I’m confused. Is that the husband? The wife? I look at some of these photos and I honestly can’t tell anymore. It could be the wife, look at the French cut manicured fingernails, but then why are her arms and legs so veiny, and why is she dressed like a 14 year old boy, and where are her boobs?
You crazy kids today playing with ageism and mixing your genders together. I’ll never be that cool I’m afraid.
Anyway
Look, I don’t get a thrill out of social media mob lynching. Just like marching in the streets and blocking traffic doesn’t turn me on. In my last blog I was simply telling a story of recent events that threw me out of joint while waxing philosophical. That bass player just happened to be involved. I read those recent interviews with his ex band mates who had nothing nice to say about him. It doesn’t surprise me one bit. Not because I know his character, I don’t, but the music industry has always been cut throat, as is any work place. Some are just better at being ruthless assholes than others.
There have been very few people in my lifetime I’ve connected with, sadly becoming fewer and fewer. Simone was one of those people. And while I keep hearing statistics that say we’re living longer, perhaps, just not in my world. And it bothers me when friends forget each other when one of them dies. Byron died only seven weeks ago and no one mentions him. No one. Not once since he died. Is this what happens when people die now, we just dismiss them?
I miss my stray cat. During the depressing shit months of December-February here in the brutal cold barren desert, taking care of this little stray kitty was all I had to keep me sane, especially when I was sick.
Alas
Miso is not the sweet cuddly lost hungry kitten mewing at my doorstep to get out of the February cold and rain anymore. It’s spring now, the weather’s much warmer, he’s an outdoor stray, three months older, now he’s a teenager in human years full of piss and vinegar, clawing and hissing at me every chance he gets for no apparent reason. I hardly see Miso kitty anymore, not in the last 12 days, and that’s probably a good thing because like all teenagers today I have no idea what’s going on with him. I hadn’t seen Miso in a while and then just the other morning he came out of nowhere and I happened to look down and saw him following me home like a puppy. He let me pick him up and carry him which I started doing because he likes weaving in between my legs as I walk and it slows me down. But the second I set him down on the ground again he rubs up against my legs in repeated 8 formation and then out of nowhere just randomly attacks me, much like in my dating life. It’s a boy thing. It has to be. Regardless, it’s irritating.
Miso’s breath smelled like fresh tuna that morning which explains why he no longer eats the soft food I buy for him, someone’s feeding him well, but he still eats the hard food I put out. I don’t get it. He doesn’t sleep in my apartment anymore. I have no idea where he sleeps now. I have no idea why he follows me home. He lets me pet him, and pick him up, and scratch his face for all of three minutes, he doesn’t seem to be in any pain, and still he follows me home... just to attack me.
?
Boys will be boys!
Las Vegas is the only place I’ve ever been where daylight depresses me. I love being outside. I love being out in the sun. Just not in this town. And the men here are completely foreign to me. Even LA heterosexuals have a firm grasp of male/female gender roles, she does this for him, he does that for her, but the men in Vegas have no clue. I do this for you, but you do nothing for me? Even the damn cat!
I digress.
Older men understand gender roles, but most of them, seemingly all of them in Vegas, just don’t want to do their part. Fucking greedy. FYI that’s why you’re still single.
I have no problems doing what’s traditionally expected of me as a woman. Do you know how many blowjobs I’ve given! And what do I get in return? Nada. Motherfu... !!
And that’s why I’m moving into senior housing in five years, like I trust a man to care for me in my old age. Ha. They don’t care for me now.
“I want a woman who wants to give me blowjobs for free.”
That’s exactly like a woman saying, “I want a man who wants to wash the dishes every night.”
No one WANTS to wash the dishes!
Know why? KNOW WHY?
I’m not nineteen years old anymore, you’re not Channing Tatum, this isn’t the land of Far Far Away, so thems be the breaks!
What men don’t understand is, we’ll replace you with cats. That’s common language now. My long time friend Brian reasoned once I move into a pet friendly building to just get two domestic fixed kittens and my home life will be complete. Yeah. That’s not a joke anymore. That’s an actual solution to companionship. We’re just replacing each other with pets. She doesn’t have to give him blowjobs. He doesn’t have to buy her expensive shoes. Homeless pets get homes. Problem solved!
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