Last night, for the first time in weeks, I got together with my friend Kelly. She is a friend that I have had many ups and downs with over the years, but not because she or I are shitty people. We both rule and she is a very, very thoughtful and kind person. Overall, I think her and I have had a relationship that I have learned the most from, romantic and otherwise.
One of the things that I have learned from Kelly is that sometimes, its okay to be dramatic. The one exception for drama is on your birthday. Girls get a "get out of jail free" card for crying on their birthdays. Thats what your 20's are for. Kelly was telling me about how she was out for a girlfriends birthday and her friend cried. I remembered how I cried on my own birthday, and I remember how my other bestie Christie, cried on hers.
What is up with that? I cried because I was home in Toronto for the first time on my birthday in five years. It blew. I didn't even get a card from my mom. She was the one that was "trying" to make a big deal of me being home and it was/is a rather pathetic and weak attempt. I think we would have been better of had she just not bothered at all.In fact, pretend I don't even live in Toronto. Or at home. Just leave me alone to sulk on my birthday because no matter what it will be a disappointment. My mom has just generally become really uninterested in holidays and birthday's as we have gotten older, which I totally respect. But half assing them, causing for disappointment? Save me the anticipation that MAYBE she will realize this year has sucked and give a shit.
Kelly's friend cried because girls are the worst. Its that simple. We suck.
Christie cried because she was all alone in London, England on her birthday and missed us. Obviously.
Hoda cried because we surprised her but it almost doesn't count. But I think she got pissed at her sister that night, so that does.
This is okay. It is SO okay to be disappointed on your birthday. I have come to expect it. The fact that every other day is full of surprises makes me okay with birthdays sucking. I have so many unexpected amazing nights with the people in my life that I love, that I can't be sad about one overrated day blowing goats.
This is what I want on my birthday. He also starts the episode JUMPING out of bed, serenading Lily with a mariachi band. Best.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Stories of a Failed Man Eater
Once upon a time a guy I was dating called me a "man eater". I don't think I have ever had a repeated joke make me laugh this hard in my whole life.
Before I was freelance writing for Vice Magazine, I was part of their intern army. Normally, their interns get some pretty embarrassing treatment, like shoving a cell phone up someones butt and having the rest of the office stand around and call it, laughing and pointing. That has to suck.
I don't know if people are tamer in Canada or if we are just a more peaceful and polite group of human beings but in comparison to that, my intern workload didn't seem too harmful. Until this week, when I realized that the small assignment that seemed harmless at the time has had an effect on my sex life over three years later.
One of my first assignments was to go out and find a small cities worth of guys that were willing to talk to me about their experience with how they avoid prematurely blowing their load when they are doing it. Along with finding a variety of different men to elaborate on their personal experiences with me, I had to get them to sign a waiver, saying we could publish a picture of them and what they say. When it was finally all said and done after a few nights of getting wasted in front of my apartment building and letting my outspoken friend take the reins, I had to transcribe all of these stories picking which ones were the most entertaining.
These conversations haunted my already vivid dreams for weeks to come. At the time, I was going through a somewhat dry spell so it wasn't a really big deal. But when it came time to get back on the horse, the things that were running though my head were thoughts I couldn't shake.
The stories consisted of some answers that seemed to repeat, like baseball or sports, grass and water, which would personally make me want to pee. Then there were some weird ones like 'First I will try and change positions if its only been awhile and its feeling too good. Then, if that doesn't work, I think about my grandmother."
Now, when I have sex with a new partner and you can't tell what they are thinking, don't want to ask but happen to be enjoying the sex it takes everything in my power from saying (after they have made a few switches)," Its okay, you can cum, its no big deal." I feel like I have been exposed to this world I am not ready for, or that I have a power I really don't want. Is this how Jenna Jameson feels? Oh wait, those aren't magical powers...
Before I was freelance writing for Vice Magazine, I was part of their intern army. Normally, their interns get some pretty embarrassing treatment, like shoving a cell phone up someones butt and having the rest of the office stand around and call it, laughing and pointing. That has to suck.
I don't know if people are tamer in Canada or if we are just a more peaceful and polite group of human beings but in comparison to that, my intern workload didn't seem too harmful. Until this week, when I realized that the small assignment that seemed harmless at the time has had an effect on my sex life over three years later.
One of my first assignments was to go out and find a small cities worth of guys that were willing to talk to me about their experience with how they avoid prematurely blowing their load when they are doing it. Along with finding a variety of different men to elaborate on their personal experiences with me, I had to get them to sign a waiver, saying we could publish a picture of them and what they say. When it was finally all said and done after a few nights of getting wasted in front of my apartment building and letting my outspoken friend take the reins, I had to transcribe all of these stories picking which ones were the most entertaining.
These conversations haunted my already vivid dreams for weeks to come. At the time, I was going through a somewhat dry spell so it wasn't a really big deal. But when it came time to get back on the horse, the things that were running though my head were thoughts I couldn't shake.
The stories consisted of some answers that seemed to repeat, like baseball or sports, grass and water, which would personally make me want to pee. Then there were some weird ones like 'First I will try and change positions if its only been awhile and its feeling too good. Then, if that doesn't work, I think about my grandmother."
Now, when I have sex with a new partner and you can't tell what they are thinking, don't want to ask but happen to be enjoying the sex it takes everything in my power from saying (after they have made a few switches)," Its okay, you can cum, its no big deal." I feel like I have been exposed to this world I am not ready for, or that I have a power I really don't want. Is this how Jenna Jameson feels? Oh wait, those aren't magical powers...
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