Panic!

"I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again?"

there was always a deep, vibrating panic that filled mp when she was going to a concert. the honest truth was, she was always uncertain of how she would fit in the seats. would she have to crawl over people and shove her big ass in their faces as she lumbered by? would she be willing to dance to the songs she really liked, know that parts of her would keep moving long after the beat had stopped?

"Hopes may rise on the Grasmere
But Honey Pie, you're not safe here"

it made her miserable-- and live music is one of her greatest passions. oh, poor mp. trapped in her own skin for so long. it was especially bad at places like the hollywood bowl; with bench seating, there are no side arms to pin flubber so that it doesn't roll into other people's space. the humiliation killed her. her feelers would be down for days, crushing any excitement she felt about the upcoming show, and the panic that filled her was often so bad that she felt physically ill.

"So you run down
To the safety of the town"

today, mp bought a couple of tickets to the morrissey show. after she got her confirmation, she idly looked at the seating chart and realized they were awesome seats-- and they were aisle seats. in the past, mp always specifically tried to get aisle seats so that she could try to stay out of the way-- so that she could hang off the bench and not take up too much room. her back, ass, thighs, and neck would be in such pain by the end of whatever show they were at that mp would feel like screaming. it was a thing; it was a half-assed attempt to control her surroundings and minimize the humiliation she felt.

"Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life"

as she remembered this, she realized that of the dozens of shows she has lined-up for the summer, not one was purchased with any thought given to seat location, ease of access, or whether or not she will fit. it's not an issue any more- and she'll fit as well as fit in. the panic has finally subsided.

Spring Break

mmm... finally, i'll have someone to sleep in with.

Because It's Been 17 Years...

tap. call. knock.

because it's been 17 years...
vent. worry. chain-smoke.

because it's been 17 years...
cry. hug. laugh.

because it's been 17 years...
you always have a place at our window.

...even if your dumb ass prefers cats.

The Field

one of the potentials told mp that a girl should not have a starting line-up for dating. mp told her she was just annoyed because she had to compete for her spot in the rotation.

they probably won't be going out again...

but, the fact is, mp doesn't lie. aside from the fact that she's really bad at it, she just doesn't see the point. yes, there is a heirarchy among her potentials. yes, there are people she would never take to the things she loves the most (like hockey games or concerts). why? because in order for my person to sit in the same place with someone for 3 or more hours, she has to be sure that the potential won't get on her nerves-- or whine. it doesn't mean the others are less-valued; it's just that they need to spend time together in other ways.

everyone that mp takes out is treated like a princess. even the player that complained about not getting enough at-bats wanted a kiss goodnight. the time spent with someone does not neccessarily relate to the intensity of affection felt for them... it's just that no one should sign someone as a free agent based upon a simple scouting trip. no one should be made a franchise player without years of consistent production.

yeah, mp has a starting line-up for dating.... but she manages well, plays fair, and makes sure everyone gets a chance to demonstrate their prowess (at whatever position they prefer to play). the fact that she scouts wherever she goes... well, who wouldn't be flattered by being flashed a white board that says "ME=A**** YOU=HOT."

it's spring, and the new season is coming up. if you have the desire to be a future "amazing (mp) date survey" recipient, drop me a line. i screen all of the new potentials for mp, because that girl's taste is all in her mouth.

If You're Geographically Undesirable and You Know It, Honk Your Horn

g.u. girl called mp last night, right as mp was about to dial her number. (oddly enough, the exact same thing had happened with pimptress 3 minutes prior. mp must have her psychic friends network auto-dialer turned on.) once again, mp was amazed at g.u. girl's ability to keep her engaged for long periods of time without the typical arm-chewing, eye-rolling, and general grumpiness mp feels when women want to talk about their feelings.

offering to show some boobage probably helped, but that just attests to g.u. girl's level of mp-awareness.

that is one savvy chicken. in fact, she's got mp's number so down, that when mp actually offered to do the drive this saturday, she busted out with, "i don't want you to come here until you're attached to me, because i know you'll do the drive once, figure out it's too far, and i'll never hear from you again."

the girl has a point.

on the other hand, she's a short, stable, hot latina... and there's something to be said for that. then again, gas is over $3 a gallon.
but! she didn't react badly when mp hit on the target cashier... while she was still on the phone with g.u. girl.

it's a tough call, but i'm thinking the latest round goes to g.u. for general grace, savviness, and humor.
god knows, if you want to date my person, you better have a sense of humor.

Pimptress of Always

mp and i will always love our pimptress.

we're not sure why, because it hasn't been that long.
we're not sure how, 'cause she keeps rebuffing mp's pervy ways....
but we know she's a girl worth investing time on.

besides, without pimptress, who would approve/reject the potentials?

on the last outing, some casual dinner conversation resulted in impromptu art.

this one's for you, my little pimplette.

Believe the Hype

after telling the world that the mochalatina said mp makes the best cappuccino ever, i have received quite a bit of grief from the masses. okay, well, four people. but one of them is really tall!

i'm here to set the record straight, uh, well... yeah. anyway. mp can only cook a few things-- and only three of those don't taste like crap. (although, like most of her people, she can grill.) and, in her previous life, she would have given herself 3rd degree burns while learning to make the perfect cappuccino....

but the new and improved mp is relatively graceful and burn free as of now (g. u. girl can keep flipping the numbers on her "days without an accident" calendar). her latte-making skills are also good, but it is the quality of the rich, thick foam she creates that puts her in such high demand on lazy sunday mornings.

and, yes, she'll make it as wet as you want it.

Summer Line-Up

this summer is going to kick ass... for mp, anyway. i get the feeling she's gonna leave me behind for any trixie that floats into her path, but what-ever. she hooked up her hollywood bowl tickets for the season (and it's a pretty fantastic line up this summer), has planned out her next couple of trips, and is generally ready to start with the playtime.

i like playtime, too, damnit! i need to talk her into putting the dave matthews hat back on me so we can keep rolling together.

Articulate To Stutter in 30 Seconds

oh, yes. the newest potential has mp's number. she also has swinging hips, swollen lips, and a raspy laugh. most important-- she says mp makes the best cappuccino she's ever had. jesus, she's a handful.

she's the girl who stares right at you and takes her clothes off, daring you to refuse a midnight swim. she's the girl that calls you at 3am to tell you about the dream she just had. she's the girl that runs her fingernails across your neck when she wants to get your attention.

she makes you feel like you're trying to talk with a mouth full of marbles and a stomach filled with acid. she sends you into nervous-talking over-drive... articulate to stutter in 30 seconds. she kisses like she's trying to draw you a map of the future, and she smiles against your lips to remind you that you've already arrived.

she is fucking beautiful.

Perspective

So Whatcha-Whatcha-Whatcha Want?

previously, on the homolife...

PIMPTRESS: so, how was your date with the potential?

MP: great, actually. she's a fantastic girl. she dug the hockey game.
she says coffee with me is definitely not overrated--so there!

PIMPTRESS: good! wait, which one was this again?

MP: the one that is geographically undesireable.

PIMPTRESS: oh. are you going to see her again?

MP: i think so. but i told her i wouldn't do the drive. she's nice though. i thought
it was a little needy when she said she would do all the driving. and she asked
if we could go out again before i even dropped her off.

PIMPTRESS: you're so weird. she likes you. is she fat? i know you like the chubby girls....

MP: no. she's average. it's a damn shame.

PIMPTRESS: hmm... what about missa missa chickapea?

MP: she comes back thursday, so we're going out thursday night.

PIMPTRESS: what exactly do you want? i mean, what are you looking for?

MP: a playmate. playmates.... i'm happy. i mean, i do what i love for a living;
i like me again for the first time in years; i smile constantly, and i'm
having a good time. i don't want anything major.

PIMPTRESS: uh. that's hard to get with women. most women want a relationship.

MP: yeah. but i'm a happy (mp) and i feel it's my duty to share my joy with as
many women as possible. i must spread the love.

PIMPTRESS: uh. yeah. you're doing a great job.

MP: love... thighs... whatever.

...after dinner

PIMPTRESS: oh, my god! did my girlfriend send you a picture of her ass?!

Charmed

sometimes, people tell mp she lives a charmed life. given the recent past, it makes sense that she occassionally looks at these people like they must be telling her she's the way to tell one wine glass from another. maybe she's charmed in the sense that people shouldn't drink from her, or they will sleep for 100 years. (uh, mp wants me to insert a note to the driver, missa missa chickapea, shorty, and all future potentials: "that is so not true.") anyway...

tuesday morning, mp met llama girl at a local starbucks so that she could pass along "the box." the box is basically a collection of c&r books, theory, study guides, recordings, class notes, etc, that have been passed down from grad class to grad class. mp no longer needed it, but the llama did, so it was time for the box to leave the happy honda-condo it had been calling home. (tragic, really, since it had begun picking out curtains with a tube of neutrogena hand cream in the cargo area. i'm glad for them; it took a lot to get over the handcream's moment of indescretion with the leather jacket.) when the llama saw mp, she exclaimed, "you look great! it's not just the weight-- you just look really fantastic!"

mp, of course, thanked her automatically. then she realized that the compliment was totally sincere. after all, the llama had seen mp just a couple of months before.... she realized that the complete happiness she felt inside was now visible everywhere. mp bounced into a job she loves more than she ever thought possible, has settled into a rythmn with her body, and finally acknowledges the power of the panty-dropping smile.

and it's good. it's really, really fucking good.

every day is filled with joy, contentment, new adventure, passion, gratitude, and love. she wakes up at 5am with a smile on her face, because she can't wait for the day to start. she irons her clothes after dealing with the delicious agony of choosing an outfit-- and she is happy to do it. (not to mention, she can steam-press like nobody's business these days.) She can actually work her espresso machine, but that doesn't take away the pleasure of walking to starbucks during work hours.

mp is happy, fulfilled, and living every day....

maybe that's what being charmed really means.

Yeah, It's Like That

Score: Shorty 1

mp usually doesn't like talking on the phone. she does it, because most women demand it. it's sort of like the phone is directly linked to the vagina, and if you wanna play post office, you have to go through the operator first.

there have been a few notable exceptions. the first time she spoke with pimptress, she wore out her cell phone battery; more importantly, she didn't feel the need to shower with a brillo pad afterwards. today, the short one called. now, being geographically undesirable, the short one has been getting a little neglected by mp. let's face it, my person is having a good time flashing her grin and flirting with everything that moves....

but shorty has something. i don't know what it is, but mp spent 2 hours and 45 minutes this afternoon trying to figure it out. in the course of that one call, she made a date, bought tickets online for friday night's activities, and arranged a meeting time and place.

yeah. my person did that.

my person, for whom deciding to do something a day in advance is too much of a committment, pushed way past go on this one. maybe it's the tiny latina thing. maybe it's the fact that they laughed constantly for a couple of hours. maybe it's that missa missa chickapea is on a business trip again. ...maybe it was the way she leaned gently enough to show what she wanted but was careful to let mp know that she would never use enough pressure to break her.

then again, it could just be the great rack.

Waterfall

i'm just a puppy, but i'm a puppy that digs music. rembrandt had this semi-cheesy commercial before my birthday that played upon the emotions of people who weren't getting laid. or were, but fucked themselves by making poor decisions. either way, it used griffin house's "waterfall," and it reminded mp of why she loved his work. eventually, he'll play some obscure venues out this way again, and people with glow-in-the-dark smiles will come with their bubble gum-snapping dates to sway to the same song they heard in the commercial.

until that time comes, mp will continue to use waterfall and other songs during her hikes. when she first started going on these marathon moseys through local (and not so local) hills, she kept almost all up-beat music on her player. a few weeks ago, something changed. the shift was imperceptable. there was no moment of awareness in which mp realized that she had begun stretching out her runs with the aid of music so slow that it seemed more appropriate for a junior high dance, but there it was. and sometimes these hikes/jogs become like long meditations. the agony that accompanies every fresh start eventually tapers off into numbness. the numbness is followed by a burst of energy, often with a mild surprise that her body can do these things now.... and after that energy is no longer so fresh and overwhelming, the rythmn of her trail runners slapping dirt, scrub, asphalt, grass, rock, stream, begins to feel dream like.

and slower music on the mp3 keeps the illusion of the dream going far longer than mp ever thought she could go. today, it was 96 degrees on the trail, and it was 4 miles and 64 ounces of water before mp realized that she was somewhere far above the city. alone. as she felt her chest struggle to take in enough air to egin the run back down, she was suddenly aware of the vastness of her clothes. the t-shirts she had bought when they were still far too small to wear were now so big that the soulder caps came half wy down to her elbows; the legth was now past mid thigh. the weigh of them was physically and emotionally exahausting....

but she had worn them because she still didn't feel like she could fit in anything else.

with a laugh, she took off her t shirt and ran down in her sports bra and tank. at some point, we all have to let ourselves off the hook and begin seeing what is real. some of the t-shirts mp packed away this afternoon have a value that cannot be described or even reasonably explained. it's just there, floating below the surface. the thing is, mp is no longer floating. she is pulling away with strokes made powerful by adversity and confident by luck.

but the images will always be available at the end of a long hike, if the desire to see is real. i think i'll miss this t-shirt the most. it's me, you see. and them. but mostly it was peace.

The Mullet, The Driver, and Em-Pee

friends don't let friends rock mullets. in fact, a true friend would get a mullet-wearing buddy fed-ex drunk and then go all britney on her head. it's tough love, but sometimes that is the only way to do right by someone.

in addition to not being able to follow simple directions, social worker 3.5 decided to embrace her inner trailer-dweller. that's right. the girl turned up all business in the front, party in the back. maybe she was just preparing to see clients in the 909 or felt like bringing back a stereotype for spring. either way, mp asked to be seated away from the windows. the first words mp spoke to sw3.5 were, "i need to stop banging social workers, because you're all fucking crazy."

after dining nascar-style, mp was moseying to the local starbucks for her night cruise, uh... cap, when she heard the familiar sounds of $150 flattening out by the second. she pulled over at the nearest available spot, and as she sat across from where she used to live and talked to pimptress, she realized that nothing was bringing her down. the crazy moments in life are all good. every single one of them. she still had fun at dinner (and resisted the urge to chuck the mullet on the arm in goodbye). she laughed when she thought about all the crap that had happened when she lived in the area-- including birthing me. she smiled when the tow truck driver arrived (in only 13 minutes).

...and when the big, dirty work gloves came off, and soft, manicured hands came out to shake goodbye, followed by the unzipping of the top of the baggy jumpsuit, she was even happier. thank god for equal opportunity employment in long beach. later on, mp is going tire shopping with her new friend, and they'll try to figure out what the best way to roll (around) is.

How You Like These?

yeah. i know you want em. you want my four furry pads of perfection, don't you? smell the frito-goodness....


seriously, you crazy-ass. give mp back her shoes and get some counseling.

...And...Scene

oh, that wacky s.a.c.w.g. during a saturday afternoon mosey with tits mcgee, mp finally cleaned house.

then she celebrated by letting pimptress keep her off the poor starbucks girl-- followed by social worker number 3.5, with a dabble of crazy sheriff, and a front seat full of finn. all she needs now is a nap and a tetnus shot.

The Survey

those in the know are aware of "the amazing (mp) date survey." bascally, mp has made light of her voracious dating schedule by sending out a post-date survey to "the potentials." it breaks the ice, lets them know again that there is nothing exclusive, gives mp some genuine feedback, and provides her friends with funny-ass material to read...and, of course, torture mp with afterwards.

The (MP) Take Home Date Improvement Resources Company Presents…
In Conjunction with Babbling Idiot Enterprises…
Rate Your Date with (MP)

This form is intended to be filled-out only upon termination of any/all dating potential with (MP). If you feel you may wish to continue seeing the subject of this survey, please hold onto your comments until such thoughts have passed. As compensation, you will be awarded a smile and (MP's) legal first name. This is a prize. If you remain friends with (MP) post-dating, you have a way to torture her in public.
1. On my date with (MP), I felt:
A. Awkward
B. Comfortable
C. Like I was babysitting
D. Happy
E. Like chewing my arm off

2. (MP) was dressed:
A. Better than a hobo
B. Like she should take style tips from the hobo
C. Okay
D. Appropriately
E. I tried not to notice

3. I felt interested in (MP):
A. From the beginning
B. As a possible candidate for ADD medication
C. Leaving
D. No
E. Yes

4. (MP) let me know where she stood with me:
A. Clearly and consistently
B. So I wouldn’t trip over her
C. By beating her chest and dragging me by my hair
D. About as well as a 2 year old
E. Didn’t come up

5. I would recommend (MP) a friend:
A. Yes
B. With a disclaimer
C. If I found out they had done me wrong

6. Please share a few things you enjoyed about (MP)/or your date:
_________________________________
_________________________________
_________________________________
_________________________________
_________________________________


7. Please share a few areas (MP) can improve in:
_________________________________
_________________________________
_________________________________
_________________________________
_________________________________
___________________...yeah, you can stop writing now.

8. Quirky stuff like this is:
A. Part of (MP's) charm
B. A reason (MP) should go into therapy
C. A good reason to go out again
D. Anecdote material relating to why I don’t date anymore
E. Just plain weird

Thank you for your input.
Please email your survey to (MP).com
Upon receipt of your answers, you will be compensated.


some highlights from different dates:

6. Please share a few things you enjoyed about (MP) and/or your date:
She never uttered the following phrases “Oh My God!”, “Totally”, or “Can you even believe it?”. I thought it was cute when she tried to pimp me out to pay for dinner. Was she over the limit on her card or just trying to get rid of me?


6. Please share a few things you enjoyed about (MP) and/or your date:
She was a very nice girl. Cute hair! Enjoyed the pre-date phone conversation more.


7. Please share a few areas (MP) can improve in:
Awkward, "I'm going to leave now kthnxbye" and never calling again.


7. Please share a few areas (MP) can improve in:
Your trust issues, your issues with the country music community. Your issues with dating those outside your norm. Mormons and younger women arent all that bad.

6. Please share a few things you enjoyed about (MP) and/or your date:
"I like boobs!!!" Good to know. If I wasn't trying to sleep with you, this would have been a bad moment.


6. Please share a few things you enjoyed about (MP) and/or your date:
I love the way you kiss. Could you please not flirt with the waitress next time?