Tuesday, June 28, 2005 

Going To Grandma's House (or, Catholic Even In My Bones)



this is an audio post - click to play


Monday, June 27, 2005 


I've got mad writers block!

It's horrible shit I'm telling you. Anyway, help me get over it.

Give me some things you'd like me to mouth off about, or stories you'd like to hear. Can't guarantee they'd be true, but try to give me humorous topics puleez.

I'm drowning here, I need a little improv.




I’m against posting for posting sake. Really. Plus it’s not like I don’t have anything happening. I do. I think. Ok. Maybe not. I’m kind of a loser. No one even likes me. That’s why I have this blog. To fool myself into thinking that people find me entertaining. But then I comment on my own posts with fake names and sometimes it gets hard to lie to myself. I’m sure alcohol would fix this, but I’m out of money. Would someone like to donate?


Thursday, June 23, 2005 

Day One of Trying to Swear Less



Tuesday, June 21, 2005 

My New Plan

If I were single, which I am, I would stalk my next boyfriend. I would let him see me play with knives and take him to the shooting range just to make sure he knew what a good shot I was.

I would hide in the bushes outside his house and when he got home I would jump out screaming “HI”.

Occasionally when he got home late I would sit in his bedroom with all the lights off and when he entered I would say, “I know what you’ve been doing”.

A guy who knows his girlfriend likes to hide in bushes is too sketchy to cheat. As it is he’s always watching his back.

Also, a guy whose girlfriend plays with knives while saying, “if you EVER leave me” is probably too scared to break up with her.

Fear is a good thing.

Fear equals respect and respect is love.


Saturday, June 18, 2005 

I Used to Carry a Notepad in My Purse

Hold up.

Wait a minute.

I want to feel the beat of my paragraphs in a sentence. I want to… raise the bar, bend words with metaphors and similes, create black nights under blue skies. I want to invite you into my head, welcome you to my bed, but it’s dark here. No light, and baby we might just fight. So never mind, you are so unwelcomed.

Where are you going?

I didn’t unlock this door. It is shut tight and I have hidden the key so I guess you’ll just have to grin and bear it right along with me.

Are you grinning?

I got lost on the way to Webster. I was dreaming of complex sentence structures, form and flow when I was distracted by the funny. The funny is my life, my day-time mask, but I don’t go home to it at night. It is way too cold for shit like that.

“That wasn’t funny, that shit made you cry”

Ok. I admit it. You were right. But the price for seriousness was way too high. My rent was due and the lights were off. I had to pay with something and a tiny piece of my heart was the cost.

“You should care less” hey, all I could do was nod. I was too busy choking on “maybe you should care more”.

You shock me with your careless inhumanity. The way you punch your friends and leave them there to bleed. That was so fucked…. I know. I know. I should lighten up.

But, I’m your friend too, would you also punch me?

That shit makes me want to abandon you down back roads with twists and turns. Sometimes our friendship is so fucking cold it makes me want to open up the big book, flip to “f”, but you’ve pasted over it with the term “convenience”.

There is wind but no rustling of paper. I used to write on abandoned receipt slips but now I am changed, adapted to this thing called technology. Somehow this made my thoughts less private and introduced you to me.

“Hi, I’m fine. How are you?”

Okay. I lied. I am not fine. I miss my journal, my artistic freedom. I used to write nonsense just to measure syllables, drive trucks through cavernous hearts just to bury a metaphor into the ground. Grind it. Obliterate it. I used to drown in the visuals that were embodied by words written on a page. This was the only place I could be this version of me.

And I lost her. I traded her in, unwittingly, for a laptop with wireless access and superior graphics. No one told me this trophy wife would cut my hair, clip my wings, sneak kryptonite in and destroy me.

I’m trying to raise the bar and failing miserably. Are you grading this? Red pencil in hand? Don’t worry. I’m not the only one failing.

She called me up and confessed her father said he wished she was never born.

His sister was raped by his friend.

Your husband said he doesn’t love you any more.

I know. I know. I should care less.

I want to paint dark rivers with words, song notes with letters; I want to tell you about the girl playing piano and let you touch her hair. Can you see her? She’s right there.

Writers block has me pinned to the floor. Elbows on my wrists, shins across my thigh, he places all 240 pounds down upon my delicate skin, the skin that everyone comments is so unbelievably soft, and says, “I bench 300, try to move”, if he leans a little closer we might just kiss.

Wet cheeks to arrogance; I am planning my revenge.


Friday, June 17, 2005 

Things I Learned Last Night

1. Ty's phone number. I am so stalking his ass.

2. Grace and Mel act like sisters. Seriously.

3. Bloggers United = Lots of people scared.

4. Except for our waiter. Our waiter fucking loved us. Cindy told him I was a whore.

5. The guys sitting at the table next to us? Not so enthused. We swear alot.

6. Grace swears as much as I do.

7. Mel is TINY.... I mean tiny. Damn. How do I get letters smaller? Tiny. She's smaller than Grace.

8. Mail order brides are mouthy. At least that's what Mel says. She paid twenty bucks for Grace, who has yet to scrub the floor. Lazy mail order.

9. I don't like this water bottle. Kick.

10. Duckie fucking ROCKS the mike! Karaoke is soooo fun. Grace, held her own too. People were like, "Whoa, baby. Whoa"

11. Shit, we were like the best karaokers there! haha. supah stah

12. When Duckie spanks you he spanks you like you're his ten year old kid that just ran into the street, in front of a car, causing it to crash into a tree, after spray painting his brand new car with "daddy likes to take it in the ass" and dumping ink on the living room floor. Fuck that guys got some pent up agression.

13. There is no monkey at the bar, the blue monkey. Which smacks of false advertisement. We were pissed.

14. Steve will let Grace french any girl as long as there are pictures. WOOT WOOT.

15. I don't know how to dance.



Friday Fever [or, I'm Not Hungover I'm Not Hungover I'm Not]

This morning on the way to work I spied a crane on the local campus, which filled me with thoughts of climbing on top of it.

I would like some free doughnuts and cigarrettes too.

Also... I really didn't want to go to work.


Wednesday, June 15, 2005 

this is an audio post - click to play


Tuesday, June 14, 2005 

For Grrrace's Alien Husband

Craigslist Post I spied:

From a Guy on Dating

Why does he disappear?

Most likely, he's not a complete asshole. He saw something about you he liked, and wanted to date you. Like others have said, sex can only sustain a relationship so long- for me it's about a night, if that (generally I'm not interested in hooking up with girls who I don't see as potential girlfriends). There's got to be something going on mentally - emotionally.

You guys have to be able to have a good conversation - and what you think is a good conversation may not be the same for him.

You've got to be the girl that he goes ad raves to his dad about. The girl that, when hanging out with you, he goes to the bathroom and text messages his friend "I'm in love" about. The girl he brags to his GIRLfriends about. The girl whose picture he looks at every day, secretly looking around his office to make sure nobody's standing behind him.

You've got to be the girl that he can't WAIT to take home to meet his parents. The girl that he fantasizes about doing things with-going away, going out to eat, going to the library. The girl that makes him see a hot girl, and think "man, I'm so glad I'm not going to feel bad about not being with HER" (because yes, every time we see a gorgeous woman we feel bad that we're not with them).

You've got to be the girl whose name he searches for on his computer and in his email account, hoping he'll find something he wrote to his friend about you (or better yet an old email from you). The girl whose old emails and he reads again and again. And again. And again.

You've got to be the girl that makes him hide in the bathroom at work, quietly sobbing, when he thinks things are going bad. The girl that makes him stay at work much later than he should, because instead of meeting his deadline, he's writing craiglsist posts about you.

I'm sorry when I started writing this, I truly intended it to be a guys view on dating. Instead it turned into me rambling on about the girl that I don't have, but dream about.

But I'm sure that every girl is that girl to someone.


Okay. Let's oooh. Let's ahhhh. I printed this out back in December, so obviously it turned some part in me to butter.

But then I was on the phone with O and I pulled it out to read to her and mid way through the post I had an epiphany.


Seriously, it was the library part that really started to tip me off. I mean how many guys dream about taking a girl to the fucking library? Ok, yeah, dorks, but keep reading.

He sees a HOT girl and thinks, "boy I'm glad I'm NOT with her"? Yeah fucking right! You know when guys see hot girls they eye fuck her, or the memory of her, while you're asking what they would like for dinner.

THIS FUCKING GIRL wrote this post in order to perpetuate the urban myth that guys are really girls underneath it all. Well guess what La Femmes? They're not!

They are guys.

They get dirty, they light farts on fire, they beat stuff up that moves and they try to fuck just about everything breathing. That's why we think they're hot. If they WERE girls we would probably want to bitch slap them.

Fuck. Nice try Fucked Up Girl but you're not turning me lesbian. Not today.


Friday, June 10, 2005 

Sunday Always Comes Too Late, It's Friday I'm In Love

If there was a town named Hookerville I would move there.

I would change my name to Margarita and wear false eyelashes and sequins to make everyone think I was a cross dresser.

In the checkout line if the girl looked at me funny and gave me attitude I would grab my crotch and yell, "Hey! Suck on this! Bitch".

Sometimes when I walked I would pretend to adjust myself. Then while passing strangers I would sniff and say, "what the fuck you looking at?".

I would wear platform shoes and all the boys would call me Rita and ask if they could come over on their fifteen minute break.

Then their friends would beat them up for sleeping with a man. But that's cool, cuz in Hookerville, I would be Queen.


Thursday, June 09, 2005 

Where Have All The Good Men Gone And Where Are All The Gods. Where's The Street Wise Hercules To Fight The Rising Odds

My friend J can be long winded. That's ok. I forgive him. I'm long winded too.

Due to both of our tendencies to be chatty conversations tend to go on for hours. And hours. Fuck. Sometimes I get really sick of J. But he knows too much about me now and so I'm stuck with the asshole for life. LIFE!

Seriously. We're making plans to torture each other in the rest home. I'm almost positive that J hates me as much as I hate him. One of these days I'm going to push him down some stairs and never look back. I also plan to be running pretty fast so looking back could lose me some precious ground.

Last week I called J up for dating advice and was suddenly informed that I have NO game. NONE! According to him I am a complete flop and failure at this whole dating fiasco. Well shit.

J used to date me. He's probably right. FUCK!

Then he tried to let me off the hook. He pointed out I've had my head in a school book for the last couple of years. I've been overworked and sleep deprived for years and before that I was in a relationship. While other girls were out there dating I was at home studying for exams and now I'm 25. I'm going to be 26 in three short months and this shit is NOT what it was like in High School.

And by the way. The men suck. Dude, just cuz you're almost thirty does NOT mean your standard uniform should be khakis and henleys. For crying out loud man, you're not dead!

This, J pointed out, was the wrong attitude. Also approaching men and announcing the fact that they're wearing a pink shirt is also, apparently, wrong. Damn. Where's everyone sense of humor? I'm sorry, but if you wear a pink shirt then you should expect to get some shit talked to you.

So, I don't know. Apparently I can't be a smart ass right away because I'm "intimidating" but I don't know how to flirt right away because I'm scared of being labeled a "slut". Plus, almost all of the guys who approach me I later find out are Married! Damn.

I'm scared to take a step forward or a step back and I am left standing meekly with my hands in my lap and my mouth tied shut and I just end up boring boring boring times infinity.

How do I pretend to be stupid when the thought of dumbing down makes me violent? How do I pretend to be meek so my violent humor doesn't scare and how do I pretend to laugh at another's jokes when I am busting at the seams because GODDAMMIT I AM FUNNIER! Shit. I swear all the time. Special thanks to all my mechanic guy friends. You know I love you, but FUCK.

Plus I hate this superficial shit, "Hey baby nice ass". Fuck off asshole before I beat you off with my tire iron.

Again, according to J, wrong attitude. As he so succinctly put it, "Terra. Guys don't walk up and say, 'hey you're ugly. I like your personality'. No Terra. They like your ass. Also they are obviously desperate enough to think you're pretty."

Thanks J.

So apparently I am a moron. J laughs everytime a guy approaches me. They compliment me, he sees me freeze and starts shaking his head. J likes to say I only like assholes that talk shit because that's the only way to get anywhere with me. And it's true. J always talks shit to me and I'm probably never going to get rid of the fucking bastard.

Unless I can get him to step into this bucket of cement.

Anyway, I promised O and J that I would now embark upon the great adventures of dating. Uggg. I guess a two year sabbatical is enough. Right? Right?

Oh god help me what have I done?


Tuesday, June 07, 2005 

That Is So Hot

Umm. So... haha. My name is Paris. And I'm, ummm. Like marrying Paris. Isn't that hot? It's so hot. I'm so hot. I love calling out my own name in bed. Hahahaha. It's like, so totally cool and hot because he's the first guy I've ever dated who's not after me for my money. Together we have more money than god. That is sooo hot. I can't wait to have retarded hot babies.


The other day I was walking around Santa Cruz with my friend and I was like, "Hey what kind of car is that? I think I like that car."

He looked at the car and then at me, and then at the car, and then at me.

"Terra.... It's a Hyundai."

I was so fucking pissed. Fucking Hyundai, fucking Tiburons. Fuck fuck fuck.


My fucking email box is empty. No one is playing email tags with me today. I'm bored.




Monday, June 06, 2005 

Pretending to Sleep

We were married for a long time, well seven years to be exact, before I crawled into bed one night and said, “I want a baby”.

The words hung heavy in the air and the only sound that filled the room was the sound of him breathing. I counted to thirty by the ticking of the clock before he turned off the light, and just like that, the spell of us was broken.

It’s hard to describe my husband, he is a quiet man and if you asked him he would proclaim to have no layers, no complexities. He is one dimensional and obsessed with staying that way. When I met him I fell in love with his simplicities, his lack of subterfuge, his inability to surprise. In a world filled with emergencies, sudden plot twists and heartbreaking sorrows, he was my lifeline. Steady, flat, he threw out a hand and I grabbed on tight. Amazed that anyone had even noticed I was drowning.

I had been drowning my whole life.

Click, the light went off and in the quiet still of the night I was crying the kind of cry that is impossible to cover up. I sat up, wiped my face, and when I opened my mouth to apologize I found instead that I was choking on the word divorce.

Quietly he handed me a tissue box, pulling the covers aside I heard the sound of his feet hit the floor and the door to the bedroom open.

This is my husband. Throw him a loop and he goes for a walk. I sat in bed with my head in my hands and waited for him to come back. He always comes back.

“Why do you want a baby?”

It is twenty minutes later and my eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to see that he is standing in the doorway with his hands hanging helplessly by his side. He is looking down, around, anywhere but at me and I just want to hold him, run my fingers through his hair and once more pry open that heart of his. I want to say, “Stop resisting me, stop resisting change. When I met you, you were cold and impenetrable and no one realized anything lay underneath, but I didn’t see that. I saw your loneliness.”

I stand up, I hold him tight until I feel his body relax and sink into mine. He rests his forehead on mine, his fingers play with my hair and I say, “It’s time. You’ll be such a good dad.”

And he is.

He taught the boys how to ride bikes and they have a standing basketball game every Friday night. I sit inside pretending to read my book but really I am listening to the sound of joy fill my home.

My youngest boy screams, “Score!” and my older one shouts, “Gotcha!” but my husband is quiet. We are loud enough to make up for him and he is okay with that.

The boys are good with him… I made sure of that. When they were little I told them that daddy was quiet because he thought so much. I explained how he went on walks to make sure he gave them the most perfect answer because that’s how very important their questions were to him. I used little boy words to banish awkwardness and inspire love. You see, my husband turned off the light that night because the only thing in the world that he is more scared of then change, is losing me. He doesn’t say it, but I know. I saw it in the way his hands shook when he signed the birth certificate of our first born and how he cried when the doctor said I could have no more after our second.

In the hospital room, while he thought I was sleeping, he crawled into bed with me and holding me tight whispered, “I was drowning too”. I kept my breathing deep and even and while I was letting that sink in, he turned off the light.


Friday, June 03, 2005 

Overheard in the Land 'O' Terra

Why did I just hear one of the VP's in the office say, "No glove no love" and then laugh?

But more importantly.... why aren't I friends with him?


I've been listening to, "Learn To Speak Spanish" cd's in my car during traffic. My pronunciation is great but my skills are crap. I sound so stilted and foriegn. Plus I can't remember tenses for shit, so I use present tense for everything, "I going to bathroom last week and... big spider... eeek! I no like bathroom. I like the swing. You like the swing?"

If I lived in Mexico they would deport me.

The worst part is my accent is so good that when I tell people I don't speak spanish, in spanish, they think I'm lying and give me a look that says, "Stupid americanized Puerto Rican bitch thinks she's too good for us. Putah." Ahh well. What you gonna do? There's only so many tires I can slash in a day before my right arm gets sloppy and accidentally knicks my leg. Know what I mean?

Here's the cool thing about the cd's, they keep reminding me of words that I had completely forgotten about! I'd give you an example... but I forget.

Here's the point though, I don't think that they quite intended these cd's to be used in the way I use them. For example, cd says, "This is my husband, ese es mi esposo" and I say, "este mi esposo, un estupido panson." Or another another example was, "could you please bring me a drink" but I substituted "drink" for "Patron" and then added on an "Ahhora. Pronto Pronto!!!!" while snapping my fingers.

I'm an ass.



Grace Likes Screaming TIMMY!

Ok, I need to do a plug for Timmy. Who's Timmy, you might say, and why haven't you done a plug for me you stupid fucking bitch?


You my friend have an anger problem. And I DON'T like people who have an anger problem. I'M serene like that. So anyhow, yesterday Timmy was up for over 30 hours straight blogging hour upon hour to raise money for this girl.. Why do I give a shit? Well, I fuckin LOVE rollerderby! And I'm pretty sure I've seen this girl play, and let me tell you these girls get knocked around pretty bad solely for our amusement. Heh heh. It's pretty cool. Plus Timmy lives in San Jose and is hispanic, so I've got to have his back. It's a territorial/racial kinda thing. Anyway, after I figure out how to log back into my paypal account I'm going to donate 20 bucks. You guys should too. Seriously, take a look at Timmy's blog, the man was up for almost forty hours! Plus, his stuff usually doesn't suck, and towards the end Timmy my friend... I don't know.

C'mon... you know you have five bucks just laying round. Shoot, you're just going to waste it at mc'donalds anyway!



Thursday, June 02, 2005 



This is Tommy, Terra's cat. Terra's asleep right now... and her beer is spilling all over the floor. Boy is she gonna be pissed. Terra drinks herself to sleep alot. She also cries herself to sleep, but that's a different story. Anyway... um. I'm fat and hungry and that stupid bitch drank all of our food and litter money. Tonight when she came home from work she kicked our food bowl over and screamed, "What the fuck YOU want from me?! Goddamn lazy mother fucking cats! Who pays the rent here? That's right I pay the mother fucking rent you useless piece of shits. Go piss outside!" Then she stumbled off into the hallway. She stumbles alot. Anyway, now she's asleep in the hallway and I thought one of you nice people might bring me some food?




You Had Me at Secret

The mom spent all night yelling at the daughter while the daughter sat on the bed planning her revenge. Finally at 10:30 she told the mom it was time to go to bed. Turn off the computer, get out of my room, go to BED! The mom yelled like a petulant child, “Fine! I’m getting off.” Daughter #2, aka, the sister, sat on the floor watching the scene unfold with amusement. Glancing down the mom noticed the sister and yelled at her for reasons unknown. The daughter laughed, her laughing smirk, from the bed and so the sister got up and turned the TV off. Now who’s laughing? The daughter and sisters crossed their arms and glared at each other while the mother pretended to be oblivious to the argument she was creating.

During the standoff the daddy walked in and told a joke. The sister looked up but the daughter continued to glare, Oh look, dad thinks he’s funny. Wait. Everyone laugh. Ha ha. This was said woodenly and the dad blinked in surprise. I am funny.

Sure dad sure.

The mother rolled her eyes. Cut it out. Go to bed. She had regained her role at last and took no small satisfaction from that.

Lights turned off.

Blink blink blink.

Beds creaked and moaned under the weight of their occupants and while the females slept peacefully the daddy plotted his revenge.


Random stupid fact about me:

*I like to stab people.


So on the way to work today this guy in a stupid Hyundai cut me off. FUCKING PRICK! And all of a sudden I think I turned into a bigoted racist. It was really weird. Like if he had been Irish I would have been yelling, “Hey you stupid fucking leprechaun you’re supposed to be in Ireland drinking in the Dole line, NOT ON THE ROAD!” Or if he had been Canadian I would have yelled, “Hey FUCK HEAD, do you understand that or do I need to get a french translator YOU ASSHOLE?”.

Eh. I think I have anger issues cuz when I’m pissed I pull every single offensive phrase I’ve ever heard out of my memory then make sure I spice it up. I’m creative like that. I should be a slogan writer. Buy my product or die, cunt!

Anyway, my point is, Hyundai?!

What the fuck is this shit of people buying loaded Hyundais and then driving around like they’re ballers? You ain’t shit, you ain’t GOT shit, and you’re never gonna be THE shit, so just get the fuck over it already! Sheesh! You think we can’t see the little AI on the back of your pseudo luxury vehicle? You think we don’t KNOW that the POS depreciated ten grand the moment you drove it off the lot? Fuck. That thing probably cost you twenty fully loaded so don’t be looking at me like you don’t got the time for peons. News flash, YOU are the peon.

Sometimes I just want to get a brush bar for the front of my car so I can tap the corners of stupid motherfuckers and watch them spin off into the distance.


Secret Single Behavior

*Using different accents I talk out loud and create made up conversations between people that only exist in my head. The worst part is I laugh at their jokes.


I think my mother has some dastardly plan to turn me into a spinster so that my life will revolve around her. It’s true.

At my graduation party she announced to everyone that she was fine with the fact that I am single and don’t date, and it was OK with her if I NEVER got married, because, you know, some women DON’T, and that’s just fine by her!

My friend J almost spit his drink everywhere trying not to laugh.

Every guy who looks at me twice she announces is most likely insane, so, you know, a complete waste of my time. But, hey Terra, if you like stupid men go ahead and date him. It’s just, I, being your mother and better and smarter than you, would never give that potentially gay man the time of day.

I am also, according to her, way too immature to be married. And in fact, as she has been telling me for the last TWO years now, I am actually too immature to even be dating. Just take time for yourself TERRA! Why do you have to be in such a rush?

Um. I’ve been single for two years and I’m 25, what exactly am I rushing at? If I go any slower I’d be a tree. WTF is she talking about?

Plus, she constantly tells me what I stand to inherit in the event that her, my father and sister all die. At the same time. Because, I suppose that is such a likely event, and then starts yelling at me saying that my husband would steal all my money and that I better have a prenup when I get married.

So, number one, my husband, whom I haven’t even met yet, is apparently a low life bastard who is only married to me just in case all my family members suddenly die so that he can steal my money? Thanks mom. Really. Just thanks.

Maybe she secretly thinks I’m a lesbian and she’s trying to tell me that she’s okay with that?


Secretly sexy secret

* Psst. That boy over there, yeah the one with the glasses acting all shy and quiet. He likes to pull hair and talk dirty.