amazing race

= me for the next 3 days.

:: my dnc blog ::

dear ben affleck

me: excuse me, ben affleck?
ba: yes, beautiful girl. your hair looks so pretty. how can i help you?
me: you are like my dream guy. minus the whole obnoxious phase with j.lo but i forgave you for that because honestly, if i dated j.lo. im guessing i would have acted the same way. i don
ba: go on
me: i mean, i love that you are bilingual, and a reader and a gamer and you like to gamble but you tinker with cars and motorcycles but you are SO focused on politics then you've got that wife of yours but also you are hot and i've loved you since i was 14...anyways...
ba: aren't you cute...
me: me? pshaa...you're the cute one. its so loud here! can we go somewhere intimate, other than invesco field...jen wont mind will she?
ba: who?
me: exactly.
ba: i want to steal away with you and shirk this whole hollywood lifestyle
me: oh no..dont say that! you wouldn't!
ba: baby, i would. i'll take you to my island-
me: you have an island!!?
ba: shutup
me: ok
ba: take you to my island and let you and the kids eat mangos shoeless while i move pork bellies
me: mangos? why mangos?
ba: this is your fantasy. im sensing you'd like a segway too?
me: well yea. and that pink diamond you gave j.lo? but in a pendant
ba: let me get my blackberry...i need to take notes
me: id like a green home on the baltic sea and one on star island
ba: fine.
me: thats it.
ba: pink diamond, green homes, segway
me: MANGOS
ba: mangos...got it.
me: this was easier than i thought ben affleck.

what is: what i imagine will happen when i finally meet ben affleck.

possibly this week.

cause im going to the convention

there will be photos.

never can say goodbye

every once in a while i get misty blue over the demise of my relationship. i have a tendency to jump into a shame spiral and then i conciously grab my "self" from the ride and focus on what i've won over this summer. see, i never thought i'd fall in love. seemed beyond impossible that someone would want to be with me and treat me like a woman. show me how first love for two people is so intimate, unyielding and magical. there were moments where i wanted it to be like the way it was, forever. i felt empowered, more feminine, i felt incredibly loved. he was the first man i could completely trust to have my heart. immediately after the breakup i tried not to show too much bravado. i didn't want to display a false sense of bravery. a break up means your are broken, pieces of your irreplaceable but, they make more. i have to take a beat and thank him; im a stronger woman today than i ever thought i could be. if he claims i made him into a man, i can say without blinking, he made me in to a woman.

from last month's O Magazine -
"Mourning teaches us how to accept the end of love and helps us start the process of feeling whole again. True, the self you get back is never quite the same as the self you relinquished to your relationship; although wounds can heal, they leave scar tissue. But there's more to gain than just surviving the breakup; there's also the possibility of becoming more than you were, more able to undertake the experience of love in its moments of sadness as well as joy. As with any art or skill, the only way grieving can be learned is through practice -- whether we like it or not."

there's not one day that goes by that I dont think about that part of my life. deep impact. i was cleaning my kitchen and picture upon picture came tumbling out of a cabinet of "us". there's the pic from hawaii where we walked the shore just past midnight. sure, we look happy, content. that picture didn't know that just a week later we'd begin a hellish 6 months of unraveling what we'd become. photobooth photos. where there was a photo booth, we were immortalized and immortal. me always sitting on his lap, him pressing his head against my cheek, shoulder or chest, dazed, confused, in awe. my smiles - big wide and proud. we have pictures of us on vacation, hiking, kissing, laughing. pictures of us drunk, stumbling around, grasping towards each other. theres videos of us in mexico celebrating the New Year wildstyle, us in hawaii chasing after roosters, talking to strangers while lounging in the surf. hiking up in Santa Barbara, staring at deer, me on the back of his motorcycle going where ever he would take me. the photos, you line them up, one by one, organized by date. when you get to the end...that's what it looks like: the end.

everyone of those stupid cliches i held onto from the time i was a child, came about naturally in the course of us being together...the cooing, the sickening affection, the emotion, the arguments, the pain...we just did the whole 360. neither one of us wanted to do it again. i grew up in a family where you don't divorce, you dont' leave, you endure. i wouldn't want him to endure for me, and vice versa unless we both really wanted to. i had to step out of myself and realize, sometimes you dont need to win all the races.

i miss my friend.

i will never not miss my friend. no one will ever be able to replace that loss. many can try, surely many will. i've had my fun this summer, this blog testifies to that. but one always gets nervous when they desire love and affection. can it happen again? will it? should i lock myself in a fortress and pretend it doesn't exist? become queenbaby and eschew efforts to find it, receive it...

im not obsessive, but then i go - does he think about me? does he blame me for much? was it inconsequential? a girl could go crazy thinking these thoughts day in and day out.

which is why i try to limit that thinking and focus on what's gained. a new sense of self. if i want to be the great wife, the desired companion, the madonna AND the whore...i need to focus on being the best at being with just me.

sports

"u miss me (?)"

thats what the text said. this coming from the MLA. lets give him a nickname, mr. spitz-coppola.

do i miss him? hmm...what a loaded question. do i miss you?

heres what i know i miss for sure:
i miss my mom and dad and little sister.
i miss my friends in the Bay.
i miss that amazing crispy chicken thai salad they used to have in downtown SF
i miss my childhood bedroom with all the yellow frills and toys and 4 post bed
i miss my grandmothers and great grandmothers
i miss my super nintendo and sega genesis
i miss single casette tapes
i miss the way my ex would be silly with me and then we'd snuggle on the couch and watch crime shows

do i miss him? not really.

i didn't know how to respond, he wasn't asking me if i missed our long walks, or holding hands over dinner or reminiscing about summers in tuscany. he's asking me if i missed doing it and doing it and doing it well with him, ok. i'm a lady. i dont respond to stuff like that unless we've already gotten past the honeymoon phase. so the responding text was "i can show you better than i can tell you."
its sexual volley. i will never let him think for two seconds that i'm dying inside when he's not around. i will never massage his ego because lets face it, he's incredibly hot and sexy and im not the only girl he's giving textlove to. i dont care, thats freedom!

i dont know him well enough to miss him. and i partially dont want to know him that well. the night after our latest rendezvous, i watched him walk away, one of my favorite things to do, and i didn't feel that ache you feel when someone is leaving that you really want. i hated to see my ex go, i hated to leave him in bed when i went to work. his cute freckles always beckoned me back to bed, his hugs sending me on my way.

yet this is why mr. spitz-coppola is incredible. i dont have to get to know him to the point where i'll be sad when he leaves, or when he doesn't call me or when he says something stupid. i haven't given him the opportunity to be an idiot, and he has expectations for my crazy. the ex told him about our spectacular brawls so he's waiting for the pin to fall out of the grenade. i wont give him that satisfaction. he has an unfair advantage already. but what if i decided to get to know him? i can't make a decision because its not at the forefront of my mind - work, bills, my poor car, dodging arguments, my health...he's in there, somewhere.

i dont want this forever. i see myself marrying, and making a family. cross my fingers before 35. even not working for a couple years to do that well. i can't imagine even being satisfied with the status quo come time for the holidays. but for now, its serves a purpose: pure ecstasy. i am entertaining the idea of dating more and have been chatting w/ a couple of suitors...nothing remotely serious. but i dont have enough time w/ my social calendar. in the next 2 months alone i'm going to Denver for the convention, Mexico w/ my girl Massi, New York to see my new besties and old besties and probably Hawaii. Well Im encouraging Hawaii.

i mean, you all know, i like him. i like his body. alot. besides his ultra dramatic george clooney/chuck bass sneer and the way he gazes at me, and laughs to himself when i say something smart ass. i can't forget that he was the annoying guy that lived below me and the ex. that he was this guy who was just totally full of himself and sooooo talkative, more than i am!

when i ran into the ex about a month ago, it was at the front of my mind that i was hooking up with the neighbor and i sputtered out like an idiot "DONT READ MY BLOG". he played coy, what blog? i knew he'd read it. but like i said before, i dont think i can feel bad about what i do and write on here. we all make choices...his decision was to leave and cast me way to the left. he's still making good on that decision. if i had to forcefully determine the next step in my life, i would never have predicted it would be screwing the neighbor. i think i like the fact that he was my neighbor more than anything.

no no no...

i think its his massive....ego. his abs. his biceps. my girlfriends say that he is the polar opposite of what im usually attracted to. i just think he's mannish. my ex was not. my ex was like a little boy, this guy is like rambo. i can't post his foto, or link to his imdb profile, he looks like an irish/italian version of matthew mcconaughey. best way to describe him. same body type, same chisled features, big curly hair. i will commit one blow to his ego and thats all ill allow...we like each other, i dont want to damage the man.

ok.

he's a terrible kisser. ive tried to teach him but it comes across like that scene on SATC when Charlotte dates the guy who kisses like a dog. Its like that. I know I have big lips and he unfortch has none, but he tries to eat my face and his beard rubs on my face and then i have to go to my happy place so i dont focus on how much lip gloss and tea tree oil i'll need to heal the layer of skin he's removed from my mouth and cheeks. I kinda hate that. plus i hate how he always has to dip me like he's cary grant. then he picks me up and drops me to the nearest cushion, like he's rhett butler. ( wait, kudos for being able to pick me up and toss me anywhere.) i also hate that he's worn the same outfit twice in a row. and i hate that his shirt says "future millionaire". but guess what, i dont have to focus on his fashion missteps and dramatics...Is that unforgivable?

pretty hate machine

what happens in vegas stays (forcefully) in vegas. i like to think I'm the kind of girl who can rough it when necessary, but this last trip to Vegas has proven that while I tow the line between modern girl of spoils and struggling wannabe, I have to make a decision about which way its gonna go. f'reals. I'm either the Eliza Doolittle/Shug Avery/Holly Golightly for the brown girl set or I's isn't.

See: I left the driving to Greyhound and that was a MISTAKE. The lowest of the low, scummiest of the scummy. I'm not even for a little bit the kind of girl who looks down at people with her nose way high up in the air. Even w/ my job being what it is and the awesomeness associated with it, what I get exposed to, blahblablah, I never let myself forget that when I go home, I put my pants on, one leg at a time, and DONT make gold records. i dont care how much you schmooze, and get hooked up...or how many celebs you drink the night away in close company of, i have to manage this lifestyle on MY salary. and that aint much.

I was literally shaking as I left the yard watching my car through the nasty window. I checked my neck every 1/2 hour, fearing some vagrant would go for the jugular. I was approached by a homeboy who pledged that his 9to5 as the Vons lead bagger was not paying enough and he'll be in Vegas to Monday at the Best Western if I wanted to stop by for a drink. Yeaaaa....no. Flying is a hassle for me, I'm a spoiled airline brat and w/o my Daddy's benefits I'm useless. Unfortch, LAX to LAS is not a priority for Delta and therefore, no flight really fit my schedule. I took control of the stench with incense and stink eyed every single person boarding. my bag of nickels never leaving my side. (note: a bag of nickels will knock out a potential rapist, aggressive beggar, and terrorist, amongst other things)

Cut to Sunday, my return to the bus station for the ride back to LA, lets just say...there was an altercation of some sort and I am now banned from the Greyhound station as well. (Previously, I was banned from the Wynn for "alleged" buffet theft) The foghorn leghorn sheriff reminded me, without looking me in the eye, (a clear sign of "Jesus christ, I love/hate this fucking job so much but this is what I do and then I punch my wife later-itis" ) said "This is the wild west, and this is how it goes.." WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT STATEMENT IS THAT. If I go to customer service and walk away unhappy, in the real world in 2008, i can write a letter and get my money back. THERE i end up arguing with 4 to 5 ignorant ass people simultaneously. If there was an Olympic sport in verbal jousting I would have disappointed my country. I couldn't and would not compete with this ghettorazzi swarming around me as I dont know anything about living below the poverty line. They won, un-fair and un-square. Fine. The benefit is I dont work there, I dont HAVE to take Greyhound and ultimately I dont need to associate myself with that kind of drama anymore. Growing up I was pulled out of school every other friday to jaunt somewhere for a shopping trip in some major city around the US, taking the Greyhound was my way of relaxing instead of being on a plane. WRONG. Just file that under "dont do that shit ever again"

Meanwhile, there's so much NOT to tell we all know how Vegas is, its just pure fun. a lot of laughter, lots of dancing, pole swinging, wave pooling, party buckets, candy, room service, ogling, boob flashing, debauched recanting of hilariously vile tales.

we acted like fools, kids in a candy store. we rawked it, we got pissy, ate crap, worked on our collective alcoholism, spent $ we didn't have or need to, (i) gave the hand to bouncers, ghetto ass bus employees and sleep was scattered in there. each night the need for sleep became more dire, each night i grew crankier and crankier...nightly i reviewed the movie "very bad things" in my mind, OVER AND OVER AND OVER.

you know the deal, wyn doesn't skim on the lavish when she can swing it...suite was phat, dinner at Koi for the birthday boy and lap dances for EVERYONE! club, afterparty, booty bouncin' on stripper poles, poolside at various casinos, i made new best friends...no, not the strippers...

what does escape me about about Vegas now that I've been twice in a summer: how the hell did Tupac die on a fight night? I sneak a danish from the buffet, I'm banned from the Wynn - he gets in a riotously explosive brawl with several negroes and is shot on LV blvd and nobody saw a damn thing. that is rigoddamndiculous.

where is ja rule to make sense of all this?

ethical?

if the guy at the sprint store is in love with me and lets me know that everytime i come in, showing it by...lets say...pushing me to the front of the line, giving me a 1G of memory for my blackberry, encouraging everyone to help me expeditiously and saying he'd like to steal away to the parking lot and kiss me...should i blatantly ignore the fact that a love affair between us will NEVER happen, like...ever, and encourage him to use his "magic" to get me out of my contract so that I can get on the $99 anytime plan by suggesting something could?

or just pay the $200 contract bitch out fee and kindly tell him "this just. wont. ever. happen?"

previously on "wynter..."

as quiet as i tried to keep the past weekend - little things here and there popped up that destroyed my pursuit of a calm before the storm (Vegas).

going to vegas again...of course i had to. but this time its for james' bday and we're gonna have the best time i'm just sure of it. there's a crap load of folks attending, should be spectacular i expect nothing less...

hung out w/ schwartz and boy do i love her. she is seriously like my big sister. its so important to have good friends and i have a core group - but this girl gets me and understands my struggle. i support her at every turn cause she's my girl. this weekend was no exception-we spent sunday afternoon drinking and looking at the ocean and dancing to good music and meeting people.

friday night, i stayed in before being forced (or willing conjured) to head out and meet up with my friend jordan and his gf destiny. cute kids. his apartment is phat and he introduced me to my new favorite viral "unforgivable."

sat night, against my will i had a pre-dawn MLA. i know, i know...but listen i know the rules...the best part about the whole situation is when you know the score, nothing really changes. that is unless feelings get involved. but as i watched him walk away with the sun rising - what i knew for sure - he is NEVER going to be the father of my children, or put a ring on my finger. what he can do, and what he's proven in his skill- is that he can shift my focus...really well.