Tag Archives: vacation

Asking for forgiveness

31 Mar

During an innocent game of Mafia with friends while on vacation, I got overly excited by a friend’s fantastic grammatical construction while intoxicated.

Oh my god, that hit the spot. Really, it was a little bit orgasmic.

Juliana, you need to GET LAID.

Everyone laughed, myself included, but I thought the words rang true. It had been six months, friends, since the sun had shone around those hidden parts and it wasn’t ‘easier to deal with’ as time passed.  I had been shamelessly dabbling with pornography and fantasizing about frolicking naked with a man. I should have sought help right away, but I did the opposite instead.

I met a man on Friday night.  He was funny and laid back and had nice friends. We exchanged numbers and he came to find me on Saturday, the second day of the show, and we spent most of the night dancing together. The devil sure is cunning – he offered me an awkward-dancing rock n’ roller at an electronic music festival who was tall, thin (yet very athletic), three years younger than me and from New Zealand. I can hardly hide my giddiness around an accent, so I should’ve recognized the blatant temptation and run far far away from this wolf in manly lamb’s clothing. But I didn’t do that. I was stupid, very very stupid. I let him kiss me.  We spent a few hours together, talking, dancing, sucking face, and amazing one another with shared personality traits and tastes.  He suggested we go back to his apartment, which was so conveniently located five minutes away and I tried my hardest to resist.

That sounds good, but let’s listen to another 20mins of the Deadmau5 set before we go.

He agreed. Not only did he agree, but he fetched me some water and we sat down together, listening to the music as he put his arm around me.

At his apartment we listened to Faith No More (why is it so hard to find FNM fans in the States?), had a drink and then… we had sex. Full, long-lasting, mutually pleasing penetration and a little sprinkle of this and that. Twice.

The following morning I returned to my friends and tried to keep mum, but they are perceptive and saw right through my wide smile.

Ha ha you had seeeeeeeeeeeeeex!!! How was it, tell me, tell me!

After a shower and over a cigarette, I spared them no details of my shameful encounter.

I sit here, days later, still thinking about that episode. All these years of my adult life have been lived in shame and perversion; when I’m not engaging in obscene behavior, I’m thinking about it, or talking about it, or joking about it. My mother was married with a child when she was my age and lived a righteous life. I’m not sure when I got off a respectable path (if I had to guess, I’d say age 11), but my pleasure-seeking ways are no way to live. Last week was indulgent and culminated in the highest offense against all that is divine: amazing foreplay and sex with a man I’ll never see again. It’s despicable, and I’m so remorseful.

I ask the heavens for forgiveness, I thank my friends for being supportive, and as summer approaches, I promise to make the right choice when such perfectly aligned circumstances present themselves again.

Fun time detox

30 Mar

I’m suffering from PVR (post-vacation retardation). I’m trying to “hang in there” for my boss, but I must say, this has been the longest work day of my freaking life. I had six hours of sleep, which would be satisfactory under normal circumstances, but truly, I got out of bed this morning and made my way to the shower with my eyes 70% closed. Heard something or other about Ricky Martin being gay on the radio, and now here I am.

I’m not asking for pity. I just want to bring awareness to this condition, as it can severely affect one’s well-being for a number of days, if proper care isn’t taken. The symptoms include, but aren’t limited to:

1. Spontaneous falling-asleepness
2. Ugliness (especially of the face and hair)
3. Mild hallucinations
4. Short-term memory loss
5. The shakes (a result of alcohol and tobacco withdrawal)
6. Caffeine cravings
7. Incoherence / lifelessness of speech
8. Weight loss (don’t mind this one so much. probably a result of #4 – forgetting to eat)

These may not be alarming individually, but together, they are severely debilitating. I have managed to tag 300+ pictures on Facebook today, but my lackluster comments are clear indicators of my condition; where I may, in good health, have created a real LOL in one or two short sentences, I debated, deleted, and finally, defeated, left a shameful few words barely worthy of a ‘ha.’ It would be a real downer if it weren’t for the fact that, thanks to symptom #4, I am also easily distracted. I can’t even remember to remain disappointed at myself for longer than a few seconds. My eyes are drawn to the door, to which I must walk, open, and take even MORE steps to enter the kitchen.

Mmm, the kitchen. There’s probably Passover leftovers. My back hurts. Maybe I can just close my eyes for a little bit. Mmmm… I’ll put my head down too. I’ll hear steps if someone comes this way. Swedish House Mafia and Armin were so good. I looked really nice in that dress. Agh, I want a beer and an empanada and the beach and a book. Can’t believe I finished that book. I thought I was gonna start seeing demons on my shoulder too. They had a lot of sex. I wonder if I would cheat on my boyfriend if I were touring in a rock n’ roll band. I need to pee. It’s all this coffee I’m drinking and it’s not even working. Oh my god, I need to close the month for each of the companies by like, Friday. FUCK, it’s only 12:27????

As you can imagine, the thoughts continued, looming over the happiness I felt less than 48 hours ago. Where there were boys flirting with me, is now my boss with lease contract jargon. The brief , refreshing rain has been replaced by the cold, persistent showers of New England. I’m wearing more clothes than I care to, none as cute as the sarongs I casually wrapped around my neck. I hear silence and the occasional too-loud ring of the telephone (GOD, don’t they know I JUST got back?) instead of sick beats and laughter.

I’ve got a useless, slow brain that refuses to come up with decent closure to this excuse for a blog post. It’s sharp enough, however, to realize it’s time to go home and fucking crash.

You’re so lame… you probably think this post is about you

22 Mar

I’m not mentally prepared for vacation.  OK, that didn’t work.

I’m pretty tired and I want to make sure I get a good night’s rest on my first night of vacation. Nope, still not good.

I’m a creature of habit and I enjoy being alone… WTF? no.

I’m feeling pretty fucking lame and so incredibly lazy, I wonder if I’ll have the energy to walk to the bathroom when the need arises. Well aware there is no excuse for my behavior, but I’ll continue to engage in it for the duration of the night.  That’s better.

It is true that I chose to smoke some weed and watch Anchorman at 11 last night when I should’ve been packing and tidying up my apartment. It is not at all false that I had only three hours of sleep before hurrying to catch a taxi and make it just in time for my flight. It would be accurate to state that my friends and I have been talking about and looking forward to this break for AT LEAST the last eight weeks. And yet… it is my first night in Miami and I’m in the condo by myself in “lounge boxers” and tank top, eating a sandwich and drinking a beer. Just as I would’ve if I were home – really, the only thing missing is Tori at my foot. I thought of watching a little TV since I don’t have cable at home, but had to shut that off too.

So I took the day off to travel to Miami and do the exact same thing as I do when home. And yes, alone. Because everyone else is using common sense and is out and about, soaking up the carefreeness in the air.

There is no particular reason; I’m not sad, I’m not depressed, I’m not PMSing. I’m pretty freaking content, actually. We’ll just call it a glitch –  a Butt Baby malfunction that will surely be adjusted by sunrise.

From tomorrow on, I promise to be just as absurd, inappropriate, kittenish, and friendly as I’m supposed to be. Because it’s who I am, really – a miracle baby, born from the butt to bring joy and nonsense to all those she befriends (and hell to those she doesn’t… but that’s *so* rare). Just not tonight, I guess. Tonight I’m lame (and loving it).