Prepping

"I'm soaking wet between my thighs", is what I just almost said to MrMuscle in the hall when I met him.
Instead, to spare both of us the sexual innuendo, I pointed out that it's really hot today and he agreed, and shortly after that I smelt a weird smell around me and proceeded to sneak into my room to avoid any more risks of embarrassment. In this heat you just never know, right? The smell went away when I left the nearby sink with old leftover food bathing in it, so I'll just assume it was MrMuscle's sexual longing for me (he so wants me! who doesn't?) making itself noticed in my nostrils, you know, the evolutionary pheromone way.

I had been off to town to make some sexacation shopping. Sexacation can easily be confused with sexoccasion but as you all probably can figure out, a sexoccasion is limited to a shorter amount of time, in contrast to sexacation that spans over at least two days, for example the random weekend visit where someone puts out.
Next week I'm gonna head off for a three week long sexacation, and I needed the very much crucial equipment to complete the experience - the leopard handcuffs. And a new vibrator which hopefully will be totally unnecessary during those weeks. It's gonna be awesome.
The mental pictures are many and intricate and of course some of them involve the fuzzy cuffs that I wanted for years but never got around to buy. The week remaining will be long until I'm in the arms of my love again. Oh. The longing.

Widowed

I am currently inhaling a healthy breakfast consisting of ramen noodles and a can of coke.

Yesterday Boyfriend left. He moved away from here to find happiness in another place (ie, an actual job), now I'm a distance widow. It sucks balls. Already. So yesterday morning I did what is expected of a girlfriend when the boyfriend is just about to leave for an extended period of time. I got down on my knees and did my job, ...which in this case means that I helped scrub his floor and do the last cleaning of his apartment. We ceremoniously closed his door and then I saw to it that he would have a romantic and luscious picture of me in his head when he drove off. By crazy crying, all red and swollen and runny nose. Yes, I rock.

Then I did what any human would do instead of crying, I cleaned. Like stuff I never clean and always is too lazy to clean. Like my shower drape, it's shiny sparkly right now. Then I cleaned my room. Then I watched people scream and run for four hours, one of which was shared with Bf on Skype. What an awesome sunday.

There's nothing left to do.
Apart from becoming a workoutoholic.

I'm a superher.. no wait what?

So, the other day I had a dream. No, not that kind of dream. A dream where I, in great happiness, proclaimed that I and three of my closest girlfriends, would start a superhero team together. I proudly told myself that I would be Blonde! My super skill would be to render the perp unconcious by... wait for it... squeezing him/her between my ginormous thighs and starving them from oxygen.

Thanks brain, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.

Home economics

I'm resided in Boyfriend's bed. He's packing stuff in boxes. In the middle of his attempt to unfold one of the boxes I called for him. He stopped fighting with the paper opponent and looked at me.
"If I felt good right now I'd give you a blowjob."
He just looked at me for three seconds, and then "... Why? Why do you do that? Why?"
"What?"
"Do you WANT to plant the idea of a blowjob in my mind?"
"Yes, that's kinda the plan."
"Without me getting anything?"
"Yes, that's kinda the plan."
He sighed hopelessly and walked away, knowing all too well why he deserves it.

The other day I was trying to convince him to do something for me, in exchange for.. favours. His reply to that was "Well, honey, your sexual favours has experienced a inflation lately (this pointing to that I've amused myself with them when I wasn't able to have sex), so it's not worth as much as earlier." and then completed the whole thing with an enormous grin, combined with patting me on the back. Birdy was there, giggled and slowly backed out of the room.

Yeah, we'll see about the exchange rate in the future, be-atch!

Chipped

I just ate some chzzsszs chips and then scratched my nose, at the edge of my nostril. Tip of the day, don't do that. It now smells like I'm sitting in a chip factory. Yuck.

The lovely summer weather

The light outside goes in a very charming dark grey, the wind is torturing the poor lilac bushes on the yard, the rain is pouring down and wetting everything that even exists, there's nothing fun to do and it's a sunday. The epitemy of a boring day. So what do you do? Well, I don't know what you would do, but I know what I did.
Yes, that's right. I did it. I bought a colourful piece of cake, with fatty whipped cream, vanilla heaven in the form of custard, soft sponge cake and fresh strawberries. And I'll be spanked silly if I didn't add some cider to this. The kind that contains a few percent of the lovely additive called alcohol. That's right kids. Wynn's getting just a little tipsy. I consume alcohol so scarcly nowadays so the little I inhale I notice. What better way to spend a sunday afternoon without any other good options. Random cake-and-tipsyness for the win! Looking out the window, and then experience the warm feeling of not being outside in the cold rain, then take a sip of cold, bubbly cider.

Ahhh. Being inside..

Lady in almost older

Huff. Today I've done a lot of things. And I mean A LOT of things. Like.. eaten. Surfed around on my laptop for an hour while still in bed - at noon. Talked to my mom a little on the phone. Shopped a little. Bullied bf. And then totally and utterly cleaned my room. Not the allround get down on my knees and do my job kind of way, but the other intricate and thorough way that includes sorting those messy piles of papers and stuff in the closet, putting new legs on my bed that broke a while ago (Yes! During hott and seksay sex game.. No, I wish.) dusting every shelf in the bookshelf and the bench the TV sits on and everything else with dust on it, carried a bunch of stuff out to the storageroom, AND.. finished it off nicely with getting old-woman-backpains. So now I'm limping around here, taking smalls steps while making "oh" and "ah"-sounds, the tortured edition instead of the more wanted amazed edition. My right hand is firmly attached to the back of my hip while I grunt around, wishing things wouldn't be in the height of my knees, because that's the most painful from standing to bent over-ratio.

It sucks being painlessly inept. Can't my body and whomever is doing this to me (oh, it's personal) see that I'm trying to totally ignore the fact that I'm growing older and will have to get serious about stuff sometime in the not so far away future? Back pains only reminds me of the grown up days to come. And I'm not THAT old, but still I get pains, make the fatty grunt when I lean over to retrieve stuff, get hungover from three beers, stay away from uncomfortable shoes (but I think this relates to me being a total slacker), take responsibility for my bills and actions and clean my toilet more often than once every six months. Gosh.

Blogger

I'm having such a hard time making my mind up on how the blog should look. Not too flashy, not too boring, not too bright, not too colourless, not too simple, not too intricate. Holy nerdyness Batman.

Oh well. The last few days absolutely nothing has happened. I've had my period, eaten good food, hung out with bf, complained that everyone else has gone home to their original lairs, and tried reading some blogs. Yeah, you heard it. Tried. The blogging on my 40 or so RSS'ed blogs has been at an all time low. Vacation times? Everyone has their birthdays in may and june and have to celebrate all the time-times? The sun is shining and it's too much of a waste to blog-times?

Well looking out my window I only see clouds and what surely is going to be rain in a short while, so I demand you all to start blogging again! Do it!

Old draft, finally posted

Lunch. I'm having a terrible hair day today. And Suckup (you could just guess why she got that name) at work annoys me. Ever since she realised that high heels would fit on her she has been swaying around looking all high end-officy. This bugs me because we work in an environment filled with unclean stuff, and by unclean I don't mean the kind of unclean that you experience the day after a really bad sweaty one night stand, I mean the kind that actually stains clothes and sometimes demands sneakers. She smiles with the corners of her mouth and keeps the posture of a bird on the prey. Ugh, please. Slacks doesn't make you a lawyer, you dirty commoner!

Oh, a chinese girl just ran past the window. One arm was flaring around like it had just seen the Titanic and tried to flee in any direction other than the direction the girl was running. It's funny really, if I see someone running around here it's one of the "imported" asian kids. No lazy person that has been brought up here would ever dream about running anywhere. Unless it's 30 yards to the bus. And that's only if it's leaving that exact second.

Letting MrBusy be busy

The other day when I and Boyfriend were going out to buy some tummy filler to lay the grounds for the awesome party night we had in front of us, we exited my house. I chatted along like I always do, then looked at the left at a little gathering of people around the local concreted BBQ area. MrBusy, pimped out in a nice looking shirt, looks back at me. From MY yard! I stared at him, for ten seconds, with my mouth open while my left hand was pointing at him and my right hand was blindly looking for the phone to text a few people in the closest circle that need minute-by-minute reports on these kind of events. In my head. In the real life, because I'm so friggin awesome, I spotted him, waved a hello and then continued to talk about whatever I was talking about with boyfriend. I'm girlysure he didn't notice.

Later on when we've eaten and Boyfriend had a bunch of friends joining him, I took the liberty of joining MrBusy and his friends that I know from earlier, and remained there for a few hours. Ti's was nice, I reveled a little in his presence, talked about important stuff like where he was selling his body on the weekends, how much he could (he refused though) to live off his rich girlfriend and exactly where his friends went, when we 45 minutes after the friends departure realised that they was still missing. After that the party went on into the night with all sorts of friends of mine.

The most awesome things about this night was three, the friends returned ass drunk after having passed out in the bathroom (at two different times, around 7pm), I got to point and shriek (mentally once again, but she totally got it) and show a very close friend that MrBusy existed in real life and not only in my stalker daydreams, AND when I later on returned to Boyfriend and his posse, MrBusy totally fell out of my mind and I didn't think about him very much more even though he was in sight.

80's rock

Ooh ooh, I kinda have a day off now! For a few hours anyways, before I have work to do. I have to rephrase my alledged claim that I will have no responsibilities or appointments all summer. I will have appointments later this summer, and until then a shitload of work to do. But in my continental calmness, I wont let it bother me. Tis all going down good mate.

Latest news in the Wynn household. Boyfriend, with his fantastic instrument of transportation, took me, Birdy and Mug for a ride to the big and awesomely airconditioned supermarket. We gittied around like kids, looking at cheap stuff and totally oversized packets of food and the interestingly trailer trashy population of the store. I planned on spending my last well deserved money on ice cream, noodles and cleaning agents so I ventured to the shelf with bottles in happy colours, with red labels on them. By experience, I know that todays bottles in happy colours with red labels on them rarely are as good as they are dangerous, which kinda takes away the meaning of being dangerous.
In order to make a good decision, I took a thorough look at all the bottles, was non-stop blinded by the shrieky colours, and then stumbled onto a white bottle with a girl on the label. The plaid shirt, hairband, ruffled bangs and quality of the picture revealed it being a leftover product from the 80's (or a company that thrives on their 80's formula, either works for me), which completely suited my taste. During the 80's, the lack of nature care and knowledge/who the fuck cares what active substances could totally fry away skin produced effective but dangerous cleaning stuffs. I had hopes, and they totally went my way!

I can now sit on my toilet, making my daily buisness, while looking at my in general dull looking shower, and see the reflection of the shower drain in that one awesomely shiny, smooth wall tile down by the floor.

Summerplans? No? Really?

It's strange. I will be entirely free this summer. No job, no school, no appointments, no responsibility, no meetings, and of course, due to this; no money. But hey, it's all good anyways.
I imagine myself with a beer, under a tree, writing emails to people that have jobs and have to sit inside all day long. Just to make them hate me. Then a huge squishy fly will dive right into my beer and a spider will glide down its disgusting shiny thread and land on my leg. Beer everywhere. Possibly in my computer. Computer has to take a vacation for a few weeks to another country. I will suit it up with a pair of swimming shorts and a pimped out umbrella for those sunny days. And then spend the following weeks with sitting outside, then running inside emailing all those people that have jobs and have to sit inside all day long, to say that I'm having a beer in the sun, and then go outside again.

This could possibly be the best summer ever. Apart from the sending away my laptop-thing, I'd rather not do that.

Conspiracy!

I smell conspiracy. A succession of interweb related services went down exactly at the point of time that I was to use them. One after the other. First I tried logging onto a site where I would log in and play around a little and therefore get some exchange in the form of gift certificates. Well, didn't work because my entire internet connection decided to kill itself right then and there. Fine, I thought, and plugged onto the neighbours open network. Got to the site (slowly) where my monay was at, and tried to log in. Didn't work, because the site all of a sudden decided that my usual password wasn't good enough for its posh login window. I tried it ten times. FINE! I thought, and then proceeded to the site where I controlled the password. Clicked around and got to the page I wanted, which had a big red "Under construction"-label on it. For four hours ahead.

FINE! You can suck it! I thought again, and made a mental piss at things while clenching my mental fist in the air.

But don't rest yet, godforsaken sites! I will return..

Sunday

SellerGirl and Ambigiously Gay no.1 moved out today. Forever. That means new neighbours! At least three new morons are going to make our little hall their dwellings in a few months, excitingness!
I hope there will be good (and not very uptight) people that don't clog the kitchen sink or wrap themselves in the kitchen curtains, after squirting tequila on everything.

At least one new girl has moved in, outside of the hall. I met her today, she proceeded to turn her back to me and then unlock the door to her place. Charming. I kinda feel her, I'll be nice to her later on when she's got her shit settled.
Summer is here and everyone's either comsuming way too much beer in order to get a reason for sitting outside drinking beer in the sun, or complain about the hardships of keeping dry and breathing properly. I'm just sitting in my sofa, being sticky and not at all feeling fresh.

Popsicle here I come!

Hmmm.

I have this strong feeling that my life would be so much more day-to-day-exciting if I had a workplace with retarded people, or at least temporarily retarded people. Right now I work with as least moderately non-annoying people and

Right now I'm just panning around in my shared kitchen, disturbed by the fact that the recycling bins smell like poo (the bad bad kind of poo) and that no one can claim the friggin avocado bits in the sofa. Apart from doing that, I go to my educational workplace to, a few hours a week, sit and listen. Not very much going down there lemme tell ya.

That Ambigiously Gay no1 is sleeping with Sellergirl is old news after she appeared from his room, red, squinting and ruffled up. Mug never has anyone apart from HottestDudeAround for a walk of shame on the weekend mornings, Birdy has never anyone at all doing the walk of shame and MrMuscle is just nice. Someone needs to slut up in here. Come on people, do your buisness as wanted by your ruling queen!

Yuch.

Today I cleaned out my wardrobe and during this journey through my stuff I realized how poor I am. And how much crap I own. Right now I can’t even afford the minimum dose of that whore Sugar that I need daily to survive. She’s friggin expensive when you add all the dates up. So what gives? Well, the two mobile phones I had laying around here collecting dust and dropping in value for each day unused. I posted ads and within two hours I actually got them both sold to foolish suckers that bought my electronic devices to exorbitant prices!! So now I can afford meeting Sugar and buy some food. Awesome. I’m awesome. I’m so awesome that I’m thinking about turning myself into a redhead. I –could- possibly get away with it. Dunno though. This week I have been at home due to termination of motherhood and overall being sick, and I will remain at home for a few days more. I’m understimulated. So what happens then? Yes, I will start thinking about remodeling my room of changing hair colour. What, I would NEVER use shallow things to avoid thinking about stuff that really matters.

Oh all the things I don't have to think about, and all the things I don't need to do right now, how shall I have the time..

I'm like the wind..

Tonight I felt like normal after crying and being in a bad mood for a week. Lucky me, this coincided with my roomies going out and having a blast. I joined in, and it was awesome. I don't know about you, but I personally, apart from not being a classical girl in other aspects, totally am a girl when it comes to Dirty Dancing and the music from the movie. I LOVE Dirty Dancing. I fantasize about being in the movie. I imagine myself dancing on a random fallen wooden log in a secluded forest with a total hottie. Clad in clothes suiting the 60's, I imagine myself sleeping with the hotttt dance instructor and making him mine under romantic circumstances. His hand will slowly stroke along my ribs down to my waistline and decidely grip it. I will purr. He will appear on my last night at the vacation and tell my father (who isn't at all as non-compliant as the father in the movie) that nobody puts Wynn in a corner. Then we'll dance on the stage and show our neverending love for eachother and I have a perfect small waist and be light enough to be lifted. Oh the romance..

Tonight the story fell a little short, because just when we were about to leave "The time of my life" started playing. A boy, shortly named TheHottestDudeAround, shouted that this song must we dance to, and I wasn't really about to say no. On the contrary I yelled back that Amhagadg we have to! Boyfriend had left an hour earlier so my acting and intricate singing "Now I..... had the time of my life.. No I've never felt this way this before.. Yes I swear.. it's the truth, and I owe it all to you..!" to one of the hottest boys around was a necessity. I'm not letting the chance to dance to Dirty Dancing-music pass because Bf left early. And TheHottestDudeAround is one of my prospects of the past, for the simple reason that once upon a time, if I hadn't caught the stomach flu at that unlucky night, he would have been mine and I would have ravaged him that whole night. Now he's limited to the "that hottie that got away"-part of my past.

I just have to tell you all about this. It wasn't really totally special. We were at a dance floor wet from spilled beer, with all kinds of people around us. But I had his arm around my waist, sang the words to him and he sang them back to me, and we did it in unison. Our bodies moved in symbiosis and we were connected to the love illusion for two and a half minutes.

I will surely remember this. He probably wont. I don't care. I have to watch the movie now, it was a year ago..

Universe strikes back, 09 edition

Seriously, I HAVE GOT TO stop kidding about things.
Me and Boyfriend have a easygoing jargon among ourselves, and of course Roomie is in on a little corner of that. By default, Roomie is worse than me and Bf. Aren't they always? Anyways. We joke about stuff. The main two jokes during the last months have been about anal sex (what, it's funny), and kids. Not combined though, that's not funny.

Examples of these jokes can go like this:
"Shut up and know your place in the society, boy slave"
"Hey. Don't make me come and take you up the pooper"
"Psch, you'd run into all sorts of things there that you don't wanna meet"

and

"My boobs hurt and I'm having what feels like cramps"
"Maybe you're pregnant"
"Yeah, if I really was pregnant right now, against all these odds, the universe is really trying to tell me something. I would have to keep the kid just because I've learnt not to say no to the universe."
(mutual laughter, resting on a stable mental base of pregnancy not being physcially possible (at all) at this point)"

and

"Hey, bitch. Serve me like your queen"
"Bear my children and I'll think about it"
"Har-har, make me!"
(mutual laughter, resting on a stable mental base of pregnancy not being physcially possible (at all) at this point)"

and

"(insert insult)"
"(insert random threat about pooper from Bf)"
"Ha-ha, yeah. Ya know, if I got the stomach flu you could do it. Then I'd be all empty and you wouldn't have to run into anything."
(mutual giggling)

WELL, I HAVE GOT TO STOP joking about these kinds of things.

Turns out, life has its twists and turns. Not that I'm at all surprised, but it took me off guard this time. I apparently got myself a nice little food poisoning during the wednesday and spent the evening/night in the bathroom puking and then by default being all emptied of all my nourishment and life retaining supplies. Not really what I intended when I told the joke. I wasn't serious damnit!

And because my boobs hurt, I had light cramps for weeks, and my period was eight days late, I checked with a home pregnancy test.
You have GOT TO BE kidding me. One rib crushing puke fest and one medical miracle later, I'm sitting here, once again with some will to live (after five days) and a little creature with an own beating heart inside me. I would rather have Bf as something with a heartbeat inside me, but you can't always get what you want.. right..?

Suckyest weekend

Well this weekend came to suck old balls. BALLS. My shivering like a white taco turned into a slow feeling of discomfort, which then led on that I rushed home from work and went to bed. Slept restlessly for five hours and then panicky threw myself in the bathroom to puke. And so it continued the entire evening and night. Was it the apple that they gave me at work? The evil potato salad? The evilness which is a collective kitchen? Who knows. I didn't regain my will to live until yesterday, five days later. Sucked balls man.

Lucky me that I have boyfriend otherwise I'm sure I wouldn't be alive today. Altough, some of the weekend's problems is his fault. I'll tell you later.

Gosh, I have to get my blogging steady and nice. It's nice.

Zapple

Ohhh, so now they’re trying to bribe us simple workers with fruit! FRUIT!
I’m sitting here wrapped up in a blanket like a white taco, and they’re trying to cheer me up with fruit! They will NOT by these cheap means of distraction with a colorful little basket of yummyness quenche my thirst for revenge and bloo..!! Okay then, give me an apple.