Lo, and the Gates of Hell opened and out spewth the man who quoteth the Lordeth on Lola's blog.
From strength to strength, Lola's fingers climbeth to the heights of Haloscan!
And from the depths, the angel of Haloscan harketh, "Cast out ye boring, bad, evil, and dumbass! For those who seek to rudely interjecteth their ignorant comments shall not be welcomed in the House of Lola! For it is not from the Lordeth that these evil-doers come. No, nay, nien, non, nyet. For it is frometh the Lordeth's lame brother Billy whence the idiot cometh. Thus, cast out this fly in the ointment and go on with yo' bad self, girl."
Lola asked of the angel "But how to rid these lands of this plague? For the dumb ass spews swarms of gnats and flies, devouring all fun and respect with the locusts from his ass."
The angel spoke unto Lola and said "Blogger comment moderation." For the angel knew that it was the Lordeth and Billy who mock the idiot commenter, and scourge him, and spit upon him from their barstools at Stonewall (on 53 Christopher Street, NYC, between West 4th and Waverly, near Gay Street).
Lola was humbled by the angel and took the angel's words as a commandment and she left tokens and gifts and not of the distasteful kind with which the Three Kings welcomed a baby in a barn one timeth.
And all the world sighed for this would be the new day! For what the Lordeth has joined together let no man teareth apart. For Lola and her blog will live freely and with the children who read the blog and up on the hills with the sheep and the sexy hot shepherds and totally fine maidens and there shall be no gratuitous or retarded comments echoed to disturb their fair frolics in the gardens of salacious Satan.
Get behind me Satan! And we shall starteth the Bunny Hop of Joy!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
White walls
I've been recluse for basically 3 weeks now. It's paper month. I have 3 papers due on Monday. I have ups and downs. I hear the rain on the rooftop, I'm happy. I have a good meeting with a multinational VP, I'm depressed. There is no rhyme or reason.
Since Charlie Brown's Christmas song came on the internet back in early December I haven't felt the same. Adam left. The holidays were fine enough. School is back up and it's all different. We have a new building. I'm lacking luster. The gym gives me 30 minutes of a high when I'm active, and then an hour more of wariness and weakness in trying to battle for machines. The men are annoying. The women are weird. I'm entirely sick of the Parisian self-absorption, or as some sociologists call it "individualism." I spent several hours with the filmmaker trying on slutty outfits and dancing in front of a green screen for a film he's doing and then we had an unastonishing fuck. I hate writing the papers I'm writing. I suck. I feel self-defeated and crappy, despite the return of my awesomeness laptop and the return to freedom. I read 3 books in 3 weeks: Bonk, The General in His Labyrinth, and The Sun Also Rises. All gifts given over the past year and all wonderful for different reasons. I'm procrastinating the last 3 papers, career searches, dating. I don't want to see XYZ boy because his cock is too thin, PDQ boy because his breath is bad and he only wants to fuck hard, PYT boy because I spend so much effort to get over there and don't get enough back, BBQ boy because his cock is too long, UFO boy because he knows I'm a faker. In a breath of air, I had fantasies built up and they never got a chance to be spoken. It deflated me and and made me question my physical beauty. I was thrilled about the inauguration, but I had such longing to be in DC with so many of my friends. I watched an hour of the Obamas as they watched the parade and I felt badly for them and for my voyeurism. I feel weak, low, tired, and my eyelids have become dams to oceans of tears I can't seem to let out. I'm sure it's seasonal. I'm sure it's fears. I'm sure it's the unknown of the future. I'm sure I have the confidence, courage, beauty, talent, ability for the next part of the journey... I just don't know where those are hiding right now.
Shit sucks, man.
Since Charlie Brown's Christmas song came on the internet back in early December I haven't felt the same. Adam left. The holidays were fine enough. School is back up and it's all different. We have a new building. I'm lacking luster. The gym gives me 30 minutes of a high when I'm active, and then an hour more of wariness and weakness in trying to battle for machines. The men are annoying. The women are weird. I'm entirely sick of the Parisian self-absorption, or as some sociologists call it "individualism." I spent several hours with the filmmaker trying on slutty outfits and dancing in front of a green screen for a film he's doing and then we had an unastonishing fuck. I hate writing the papers I'm writing. I suck. I feel self-defeated and crappy, despite the return of my awesomeness laptop and the return to freedom. I read 3 books in 3 weeks: Bonk, The General in His Labyrinth, and The Sun Also Rises. All gifts given over the past year and all wonderful for different reasons. I'm procrastinating the last 3 papers, career searches, dating. I don't want to see XYZ boy because his cock is too thin, PDQ boy because his breath is bad and he only wants to fuck hard, PYT boy because I spend so much effort to get over there and don't get enough back, BBQ boy because his cock is too long, UFO boy because he knows I'm a faker. In a breath of air, I had fantasies built up and they never got a chance to be spoken. It deflated me and and made me question my physical beauty. I was thrilled about the inauguration, but I had such longing to be in DC with so many of my friends. I watched an hour of the Obamas as they watched the parade and I felt badly for them and for my voyeurism. I feel weak, low, tired, and my eyelids have become dams to oceans of tears I can't seem to let out. I'm sure it's seasonal. I'm sure it's fears. I'm sure it's the unknown of the future. I'm sure I have the confidence, courage, beauty, talent, ability for the next part of the journey... I just don't know where those are hiding right now.
Shit sucks, man.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
A damn fine year
Well, instead of a nice long walk on Tuesday, I got out of bed at 14h30 and decided I couldn't take it any longer. I had been sloth and fat and pizza belly for too long. Flew to the gym down the hill near the Opera. I'd toured it last year in hopes that they'd cut me a student deal (they're ageist in France so students are only up to age 27). No deal, not enough money, and really had no time to breathe last year let alone work-out. But this school year being different, more lazy, more time, I decided fuck it. I gave her my credit card, asked for the 3 months version with towel included, changed, and asked for a tour.
In Paris, the customer is almost never right. So, the guy giving me the tour was definitely not friendly or happy about it. What did I want to do, he asked. Well, cardio-- He cut me off, pointed to the machines in front of us, and said there it is. And, I wanted to do muscles (weights). Ohhh, so he started to take me upstairs to see the weight room. But, I didn't quite remember the layout so I asked for a full tour (damnit).
If you read the CDOA blog since its inception, you'll know how terrified I am by the gym. If you go to a gym, you might understand how humiliated I feel in there. If you're James (who trained me while we dated), then you'll laugh and kick up dirt, wishing you could have been there to see me suffer.
The cardio spinner machine was familiar, although in French, so it wasn't so traumatizing. But the muscles room. UGH. Some of the machines are near the cardio stuff so it wasn't such a hard transition. But I'd already envisioned what I wanted to do to ease myself into it, and all the arms machines were occupied. So, I had to open my voice in funny French and ask if I could work in with this dude. Completely embarrassing because, well you don't start back at the gym after a year+ off by kicking right into the weight you used to lift. So, instead, I'm all lifting just the plain ol' bar with no weight. Yeah, less than a baby weight, like, a no weight weight. Ugh.
Some dudes worked in with me on another machine, both grunting and spastically lifting way too much weight for their own good and doing it too fast, too. (James always coached me to work slowly, get the tiny little muscles deep inside. What was it you said, J? Something about you want to be able to pick up your frail grandma without dropping her, not just bale hay out in the field.) When I stepped up to work in, this one dude (not bad looking, but "cocky-maestro" written all over his face) pulled the pin out and put it into the 5lbs spot, and then winked at me. Ok, sure, it was a nice gesture, but it was also a "Here you go, lil' Missy" gesture. I wanted to sock him in his chiseled jaw. Instead, I subtly squinted my eyes and barely - but noticeably - raised my upper lip in disgust. Some day I'll grow up and be able to punch him in the belly.
After the arm torture, I went upstairs to a bit of chest humiliation. It's not my fault I have tits. Really. They came with the body. So, if you wouldn't mind to stop staring, that'd be just dandy. Did a few chest presses and free weight liftings in the surrounding air of the girl who ruined boys' club.
After, the usual sit-ups and stretches.
Despite the pain of nakedness in the changing room, glaring stares, dirty winks, and general feeling of crapiness, I came out of there flying on a kite. I'm quitting smoking and this is the best way possible. My heart rate on the cardio was too high for something so not challenging, and it took too long to rest. ... I almost kissed everyone I passed on the way home.
Colleague was supposed to come over for martinis and studying. She bailed so I stuck with the martinis. The Italian flew back from Roma and invited me over. While I have a good time with him, it's not entirely fulfilling, and he's got bad breath. I know, it's so petty, but dude, it's bad bad. I've taken to carrying a travel toothbrush with me when I go on over-nights, and have subtly been trying to encourage him to brush-a brush-a brush-a before we pass out and in the morning. He is good for the fact that he play ties me up in a way that is safe but also arousing. And, then he bangs the hell out of me. This time, he also gave me lovely Xmas presents. I'd asked for a rosary from Rome and I got a nice wooden one. He also got me a 2-cup Bialetti Moka Express to match my bigger pot. Very sweet.
The 31st I left my apartment late and realized I was was one of several thousand who were doing last minute NYE shopping. But I found a tie, bought 30E worth of fruit, bought the champagne, and whipped a wonderful fruit salad together with a yummy homemade dressing, got dressed as much as I could in drag for a 1920's-themed party, and got my butt out of the neighborhood.
Party was good. James called to say very nice things to me at midnight. Cheek-kisses all around. Smoked a cigar over the courtyard with 2 very handsome and very taken boys. Ate a ton. Drank whiskey from my flask. Took a lot of photos. Drank champagne. Got drunk. Made a boy 10 years my junior kiss me (so dirty). Realized that I'd not been kissing enough lately, because my mouth went on aggressive (the Italian is a big-mouthed, overpowering kisser) and I realized that the young man was on slow, smooth, sweet, supple kissing mode. I slowed down and sighed. Man, I've missed romantic kisses. He avoided me for the rest of the night, which was about 30 minutes anyway, as I passed out in the spare bedroom.
Jan 1st was swell. The hosts, another cool expat, and I went to a local cafe for coffee. Nibbled a bit on the leftovers. Cleaned. And, I took the metro home. I was definitely still intoxicated on booze, life, beauty, fun, good friends; and the metro ride between Jaures and Barbes, when it goes elevated-style, was so beautiful in its grey Paris haze. And all the people were beautiful. And everyone had a special inner shine coming out just for today. And I wanted everyone to have the best year of their lives.
I've basically done nothing for the past 3 days. I went back to the gym, and it, of course, gets easier. I've also been (over)working on 1 of the 5 papers due this month. And, then, peculiarly enough, I've been writing back and forth with this guy who lives in Lyon and has been reading my blog and Tumblr. Yes, it's a bit strange. I mean, it's only been writing, but you all know how powerful words can be. And, then, it's odd because he reads the blog and I haven't had this kind of intersection very often. Sure, W and Sarah read it and I see them in real life, but they also lead semi-public lives through their own blogs and they're also known freaks, like me. But anyway, it's been a very welcome distraction between this paper-writing bullshit.
Right. So. Joined a gym, made a new friend, talked to old friends, eating better, wore pants and a sock cock, and watched the beautiful winter sun shine rainbows around my room. Now all I need is a really great lay and the year will be off to a damn fine start.
Hope you have all had wonderful NYE and enjoying 2009!
In Paris, the customer is almost never right. So, the guy giving me the tour was definitely not friendly or happy about it. What did I want to do, he asked. Well, cardio-- He cut me off, pointed to the machines in front of us, and said there it is. And, I wanted to do muscles (weights). Ohhh, so he started to take me upstairs to see the weight room. But, I didn't quite remember the layout so I asked for a full tour (damnit).
If you read the CDOA blog since its inception, you'll know how terrified I am by the gym. If you go to a gym, you might understand how humiliated I feel in there. If you're James (who trained me while we dated), then you'll laugh and kick up dirt, wishing you could have been there to see me suffer.
The cardio spinner machine was familiar, although in French, so it wasn't so traumatizing. But the muscles room. UGH. Some of the machines are near the cardio stuff so it wasn't such a hard transition. But I'd already envisioned what I wanted to do to ease myself into it, and all the arms machines were occupied. So, I had to open my voice in funny French and ask if I could work in with this dude. Completely embarrassing because, well you don't start back at the gym after a year+ off by kicking right into the weight you used to lift. So, instead, I'm all lifting just the plain ol' bar with no weight. Yeah, less than a baby weight, like, a no weight weight. Ugh.
Some dudes worked in with me on another machine, both grunting and spastically lifting way too much weight for their own good and doing it too fast, too. (James always coached me to work slowly, get the tiny little muscles deep inside. What was it you said, J? Something about you want to be able to pick up your frail grandma without dropping her, not just bale hay out in the field.) When I stepped up to work in, this one dude (not bad looking, but "cocky-maestro" written all over his face) pulled the pin out and put it into the 5lbs spot, and then winked at me. Ok, sure, it was a nice gesture, but it was also a "Here you go, lil' Missy" gesture. I wanted to sock him in his chiseled jaw. Instead, I subtly squinted my eyes and barely - but noticeably - raised my upper lip in disgust. Some day I'll grow up and be able to punch him in the belly.
After the arm torture, I went upstairs to a bit of chest humiliation. It's not my fault I have tits. Really. They came with the body. So, if you wouldn't mind to stop staring, that'd be just dandy. Did a few chest presses and free weight liftings in the surrounding air of the girl who ruined boys' club.
After, the usual sit-ups and stretches.
Despite the pain of nakedness in the changing room, glaring stares, dirty winks, and general feeling of crapiness, I came out of there flying on a kite. I'm quitting smoking and this is the best way possible. My heart rate on the cardio was too high for something so not challenging, and it took too long to rest. ... I almost kissed everyone I passed on the way home.
Colleague was supposed to come over for martinis and studying. She bailed so I stuck with the martinis. The Italian flew back from Roma and invited me over. While I have a good time with him, it's not entirely fulfilling, and he's got bad breath. I know, it's so petty, but dude, it's bad bad. I've taken to carrying a travel toothbrush with me when I go on over-nights, and have subtly been trying to encourage him to brush-a brush-a brush-a before we pass out and in the morning. He is good for the fact that he play ties me up in a way that is safe but also arousing. And, then he bangs the hell out of me. This time, he also gave me lovely Xmas presents. I'd asked for a rosary from Rome and I got a nice wooden one. He also got me a 2-cup Bialetti Moka Express to match my bigger pot. Very sweet.
The 31st I left my apartment late and realized I was was one of several thousand who were doing last minute NYE shopping. But I found a tie, bought 30E worth of fruit, bought the champagne, and whipped a wonderful fruit salad together with a yummy homemade dressing, got dressed as much as I could in drag for a 1920's-themed party, and got my butt out of the neighborhood.
Party was good. James called to say very nice things to me at midnight. Cheek-kisses all around. Smoked a cigar over the courtyard with 2 very handsome and very taken boys. Ate a ton. Drank whiskey from my flask. Took a lot of photos. Drank champagne. Got drunk. Made a boy 10 years my junior kiss me (so dirty). Realized that I'd not been kissing enough lately, because my mouth went on aggressive (the Italian is a big-mouthed, overpowering kisser) and I realized that the young man was on slow, smooth, sweet, supple kissing mode. I slowed down and sighed. Man, I've missed romantic kisses. He avoided me for the rest of the night, which was about 30 minutes anyway, as I passed out in the spare bedroom.
Jan 1st was swell. The hosts, another cool expat, and I went to a local cafe for coffee. Nibbled a bit on the leftovers. Cleaned. And, I took the metro home. I was definitely still intoxicated on booze, life, beauty, fun, good friends; and the metro ride between Jaures and Barbes, when it goes elevated-style, was so beautiful in its grey Paris haze. And all the people were beautiful. And everyone had a special inner shine coming out just for today. And I wanted everyone to have the best year of their lives.
I've basically done nothing for the past 3 days. I went back to the gym, and it, of course, gets easier. I've also been (over)working on 1 of the 5 papers due this month. And, then, peculiarly enough, I've been writing back and forth with this guy who lives in Lyon and has been reading my blog and Tumblr. Yes, it's a bit strange. I mean, it's only been writing, but you all know how powerful words can be. And, then, it's odd because he reads the blog and I haven't had this kind of intersection very often. Sure, W and Sarah read it and I see them in real life, but they also lead semi-public lives through their own blogs and they're also known freaks, like me. But anyway, it's been a very welcome distraction between this paper-writing bullshit.
Right. So. Joined a gym, made a new friend, talked to old friends, eating better, wore pants and a sock cock, and watched the beautiful winter sun shine rainbows around my room. Now all I need is a really great lay and the year will be off to a damn fine start.
Hope you have all had wonderful NYE and enjoying 2009!
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