|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|Ahh. The kidlet and I just returned from our "school's out" dinner at the neighborhood Coco's restaurant. Coco's is nothing special, just an educated coffee shop. However, it is the little neighborhood restaurant we used to go to all the time. I had forgotten it was still there. It's been about 5 years since we've been there. Since I was married. Freudian??? I mean - come on - we've lived in this apartment for over a year now, and the place is just down the street... Whatever. I felt so happy to be sitting in "my" Coco's, and looking out across PCH at the same houses I've seen a million times.
In fact, directly across the street from Coco's, is the building that housed the official "sex therapist" my ex and I used to visit. Her name was Anita something or other. She was about 100 years old and about 4 feet tall. She wore really thick glasses and orthopedic shoes. When we were directed to sex therapy, I thought I would just die. I mean, really!. A slut-ho like me - in sex therapy????? Of course, it didn't do us any good, because my ex husband had major physical problems that nobody had discovered yet. For some unknown reason, his pituitary gland wasn't producing very much testosterone - plus, he had some weird blood vessel abnormality in the you-know-what. So, right in the middle of things, when the blood should be staying in the you-know-what, keeping it nice and erect, the flood gates would open, and the blood would go out, and the you-know-what would just sort of disappear... I swear, that's enough to give any girl a complex!
The sex therapist gave us some fun exercises to do though. We had to take turns giving each other full body massages, and we had to tell each other erotic stories. Oh, and we had to kiss and make out until we were as randy as goats - and then stop. Those things were pretty cool. Right in the middle of our therapy process, Anita the sex therapist quit us. My ex husband's insurance changed groups or whatever, and she just abandoned us. That was okay. By that time, we realized sex therapy wasn't going to fix anything.
He gets testosterone injections every other week, and uses some god-awful stuff he injects into his you-know-what - so his new bride can enjoy her marital privileges. (Trust me, she can keep 'em).
Gosh, what lovely memories. I think I'll go bathe now...
Kidlet has narrowly escaped summer school! She pulled off a C in Algebra. Everyone here is most happy and relieved, as she can sleep in - and I can have pleasant mornings of coffee and internet usage. I don't have to run over to the school at lunch to pick her up, take her home - just in time to turn the car around and head back to work - sandwich in hand. I did that all this week because she had finals. I never felt quite rested. I never felt centered - always rushing, rushing, rushing. Well, except at work, where I didn't do shit all week...
"Life Not Worth Living If You Not Take Risk" Brian, QAF
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|