Being abrupt

I think your band is vulgar.
I think you were showing weakness when you got up so quickly to hug me, you did it because you knew I was annoyed.
Perhaps we could have had a second chance but you never called me.
Why would you bother even going to that show when you knew I would be there, when I loved them probably before you ever did, not that you would know that. How classy of you to be so friendly with my friends and cousin and let Ferrari or whatever that bartenders name was make me "whatever the lady would like." How classless of me to lean over the bar and pronounce giddily "a root beer minderaser would suit me just fine." I was so irritated to see you riding a bike home, it makes me think you had a DUI or something. Again, I think your band is vulgar and disgusting and not that funny. I felt so stupid getting you and Oldtimer mixed up. We never would have gone to Burt's had I known they were playing and that you would be there, cross my heart. I felt obnoxious wearing that dress, or "gown." I felt so out of place, who could imagine? Out of place in my own damn bar. I swear I went there before you ever did but I know that can't possibly be true. I went upstairs to sit in the chair I usually read fortunes in. I forgot my cards that night. It was a rookie mistake, I should've known better.
I certainly looked the part. Hair braided and pinned up with small wildflowers. My breasts felt so full and round, and looked even better in that gown. Who wears a gown to a punk show? I don't know, certainly not me! I was a victim of dyslexia while reading SLUG. Regardless, while I was practically passed out alone upstairs in the gypsy witch office chair, you and my cousin were out back talking about what a "big misunderstanding" it all was and how the entire ride home Bre and I listened to Summer Camp and I just kept telling her how totally full of manure you were. How maybe, in hindsight, you made a huge mistake and yet you have done nothing to rectify it. So don't you dare cry wolf and then act like I'm not going to show up axe in hand. You had every opportunity to tell me this yourself and you didn't. And maybe I don't have time to wonder about you anymore because I probably never really liked you in the first place. But it wasn't fair of you to rob me of the opportunity to see if I even felt something. I told you, I just wanted you to hear my Rodney Dangerfield record, not spend the fucking night (or spend the night fucking, whatever). I'm just saying, for someone who can get up on stage in gold spandex and pull his dick out and talk about the most vile things into a crowd of people, was I really more terrifying than that? How dare you talk about wanting to see me again, I'm upstairs practically faint and you are standing outside with the smokers and you don't smoke! I'll be rudely cold shouldering you for ever now. Throwing glances and rarely speaking to you until Burt's closes down or one of us moves away (and I'll tell you right now, it won't be me). Spare me your "misunderstood" feelings, you had time and you let it tick off and wind down. I'm not waiting for anyone now, you either are or you aren't. You either will or you won't. Of course someday you will regret this, more than you ever will now. You'll be like the man in the Shel Silverstein poem, the one who freezes his dreams. When he becomes an old cold man he will heat them up and soak his feet and remember the glory days. You wouldn't need to freeze your dream if your dream was holding your hand, if your dream loved you.

Private Dick

Have you ever felt like you were being followed? Everyone stalks these days, whether they readily admit it or not, they do. Facebook, Twitter and Instagram have highlighted the voyeur in us all and if you told me you never searched for the Mean Girl from 8th grade or your elementary school crush and then followed their profiles for at least a week I would probably call you a liar.

The men of Bored to Death, probably stoned and drunk on white wine

I got to live out one of my fantasy careers last night while staking out my co-workers husband. She is convinced that he is cheating on her with a waitress at the restaurant where he works. She felt desperate enough to come to me for help (people have always felt comfortable with asking me for unconventional favors). I told her I would bring my cousin along for assistance in our surveillance. We had to be discreet, we definitely had to be sober and in no way could we giggle. This was a serious matter and it required serious women.

Operation Silvestre
9:00pm: We head to Starbucks for a pre-stakeout coffee and restroom break
9:15pm: On the road heading to south Salt Lake City
9:40pm: We arrive at our targets place of business, we park directly behind him so as to get a good view of the suspects in question.
9:45pm: The cheating husband in question still has another 15 minutes before his work closes, Bre and I check my POF account and take another restroom break at a nearby hotel.
10:00pm: I receive a phone call from my co-worker, she is in the parking lot to but on the other side of us. She is hiding in the backseat while my other two coworkers are surveying the vicinity. I tell her to lay low.
10:15pm: The dishwasher leaves leaving only two cars in the parking lot, presumably the suspect and the co-worker who may be the female he is cheating with.
10:20pm: Bre and I do a perimeter check and surround the building. We look very suspicious already because we are two of the whitest girls in a largely Hispanic neighborhood. Bre smokes cigarettes and I yell angrily to no one in my phone.
10:21pm: Suspect and Hispanic female are spotted through a plate glass window. They are talking and it is hard to see them because the restaurant is dark.
10:22pm: We walk back to the car and stand outside smoking. The suspect comes out and gets something out of his car and goes back in. He seems a tad leery of Bre and I and rightfully so, we are totally spying on him.
10:23pm: My co-worker calls and asks if we saw what he got out of the car; she thinks it was a condom.
10:25pm: My co-worker calls again and asks us to another perimeter search. We get out and walk to the side of the buisness where it looks like they are in the back room. I don't see any damning evidence and we make our way back to the car.
10:35pm My co-worker calls AGAIN and says she just called her husband and he said there were still customers in the restaurant. Obviously this is a lie, he says he will be home in 20 minutes.
10:45pm: No sign of the suspect and the female co-worker. Whatever they are doing, it's happening out of our sight.
10:55pm: My co-worker calls YET AGAIN and says she just called her husband and he told her he was getting on the freeway now. I feel awful for her that he is lying but we still have no rock-solid evidence of anything thus far.
11:00pm: we move the surveillance car to the other side of the parking lot, I believe the suspect knows he is being watched but that could have been just me being paranoid.
11:15pm: Suspect and female co-worker FINALLY leave a full hour and fifteen minutes after the restaurant closed and an hour after the last employee left. It is clear to me that they were POSSIBLY fooling around.
11:17pm: We begin following the female co-worker home, she definitely knows we are following her and does everything in her power to lose us on the highway but she doesn't. She is trailed to the 1300 South exit off of I-215. We follow her down to Emery Street and hang back so as not to spook her. We are overtaken by a truck turning left and we momentarily lose her. After cruising the streets looking for her Jeep we finally decide that we were evaded. I check my phone and see that my co-worker has called me 12 times! I call her back and let her know that she should probably hire a real P.I. if she plans on getting any solid picture and surveillance evidence against him.
11:30pm: Bre and I decide to get french fries and go home to watch the rest of episode 22 of season 4 of Toddlers & Tiaras before bed. The life of a private eye is a lonely one.

Lesson learned? I don't know, I do feel awful for my co-worker though. Being a woman scorned myself I guess I just relate to that desperate feeling you get when you feel like you have no choice. Luckily for me, I was not married with children and I could easily step away from my shitty situation.  I don't know if I will ever be really good at stalking someone, I am not very covert but it was sort of fun to stake someone out, and sort of boring.

CRUSHED.PEARLS PRIVATE DICK PLAYLIST

1. Nightcall by Kavinsky
2. Cornflake Girl by Tori Amos
3. All of Fever Ray
4. Kid by The Pretenders
5. Demons by Sleigh Bells
6. All Your Gold by Bat For Lashes
7. Tigerlily by La Roux
8. Pyramids by Frank Ocean

Sick, Sad World

 I wish I had someone to dictate my life story to. I wish I had someone who could hear every drop of my life the past 28 years and would have some keen, all-knowing answer for me. I want to have it type written in old courier text and bound with a cover that doubles as a mirror; I could have been born into anyone and yet I was born as me. 

I write so much about relationships and heartache and truth and respect and wanting and needing and reading over myself I know how high my bar is set. I realize that it is a very real possibility that I will never find "the one" that I will spend the rest of my life with. This makes me cry but I know that the person I am has a lot to do with it. I tread uneasily at first, so uneasily I don't even tread, I cancel, like I did with my Craigslist date. I felt like he quite possibly lived at home with his mother and wasn't employed and those things were on my list and I am sticking to my list. 

Or, I would have stuck to my list. Baron (remember? barebonebacon= run away); you can refresh here, here, here, and here, and I have/ were? talking again? I say "were" because the minute I even mentioned something that could "out" him for being the closeted deviant that he is could get him kicked out of the Navy. I almost got that spark that something in him started to turn for the better. I had hoped he realized he has a problem and knows that something can be done about it and he will just magically wake up one day and smile and want to meet people and pursue other hobbies and interests that don't involve sex in any way, shape or form. He will talk to his parents about why he resents them and they will say "We already know all about you, we knew you were struggling as a child with being overly and inappropriately sexualized and instead of taking you to therapy we enrolled you in karate and other activities hoping it would move your mind in a different direction and it didn't. We failed you on that part and we are sorry." It's a sad story, it really is. It's disgusting to me that they know, even now they know EVERYTHING fucked up that he is into online and they still can't bring themselves to confront him about it. What are parents for if not to tell you when you are destroying your life? He could be a perfectly normally fucked up human being like the rest of us and instead he is a perfectly fucked up emotionally traumatized human being who will never be happy in anything he does because he hates everything except the sensation of ejaculate leaving his penis. That is the only thing he truly loves; if he lost his eyesight and his penis he would probably kill himself.  I remind myself time and time again about him and what he is capable of and I just...keep reaching for him. He lives in a world I will never understand, he truly is too emotionally disturbed and intelligent to save. He will be someone that goes out and kills people some day for no reason other than his own made up, warped ideas of the way things are and how they should be. I do not for one second think I will ever feel 100% safe in my life and if I move on with another person I will always wonder if he will hurt them if only to hurt me. He made himself into a monster and he wears it proudly. The Navy is the only thing keeping him reigned in at this point and I am concerned for the well being of those around him if he leaves. I made a comment about a really stupidly inappropriate image he made for me and I threatened to send it to the military police on his base and he blocked me, he fucking blocked me. This is a person who holds on to everything for posterity; it frankly shocked me that he would be so moved by that statement. Is that really hitting him wear it hurts? It hardly seems like it, but I guess he likes his squadron thinking he is just a normal, heterosexual male with no red flags anywhere near him. It really does take too much to touch him. In twenty years, where will I be with my knowledge of him? Will I feel like I missed out on my "one, true love" because he was so deranged I couldn't deal with it? Is this a punishment for some tort I committed in another life? I can't help him, he won't let me. I can't love him, he won't allow me. I can't save him, he doesn't think he needs saving. I can't change him, he made himself this way. I can't convince him, he swears he is of a higher intellect. I can walk away, but no matter which direction I run I end up facing him. 

 

For A Good Time, Call...

It all started when Bre asked "Can I make you a Plenty of Fish.com account?"
Me: "Why?
Bre: "So I can troll for guys and look for people I know"
Me: "Ok sure, but you have to be completely honest!"

So it begins...

About Me:

     I'm temperamental. I like to have presents bought for me but not in a manipulative way. I want someone who has a job so they'll leave me alone while I'm at work. My ex boyfriend had a porn/webcam girl addiction so I'm totally not into that. I have friends and I enjoy going out. 

First Date 

     My perfect first date would include being picked up in a car owned by you. We would go to some place that is significant or important to you in some way. You don't ask me what I want to do the entire time. Or you can just take me to X-Wife's where you know it's cash only beforehand without being told. 

This is basically Bre and I but with a computer and multiple Iphones

And that's it! A couple of pics later and I am being bombarded by requests for godknowswhat. I had one guy write to me saying he was moving to SLC from Hawaii and he wanted someone to take care of him because he was going blind but he wanted someone attractive. Are you fucking kidding me? 

I was ready to delete it the next day but I swear I can't figure out how to just delete it, it only lets me hide it. So ok, Bre can still look for guys while no one bothers me, fine. I have a favorite past time of cruising Craigslist ads looking for guys who are brazen enough to post dick pics with their faces showing. I giggle and laugh and move on to the next one, very rarely do I actually take the initiative to respond to one because hello I am just there to look, my romantic interest is fucking ZERO at this point. My last date was totally shot to hell before it began and I still have the pleasure of running into that guy seemingly everywhere I go and even though my friends know him and what a dumbass he was to me they are still drunkenly nice to him out of pity for having unimpressed me so much. Anyway, after perusing for awhile I click on an ad that basically sounds like my love affair for my own body but it was written by a man. He is young and lives downtown so for some reason I think it would be a good idea to contact this guy. Ugh, sometimes I want to punch myself in the face. The first time B and I went out I remember thinking "What the fucking hell am I doing!? I don't do things like this, this isn't me."  but then I just fell so in love with him so quickly I totally forgot I was ever nervous about it in the first place. So I email this guy and he emails me back a short note and a pic of himself and holyfuckingshithell this is one of the guys from POF that sent me a message! What a coincidence right? You go looking in the dregs of society (ie: POF, Craigslist) and the dregs of society you shall find. He seems really forward and wants me to describe my every sexual fantasy in detail to him and I told him to "shut up because this conversation will be over if you keep up this dirty talk." I thought that would scare him off, it's amazing to me he wasn't scared off by my vivid About Me account, I guess he is thinking fat girls are easy? SO...in the spirit of true brazenness, I agreed to meet him at Liberty Park this Saturday afternoon. 
What am I thinking? I honestly have no idea. I am attempting to branch out and meet people and this isn't the way I would have planned it, it worries me he is on the internet and has craigslist ads, I can't take another person wholeheartedly in love with their computer and not me. I enlisted my cousin and friend to trail us around the park to make sure he doesn't kidnap me into his molester van. 
A girl has to start somewhere right? I am betting this won't work out and hopefully it will translate into a funny story later, there is no way in hell would I ever date someone I met online. 

 

Working at the pyramid

Another oldie from the vault, obviously unedited.


August 18, 2011

Remember that time D told you the only reason you two stuck around together so long was because the sex was so great? And you wish so badly you would have just said "what are you talking about; actually, the sex was awful and you always smelled like cigarettes, malt liquor and sweat."

And then all those years after you picked him up at the Tiger Army show and even after Salt Lake and before he lied on Memorial Day about where he was, he said "it was you. It was always you." and how now you know that that was just another falsity he tried tricking you with. How now it's like a mirror has been put up on yr entire history and half of it is a lie and the other half never existed in the first place. You made a mirage to comfort yourself because all those times he led you to believe you were in the desert and his love was the coldest, clearest, sweetest water you had ever drunk. When you came to you had a mouth full of blood and barbs and yr intestines burned and you realize you have been eating sand and cactus for the last ten years. That was just how fucking good he was at swindling his snake oil and selling it off as love for you.

That time he told me I smelled bad, like body odor smelled bad. And I got in the tub feeling like a fucking child and crying like one too. He came in and washed me. My hair, my back and my vagina. He wanted to own me, wanted to make me feel like I wasn't in control of myself, he was in control of me and the only way I could be cleansed was if he did it for me.

Cupid says "Whoever you are, this is your master. That he is, that he was and that he will be."

Gun Shy

Yesterday was Thursday, today is amazing. WIDOWSPEAK is playing in Salt Lake City tonight and while they were supposed to be booked at a regular venue it didn't work out and now they are playing around the corner from my house. I am so thrilled to get to see them and meet them, I love it when things are just sort of perfect in that way. House parties never hurt for fun anyway and this one will be epic I am sure.
My two cousins are driving in from Tulsa, Oklahoma tomorrow afternoon/ evening and I planned on us all going dancing at 80's night at Urban Lounge but we will see. I have an appt. in the morning to meet with the coordinator of the venue I want to have my Oma's 80th birthday at. It is going to be expensive but I really don't care, I just want her to finally see that no we don't take you for granted, no you aren't unimportant to us, and YES we all gathered here for you Oma, all for you. I feel excited and lucky and pretty and good and all the things I wanted to experience are happening and they are happening one by one, little by little. If this much progress has already occurred in the seven months that I have been here I can't imagine what next year or the next five years will bring. Sometimes when you hear your favorite song on the radio you think maybe it was playing only for you, just for your hearts and ears and fingers to strum along to. I feel that way about every challenge, heartbreak, obstacle, and barrier now. It was all there, just for me to conquer and get past so that I could see really and finally how fucking strong I am and that there are no limits when it comes to this girl.

Third Base

Scribbling notes down on napkins to remember a point I wanted to make later is not only ineffective but also a waste of a good napkin.