Finally, some good news.
I got to talk to my husband twice in the last two days. It was great.
He asked me, "Do you want to know my return date?" You see, dates change so much that he wondered if I even wanted to get my hopes up.
But I'm a big girl who can handle disappointment and who likes to know everything about everything.
He should be home on December 30.
Yay!
I mean, I'll believe it when I see him, but still...
Yay!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Dramatic Whispers and Me as Judas
I absolutely hate it when people whisper the word gay, like it is a swear or a secret.
A couple of years ago when I was shocked into stunned silence when a "friend" (and I use the quotes sarcastically) said that she walked out of Rent because of the "gay agenda" (more sarcastic quotes), that I would better prepare myself with comebacks in the future.
But I have since failed at least three times.
Last night it was at my son's soccer practice. My son is the only kid on the team from a different school and the parents are trying really hard to reach out to us and be friendly. But one mom who I've sort of known for a few years well telling a story about how she had to have the *dramatic whisper* gay talk with her third grader because of something they saw on television.
I wasn't really part of the conversation and the other parents just sort of said, "Oh," and asked, "Did he understand?" So I guess I really had nothing to take offense to.
Except for that dramatic whisper! I hate that! Because we all know what she's really saying.
I wanted to tell her about my kids. I wanted to tell her about how I had the *dramatic whisper* gay talk with my daughter when she was five. And how I stupidly stressed about it. But to my daughter it was no big deal at all. She had questions and I gave her answers. She had questions for Uncle Patrick, and he gave her answers.
By the way, she mostly wants to know why he's single. I think she wants to play matchmaker.
And I wanted to tell about how my son doesn't even need the talk because he's grown up with gay family. I've overheard my kids talking to each other about girls and boys and my son lectured my daughter about how men could love men too. To him, gay and straight are just facts of life.
I wanted to tell her that I actually am more bothered by people who think they are tolerant, yet really are completely prejudiced against *dramatic whisper* gay people. It is the permeating homophobia disguised as hip, modern day understanding that really does the most damage because it still allows everyday, average people to think in terms of normal versus abnormal.
Yet, I didn't say a word.
I am so frustrated with myself. How hard would it have been to say, "Oh, my best friend is gay so my kids have understood for a long time." Or something like that? Anything at all?
I have an eight-year-old daughter who has decided that she doesn't want to support any company that doesn't support gay people, yet I can't say the word gay in front of a group of soccer moms?
I resolve again to handle these situations better in the future. It's easy to be supportive surrounded by the love and comfort of gay friends in a gay-friendly community. It is another thing entirely to stand up for what I believe in this world of Southern Crosses and rebel flags.
I will do better.
A couple of years ago when I was shocked into stunned silence when a "friend" (and I use the quotes sarcastically) said that she walked out of Rent because of the "gay agenda" (more sarcastic quotes), that I would better prepare myself with comebacks in the future.
But I have since failed at least three times.
Last night it was at my son's soccer practice. My son is the only kid on the team from a different school and the parents are trying really hard to reach out to us and be friendly. But one mom who I've sort of known for a few years well telling a story about how she had to have the *dramatic whisper* gay talk with her third grader because of something they saw on television.
I wasn't really part of the conversation and the other parents just sort of said, "Oh," and asked, "Did he understand?" So I guess I really had nothing to take offense to.
Except for that dramatic whisper! I hate that! Because we all know what she's really saying.
I wanted to tell her about my kids. I wanted to tell her about how I had the *dramatic whisper* gay talk with my daughter when she was five. And how I stupidly stressed about it. But to my daughter it was no big deal at all. She had questions and I gave her answers. She had questions for Uncle Patrick, and he gave her answers.
By the way, she mostly wants to know why he's single. I think she wants to play matchmaker.
And I wanted to tell about how my son doesn't even need the talk because he's grown up with gay family. I've overheard my kids talking to each other about girls and boys and my son lectured my daughter about how men could love men too. To him, gay and straight are just facts of life.
I wanted to tell her that I actually am more bothered by people who think they are tolerant, yet really are completely prejudiced against *dramatic whisper* gay people. It is the permeating homophobia disguised as hip, modern day understanding that really does the most damage because it still allows everyday, average people to think in terms of normal versus abnormal.
Yet, I didn't say a word.
I am so frustrated with myself. How hard would it have been to say, "Oh, my best friend is gay so my kids have understood for a long time." Or something like that? Anything at all?
I have an eight-year-old daughter who has decided that she doesn't want to support any company that doesn't support gay people, yet I can't say the word gay in front of a group of soccer moms?
I resolve again to handle these situations better in the future. It's easy to be supportive surrounded by the love and comfort of gay friends in a gay-friendly community. It is another thing entirely to stand up for what I believe in this world of Southern Crosses and rebel flags.
I will do better.
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Wall
I have to admit that I've been seeing it coming for a while now. It's been out there, just beyond my sight, taunting me.
And today I hit it. I hit the wall.
I hit it nose first with a full-on, resounding smack.
It's funny because just this weekend I mentioned to my friends that the longer my husband has been deployed, the more easily annoyed I have become. I was ready to crack heads because the soccer team that had the field before us wouldn't move off of it for their post-game meeting.
Hello? There are other people in the world besides you!
But it is fairly normal for me to be annoyed by discourteous people. The wall I hit today was not normal.
I am over it. I am done. I am sick of being a single parent. I am done with my husband working a dangerous job. I am finished with being alone. I need a break.
Today, I went up to the kids' school to help with a room mother's project in the morning. It was supposed to take us an hour to tear enough fabric strips to make 20 pioneer rag dolls. But only two other moms showed up and I spent the entire day at school. By the time I got the kids home, I was done with this day.
Instead of jumping right into violin practice with my son, I cuddled up next to him on my bed to watch cartoons. And I was out like a light. I was gone to the world until the kids woke me up at 6 to help them make the pizza I had stupidly told them we'd bake for dinner. If ever there was a night for PB&J, it was tonight.
I'm just so tired. Tired of being alone, tired of making a thousand little decisions every day, tired of people asking me when my husband is coming home, tired of being depended upon, tired of missing my husband, tired of answering questions and tired of getting up so early every morning.
While I was sleeping this afternoon, I had a dream that my husband came home for a one day visit. And I was too busy writing a story about the local high school football team to spend any time with him.
This is the real face of deployment for a spouse, I think. It's keeping it together for months, losing it for an afternoon, and picking up all the pieces again by dinner time.
Tonight I'm sending the kids off to bed and turning in early. Hopefully I'll have extricated myself from this wall before I wake up to face another day.
And today I hit it. I hit the wall.
I hit it nose first with a full-on, resounding smack.
It's funny because just this weekend I mentioned to my friends that the longer my husband has been deployed, the more easily annoyed I have become. I was ready to crack heads because the soccer team that had the field before us wouldn't move off of it for their post-game meeting.
Hello? There are other people in the world besides you!
But it is fairly normal for me to be annoyed by discourteous people. The wall I hit today was not normal.
I am over it. I am done. I am sick of being a single parent. I am done with my husband working a dangerous job. I am finished with being alone. I need a break.
Today, I went up to the kids' school to help with a room mother's project in the morning. It was supposed to take us an hour to tear enough fabric strips to make 20 pioneer rag dolls. But only two other moms showed up and I spent the entire day at school. By the time I got the kids home, I was done with this day.
Instead of jumping right into violin practice with my son, I cuddled up next to him on my bed to watch cartoons. And I was out like a light. I was gone to the world until the kids woke me up at 6 to help them make the pizza I had stupidly told them we'd bake for dinner. If ever there was a night for PB&J, it was tonight.
I'm just so tired. Tired of being alone, tired of making a thousand little decisions every day, tired of people asking me when my husband is coming home, tired of being depended upon, tired of missing my husband, tired of answering questions and tired of getting up so early every morning.
While I was sleeping this afternoon, I had a dream that my husband came home for a one day visit. And I was too busy writing a story about the local high school football team to spend any time with him.
This is the real face of deployment for a spouse, I think. It's keeping it together for months, losing it for an afternoon, and picking up all the pieces again by dinner time.
Tonight I'm sending the kids off to bed and turning in early. Hopefully I'll have extricated myself from this wall before I wake up to face another day.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Too Early for Slap Stick
I don't do mornings. To say that I am not a morning person is like saying that Angelina Jolie is not fat. It's an understatement.
But I have been struggling to find a time to fit exercise into the kids' day. I finally had to give in and admit that mornings are the right time for fitness.
So as part of our new challenge to be healthy, the kids and I awoke at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. for a trek around our neighborhood.
Did you know that the sun isn't even up yet at six in the morning? I didn't.
Armed with flashlights and light clothing, we set out.
I'd say that we went for a walk but that wouldn't be accurate. What we went for was a walk, run, skip, stop, bounce off mom, jog, fall, walk again around the path near our house. Between my son's screeching sound effects and my daughter's constant worrying that we weren't allowed to be walking in the dark, they drove me crazy. It was like walking with a slap-stick comedy duo.
By the time I helped them cross the street back on to the sidewalk that leads to our house, I was ready to scream. I always knew that my kids were talkers, but this was ridiculous. I told them to run all the way home and took a breather.
By the time I got to my front steps, they were sitting there looking all cute and happy. I was overcome with the notion that I wouldn't spend the day in guilt and stress trying to find a time for them to exercise.
While drinking his water my son exclaimed, "That was fun, Mom. We should do that every morning!" Suddenly it was all worth it. Even if I did have to get up at before seven.
If we can keep this up, I'll be the proudest parent of a slap-stick comedy duo ever.
But I have been struggling to find a time to fit exercise into the kids' day. I finally had to give in and admit that mornings are the right time for fitness.
So as part of our new challenge to be healthy, the kids and I awoke at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. for a trek around our neighborhood.
Did you know that the sun isn't even up yet at six in the morning? I didn't.
Armed with flashlights and light clothing, we set out.
I'd say that we went for a walk but that wouldn't be accurate. What we went for was a walk, run, skip, stop, bounce off mom, jog, fall, walk again around the path near our house. Between my son's screeching sound effects and my daughter's constant worrying that we weren't allowed to be walking in the dark, they drove me crazy. It was like walking with a slap-stick comedy duo.
By the time I helped them cross the street back on to the sidewalk that leads to our house, I was ready to scream. I always knew that my kids were talkers, but this was ridiculous. I told them to run all the way home and took a breather.
By the time I got to my front steps, they were sitting there looking all cute and happy. I was overcome with the notion that I wouldn't spend the day in guilt and stress trying to find a time for them to exercise.
While drinking his water my son exclaimed, "That was fun, Mom. We should do that every morning!" Suddenly it was all worth it. Even if I did have to get up at before seven.
If we can keep this up, I'll be the proudest parent of a slap-stick comedy duo ever.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Like Lady Godiva, Sort Of
The other day I wore a shirt that I've had for a while but never worn before.
It was a pretty color of blue and had a flattering sort-of mock wrap neckline. I tore off the tags, threw it over my head and checked my reflection in the mirror.
Good enough. And off I went to drop the kids off at school and start my day.
What I didn't realize until it was too late was that while my shirt looked perfectly nice while standing, when I sat, the sort-of mock wrap neckline unwrapped to reveal my right boob.
Great. I was flashing my kid's teacher, my fellow committee moms, and my husband's friends who came over to jump start his truck.
Suddenly, I really appreciated my long hair.
I draped the big ole mess of my hair over my cleavage and pretended like nothing was wrong.
Now, you'd think that I'd have learned my lesson about immodest tops, but you'd be wrong.
On Tuesday, I had about 45 minutes to kill before picking my kids up from school and bee-lining it to their afternoon of group violin lessons at the local college. I was tempted to treat myself to some fast food or Krispy Kreme but I decided that a large Diet Coke from Sonic would be treat enough.
As the roller skating car hop handed me my diet coke the cup slipped. I clenched my left hand to keep it from ending up in my lap. But apparently I don't know my own strength because I crushed the cup completely.
And ended up with 64 ounces of Diet Coke and ice down my front and pooled in my crotch.
Now I had a few options from running home and being late to pick up the kids to skipping violin completely, all of which would have made my daughter bawl like a baby. So I decided to suck up my meager pride and run into a store for a new outfit.
Unfortunately, the closest and most convenient store was one where I had embarrassed myself a couple of months ago. I had something happen to me in their fitting room that I still have nightmares about. But time was of the essence and I knew I could quickly grab something there that fit.
I grabbed a pair of pants that were a size bigger than I normally wear. I figured the last thing I wanted was to end up having to endure an afternoon with the violin moms in pants that were embarrassingly tight. I also grabbed a v-neck T-shirt that looked about right. And some underwear.
I ended up standing my wet ass in line to pay for twenty minutes. I could have shopped more and tried things on in that amount of time. When the cashier finally rang in my purchase, she asked if I wanted a bag. Obviously she had spotted my predicament. She removed all of the tags for me and let me into a fitting room to change calling out, "I want to see your outfit!" as she walked away.
Great. The last thing in the world I wanted was attention.
I changed quicker than I ever have in my entire life. But I was appalled to find that while the pants fit they were way more low-cut and form fitting than I had realized. And the shirt? Hello cleavage!
I spent five minutes in the fitting room doing deep knee bends and lunges trying to get my clothes to stretch out. Then I practically sprinted out of that place with the clerk's calls of, "You look cute!" following me to the parking lot.
The kids claimed that I looked "beautiful" (suck ups) but as I ushered them around to their violin classes I was again grateful for my long hair.
Now if only I had grown it out past my butt. I could walk around in nothing but my panties and a sports bra if I had longer hair.
It was a pretty color of blue and had a flattering sort-of mock wrap neckline. I tore off the tags, threw it over my head and checked my reflection in the mirror.
Good enough. And off I went to drop the kids off at school and start my day.
What I didn't realize until it was too late was that while my shirt looked perfectly nice while standing, when I sat, the sort-of mock wrap neckline unwrapped to reveal my right boob.
Great. I was flashing my kid's teacher, my fellow committee moms, and my husband's friends who came over to jump start his truck.
Suddenly, I really appreciated my long hair.
I draped the big ole mess of my hair over my cleavage and pretended like nothing was wrong.
Now, you'd think that I'd have learned my lesson about immodest tops, but you'd be wrong.
On Tuesday, I had about 45 minutes to kill before picking my kids up from school and bee-lining it to their afternoon of group violin lessons at the local college. I was tempted to treat myself to some fast food or Krispy Kreme but I decided that a large Diet Coke from Sonic would be treat enough.
As the roller skating car hop handed me my diet coke the cup slipped. I clenched my left hand to keep it from ending up in my lap. But apparently I don't know my own strength because I crushed the cup completely.
And ended up with 64 ounces of Diet Coke and ice down my front and pooled in my crotch.
Now I had a few options from running home and being late to pick up the kids to skipping violin completely, all of which would have made my daughter bawl like a baby. So I decided to suck up my meager pride and run into a store for a new outfit.
Unfortunately, the closest and most convenient store was one where I had embarrassed myself a couple of months ago. I had something happen to me in their fitting room that I still have nightmares about. But time was of the essence and I knew I could quickly grab something there that fit.
I grabbed a pair of pants that were a size bigger than I normally wear. I figured the last thing I wanted was to end up having to endure an afternoon with the violin moms in pants that were embarrassingly tight. I also grabbed a v-neck T-shirt that looked about right. And some underwear.
I ended up standing my wet ass in line to pay for twenty minutes. I could have shopped more and tried things on in that amount of time. When the cashier finally rang in my purchase, she asked if I wanted a bag. Obviously she had spotted my predicament. She removed all of the tags for me and let me into a fitting room to change calling out, "I want to see your outfit!" as she walked away.
Great. The last thing in the world I wanted was attention.
I changed quicker than I ever have in my entire life. But I was appalled to find that while the pants fit they were way more low-cut and form fitting than I had realized. And the shirt? Hello cleavage!
I spent five minutes in the fitting room doing deep knee bends and lunges trying to get my clothes to stretch out. Then I practically sprinted out of that place with the clerk's calls of, "You look cute!" following me to the parking lot.
The kids claimed that I looked "beautiful" (suck ups) but as I ushered them around to their violin classes I was again grateful for my long hair.
Now if only I had grown it out past my butt. I could walk around in nothing but my panties and a sports bra if I had longer hair.
Monday, September 17, 2007
What Happens When You're Sick
Your husband takes over your blog. And this...
Someone's in trouble. I'll give you two guesses who it is.
Mama's back now!
Someone's in trouble. I'll give you two guesses who it is.Mama's back now!
Friday, September 14, 2007
*****WARNING*****
OK I should have posted this before I started but I was way excited to get going.
WARNING:
This blog is not being written by Tuna Girl for a little while it is being written by Tuna Man. The blog will NOT contain the usual “Sex in the city” humor you are use to. If you have noticed it contains just sexually explicit topics. Stop back after 15 days or/and after 105 days from today, WHY, 15 days is how long it will take before TG revokes my bloging privileges and 105 days I will be home and have ben…well I am not going to finish that comment, lets just say Sex will not be the first thing on my mind any more.
So why am I thinking about sex so much, it is easy they tell me I can not think about, look at or do anything sexually related. It is like if I told you, you can not think about ice cream. What are you going to do think about ice cream especially if you can not have it.
Thank you for all your comments, here is my next loaded question;
How do you know what your sexual preference is and when did you realize it?
I have to say I am a very straight man, with that being said I have ask the question am I gay? Nope I like girls way to much to be gay. Men just don’t interest me like a female does. Girls are just intoxicating and smell good and are soft and well just COOL (see I can not even put a sentence together when I am thinking about Girls). A girl can walk by me and her smell WOW can bring me to my knees, guys just don’t do it for me. All that being said I can pinpoint the time I realized I REALLY liked girls.
Do you see all the wavy lines of a flashback, good here we go.
It was my first dance, a 6th grade dance it was a Halloween dance and me and my best friend at the time Tom decided to go as the Blues Brothers. It should be a good time, hanging out with friends and then I got there and the lights were all low and the girls were all in their costumes. I meet up with Tom and I really don’t know what we did for the first little bit of time but then the first slow song came on and Dawn, the she jackal, tried dragging me out on to the dance floor. I puller the arm away just in time and she could not get a good hold of me.
Tom and I escaped, wow that was close, could you imagine having to dance with a GIRL. Then the next slow song came on and we timed it perfectly we were at the refreshment stand, sweet the night is almost over and we are in the clear it is almost 9pm and time to go home. Then it happened the last slow song of the night and this tall very developed girl stops Tom and asks him to dance, and he said YES, what is he crazy, don’t do it, it is a trap and she leads him onto the dance floor. What was he thinking you NEVER leave you wingman NEVER, how could he break this trust. He had to have seen Top Gun, Tom should know you NEVER leave your wingman NEVER, only bad things will happen when you leave your wingman. Wait what year is it, Dame Top Gun has not come out yet, DAME you Maverick.
So there I was a wide eyed, brown eyed boy that has been separated from the heard and helpless. "Be calm, escape, just RUN", and then it happen the Jackal pounced on her pray. Dawn grabbed my wrist and started pulling and dragging me to the dance floor. I did everything I could; there are still claw marks on the floor from me trying to get away. I started gnawing at my arm to try and get away but she kept pulling me to the deepest darkest place on the dance floor. Everyone I passed I pleated HELP. Then we arrived at where the carnage would take place. Dawn turned to me, I closed my eyes I could not look at what was going to happen, and Dawn put her hands on my shoulders and all I could say in a helpless small voice “be genital”
At this point I very vividly remember my brain dividing into two distinct voices in my head, my Big Brain (BB) and my Small Brain (SB) and they were determined to get me home safe. Here is how the conversation went in my head:
SB we stopped walking I will grab her around the waist and throw her to the ground and we can run away
BB no we don’t want to get in trouble or hurt her I will think of away out.
SB Let me know what you need me to do, I will put my hand right here and wait for the plan. Wow my hands are very sweaty I really need to wipe them off so I can be ready to go when BB give me the word. I will wipe them right here, that was her ass, quick move them off her ass. BB prepare to be hit.
BB bracing for impact
SB nothing! Hey that was cool I just touched a girls ass and you known it felt nice. I kind of like this, she smells good too.
BB OK this is what we are going to do, PASS OUT! We will make our knees all wiggly and fall to the floor then she cant dance with us any more. Ready GO! fall to the floor, what nothing happened, fall to the floor it is our only chance, DAME need to go to plan B
SB let me take a look and see if she looks mad at me or if she is just getting ready to bite my neck with her fangs and suck out all my blood and leave me here for dead. Look slowly don’t make her mad. She is cute nice sweet lips and no fangs. Wow I can t get over how good she smells ok now that I know she does not have blood sucking fangs, look away before I anger the beast. That was kind of nice, and you know she feels really smooth and squishy. Let me see if this works I will pull her closer to me and feel that ass again that was fun.
BB don’t do it she will kill us I will have plan B ready in a second
SB here I go…that’s nice she feels really good what is that rubbing against my chest OH! hee hee, moving my hands down going for it…WOW she did not pull away or slapping me or anything. This is really really nice I could get use to this. Oh wait a teacher I don’t want to get in trouble and give us my ass holding time quick move my hand up and put a little room between me and the Goddess Dawn.
BB Teacher HELP save ME…. wait where are you going Stop this…hey what song is this? It has a good beat…oh this is Stairway to Heaven good tune… wait back on track how to escape we have been dancing for EVER I will just tough it out. What song was this again; Dame the 12 min version of Stairway to Heaven. I am doomed, doomed.
SB good teacher is gone back to work.
BB I can deal with this! The music has a good beat, distract myself... ok now move your hips, good stay with the beat, watch her feet don’t step on them, don’t anger her.
SB this is NICE, soft and cuddly…..NICE
So the song ended and the lights came on and I thanked Dawn for the dance and I went to look for Tom to see how his luck went with the older 7th grader.
Ever since that day, girls GOOD!!
I wonder what would have happen to me if “Jack” grabbed me and took me onto the dance floor that night, my whole life might have changed. I had it easy I was a conformist. I conformed to what society expected out of me which makes it easier at a young age. So for all you boys out there who think I am smoking hot, I am sorry I like girls and specifically Tuna Girl.
WARNING:
This blog is not being written by Tuna Girl for a little while it is being written by Tuna Man. The blog will NOT contain the usual “Sex in the city” humor you are use to. If you have noticed it contains just sexually explicit topics. Stop back after 15 days or/and after 105 days from today, WHY, 15 days is how long it will take before TG revokes my bloging privileges and 105 days I will be home and have ben…well I am not going to finish that comment, lets just say Sex will not be the first thing on my mind any more.
So why am I thinking about sex so much, it is easy they tell me I can not think about, look at or do anything sexually related. It is like if I told you, you can not think about ice cream. What are you going to do think about ice cream especially if you can not have it.
Thank you for all your comments, here is my next loaded question;
How do you know what your sexual preference is and when did you realize it?
I have to say I am a very straight man, with that being said I have ask the question am I gay? Nope I like girls way to much to be gay. Men just don’t interest me like a female does. Girls are just intoxicating and smell good and are soft and well just COOL (see I can not even put a sentence together when I am thinking about Girls). A girl can walk by me and her smell WOW can bring me to my knees, guys just don’t do it for me. All that being said I can pinpoint the time I realized I REALLY liked girls.
Do you see all the wavy lines of a flashback, good here we go.
It was my first dance, a 6th grade dance it was a Halloween dance and me and my best friend at the time Tom decided to go as the Blues Brothers. It should be a good time, hanging out with friends and then I got there and the lights were all low and the girls were all in their costumes. I meet up with Tom and I really don’t know what we did for the first little bit of time but then the first slow song came on and Dawn, the she jackal, tried dragging me out on to the dance floor. I puller the arm away just in time and she could not get a good hold of me.
Tom and I escaped, wow that was close, could you imagine having to dance with a GIRL. Then the next slow song came on and we timed it perfectly we were at the refreshment stand, sweet the night is almost over and we are in the clear it is almost 9pm and time to go home. Then it happened the last slow song of the night and this tall very developed girl stops Tom and asks him to dance, and he said YES, what is he crazy, don’t do it, it is a trap and she leads him onto the dance floor. What was he thinking you NEVER leave you wingman NEVER, how could he break this trust. He had to have seen Top Gun, Tom should know you NEVER leave your wingman NEVER, only bad things will happen when you leave your wingman. Wait what year is it, Dame Top Gun has not come out yet, DAME you Maverick.
So there I was a wide eyed, brown eyed boy that has been separated from the heard and helpless. "Be calm, escape, just RUN", and then it happen the Jackal pounced on her pray. Dawn grabbed my wrist and started pulling and dragging me to the dance floor. I did everything I could; there are still claw marks on the floor from me trying to get away. I started gnawing at my arm to try and get away but she kept pulling me to the deepest darkest place on the dance floor. Everyone I passed I pleated HELP. Then we arrived at where the carnage would take place. Dawn turned to me, I closed my eyes I could not look at what was going to happen, and Dawn put her hands on my shoulders and all I could say in a helpless small voice “be genital”
At this point I very vividly remember my brain dividing into two distinct voices in my head, my Big Brain (BB) and my Small Brain (SB) and they were determined to get me home safe. Here is how the conversation went in my head:
SB we stopped walking I will grab her around the waist and throw her to the ground and we can run away
BB no we don’t want to get in trouble or hurt her I will think of away out.
SB Let me know what you need me to do, I will put my hand right here and wait for the plan. Wow my hands are very sweaty I really need to wipe them off so I can be ready to go when BB give me the word. I will wipe them right here, that was her ass, quick move them off her ass. BB prepare to be hit.
BB bracing for impact
SB nothing! Hey that was cool I just touched a girls ass and you known it felt nice. I kind of like this, she smells good too.
BB OK this is what we are going to do, PASS OUT! We will make our knees all wiggly and fall to the floor then she cant dance with us any more. Ready GO! fall to the floor, what nothing happened, fall to the floor it is our only chance, DAME need to go to plan B
SB let me take a look and see if she looks mad at me or if she is just getting ready to bite my neck with her fangs and suck out all my blood and leave me here for dead. Look slowly don’t make her mad. She is cute nice sweet lips and no fangs. Wow I can t get over how good she smells ok now that I know she does not have blood sucking fangs, look away before I anger the beast. That was kind of nice, and you know she feels really smooth and squishy. Let me see if this works I will pull her closer to me and feel that ass again that was fun.
BB don’t do it she will kill us I will have plan B ready in a second
SB here I go…that’s nice she feels really good what is that rubbing against my chest OH! hee hee, moving my hands down going for it…WOW she did not pull away or slapping me or anything. This is really really nice I could get use to this. Oh wait a teacher I don’t want to get in trouble and give us my ass holding time quick move my hand up and put a little room between me and the Goddess Dawn.
BB Teacher HELP save ME…. wait where are you going Stop this…hey what song is this? It has a good beat…oh this is Stairway to Heaven good tune… wait back on track how to escape we have been dancing for EVER I will just tough it out. What song was this again; Dame the 12 min version of Stairway to Heaven. I am doomed, doomed.
SB good teacher is gone back to work.
BB I can deal with this! The music has a good beat, distract myself... ok now move your hips, good stay with the beat, watch her feet don’t step on them, don’t anger her.
SB this is NICE, soft and cuddly…..NICE
So the song ended and the lights came on and I thanked Dawn for the dance and I went to look for Tom to see how his luck went with the older 7th grader.
Ever since that day, girls GOOD!!
I wonder what would have happen to me if “Jack” grabbed me and took me onto the dance floor that night, my whole life might have changed. I had it easy I was a conformist. I conformed to what society expected out of me which makes it easier at a young age. So for all you boys out there who think I am smoking hot, I am sorry I like girls and specifically Tuna Girl.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I am a Whore
I talked to TG last night. She is doing well, and she has a bit of a cold that she is trying to get over. I think the kids brought it home from school. So we are talking, having a very nice pleasant conversations and TG calls me a whore. Me a whore? NO way.
TG called me a comments whore, and you know she is right. (Like always) I really do get off getting and reading your comments about my posts. Here is why, I have a job where most of the people think very similarly and have very similar beliefs. It is nice to hear what the rest of the world thinks and it is cool to me to be able to converse with you (the readers) that most of the time have a VERY different view on topics than the people I work with on a day to day basis.
So here I go getting out on my street corner looking all fine. Let me see if I can pick up a few tricks.
During our conversations last night we got on the topic of a male members size and the old questions, “Does size matter?” So here I am winking at all the commenters going by trying to make myself look sexy. I will ask what you all think. Does size matter?
Tuna Man's answer: HELL NO!
This answer is from the guy whose wife called it “tiny” in comparison to ALL the other men she has been with. So my answer is not just NO but HELL NO. I have good form! I have to have something to stand on since I don’t have a third “LEG” to prop me up. So now that I feel a little bit better and have convinced myself that my tiny size does not matter, I want to know what you think.
I have a few other questions on the same topic if you want to share. (Curiosity just kills me.)
What was your biggest?
What was your smallest?
Does you preference fall between those categories or have you not found it yet?
Note: I think I owe an explanation about my curiosity. Well I have lived a VERY VERY sheltered life. Do I really need to say any more.
TG called me a comments whore, and you know she is right. (Like always) I really do get off getting and reading your comments about my posts. Here is why, I have a job where most of the people think very similarly and have very similar beliefs. It is nice to hear what the rest of the world thinks and it is cool to me to be able to converse with you (the readers) that most of the time have a VERY different view on topics than the people I work with on a day to day basis.
So here I go getting out on my street corner looking all fine. Let me see if I can pick up a few tricks.
During our conversations last night we got on the topic of a male members size and the old questions, “Does size matter?” So here I am winking at all the commenters going by trying to make myself look sexy. I will ask what you all think. Does size matter?
Tuna Man's answer: HELL NO!
This answer is from the guy whose wife called it “tiny” in comparison to ALL the other men she has been with. So my answer is not just NO but HELL NO. I have good form! I have to have something to stand on since I don’t have a third “LEG” to prop me up. So now that I feel a little bit better and have convinced myself that my tiny size does not matter, I want to know what you think.
I have a few other questions on the same topic if you want to share. (Curiosity just kills me.)
What was your biggest?
What was your smallest?
Does you preference fall between those categories or have you not found it yet?
Note: I think I owe an explanation about my curiosity. Well I have lived a VERY VERY sheltered life. Do I really need to say any more.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
True Love
Thank you for all your responses. It was interesting in reading them all. The one thing I found funny is that no one gave me a hard number, like 365 people a year that is too many partners to have for me to be with that person. I wonder if it is because we don’t want to offend someone or is it we don’t want to be that person or be with that person. That is my number by the way 365 people a year, and like so many of you point out there are a lot of variable. I have a distinct advantage in answering this question, I know how many people TG has been with and I know she will not be with anyone else. I also know how many people I have been with and I will not be with anyone else. So for me to give you a number it really has no affect on me other than getting some of you upset with my decision to draw the line. Now with all that said you all are RIGHT it does not matter what the number is the only thing that matters is TRUE LOVE.
That brings me to the question I got from Samantha on how did I fall into love with TG. I don’t think I ever fell into love with TG, I have always been in love with TG. It really comes down to; I did not have enough situational awareness to know I was falling in love; I am and was just in love with her. A good example of my cluelessness as a kid is; I had no idea I was being set up with TG by her mother until about two months later when I was on a date with TG and we talked about it, I was CLUELESS! When we started dating (for the second time) I did not realize it. It took me about two months into college when I had to ask her if we are dating again and we were. On a side note I don’t know if she was seeing anyone during that time while we were “Just Friends” I did not.
When we were seniors in high school I knew that our paths were entangled. I was on a date one night and took her (not TG) to a park, well it was back a little ways away from the baseball field and parking lot. So it was night I don’t remember what time it was like around 10pm because I think TG was just getting off of work (I did not know this at the time) So I was swinging with my date having a good time putting the TM moves on her when we hear a commotions in the parking lot by the Baseball field. I really did not think anything of it I was in the MOOOD and working hard. You could not see the parking lot due to the trees they planted by the outfield fence. Well it turned out the people that were making all the commotion were TG and her boyfriend she was trying to break up with. He tried to kill himself driving his 1986 Honda Civic 10 MPH into a tree. (I still laugh thinking about it).
NOTE: Ok I am re-reading this and it is not funny that he wanted to kill himself but if you knew him he really could not accomplish anything right. The parking lot was very small and the max speed you could get going is about 15 MPH, he was just a drama queen (no offence to all the true drama queens out there)
My date finished uneventful. The next day I was talking to TG and I told her about all the commotions in the parking lot that night and she told me the other half of the story, I still giggle a tree.
I guess if I had to pick a place and time it might have been it was on the swing set in a park by where we worked during high school. We were swinging and talking and I leaned over to her and told her that I loved her. TG will swear that I said it but I did not. I was in a good place in life enjoying dating and not being tied down to any one person WHY would I say that! On other hand; the HOT Catholic school girl (TG) crushed me that day and I am repressing all my bad memories and emotional damage she did to me on the swing, ripping my heart out of my chest and crushing it in her hand right there while I watched. Either way I did not say those words on that day and if you say I did I will deny everything!
So when did I fall in love with TG, I will do the good husband thing, tell you to ask her when I fell in love with her.
That brings me to the question I got from Samantha on how did I fall into love with TG. I don’t think I ever fell into love with TG, I have always been in love with TG. It really comes down to; I did not have enough situational awareness to know I was falling in love; I am and was just in love with her. A good example of my cluelessness as a kid is; I had no idea I was being set up with TG by her mother until about two months later when I was on a date with TG and we talked about it, I was CLUELESS! When we started dating (for the second time) I did not realize it. It took me about two months into college when I had to ask her if we are dating again and we were. On a side note I don’t know if she was seeing anyone during that time while we were “Just Friends” I did not.
When we were seniors in high school I knew that our paths were entangled. I was on a date one night and took her (not TG) to a park, well it was back a little ways away from the baseball field and parking lot. So it was night I don’t remember what time it was like around 10pm because I think TG was just getting off of work (I did not know this at the time) So I was swinging with my date having a good time putting the TM moves on her when we hear a commotions in the parking lot by the Baseball field. I really did not think anything of it I was in the MOOOD and working hard. You could not see the parking lot due to the trees they planted by the outfield fence. Well it turned out the people that were making all the commotion were TG and her boyfriend she was trying to break up with. He tried to kill himself driving his 1986 Honda Civic 10 MPH into a tree. (I still laugh thinking about it).
NOTE: Ok I am re-reading this and it is not funny that he wanted to kill himself but if you knew him he really could not accomplish anything right. The parking lot was very small and the max speed you could get going is about 15 MPH, he was just a drama queen (no offence to all the true drama queens out there)
My date finished uneventful. The next day I was talking to TG and I told her about all the commotions in the parking lot that night and she told me the other half of the story, I still giggle a tree.
I guess if I had to pick a place and time it might have been it was on the swing set in a park by where we worked during high school. We were swinging and talking and I leaned over to her and told her that I loved her. TG will swear that I said it but I did not. I was in a good place in life enjoying dating and not being tied down to any one person WHY would I say that! On other hand; the HOT Catholic school girl (TG) crushed me that day and I am repressing all my bad memories and emotional damage she did to me on the swing, ripping my heart out of my chest and crushing it in her hand right there while I watched. Either way I did not say those words on that day and if you say I did I will deny everything!
So when did I fall in love with TG, I will do the good husband thing, tell you to ask her when I fell in love with her.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Getting started
Hi everyone, I will be posting for Tuna Girl for a little bit until she gets her “Mojo” back. I am looking forward to this it will give me something to do when I am half away around the world. So there are a few thing we need to get out of the way.
First, it is Sep 11, all I ask for is everyone to be nice to each other, smile hold a door open for a stranger, just be nice. Everyone was affected by 9/11, so remember and be NICE. Thank you
Second, what do you want me to talk about? I am open for Ideas. I have a few but what do you want to know about the Tuna Girl or Tuna Man?
Next, I have to send thanks out to everyone who send me cards and packages for my birthday. I have responded to most of you. Patrick I still need to email you sorry it has taken so long after this I will send one out.
OK now lets get started on the first post. I had a great chat with my wife about sex. Surprising I know. Here is how it started and why we had this 3 hr chat. I heard on the radio the other day at a couple was not going to get married because the women just told her boyfriend how many partners she had been with in the past, and he could not handle the truth. I have to say I don’t remember what the number was but it leads me to the ask TG the question to see if I knew the answer, and I did. What surprised me is that after 18 years of knowing my wife I still learned something new about her past and on the same note I think she learned something about my past also.
My first question to all of you is how many partners are too many? And does it matter if you know who they slept with, mutual friends ect? Next is when do you tell your partner about your past?
This same question was discussed in my office with some of the boys. We started talking about a famous porn star that is retiring from acting and going into directing and other stuff. The question one of the boys asked was would it bother anyone that she slept with all the guys in front of the camera? I was surprised at the answers some could not handle the fact she did it in front of the camera others could not deal with the amount of different men she was with, and me I did not care she was with me now. It all goes back to my questions.
I am looking forward to your comments’.
First, it is Sep 11, all I ask for is everyone to be nice to each other, smile hold a door open for a stranger, just be nice. Everyone was affected by 9/11, so remember and be NICE. Thank you
Second, what do you want me to talk about? I am open for Ideas. I have a few but what do you want to know about the Tuna Girl or Tuna Man?
Next, I have to send thanks out to everyone who send me cards and packages for my birthday. I have responded to most of you. Patrick I still need to email you sorry it has taken so long after this I will send one out.
OK now lets get started on the first post. I had a great chat with my wife about sex. Surprising I know. Here is how it started and why we had this 3 hr chat. I heard on the radio the other day at a couple was not going to get married because the women just told her boyfriend how many partners she had been with in the past, and he could not handle the truth. I have to say I don’t remember what the number was but it leads me to the ask TG the question to see if I knew the answer, and I did. What surprised me is that after 18 years of knowing my wife I still learned something new about her past and on the same note I think she learned something about my past also.
My first question to all of you is how many partners are too many? And does it matter if you know who they slept with, mutual friends ect? Next is when do you tell your partner about your past?
This same question was discussed in my office with some of the boys. We started talking about a famous porn star that is retiring from acting and going into directing and other stuff. The question one of the boys asked was would it bother anyone that she slept with all the guys in front of the camera? I was surprised at the answers some could not handle the fact she did it in front of the camera others could not deal with the amount of different men she was with, and me I did not care she was with me now. It all goes back to my questions.
I am looking forward to your comments’.
Friday, September 07, 2007
What's that on your nose, little girl?
I had a major revelation this week.
My daughter is desperate for my approval. I guess that should be a big old "d'uh!" since most kids are motivated by their parents' approval. But her need seems to be greater than her peers.
I'm hoping it's because I'm the only parent she has around right now (and I report back to her favorite parent) and not that I am a perfectionist monster.
No comments required on that one.
I first noticed that her need for my approval was out of control on Tuesday when she kept looking at me during her group violin class. She even looked at me when she sat down on the stage and cried because she wasn't absolutely positive if she should be playing her new piece or not.
But when class was over she practically ran to my seat in the auditorium to ask me over and over, "How did I do?"
None of the other kids seemed to care the least what their parents thought.
Then last night while she was practicing a particularly difficult passage I noticed that she was looking at me for my reaction instead of at her fingers or bow.
"Why are you looking at me?" I asked her.
She didn't respond but played the notes again. Again she looked at me before she had finished.
"Why are you looking at me? I don't have sheet music on my face do I?" I asked her as a rubbed my nose and tried to get her to lighten up a little.
She giggled a bit and started playing the notes over. Once again, she looked up at me before she was halfway through.
"Honey!" I was exasperated now. "Why are you looking at me?"
"I can't help it," she replied. "You're just so attractive."
So she is desperate for my approval and a suck up.
I wish she would give some lessons to her Daddy.
My daughter is desperate for my approval. I guess that should be a big old "d'uh!" since most kids are motivated by their parents' approval. But her need seems to be greater than her peers.
I'm hoping it's because I'm the only parent she has around right now (and I report back to her favorite parent) and not that I am a perfectionist monster.
No comments required on that one.
I first noticed that her need for my approval was out of control on Tuesday when she kept looking at me during her group violin class. She even looked at me when she sat down on the stage and cried because she wasn't absolutely positive if she should be playing her new piece or not.
But when class was over she practically ran to my seat in the auditorium to ask me over and over, "How did I do?"
None of the other kids seemed to care the least what their parents thought.
Then last night while she was practicing a particularly difficult passage I noticed that she was looking at me for my reaction instead of at her fingers or bow.
"Why are you looking at me?" I asked her.
She didn't respond but played the notes again. Again she looked at me before she had finished.
"Why are you looking at me? I don't have sheet music on my face do I?" I asked her as a rubbed my nose and tried to get her to lighten up a little.
She giggled a bit and started playing the notes over. Once again, she looked up at me before she was halfway through.
"Honey!" I was exasperated now. "Why are you looking at me?"
"I can't help it," she replied. "You're just so attractive."
So she is desperate for my approval and a suck up.
I wish she would give some lessons to her Daddy.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Mibido
I was chatting online with my husband last night and mentioned that I had completely lost my libido. Which I typed as mibido because I can't type at all. But I think mibido is cute.
Mibido or libido it doesn't doesn't matter, because I've lost it. In fact, I've lost all of my mojo.
So I wrote to my husband, "All my mojo is gone. I can't right for shit right now either. And I need to."
Yes, I actually wrote that I can't right for shit right now. See! Told ya.
And I'm a professional righter. Don't try this at home.
Mibido or libido it doesn't doesn't matter, because I've lost it. In fact, I've lost all of my mojo.
So I wrote to my husband, "All my mojo is gone. I can't right for shit right now either. And I need to."
Yes, I actually wrote that I can't right for shit right now. See! Told ya.
And I'm a professional righter. Don't try this at home.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Putting the Self in Selfish
I'm thinking a lot today. I'm wondering about myself. My lifestyle doesn't normally lend itself to a lot of introspection, but I've spent so much time alone lately.
Am I selfish?
It is the question I can't seem to get out of my head. Am I?
What really motivates me?
I've been cruising through this deployment relatively easily. Experience has taught me how I need to handle things and how often I need to distract myself. Nothing especially hard or awful has happened today, yet I've found myself with tears in my eyes three times.
I'm not even sure why!
I was chatting with my husband online today (aren't I lucky to be able to do that?) and he mentioned that there are about 120 days left in this deployment. Because everything in life is relative, that doesn't seem like a long time. But his last deployment was only 120 days long. And that felt like forever!
He's found out when he should be coming home. His conservative estimate is late January. He already knows who is replacement will be and she already has her training dates.
I feel both like time is going too slow and too fast. I feel sorry for myself that I still have about four months to go until he gets home. And I hate feeling sorry for myself. But I'm also feeling that the time has gone too quickly and I haven't' accomplished anything.
Either way, notice how it's all about me? Am I this selfish? Am I?
Why am I so annoyed with the world? When will this stop?
Am I selfish?
It is the question I can't seem to get out of my head. Am I?
What really motivates me?
I've been cruising through this deployment relatively easily. Experience has taught me how I need to handle things and how often I need to distract myself. Nothing especially hard or awful has happened today, yet I've found myself with tears in my eyes three times.
I'm not even sure why!
I was chatting with my husband online today (aren't I lucky to be able to do that?) and he mentioned that there are about 120 days left in this deployment. Because everything in life is relative, that doesn't seem like a long time. But his last deployment was only 120 days long. And that felt like forever!
He's found out when he should be coming home. His conservative estimate is late January. He already knows who is replacement will be and she already has her training dates.
I feel both like time is going too slow and too fast. I feel sorry for myself that I still have about four months to go until he gets home. And I hate feeling sorry for myself. But I'm also feeling that the time has gone too quickly and I haven't' accomplished anything.
Either way, notice how it's all about me? Am I this selfish? Am I?
Why am I so annoyed with the world? When will this stop?
Monday, September 03, 2007
Just for Fun
I thought I'd give the new Blogger video upload feature a try but it seems to be on the fritz. So here's a picture instead.
I bought myself a new camera yesterday and I already love it. The kids and I spent Labor Day on the boardwalk trying out my new toy.
I'm going to try really hard to take more pictures for our loved-ones who are far away.
In other news, we canceled our trip to the zoo because of the weather forecast, tomorrow starts our serious violin/soccer/art class and activities schedule, I miss my husband bunches, and my little blog is closing in on 200,000 hits.
Thanks for all of your support, you guys. I hope everyone had a nice weekend.
I bought myself a new camera yesterday and I already love it. The kids and I spent Labor Day on the boardwalk trying out my new toy.
I'm going to try really hard to take more pictures for our loved-ones who are far away.
In other news, we canceled our trip to the zoo because of the weather forecast, tomorrow starts our serious violin/soccer/art class and activities schedule, I miss my husband bunches, and my little blog is closing in on 200,000 hits.
Thanks for all of your support, you guys. I hope everyone had a nice weekend.
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