Sunday, August 07, 2005

Horoscope, again

Ok, so I read my horoscope on my msn home page. From time to time there are some interesting , what?, insights?, coincidences? Anyway, thought you'd get a kick out of today's.

October 23 - November 21Insights about yourself and about others could come to you from deep within today, dear Scorpio. You are by nature a master psychologist, but today you might surprise yourself with your perceptions. You probably will want to spend much of the day alone, perhaps thinking, meditating, or contemplating some interesting new ideas that have come your way. Don't be surprised if you find yourself writing a lot of your thoughts down. [emphasis added]

Kind of funny since I spent the bulk of my afternoon writing some pretty personal stuff here.

The Kiss

He stood to leave and leaned over. I was still seated. I looked up and realized that this was not the look of a cheek-kisser. He was going for my lips and he couldn't get there quickly enough. It was delightful. Not too hard, sweet soft lips, lingering but not overstaying their welcome. I think we were both so surprised when we pulled back that he went in for another. This time my wildly groping right hand was able to connect to his bare fore arm. I held tight and let myself get swept away with the sensation. Perfectly executed, with no awkward errors in head-tilting.

That moment changed things for me. It made think about him as a man, making his way in this messy sticky world -- not just as some guy with a hard-on for me.

What was it that I was begining to sense? It was a feeling for him. A curiosity about what made him tick, what made him order Guiness when my local brew was clearly the better choice. The typically uneffected Betina was experiencing a hacker's break-in to her cleverly ordered and well decorated emotional walk-in closet. Someone other than me was suddenly on my mind.


E-mail weather report

So, after meeting Vladimir on Friday, I woke up thinking about him on Saturday. By then I had realized that the e-mail address I gave him was out of date. On Monday, I think I waited until at least 11:00 and I sent him an e-mail. I had tracked him down based on his occupation and had what I thought was an active address for him.

Well, one e-mail turned to three turned to thirteen and we were still dancing around the big question looming in my mind, "how did he get his shirts so white?" No, no, no. It was "when can I see this guy again?" So by Thursday, being an impatient person, I cut right to the chase and asked him.

We saw each other again-- this time on purpose. He was more handsome than I remembered -- and the presence. His presence filled the space, and we were outside!

Words that came to my mind with accompanying fragrances:

Comfortable in his own skin -- good bourbon
Slightly acerbic -- easter egg dye with vineagar
Funny -- carmel corn
Boot rockin' handsome -- wet cool woods
Totally engaged and present -- pinot noir
Ironically "street" -- wet newsprint
Trying hard -- Bloody Mary

We talked and our 20 minutes turned into 45. I felt very much at ease -- in fact, better than at ease. I felt charming, funny and sexy. It was either him or my fruit rush was late in kicking in.

The two most significant events of that meeting, in reverse order of importance were:

The Invitation
The Kiss(es)

So we agreed to meet the following night. OK, signing off now. Nothing else to report. Come back any time.

Oh, you're not leaving until you hear about the kiss? All right you insistent bloggerazzi, the kiss.

In my next update!

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

About a boy

So, I have been going out a bit in the evenings to occupy my time. Well, it turns out that a few days ago I met a man who turned my world on its axis a bit. His name is Vladimir. I was out with 2 lesbian friends of mine, shooting some pool. It turns out that he knows them and stopped off at this particular watering hole prior to turning in for the night. I was a bit stoned, and sipping on a beer -- not a particularly verbal set of conditions for me. So he and I mainly ignored each other. I was focused on beating my very competitive co-worker at pool -- but I certainly felt his presence in the room. With the help of the lesbians I learned about his daughter and wife and he learned about my husband and daughters. We hadn't really been talking directly to each other at all, but I found myself pulling up a bar stool next to his. Once I did that, it was as though the lights and sounds of the rest of the room washed out. All I could feel was the heat coming off of his very masculine body. Our shoulders brushed, I leaned into him a bit, my foot rested on his calf, my fingers tapped his thigh to make a point.

It was very subtle and very obvious at the same time. The gestures were small, but they held such intensity that I would not have been surprised to see a small glow coming off of us. I felt "together" with him as others came over to talk with us between pool shots. It was very strange to have that feeling when I was pretty sure that he couldn't spell or even remember my name. But it was nice.

I think more to confirm what our bodies were already feeling we finally did speak and I enjoyed the chance to look him square in the face, rather than just his engaging profile. There was verbal sparing, I don't really remember the content clearly. It was just enough to be able to engage one another directly. No real sexual discussion, just listening and looking and sensing. I wanted badly to bend in and smell the crook of his neck, his skin looked so soft there; but instead I occupied myself with how his thigh had felt under the denim of his jeans. Our discussion lasted 5 minutes before we were interupted with shouts of "last call."

As I was being shepharded out the door by my friends, I offered him the only card I had on me -- one with an out of date e-mail address. I suggested we had alot in common. We hugged, and I felt the shape of his back under his tshirt. I was interested.

Thursday, June 30, 2005

I'm Back

Hey, turns out life doesn't suck after all. I eventually got a job, and not just any job, but a cool corporate gig with a Fortune 100 company. I am handsomely compensated and like they say in the 'hood . . . All Indoor Work, No Heavy Lifting. Can't ask for anything better than that.

Still in the South, but this time in a bigass city. In a bigass house. With a bigass mortgage! Wit-Woo.

Saturday, June 26, 2004


Hotel: "

Looks like the kind of place that Too Much Coffee Man would stay.

I can't get any sleep at this place...

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Friday, June 25, 2004

What kind of a great life would this be?

New York Post Online Edition: gossip: "June 25, 2004 -- ALEX Thomson, the dashing British sailor who broke a 24-hour single-handed monohull speed record this year (averaging 19.53 knots), is still looking for a sponsor for his Vendee Globe campaign. The race starts in just six weeks. The Vendee Globe, the only single-handed, non-stop round-the-world race, is considered the Everest of sailing. It happens only once every four years. But Thomson is still without patronage. This is why the boat he's sailing tomorrow in the annual race around the Isle of Wight has been christened '' " Talk about the antithisis of what most of have going on. Making a living at something where there is no professional league. It reminds me of John Bertrand's America's Cup win in 1983. He legitimized the sport of yacht racing by treating it like a science rather than magic seat of the pants shit.

In fact, if you want to read an excellent book on the subject, pick up a used copy of Born to Win: A Lifelong Struggle to Capture the America's Cup
by John Bertrand, Patrick Robinson

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

For my money

For my money, Jon Stewart on The Daily Show on Comedy Central is really the best news show on TV today. No, it's not fair and balanced, nor does it pretend to be. You know though, as I think about it, they do try to have guests on from both sides of the isle. And when they have some right wing dodo on hawking his/her book, I always watch E! instead. Maybe I should refine my statement to say that his monologue which leads the show is the best 10 minutes of news on TV today. There, I've said it, and I'm not taking it back. I mean, how often can a newscaster say, with a semi-straight face, "Mr. Vice President, your pants are on fire."

Now that's good TV.

On a side note, I'm not made of iron, nor do I pretend to be. More to come on that.

Yeah, right.

You mean they don't have to have won the Noble Prize, only been on the short list?

Sunday, June 20, 2004

The Terminal

So, I understand that Tom Hanks and Steven Spielburg have a new movie out entitled The Terminal. The movie has been getting lots of positive press and even the websites I scanned for the above link were filled with glowing reviews. But, for some reason . . . it just doesn't grab me. Now I am not afraid to fly, nor am I terribly put off by the new procedures required to actually board an airplane. That being said, I just don't think I want to see a movie about it.

The way I look at it, I don't mind having my teeth cleaned, but I don't want to see a movie about it, either. Tom Cruise wandering the halls of Forsyth Dentistry late at night, high on laughing gas, eating fluoride treatment paste (cherry flavored) to stay alive. Meg Ryan the perky dental hygienist who befriends him. Not workin' for me.

If you haven't been bombarded by the 360 degree media onslaught for The Terminal, the premise involves Tom Hanks who plays some poor schmo from a fictional Eastern European country who is taking his first trip abroad. During his flight, his fictional homeland experiences a revolution or coup which renders his passport invalid. Stanley Tucci plays a governmental bureaucrat who heads off Hanks' request and apparently all logic, and prevents Hanks from leaving the airport for a year. That's when the fun begins.

For me, that just does not spell light hearted romantic comedy. It spells ulcer flair-up and migraine headache. Evidently Catherine Zeta-Jones plays the flight attendant/love interest (Department of Redundancy Department). So, if you're interested in her I suppose that could be a draw. My only interest in her is to check out her crow's feet and eye bags which refute her claim that she is 33 or 28 or however old she is claiming to be this week.

So despite time on my hands, I will skip this one. It will leave me more time to focus on my current project, conducting an audited inventory of my handbags.

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