwear Girl: there is the largest dearth of suitable h-words for everyday conversation in the english language...
Mr. Heartbreaker: isn't there?
Mr. Heartbreaker: the best one starts with a W anyway
Super Footwear Girl: which one?
thebadgummybear: whotus?
Mr. Heartbreaker:lol
Super Footwear Girl: o ic
Super Footwear Girl: gosh if I could learn internet speak I could so avoid carpel tunnel
Super Footwear Girl: fact is i can't remember to think dumb
Super Footwear Girl: dumbly
Mr. Heartbreaker: yeah neither can i
Mr. Heartbreaker: i mean i've generally learned to disregard capitalization
Mr. Heartbreaker: but then again, who cares about it
Super Footwear Girl: I haven't, I like to try but sometimes my fingers are just too slow.
Super Footwear Girl: pudgy little bastards....
Mr. Heartbreaker: shut your whine hole
Mr. Heartbreaker: wow, that sounded much more vulgar than i meant it to
Super Footwear Girl: hey my whine hole is not vulgar, it is a beautiful piece of natur ethank you
Mr. Heartbreaker: so, what are you doing friday night
Super Footwear Girl: eating poo... nothing as of yet, probably working on craphole island, why?
Mr. Heartbreaker: wanna come to an asinine bravery show with me
Super Footwear Girl: today I will teach an english leason
Super Footwear Girl: children, what did the great writer Mr. Heartbreaker mean by his famous line "Mr. Heartbreaker: wanna come to an asinine bravery show with me" in his most sardonic epic pom "Ode to my ex-girlfriend"
thebadgummybear: what are you asking Mr. Heartbreaker?
Mr. Heartbreaker: i'm asking, would you like to accompany a group of friends, including myself, to a show on Friday night?
Super Footwear Girl: what show? it sounds like you're asking me to a jousting tournament
Mr. Heartbreaker: the bravery
Mr. Heartbreaker: the band whose CD never leaves my stereo
Super Footwear Girl:: no thank you
Super Footwear Girl: you listen to... how shall I put this.... the music that Satan rejects....
Mr. Heartbreaker: well, you listen to crickets chirp when you tell jokes
Mr. Heartbreaker: lol. did i actually do that?
Super Footwear Girl: yes yes you did
Super Footwear Girl: god I am so on fire tonight that I am draining you of your comic mojo
Mr. Heartbreaker: i don't doubt it at all
Super Footwear Girl: you're zinger just hit the floor and it sounded like this :
Super Footwear Girl: NOTHING! CAUSE THERE WAS NO ZING IN YOU ZINGER
Super Footwear Girl: budum chi
Mr. Heartbreaker: the other night, i ate pudding with a straw
Super Footwear Girl: mmm pudding....
Mr. Heartbreaker: wait, no, i know i ate something more ludicrous with a straw lately...
Super Footwear Girl: I am so making this into a blog
Mr. Heartbreaker: oh, i remember! I sucked the cream filling out of a donut.
Super Footwear Girl: nu-uh
Super Footwear Girl: nobody wastes a good cream filled donut like that
Super Footwear Girl: I'm rereading our conversation and editing some of the smudgy bits.... just you wait
Mr. Heartbreaker: i wait with bated breath
Super Footwear Girl: bated or baited
Mr. Heartbreaker: bated, right?
Super Footwear Girl: it was a play on words there for you
Super Footwear Girl: god should i pull up a chaise lounge and drag you around so you can keep up?
Mr. Heartbreaker: sorry, i'm semi-tired
Super Footwear Girl: you mind is getting fat and lazy
Super Footwear Girl: stop eating mind bon-bons

Your Birthdate: November 19Your birth on the 19th day of the month adds a tone of independence and extra energy to your life path. But at the same time, it poses a number of obstacles to overcome before you are able to be as independent as you would like. The number 1 energy suggests more executive ability and leadership qualities than your path may have indicated.
A birthday on the 19th of any month gives greater will power and self-confidence, and very often a rather original approach. However, a somewhat self-centered approach to life that may be in conflict with some of the other influences in your life. This 1 energy may diminish your ability and desire to handle details, preferring instead to paint with a broad brush.
You are sensitive, but your feeling stay somewhat repressed. You have a compelling manner that can be dominating in many situations. You do not tend to follow convention or take advice very well.
Consequently, you tend to learn through experience; sometimes hard experiences. The 19/1 is a loner number and you may experience feelings of being alone even if you are married. You may take on a tendency to be nervous and angry.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

>

So one unexpected e-mail from Mr. Hamster, one chit chat with a certain brother, and one Trick Pony album Later...

And most of my anxieties have been replaced with confusion, excitement and good honky tonk brawlin' music.

I know what I expected when I quickly tapped out my monthly email to his highness; nothing. A big fat nothingness. I made it short so as not to exhaust myself, thinking "surely this will be deleted, just like all the rest.." So I cranked out the usual "hi how are you? how's school? bye?" And you know what happened? Lo and behold I opened my mailbox a whole 24 hours later, EXPECTED NOTHING MIND YOU, and up pops a response. Granted it was 3 lines long and all it said was "school is boring and I have (insert ridiculous class that only future presidential advisors take here) bye," but that is 8 full words longer than any single address he's given me since "Hey aren't you in my A! English class?" (Oh wait that's the first thing I said to him...) Go figure. Miss. Salsbury and I figure it's the end of the world, and we have already picked out our jello flavors... (Long story...) Seriously though I wonder what was going through his mind? Don't boys know that they drive us batty doing stupid crap like this?

What's that you say? They do know? OF COURSE THEY KNOW BECAUSE THEY ARE MANIPULATIVE SWINE...

Well, some of them....

'The brothers', however, are doing exceptionally well. I had planned on having them attend my Novemember Birthday Bash, but they have severely dampened my spirits by giving me a less than hopeful "maybe," but thankfully their answer depends solely on whether or not the have a contract at that point in time, which might provide much aggitation to some, but for me, I understand economics well enough to know the importance of accepting jobs. Aside from that minor drawback, I am certain that they like us (me, my roomates, and Miss. Tattoo) just as much as we like them.

As usual, Jason Mraz sums life the universe and everything up just fine:
1000 Things

I'm overjoyed and over loved and feeling lucky Like a little boy who's hiding under covers And looking to discover any way to play the part inside his darkened cave Well the meaning of life it starts at the nightlight Close your eyes and

I haven't written in a while for a few reasons.

• I haven't had the time, what with saving the world one pair of shoes at a time.
• I haven't had too many interesting things running through my mind.
• I am mortified, mystified and other long m-words about something that has proved to be the first impedement to my writing in my entire life.

I have been trying in vain to get myself to sit down, make a resume, and find a "big girl job." You know, the more i think about it, the more I feel myself becoming terrified by success. I mean, let's be honest, I could be in college by now excelling in english and cursing my math teacher. Or I could be in the Navy, on my way to A school. Or I could be in the Academy, a mix of both worlds that would have made everyone proud of me. But no. No, I am selling shoes. I am Al Bundy. What the hell...

The second one isn't at all true and as faithful readers you should have detected that lie a mile away. I have had an amazing amount of things running through y brain like the roadrunner but I have no idea how to articulate them in a way that will suffice. My mind is so full of vivid pictures and dreams that i don't know where to begin. My trip to Hawaii was beautiful, so much so that i wish it were my reality, not my surreality that I partake of once a year. I keep waking up to the warmth of the sunshine and the weight of the thick sweet air only to find that it is a rainy Maryland October Monday and the cat is pawing my face for food.

What with my trip, "The boys," my dissapointment in myself, my joy in everything else, and the renaissance festival, I should have enough material atleast for a few passing shallow entries. But nothing comes. My writing is cramped way up in the corner of my mind and has attached itself with iron chains to the tree of solitude. Why, you ask gentle reader? or perhaps you don't ask. Perhaps you know. Perhaps you're happy about my unfortunate inexpressability. Perhaps this is just the news that sets your heart a-fluttering. You might be one of the two people out of my readers who doesn't believe in freedom of speech and felt it neccessary to tattle on me to someone whom I once respected and now fear with all the passion in my little writers soul. You may be one of the elfin cowards who refused to come to me directly but sent every one in your arsenal of mutual friends and saw no change in my behavior so decidedly you became more harmful, hurtful and all those other nasty h-words.

As if this summer has not caused enough pain to my already deflated and delicate heart, someone had the nerve to invade my inner sanctum. Someone had the gall to say that I was doing wrong by writing about my feelings. Two blog entries ago, I made a lengthy and heartfelt apology to whomever it may have concerned. To whom I had offended I apologized. But I have resently changed my tune, as I am want to do every now and again. I would like to retract my apology. I am not sorry. I am not sorry that you don'tlike what I have to say. I am not sorry that i don't like you. I am not sorry that you are not likeable. I am not sorry that what I had to say about my feelings offended you. If you don't like it, you have the choice to turn away and change the web page. I however have not got the luxery of turning a cheek to my own feelings. The things that you detest so much; the pain and hurt and anger and humiliation I have felt from the things forced upon me throughout this whole ordeal are not my fault. I will not own the action as well as the reaction. I never told you to change. I never force dyou to respect me. I never asked for anything from you. I simply stepped aside and chose to deal with it by myself. Shame on you. Shame on you for taking my sanctuary from me. Shame on you for berating the victim. Shame on you for adding injury to injury. Shame on you for kicking a girl while she's down. I am defeated. You have won. Leave me to my solitude and expression.

I feel as though this will not be the end of it. I feel as though I have been censored. I feel naked, stripped of my dignity and my peace. Tears are not enough. Action fails me. I am, for the first time in my life, unsure, frightened, helpless, dibilitated, defenseless, paralyzed, and exposed. My heart is no longer my own. My head is invaded by alien thoughts of inadequacy.

How dare you judge me.

i went to the library today with the express interest in checking my email and writing a riveting blog entry about "the brother's" and since I checked my e-mail and saw absolutely no peeping tidbit from the boys, I am beyond downtrodden and without a muse. Stupid boys. This whole summer has been one long train of dissapointing encounters involving the opposite sex. Forget it, i am currently learning Italian and moving to Italy where i can be a spinster with grace.

There are several reasons why i enjoy writing but I think one of the most prominent ones is the fact that i can say, do or think anything here in type and it never has to mean anything. I can type that i am a pregnant teen, divorced middle ager, midlife career woman or nothing at all and no one shoulde blame or judge me. I can type about my sincere love for Christ, my biggest heartbreak, or the delight in my simple joys and people can cry, laugh or mock me all they want without my knowing it or them offending me. This is my sanctuary. My way of living things I don't. My way of expressing things i do. My way of sharing my thoughts and feelings. I am always free to be completly honest, exxagerated, false or any combination there of and no one is the wiser.

At least i thought i was free.

I thought this would be my saving grace. For years I have kept a private journal, but that was more a record of personal events rather than an expression of my artistic and creative take on life. I love the freedom writing gave me in private, but i devour the attention and idea that my writing is loved, hated, laughed at or admired for good show here. I observe the rights of annonymity here because i respect peoples lives. AND because the characters here are not just the poeple in my life, they are charicatures. I have said it before, but I am happy to repeat that though these blog entries are based on real people and the stories are taken from real life, they are charicatures. If you recognize yourself in these charicatures, it is not to be blamed on the artist. I blow things out of proportion and expand where I want and condense where I need to represent a character that i have created, to show the life that i lead in an entertaining and exploitive way. I take the liberty to transform the real people i know and interact with to make them louder, bigger, more important, less essential, more dramatic, smaller, or more obnoxious than they really might appear in everyday association because that is my eapress right as an artist and a human being. I have the right to lie, tell the whole truth, or mix fancy and folly with fact and fiction to create and entertaining, envigorating or enraging piece of work in order to express my deep, over the top, or understated feelings.

When my heart gets broken I can't run to the person and say

"I've listened to Matchbox20's You won't be mine 875 times. I have cried 96 tears and thought of 300 other torturous scenarios I would prefer to the present predicament i find myself in, including, but no limited to being stuck in a telephone booth for all eternity with my mother and when I finally clear my eyes and open my mind it is all still too true.Mr. Future millionaire still want her more than me. My heart is still cut into seven peices and scattered around the Famous Footwear nation. I would still rather run away to Asia Minor than reconcile with my two closest friends."
I do not have the liberty to be completely honest with my feelings in person so i do it here. While I exxagerate people, places and things, the feelings i have are always true, whether they seem extreme or not. I am always true in represents my deepest, shallowest, upto the moment, or retrospective feelings because I have no choice. I feel them and they're real and I have to get them out somehow or I explode. Rather than die a messy and extremly painful death, I write.

Judge me as you will, and I will write.
Hate me as you feel, but I will write.
Love it like you want, and I will write.

Faithfully, entertaningly, hurtfully, at length, in short, with love, in jest, with anger, or anyother way I feel neccessary, I will write.

Take it how you want, it is my duty to my heart and mind to do the only thing I know to get all of my feelings out.

The only person i am more honest with is God.

Ok so I haven't posted quite as frequently as I mgiht like to, what with all that is going on, but i figured I would enter in one last blog before i leave for PARADISE thursday and leave you all without reading material for 2 weeks. I have created and itemized list for the topics I would like to cover, incase I don't get to them all before I have to scurry away and finish packing.

• Mr. Future Millionaire
• Andrew, Joe, John, and Adolf
• Rediculous natural disasters and the stupidity of people therein
• Paradise

Mr. Future Millionaire and I got together Sunday because he has been begging me to talk, oh since the day Miss. Woo Woo left for college. We talked (and walked for the matter) in circles for a good hour ( I think.. I knda lost track of time... ) All I had to say is all I have been saying and all he had to contribute was that he wanted to remain friends. I do too, but to be hoest and call me a cat all you want, I can't do it. I can't because I will always distrust her and I will always worry about him being friends with her and that is disrespectful. There is no reason for me to care what she does with him but I always will and that is not fair to him. And it isn't fair to me to just say "Suck it up, because this is what i want from you." I am hurt. I need comfort. I don't need things to be like they were, because they WERE a lie. i thought we were getting married, or atleast getting along. If we went back it would just be the same catastrophe all over again. Not to mention the fact that i refuse to even talk to Miss. Woowoo and that i will never go back on because I will just end up accepting the blame and letting her off the hook LIKE I ALWAYS DO. And then this will all happen again. I will be sensitive and honest and vulnerable and she will find a way to CRUSH me. FORGIVE 77X7 BUT FORGET NOT LEST YOU DIE BY REPEATED DRAMA. God didn't say that. I did.

The dahl brothers, How i love thee, let me write about the ways. I have officially found four men, all in the same family, that i would marry and have babies with. No, that's not true. I think there are 7 brothers all together and even though I have not met them all, I am sure I would like them. After having my heart broken by Mr. Movie when he told me they went to Atlantic city and he didn't know if they were coming back before they headed home, I gave up every hope of ever seeing them again :( THEN, I of course could not keep my mouth shut in church (and this time it actually benifited me...) I said something to Mr. Movies father about how much i ADORED his cousins and how BROKEN HEARTED I was about them leaving for Atlantic City and not telling me and simultaneously ruinging my chances of every finding another nice guy in this stinkin' city when the following conversation insued:

"Atlantic City?"

"Yeah your son told me they went to Atlantic City and they didin't tell me and they didn't invite me and now I will never secure my future with one of them and I will become an old maid and be forced to run a burlesque to pay for my retirement in Hawaii..."

"They didn't go to Atlantic City...."

"They didn't????"

"No they're still working on Mr. movies brother's house. But they finish up today, would you like their cell phone number?"

"UH HUH!!! My Jaw hit the floor my eyes turned into stars and I might have sctratched my ear with my left leg.

So they were still in town and I called and left a crazy message on their work phone ("HI Andrew, Joe, John, and Adolf, this message is from Super Footwear Girl, I heard you were still in town tonight and I just thought you might want to go out, umm, give m ea, uh, call, this is my number, my number is xxx-xxx-xxxx so now you have it so give me a call before you leave, k bye!"

I lost it there towards the end.. .I suddenly realized what i would think if I met some zealous over-enthusiastic so and so through my cousins and how I would feel if they went and found out my work number and left me an INSANE message. Luckily. I think, their dad called me back before listening to the message and said "You called this number?" And I had to explain how i knew his sons before I could even ask to speak to anyone of them, because who do you ask for when you love them all equally and you're nuts?

So we played pool until the wee hours of the morning and from what they tell me, the boys were very happy to have met me and to have had time to hang out. Trust me boys, not as happy as me and as one of your future mother in law's.

Wel I really have to go pack, everything else will just have to wait until I get back...

Andrew, Joe, John and Adolf along with Mr. Movies eldest brother came over last night to play some texas hold 'em. I love playing poker with people who don't know how to play because they are ridiculous. The first game was over in about 5 minutes and Me and Matt were out in about two hands. The brothers decided that was just a practice run and we played another game which lasted until one in the morning. I wipped the floor with them, thankfully, and won myself a record-breaking 25 dollars. They came with no cash so they have to come back and hang out again so that they can pay me my money :)

It is safe to say, though, that I adore every last one of them. They are just too cute. And I really think that they like me just as much. They all commented that, even though they have only met me twice, they feel like they've known me forever :) That's what life is all about. And they love my roomates. They said Michele is "the prettiest 23 year old they've ever seen" (for those of you that know her, you get the joke, if you don't know her, believe that she really is the prettiest 23 year old) and that Tracey is so nice and keeps a beautiful house. ADORABLE.

If anyone needs and Costa rican coffee, work done on their house, or a husband, let me know; I know four perfect boys for the job.

...and the world is going to end. I just got done looking at pictures of what is happening in Louisianna and Mississippi and I can't take it. I have the deepest desire of my heart to fill up my car with supplies, give them all out and come home with three people who need a home and to see dry land. What would i do if i lost everything? Everytime I touch anything I think of the fact that those people don't have it; The tap for water, my hairbrush, my cat, my breakfast, my cell phone... Luxeries and nessecities. Common place and unique items. Pictures, Vital records, diaries, school books, stationary, prescription medication, tylenol, ace bandages, aloe, rice, bannanas, diapers, milk, deodorant, bed sheets, stuffed animals, cds, microwaves, pens, shoes, undergarments, their best friends... all gone or ruined.

Lord help us and Thank you for Blessing us so richly that we were not in the path of the storm and the we have the resources to bless those in need.

17 For forty days the flood kept coming on the earth, and as the waters increased they lifted the ark high above the earth. 18 The waters rose and increased greatly on the earth, and the ark floated on the surface of the water. 19 They rose greatly on the earth, and all the high mountains under the entire heavens were covered. 20 The waters rose and covered the mountains to a depth of more than twenty feet. 21 Every living thing that moved on the earth perished—birds, livestock, wild animals, all the creatures that swarm over the earth, and all mankind. 22 Everything on dry land that had the breath of life in its nostrils died. 23 Every living thing on the face of the earth was wiped out; men and animals and the creatures that move along the ground and the birds of the air were wiped from the earth. Only Noah was left, and those with him in the ark.
24 The waters flooded the earth for a hundred and fifty days.

So I threw a cook out last night for the sole purpose of americanizing my little czech sez amemones, and they all ended up working. the rest of my guestlist, as per usual of most of my crap friends, did not show. However, my roomate, my friend Miss. tattoo, and a previously unmentioned Mr. movie (it's really odd that i never mentioned him before, I have known him for a good chunck of time and I lived with him and his parents for a while... oh well, first time for everything...) made a great party. We ended up watching princess bride after I fought with them over a muppets movie- puppets freak me out...) Mr. movie says, i held out on inviting my third cousins because I felt bad." Well, my parties, in case any of you are lucky enough to be invited, are always open house. You are always welcome to invite your mom, your cat, the grocery check out girl, and your third cousins if they're in town. After he invites them, there is a long pause in conversation in which he fills with this:

"I cannot be held personally resposible for what my cousins say or do. They're crazy... like back-woods, no vaccinations, not schoolin' crazy..."

Which leads one to expect pierced, long haired freaks who have no manners and wear shirts that say crazy things like "I see stupid people." I have met another one of Mr.Movies cousins and this was true of that kid, however nice he had turned out to be. So finally, the brigade of boys arrives. Mr. Movie opens the door and invites them in and insists that they do their own introductions because he doesn't know their names. Well... In walks the cast of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. They are tall, broad shouldered, smooth faced men with handshakes as light as air, as if they're afraid the women are too delicate for such a rough tradition. They say hello, introduce themselves, and make way for the kitchen. I introduced the food and let them have at it, and the whole time they complemented my kitchen, they held the door of the refrigerator open for me, they polietly allowed eachother giveway at the table, ect. they said "please" and "Yes ma'am," they refused to allow my roomate to take out the trash, they made the most delightful conversation, and they threw away their own cups and plates. In short, they were the most well-groomed, best mannered, and funniest group of 'country bumkins' I have ever met.

If Country is all about Andrew, Joe, John, and Adolf, count me in for a lifetime of hee-hawin'

I love my mom even though she drives me CRAZY 92% of the time; but here is just one hilarious example that insanity is genetic:

I called my mother at work yesterday to ask her a question about car payments. My friend has just purchased a brand new, gorgeous Scion and her car payments are 350ish a month and she thought that was a little high. As I call my mom for answers to all of lifes pressing questions, I decided to dial her up and see if this payment is reasonable. My mother proceeds to have one of her classic freak out moments "YOU AREN'T THINKING OF BUYING A CAR ARE YOU?? YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T AFFORD ONE WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU DEFAULTED ON A PAYMENT?? YOU DON'T HAVE THE CREDIT TO GET A CAR--" Here I had to stop my mother from having a heart attack and my Super Footwear girl powers were needed to I quietly assured her that it was just a casual question and that i would have to call her back. So i hang up, ring the two people who apparently loved my facial expressions and my occasional emphmatic ejaculations of "ma." I finish ringing and call my ma back and I tell her

"Hey ma, I got proposed to"
"Oh yeah, by who?"
"One of my little czech boyfriends proposed to me so that he could get a green card and stay in america."
"Well, yeah thats one way to get a green card..."

Let's weigh the situation here: Your only daughter's friend buys a car and you freak out, but she tells you she's getting married to get someone a green card and you think it's the most logical answer to life and the universe?

ABSOLUTE STRAIGHT JACKET INSANITY....

I heart crazy people.

I was stopped at a red light today and lollygaggin' out of my window due to my crap car which has 2-50 air conditioner (Two windows down doing 50.) And low and behold, the hottest guy I have ever seen is sitting next to me in his little nissan (my new favorite car for whatever reason.) I caught his eye and promptly looked away. (I am of the belief that you don't shop out of you price range and you also do not chat up people out of your price range.) So I hear his radio turn down and He yells something. So I turn down my radio and look over and he polietly repeats,
"You're listening to COUNTRY?"
"Yes, what's wrong with Country?"
"I dunno, nothin I suppose, Does your husband like Country?"
"No, no husband...What are you listening to?"
" Hip-Hop... no, no wife to say no to..."
"Oh i see...'
"So what are you doing all the way out here?"

And he proceeds to chat me up AT THE STOP LIGHT!! Never before and certainly never again will guys be so adventurous as this week. A marraige proposal, a stop light swoon... .Ahhh I love summer time....

ok guys, are you sitting down? Of course you are because who stands at the computer-- thats just non-sense. Ok... (deep breath) guess what guys? I'm Pregnant.

NO! That's not true, I' m totally joshin' you. But did you freak out when you heard that news? Well, I do have something really important to tell you...

I'm marrying one of my little czech boyfriends so that they can get their green card and live in the United States.

Nah, thats not true either. But if it were, that's how i would tell my mother. Don't you guys feel special?

Tell you more about it later... toodles ;)

AHHHHH!

What the F...

LITTLE TIP FOR STUPID BOYS: DO NOT

Lead me on, Tell me you love my best friend, cry that i say "fine, F you," spend the entire summer wooing her, then try to call me THE NIGHT SHE LEAVES TOWN to "talk."

THAT'S SOME CRAP.

All summer, Mr. Future Millionaire gave up THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD (AHEM) for, and I quote Cara, a "horse-faced frumpmyster." THE NIGHT SHE LEAVES THE BEST MESSAGE YOU CAN COME UP WITH IS "HEY L- CALL ME IF YOU WANNA TALK?" HELL NO I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!! IN FACT, I WANTED TO LEAVE THE MOMENT I SAW YOU WALK INTO MY COFFEE HOUSE WITH THAT MAN STEALIN SO-AND-SO, BUT I DIDN'T. I SMILED, I MADE AS NICE AS I COULD. In fact, I'd like to think myself DAMN NEAR CIVIL this whole time.

RUB MY FACE IN IT WHY DONCHA?

I just finished visiting Thornfield Hall and The Morr House with my dearest and most faithful friend, Jane Eyre. I love reading classic novels. Everytime I read Jane Eyre, I can see Mr. Rochester, I can smell the sulphur from the burned down ruins of the great Thronfield Hall, I can feel the pangs of hunger when Jane wanders around England Moorlands for three days with no food, I collapse with exhaustion with her in front of St. Johns house, I watch Helen Burns slip peacefully away in my arms. Classic novels draw me in. They don't just thell me a story, they make me Jane. They make me the prisoner in "the Penetentury." They make me the unnerving beauty to The Great Gatsby. They change the way I see Mr. Darcy. Classic novels to me are movies of the mind, not just words on a page.

Just thought I would chare that with you. If you've never felt this way about a book here are some great books to get lost in:

The Horse and His Boy, A novel in The Chronicles Of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
The Penetentury, A Short story by Franz Kafka
The Little Prince, A novella by Antione De Saint Exupery
Jane Eyre, A Novel by Charlotte Bronte (Currer Bell)
Don Quixote, A novel by Miguel De Cervantes

Dear Mr. Not so Religious:

Thanks :)

Eat that you haters.

Seriously enought though, thanks a lot. I love getting comments, and i adore ones that are a bit more than "yeah so and so is a real jerk" Or "Oh my gosh i never would have thought", ect. In the deepest recesses of my heart, what some might call their soul, I desire nothing more than to be a writer, poor in pocket but rich in spirit, with a currency of words; the human souls only trade. But to be completely honest, I have all of 4 readers and I am well aware that the are all my close friends who merely delight in that fact that i poetically represent everyday events while utilizing my SAT list which, ironically, I refused to do in High school as a form of not-so-silent protest against my crazy, mua-mua wearing english teacher. I think that as far as paid journalism or novels that last a lifetime, their is only room for a few Kevin Cowherds and even fewer Charlotte Bronte's in this world. Though your compliment is sweet and uplifting, I highly doubt any editor would well recieve this pitch for a novel:

"Well, see, it's about a young girl with a quick wit and slow heart who comes upon many snafus and loves word like "Conjecture" and "obsiqious", "Counterintuitive" and "Quadratist." Plot?! Who needs plot, she's adorable and ditzy!"

Thanks anyways, and stay tuned, there's plenty more blog coming your way :)

Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.
Who told us we’d be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We’re asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It’s unfair.
Chorus:This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.
This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred NUMB our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
(Chorus)This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?

This entry is all about PRAYER REQUESTS.

A good friend of mine (Jen) has a sister in law who has struggled for some time now to get pregnant. She finally, with the help of invetro fertilization, is pregnant with triplets. She is about 22 weeks along and saturday night she went into labor. One of her babies was born and subsiquently died from prematurity. Please pray for her that not only her other two children should be healthy and to term, but that the sorrow of losing a baby not hold her back from the joy of being a mother. And please pray for Jen, as this is the third child in three years that she has seen this happen to, one her own, another her best friends.

The prayer request, gentle reader, for my aunt continues. I know she is well contented in the notion that whatever God deems to be the proper time, she will obey, but please pray that she not suffer and that the devil not make her feel any sorrow or shame in the fact that she is dying to us and gaining ever lasting life.

And a finally praryer request for my mother. I don't know what for, but I am sure she'll need it eventually.

Let me know if you need any prayers, I am always happy to oblige.

many new thing so little time to type.

This week is officially heck week. (In an attempt to make up for my past transgressions this week, wvery thing will be PG... good luck reading this entry with a straight face.) In an apparent atempt to kill myself (ok not so PC but I didn't know how else to say it and save it's artistic integrity...) I tried to make it through this weekend with approximatly 3.4 hours of sleep while trying for the world record of "most ridiculous out-of-character tasks acomplished in the world" Well, ok only one thing was all that out of character, and that was drinking too much apple juice saturday night and getting completly... full. Honestly, I have no clue what came over me. It got to the point where i couldn't stop the apple flow and I didn't care to. The sad part of this whole experience is that Everyone at the apple party I attended wanted me to get a sugar high, but when i did They all said how "obnoxious" and "inconsistent" I am. Another exaple of why I don't understand people. I CONSISTANTLY try to do what you (the reader, my friends, my mother ect...) want me to and you are persistently displeased with my actions and or reactions to you and life in general. (I know insert Blosom moment here about how I should be consistent to God, but thats why this weekend was so totally out of character for me.)

So, Before the apple incident, I went to a party my mother held for one of her close friends and schmoozed with the elitest of all baltimore celebridiom; Radio DJs. My mother parties are alwasy fun but this one was particularly cool because I don't live with her anymore so I didn't see the 72 hours frenzy she goes into of non stop cooking because heaven forbid the Hun army show up and we would be caught short of baked ziti, and because I think everyone there thought I was much older than i am, so i had so riviting conversations about Parenting, Working, and Umpa- Lumpas... Don't ask. There's out of character mess #2 right there: I actually LIKED being spoken to like i am 26. Most people do it just because they look at me and see a grown woman and then they are dissapointed when i act like an 18 year old, but these people were fairly pleased with my youthful quick wit and general 18ness while still being contented that i am a grown donkey woman. (figure that one out yourself.)

So after work friday night, Work Saturday morning, my mom's soiree, my friends apple party, three hours of sleep, church and special music, and of course ignoring Mr. And Mrs. AND the ridiculous jack-donkey who decided to ask ME (not the happy couple in question) "What's up with Miss. Woowoo and Mr. Future Millionaire, are they a thing?" I was a pretty ticked off and tired little puppy.

They i met the brunt of the most crazy baltimore traffic jam ever and finally made it home at 9 last night and have been sleeping soundly ever since.

Oh, Soundly that is, aside from my nightly visits from el Diablo. But thats a whole seperate blogger issue we will tackle together NEXT TIME ON SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL...

I told Mi.ss Locquacious that we might have a funeral to attend if i saw, heard or had any inkling of anything going on between Mr. Future Millionaire and his new chick. Then i nearly killed her in the church parking lot... WOOPSIES...

Seriously though, DEATH was not my intention, but it nearly insued when i confronted her about the whole "let's rub it in Super Footwear Girls Face" Phase that life has entered. In my defense, She nearly died laughing at one of my classic break-down-and-tell-a-joke moments... but nontheless...

I'll spare you the ridiculous details and put your fears to rest. Let's just say she lost her breath, but she found it and she's fine. Hurray for that, she lives to be my infamous archnemesis for another episode...

I suppose i should feel bad knowing that they both probably read this and talk about how awfully drab I'm being about the whole thing. I suppose I should not broadcast my life on the world wide web for all to read and think horibly of them, that is if they ever figure out who THEY are. Then again, let's consider the facts:

• I am Super footwear Girl, and undeniable icon of modern Super retail heroes, and therefore my story must be heard
• THEY are the bad guys who are trying to ruin my life
• THEY have eachother and I have (cricket, cricket) NO ONE (Because, in case you forgot, they;'re sabotaging my LIFE.)

Honestly, they can suck an elf. My sincere hope is that they read this and feel bad and maybe STOP SCREWING ME OVER. But I doubt that will happen. Maybe a fight to the death on top of a rainy building with only our cunning use of our gadgets and super human powers is the way to solve this dilemma. OR MAYBE THEY SHOULD STOP SUCKING.

I walked through the mall today to window shop and stopped at the pet store which usually perks up my poor mood. But no such luck today. I just ended up walking past a jewlery store which only made me feel poor and alone.

How did Holly Golightly survive with all those Rats and super rats?

Exciting mews everyone: I finally had a chance to stop thinking about the super duo of life ruining madenning "friends" this week and I actually had some fun in the process!

I get a call friday night (I think it was friday... maybe thursday.... anywho..) Here's the extended short and tall of things:

Me: "Hello?"
Mysterious Mr. "Hey, How've you been?"
"Fine... and Yourself?"
"Good..."
"So what's new?"
"Nothing much, I'm in town on leave and I found your number so I thought I would call you up and see how you were doing..."

At this point I am completly baffled. I ran through a very short list in my mind of who might call me while on leave and came up with one promising response and any number of other rather disapointing alternatives, including wrong number scenarios.

"Home on leave?... who is this?"
"Mr. Navy Dude, of course..."

My greatest expectations fulfilled, I spewed to his kind ear a great deal of excited exhlations of joy and surprise and after about five minutes of me going "I can't believe you're not butter," We agreed to spend the next 3 days together non-stop. But that fun ended and he is now back in Japan for another 6 months. :(

So begins the next great adventure in Super Footwear girls life:

The rest of this blog is to be entitled:
JUST ADD OCEAN.

That is just what I did. I gathered all my Czech anemones, packed them in my car and I was their Sea Queen for a day as we carted ourselves down and around Ocean City.

Miss. (Mrs.) Woo Woo works with a gorgeous foreign man at her lifeguarding job. The other day, Miss.Locquacious happened to be at their pool working a couple of extra hours and she got to talking with Mr. Czech and she decided to take him and his 4 Czech buddies to the Ocean for a day. But, how ever will 4 growing boys and Miss. Locquacious fit in one car on a three hour tour de Maryland??? Quel Domage, who will save them? But wait, look. It's a flip-flop, It's an Espedrill... NO IT'S (dun-dun-dun-dun) SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL TO THE RESCUE!

So two gorgeous foreign men piled into my car and we headed down to the Ocean, Hon' for some fun and sun. I swear to Mattel if they ever made a line of International Ken Dolls, the one from the good ol' C-Z of%2

Soon I will begin adding pictures to this ere blogspot wonder. But I fear that this new approach to life will severely affect the anonymity of my blog and there for alter it's entire intended purpose. An aside to this disinterested audience, when I was a chile I thought that the word p-u-r-p-o-s-e was, in fact the spelling of "porpoise." a sea mammal resembling a dolphin. But that is not the case.... It's weird how skewed your perception can become when you're the only one who is allowed to alter it. I might have gone on thinking all my life that direction and meaning were interchangeable with dolphin and whale had I never had an English class...

I'm not really sure what I might like to see tonight's post develop into, as I feel I have exhausted introspection and international reflection far too many times. But what does one conversate about if not the view of the world through the scope of one's own perspective?

I had felt nearly two weeks ago that my life as I knew it had caved in on me and I might suffocate under the rubble of my bruised hubris. But now I think that I have decided yet again that life is not over...

So maybe the gold wedding dress is back in the proverbial closet. Maybe the Buick to fit twelve and the white picket fence have been exchanged for Adidas running shoes and a headset loud enough to mute a sonic boom. And maybe that's not so bad. Maybe it's time I start being me and stop waiting for someone or something to be my defining characteristic. Maybe it's time I stop wanting to be a "Mrs." and start being a "Ms." Maybe I need to find a niche of my own that I might be quite content to person all alone or with someone should the right someone reveal himself.

Yea... Right after I make a tiny kingdom out of sea anemones from a bag labeled "SEA KING IN A DAY!! ALL YOU NEED FOR YOUR UNDERWATER ADVENTURES! JUST ADD OCEAN!"...

Who knows... Maybe one day Super Footwear girl will take off the mask....

After having some time off from my social life and getting some perspective from, of all places, national news stations, I have realized something.

None of this matters. I have been so blind and I have lost my focus so much in the past year that I am just now remembering what I was supposed to be doing. I am supposed to be in the Navy. I am supposed to be seeing the world. I am supposed to be defending my country. I am supposed to be serving my God.

Not whining, not deliberating, not doubting, not questioning. Just doing.

If, in 4 months, I am still in town, someone smack me and hand me a copy of Time.

P.S. The new happy twosom had a wonderful time on MY camping trip...

Dig me a whole and type me out a paper headstone.

I am exhausted. I am lonely. My life has been kidnapped.

This whole being an adult thing blows monkeys. All my friends suck, my money is gone and my life has shriveled down to housework and work work. In short, I am in need of a vacation. One where you change your name and never come back.

One good thing about this week has been Mr. Poupon. Mr. Poupon is a new mr and I think I and right in saying that he has a thing for me... even though he has a girlfriend...

So it's not such a good thing after all.

Horrible hair, extreme Tardiness, a blown tire, two spilled cups of coffee, two uncontrollable store alarms and one life altering argument later...

All of which add up to one brilliantly horrible day in the life of Super footwear girl.

I want to write about everything that has happened and every feeling I have had since Mr. Future millionaire told me that I am not the one, but for once I think I'd rather not ponder, discuss, thinkl about or reiterate it. It happened, it is, and I am the only one having a hard time dealing with it.

yup... ain't life grand?

Fine. Take it. You want it so badly it's yours, topped off with a silk ribbon.

QUICK! Call Scotland Yard, Alert the Navy, call Maury Povich, send up the Bat signal! I have been hijacked of my life by a blonde lifeguard and I don't know what to do!

Ok, so as usual it's not as bad as all that. But I do feel miserable. I do think Miss. Woo Woo is content with the fact that she has stolen my crown and demoted me to scullery maid in my own home...

You know whith friends that are willing to rip out from beneath you your one love, your friends and your hang out scene, who needs a wicked step-mother?

Screw it. If I am to live I must first find, divide and conquer some sweet REM cycles...

Deliberate. Yak. Gammer. Discuss. Conversate. Linguistate.

Ok so theat last one might not be a real word, but we all know the focus of todays SPEECH; The uses and abuses of the human tongue.

Use: Liking a lollipop
Abuse: Getting it stuck to a frozen light post (your tongue, not the lollipop)

Use: French Kissing
Abuse: Kissing the french prime minister on television on a double dare.

Use: Telling someone you love them
Abuse: Telling someone you love their best friend
OR
Telling someone they've "gotten worse."
OR
Yelling obscenities at your boyfriend in a crowdedtheatre when everyone is preparing to watch the best theatrical display EVER, Batman Begins.

A recap of this weeks "girl meets worls (and doesn't like it)"

Best friend A tells Best friend B that he's in love with Best friend C even though he's supposed to marry Best friend B. B cries a river runnin' while C says "it's a pity this has to happen know, you're so much crazier than you were 4 years ago..." Best friend B is preparing to be written out of the soap opera...

And scene....

I've listened to Matchbox20's You won't be mine 875 times. I have cried 96 tears and thought of 300 other torturous scenarios I would prefer to the present predicament i find myself in, including, but no limited to being stuck in a telephone booth for all eternity with my mother and when I finally clear my eyes and open my mind it is all still too true.

Mr. Future millionaire still want her more than me. My heart is still cut into seven peices and scattered around the Famous Footwear nation. I would still rather run away to Asia Minor than reconcile with my two closest friends.

They still think I am just "overreacting." They're impatient for me to "grow up" and "move on." By not throwing every shoe I own at them and screaming "WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME?" I am being as mat ure as I can fine the strength to be. By not digging a tunnel to Turkey, I am trying to move on. By not giving him the ultimatum of loving only me or forgetting i ever existed, I am being as rational as I can be expected to be FOR A WOMAN WHO JUST LOST EVRYTHING SHE EVER THOUGHT WAS REAL TO HER BEST FRIEND.

Even my mother isn't appalled by my behavior.

Being DEVESTAED is understandable. GRIEVING OVER THE LOSS OF MY 2 (only) FRIENDS IS OK.

I can't help but be in love with him.
He can't help liking her more.
She can't help being unaffected and callous.

What is the weather like in east germany this time of year?

True. Life doesn't get much more fun. UNTIL THAT IS YOU GET A WRITTEN CITATION FROM A STATE TROOPER FOR DRIVING 22 MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT.

What is to be done with me?

Someone wake me when the world isn't upside down and mars isn't in retrograde...

MORE TRUTH TIME with Little old me...

I am not really a superhero but Batman is.

Not that batman really has anything to do with the rest of this post, but I just saw Batman Begins with (SIGH) Christian Bale and Batman is my favorite superhero, so he was bound to be eluded to eventually...

I gave Mr.Future Millionaire and Ultimatum: Tell Miss.Woowoo or I will. (Dramatic aside to the audience; I had already told her not 2 minutes from the end of the phone call from mr.Future Millionaire...) He, against his own better judgments and will, told her. Then they both procceeded to chastise ME. ME! THE VICTIM... If there even is a victim when someone has feelings for another person...

He said it was between him and I, and that i shouldn't have dragged Miss. Woowoo into it.

She sid that no matter how DISTRAUGHT, DEVESTASTED, DESTITUTE, and DESPERATE I was that i should not have betrayed his confidence.

And I calmly and respectfully reapeated:

THE MAN I LOVE AND WANT TO MARRY HAS FEELING FOR SOMEONE ELSE AND I CAN DO NOTHING ABOUT IT.

NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR!!!

As far as I am concerned I am the 3rd party. I shouldn';t have been dragged into this. I shouldn't have been the sole barrer of this life-ruining, soul-crushing, hope-twarting secret.

I also think that this backstabbiong, out-of-proportion, saddistic, "et tu brute" CRAP shoiuld have been locked up nice and tight and burried within the confines of HIGH SCHOOL.

Another aside to the audience: I just talked to Miss.Woowoo and she posed the question:

"Do you feel at all uncomfortable hanging out with all of us?"

My best response, "I am heartbrokena nd that is going to take sometime to get over..."

(My INWARD RESPONSE "YOU F&^%ING IDIOT? WHAT THE F*&^ IS YOUR PROBLEM? OF COURSE I AM NOT OKAY, YOU LIFE STEALING SORRY WHENCH")

Her next Connie Chung moment: "What about seperately... 2 and 2?"

My best response, "You two can hang out I just don't want to hear about it."

My inward response was much more colorful and full of tears... so we'll save that for later..

A part of my wants to forget all about it and move on with my friends at my side.

The other half of my wants to run away to mexico and never look back. Still another part has a urge to go the way of my hopes on I-97...

Arrogance took human form this week in a one Mr.Fleck. (This is his real name so don't go calling every Fleck you know and asking them if they're jerks... on second thought...)

I was formally dis-invited to Mr. Flecks party Friday night because I "am in love with him and there were a great number of girls there in love with him as well and I might be want to start something..." (his words VERBATIM)

Allow me to fill you in, Mr. Fleck. You may be cute, but this bisch ain't fightin no girl for some stupid, arrogant SPECK that I just met and (hopefully) will never see again. .. Super Footwear girl has more important main plotline drama to worry about POUR EXAMPLE...

Tell me why I have a broken heart AGAIN? I swear if feelings could be insured, any collector would be proud of the tidy sum my life would grant him. Wanna know what happened this week? Well you can't you'll just have to buy the book...

Ok fine I'll tell you, but only because I have no one else to talk to. First some backstory for those of you who can't keep up.

Mr.Future millionaire is my latest Mr. Bunny, and things have been going pretty well. We've been friends for about 5 years now, since the moment we met, and we've been in and out of Love and War ever since. Just when I thought things were coming to a comfortable resting place for our back and forth, I get a phone call...

Him:"Hey whats up... small talk small talk small talk... "
Me:"Hey everything Yakka Yakka Yakka... You're not talking so I am going to let you get some sleep, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Well i have something to tell you but I don't want to start anything and I know you'll run your mouth..."

"Ok well, I won't tell anyone but it sounds like you're not ready to talk about it anyways and it's your business anyhow, so call me when you are ready and I'll be ready to listen..."

"But you're going to bug me about wanting to know and you'll be upset when I tell you but I have no one else to tell and WHINE WHINE WHINE I know you'll start something"

(To My self) "Start what? (DON'T BE GAY DON'T BE GAY DEAR GOD DON'T BE GAY)"

(To Him) "Well it's your business and thats coole, but if you need to talk I'm happy to listen-"

"I shouldn't have said anything because now you're going to drive me insane about not knowing and you're going to make me tell you.."

"... no I'm not-"

"FINE I'll tell you already. There I told you-"

"OH DEAR JESUS YOUR GAY!"

"No...I'm not..."

"Phew okay seriously then what is it?"

"I think I have feelings for Miss. Woowoo..."

Nothing prepared me for that. there it went. My sould climbed out of my ear, my heart dropped out of my butt and every hope I ever had was lying spread eagle on interstate 97. My response?

"I think this is a conversation for you and Miss. Woowoo. This is not my business. Please leave me alone in a padded room for all eternity and take the key and my bleeding, bruised, broken heart along with you...."

Well, ok, just the first two lines made it out.

Super Footwear girl has a special power aside from her mad footwear skills. That power is the power of intuition. It is the power of knowing who her very best friend in all the world has feelings for.

In short, I have no right to be surprised. I knew about it. I knew about his feeling and his secret smile for her and his hearts direction. It still broke my heart. I spent so much time knowing and trying to figure out false reasons that it couldn't be true, but i knew.

Now I am presented witha dilemma far beyond crying myself to sleep everynight. I am sworn to secrecy by Mr.Future Millionaire to keep this ridiculous news a secret. THE MAN I LOVE AND WANT TO MARRY TOLD ME HE HAS FEELINGS FOR SOMEONE ELSE AND I CAN'T BE ANGRY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT ALL BY MYSELF.

Life doesn't get much more fun than that.

People have the right to fly
And will when it gets compromised
Their hearts say "Move along"
Their minds say "Gotcha heart"
Let's move it along
Let's move it along

I am moving out of "the House." For those of you who know, smile and nod, for those of you in the dark, sorry about your luck.

Aside from the stress of yet again packing up all of my wordly possessions to move out of somewhere I never thought i would be into another house that represents not one of my dreams, I don't quite remember sleeping this week. I just keep going and doing and and being and I am exhausted. I just want one sweet dreamless night of sleep where I can drink up all the nothingness and be completely aloine and unstimulated in my own little world. But like the great and powerful traceria once said, "You mgiht as well deal with it, because it only just gets worse."

So much for that power nap, I'm off to do more packing and conoodling with Mr.Future Millionaire...

Hey! Stop that! I don't even have time to THINK about that let alone DO it...

I would like to provide you with an extended version of the past few days, provided I can remember everything accurately.

Thursday night was (thankfully) quite uneventful as far as the life and times of Super Footwear Girl. Aside from driving home in front of a tractor trailer that refused to turn on his headlights, all was well.

Friday is where the story lies. Friday was Mr. Future Millionaires surprise party, hosted by moi, of course. I got him the cutest cake and invited a whole slew of poeple that I was sure he hadn't seen in a while. We took sickeningly cute pictures and played uno and trivial pursuit and, much to everyones delight and my perplexion, Pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I did not however follow through on my promise to Hott Stuff of a Pinata, and everyone was kind of bummed about that (in case you were wondering, he was turning nineteen... hence my quizical state...)

All in all, I'm pretty proud of myself. I think this will have been a memorable moment for all involved.

Here's to another year....

As usual I wrote a really great post which I cannot remember last night about Mr. Future Millionaire and something else but I erased to with the swift click of my fingers. Honestly I think I aught to switch to a typewriter...

I am pooped right now and that is about as intellectually stimulating as I can be. I have stayed up WAY past my bed time every night this week and I am POOPED. Tonight was Mr. Future Millionaires surprise party. AS USUAL, things did not go as planned, but I think he was thouroughly surprised and excited. I nearly melted the cake (well, not nearly... a second longer and it would have been too far gone even to make smores.. and yeah, I said MELTED and I meant it...) The honoree was an hour later than expected and half the guest list disapeared out of our time space continum, but I think all in all everything was fun for all.

Thats all I have for you tonight/ this morning. Like I said... WAY PAST MY BED TIME.

i was going to come home as quickly as I could and then collapse on my unmade bed and sleep until the cows come home after the last two days have been the worst thing EVER. Then I decided to take 695 home instead of 895 because I am the BIGGEST IDIOT IN THE WORLD.

I thought, "Hey, it's late, the only people taking 695 at this hour are truckers, and they know how to drive so i can hide from the cops, floor it, and make it home in time for a camomile tea and some PJs before I hit the bed, sleepy face first..."

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. SO WRONG. WRONGER THAN WOOL COATS AROUNG LAMBCHOP. WRONGER THAN "NEWLYWEDS: THE LIFE AND TIME OF JESSICA AND NICK." WRONGER THAN HIGH HEELS ON THE BEACH.

2 and a half hours later, I walked in, well deserved slurpee in hand and I sat down to blog.

Well, not really. i sat down and instinctually checked my computer for any messages or new goings-ons, and found this message waiting from Miss.Loquacious:

you should write a book and try to get it published. and i am so serious about that. your blog cracks me up while wondering the whole time what is gonna happen next, lol, even though it is your real life. you would be a millionaire. lol, and if not, at least i would buy a copy

A big thank you to all my fans, but I have to say, I don't think I could write a book. I'm not capable of making this stuff up. FOR INSTANCE...

TODAYS ADVENTURE OF "SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL"

"See you later, super footwear girl, I'm heading out"

"Bye district manager guy who tries to ruin my life every chance he gets. It was nice to see you as always..." (BIG FAKE SMILE ON MY FACE WITH A BLINKING SIGN OVER MY HEAD READING "LIAR")

Suddenly, Super footwear girl feels a tickle in her throat! How will she remedy her latest ailment? A Drink, she thinks, a drink will do just fine. And she has one, in the back office... So, super footwear girl traverses the long and arduous journey all the way to the back of the store, careful to not exhaust herself in the process. She reaches the back door, walks through the porthole, attempts to walk inot the office and SMACK! CRASH! SHE HITS HER NOSE ON THE COLD, FLAT, CLOSED OFFICE DOOR. Silly district manager man, he shut the office. No problem, I'll just turn the handle and---AHHHH! OH NO!! THE DOOR IS HOPELESSLY LOCKED!! AND YOU'RE UTILITY BELT (purse with the keys to the store) IS IN THERE! A key in the safe... There must be a key in the safe... BUT NO, THWARTED AGAIN BY FATE, SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL. HOW WILL YOU SAFE YOURSELF NOW?

I ended up spending an hour dragging a ladder bigger than my house out of the stock room, popping out and breaking 3 ceiling tiles, and using the autopole adjuster to James Bond my way into the back office. Needless to say, the last two days have afforded super footwear girl more trouble than an entire season's worth of kiddie super hero shows. And on top of it all, the drive home are just the icing on a tradgically horrible cake o'life right now.

But Mr. Future Millionaire makes it all ok with the little things sometimes. He told me last night to call him today and I didn't get to before he could reach me. 2:300 and 3 o'clock saw him calling and the 4 o'clock hour was strictly phone tag. Finally, he leaves a message that sounds a little like this:

"Hey, I think you got kidnapped... Cause the last number was not the work number I know and I keep trying to call you and you keep not answering. If you have been kidnapped, don't worry... it's ok. Just call me back and hang up when you get a chance and I'll get someone on that... I mean, I'm probably not going to go to it right away, I'll probably be to busy for the next like two days... But I will send someone to find you, I promise. So just call back and hang up... yeah..."

Gold. Memoirs Gold right there people...

Thats why he's going to be a millionaire...

I started working at a new store today and I am officially a "commuter," which, lemme tell you, sucks. It sucks even more when there is a ridiculous lightening/thunder/rain storm that rumbles up out of nowhere and pounds every inch of road way from her to egypt.

When my mall started having black outs and my windows were shaking with thunderclaps, I started theorizing the buiilding of an arc out of cardboard shoe boxes and Famous Footwear tape. Then I realized that Noah started building a lifetime before the rains actually hit and I would have no chance in a blue hell to make it out alive... At that point, I climbed into my car/river named (insert one of my cars many names here) and hydroplaned my way out of Bowie and Northward... oh yes, INTO the storm...

A funnier weather occurance though I think was the emmsene amount of fog that blanketed the land this morning at 7:30. I set my alarm early, thinking I could have time to prepare You-Know-what for You-Know-Who (laughable, I know, seeing as I stayed up until 12 last night with You-Know-Who, not preparing You-Know-What and loving every minute...) I left Mr. Future Millionaire a text message this morning telling him to be careful and good luck on his new promotion :) :) :) Then I called him tonight to see how it went but or conversation went something like this:

INTENSE POUNDING RAIN IN THE BACKGROUND
"HEY, HOW WAS YOU'RE DAY?"
"Fine yours?"
"FINE... I JUST WANTED TO SEE WHAT YOUR NEW JOB WAS LIKE"
" I can't talk about it, but it was fine"
(can't talk about it because he's going to be a millionaire and he's in millionaire training...)
"Well, ok I was just calling to say hi I guess"
"Ok, well call me tomorrow and maybe I can tell you more... be careful coming home..."
"I will"

Nothing big. But nothing little either.

I just like recording everything. It'll be great for our kids to read :)

Wow.

I don't know how to describe what i am feeling. I am content and anxious all at the same time. I am free and chained to something/someone/some idea. I am unyeilding yet sofly giving in. I am a mass of enigmatic matter, raveled in and around myself.

I am in love.

Maybe not. But I surely wouldn't be surprised. No, I really don't know what this is. If it is love I can admit that I know nothing of love nor life and I must recant all that I stand for and humble myself to my barest resemblance.

It was Mr. Future Millionaire's birthday yesterday and we went to see and movie (we being him, myself and Miss.Woowoo) and then we went to a late night denny's hit up for a birthday sundae and a turkey sandwich. I gave him a funny card, we took cute photos together, the kind that only best friends take at one in the morning in the middle of their court when they can't think of anything better to do, and we had some moments in the car, just him and I. NO, not those kind of moments... just talking moments. Moments where we thought, in depth, about the fact that we have been friends for 5 years now. Moments of encouragement as friends where we all but said "I love you and I stand by any decision you should choose to make because I know you'll succeed"

Now I am having (twice as many) dreams about him. Dreams about him and I, married with twins that look just like him and a dog the looks like like his and a picket fence. But they're just dreams and that's ok... Or maybe it's the worst thing in the world because I have no idea what i am feeling. And I have no idea what to tell him. Is it ok for me to tell him I love him? Do I love him? Is it proper for me to tell him that I want to be with him even after all I have put him through?

Last night he called me princess. In a joking way ("What would you like to listen to on MY radio, PRINCESS?") But when i said, "I am so glad I am a princess..." He didn't object. And it wasn't mean or patronizing, it was nearly natural that he should call me princess and then do exactly what I ask... This is where I get so confused... because of the little things. The driving when I ask him to drive and just because I ask him to. The adjusting of the temperature because I'm cooler than I'd like to be. The flowers when he's mad at himself for making me slightly annoyed. The smile I get when I smile at him. The softness when I answer his phone calls. The candid conversations about life and money and future and love.

I guess I am resovled in thinking that he just wants a good friend... Someone to hang out with and talk to whenever.... That's natural, Right?

But it just feels so... so small, compared to what I see just beyond all this small talk and the casual outtings. The desire that I have to be with him is growing in the most unusual way. I want to see how he turns out in 20 years. I want to see what business he has, what his kids look like, what car he drives, what jeans he likes... I want to see the next 20 , 30, 70 years with him as my best friend. My date to every wedding, my partner in crime, my "I know everything about you" person, My other half while still being wholly me...

It feels like I have come home and like I am on the biggest adveture of my life all in one.

Wow.

Fathers be good to your daughters daughters will love like you do...

I was thinking today of changing my blogging format. You know, mixing it up a bit. I was going to have one of those "What I am listening to" tag lines and a blog that is filled with poigniant social commentary such as the importance of Pop 40 radio in north eastern America and the pop culture movement that is Lindsay Lohan. But then I re-thought. I think the world has enough useless people talking baout enough other useless people and I think it is safe for me to remain in my annonomity and free-thought filled, self centered blogging genre. Sorry if all that "what-ifing" was a tease for you few and faithful... Guess you'll have to give in and buy an US weekly.

i wonder sometimes if the peole who I write about A) KNow their names in this format and B) care. Mr. Hampster, do you hate the way I tell the world about your evil doings? Mr. Future Millionaire, do you not like me as much as I like you and do you hate me referring to you so frequently and with unwaivering devotion? Miss. Woowoo, do you hate that name? Well I know that last one's not true, because you made it up... But at any rate, the things I think about when I think about Blogging in general...

Maybe I should let my days play out before I try writing a blog entry, but in any case here's the rest from yesterday...

Mr. Future Millionaire called me at five oclock but I was at my mom's and left me a pathetic, whiny, desperate message, wanting to see me. I called him back at like seven and left a message. He calls me back (our usual game of phone tag) and wants to know hwat I, Hott Stuff Baby and Miss.Woo woo are doing for the night.

I don't know why?

"Well you call Miss. Woo woo and I'll call Hott Stuff and you find out what we're doing tonight..."

Ok fine... So Woowoo worked until 8 and wasn't prepared to hang out until 9:30. When I told Millionaire about this he was fine with it but he said that he would call me at 9;20 to make sure that I called Woowoo in time. I resigned to take a nap (All these late nights and excitement are killing me...) and who calls and wakes me up a half an hour early? Of course, I can't be normal and just ignore his call I have to answer and see what he wants and invite him to come over and hang out until I hear from Woowoo... Which meant that I had to clean my room, doo my hair, change my outfit 8 times, feel how warm it was outside, make sure my room smelled good, Make sure I smelled good... The list seemed endless and I had approximatly 28 and a half minutes to do all of this before he showed up on my doorstep... But he came and we went and it was fun (I a never again playing Maonopoly with a future millionaire...) And we left Woo woo's house at, oh yes, one am in the friggin morning. Truthfully I was too tired to drive and soooo thankful that the deal involved his driving us around, but just as I htought that and reclined my chair to sleep on the car ride home he turns to me, yawns and says "I'm too tired to drive you home, why don't you just come and spend the night?"

...

While that was a genius idea at the moment, I knew "ca va mal finir" So I just told him "no thanks, I don't think your mom would like too much to come down her stairs at 8 in the morning and find me sleeping on her designer couch..." And he just answered, "You know that's not true... if you slept on the couch my mom would probably yell at me for not offering you Aaron's room..." While this is completly true in the tired puppy loving man's mind, in actual practice I can bet things would have played out much differently had Mr.Future MIllionaires mom discovered me on her designer couch sleeping at eight in the morning. I suppose it would have gone somehting like this:

"WHAT IN THE -PROFANITY PROFANITY- IS GOING ON HERE!? WEEZY GET YOUR SORRY -PROFANE- OFF OF MY -PROFANITY- COUCH AND GET THE -PROFANE- OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU -PROFANITY, FEMALE DOG PROFANITY- RIGHT NOW!! AND TAKE YOUR -PROFANITY- GLASSES WITH YOU!!!"

The above is a specified general reaction of any mom to any over night girlfriend stay of which they are uninformed.

TRUST ME.

Then I would have been stranded at Mr. MIllionaires house in the middle of Bum Essex with no way home and undoubtably broken glasses.

Thank goodness I can think on my tired toes. No matter how much I might have liked to accept his offer...