Lost in LXTR

Ok, so I've been here in Holyville for just over a week, and I've been getting lostlostlost drivin on the roads here. First because people in this part of PA drive like fuckin MANIACS! And I mean that in the nicest and most Christian way. But FUCK!

For instance, I'm on a stretch of road where 55 is the speed limit. I'm in the slow lane cuz . . . I get lost to easily to be in the fast lane most of the time. But I'm doin 60 (or 65) in the SLOW LANE. And doofball idiots are riding so far up my ass that when I fart in my car, they say pee-you in theirs. I tap my brakes. Softly. Then so hard that CGirl thinks she's gonna go slidin off the back seat into her water bowl. No luck. Assholes apparently like to ride the assholes of others -- asshole fetishites they are, after all. So I do the only thing I can do. Stop. Right there. So suddenly that they hit the horn only because it's the only thing they can do to keep their heads from doing it for them. I laugh my ass off. They give me the evil eye as they go around me. Teeheeeheeee . . . dumbasses.

Or how about on the highway, where the speed limit is 65 and I'm doin 75 in the FAST LANE. Ya think my ass is asshole free? Nada chance. I wish I was gettin more O outta people stickin theirselves up my ass like that, but as it stands -- or sits, as the case may be -- I have to be content with slowin all the way down to 55 and grinnin like I just got laid when they give me the evil eye as they go around me.


SO, as a new denizen of Holyville, I've been gettin lost a lot. Even got lost tryin to get outta here to go get my kid and take him back to school.

Ok, side note -- that shit ain't NEVER happenin again. Love him dearly, which is why I'm gonna LOVINGLY stick his ass on a train and LOVINGLY wave at him as the train pulls bye-bye. IF I'm in town when he arrives/departs. Or IF he's in Holyville visiting when it's time to go back. Mama's too old for that, and Froggie ain't gettin no younger neither.

Anyway, I digress . . .

So I figure out today that my drivin ain't worth shit if I'm usin a map, but if I've got TBTs, I'm good to go. So I print out my first TBT, so I can hit Wally World. See, my FiyaGrrl done turned me on to kosher baloney and hot dogs. (See what you done did, FiyaGrrl?!)

Ennyway, so I print out Wally World TBTs, and lo and behold, I make it there and back in under six hours!!!! This is truly a day for rejoicin! Right? It's a 20-minute trip -- but LostGrrl here has been turnin it into six hours on the road, only the first three of which are actually fun. (Ask CGrrl, next time she gets to blog. She'll tell ya the REAL DEAL!)

So I'm thinkin Yippeee, right? No KoBo at Wally's, but I can do the TBT thing really really well! So I print out a TBT for Weis . . . darling little LXTR chain that seems to be a favorite of my fellow Holyville denizens. It's actually CLOSER than Wally's and one of them did have my kobo last week . . .

And two hours later . . .

LOL I took a detour.

It was a axident . . .

See . . . this is wha ha happen

K, see so Weis didn't have any kosher bologna, so I started on my way back. But then I saw a GIANT. And I thought, 'Hell yea! They'll have it!' Another round of disappointment, though . . . No kobo to be found . . . so I pulled out of the parking lot . . . and turned the wrong way. Not having expected to even SEE Giant, I didn't print out turn-by-turns from there . . . Sooooo . . .

I ended up driving all the way back to Weis before I figured out, 'Hey, I should be on 462 WEST, not EAST. So I drivedrivedrivedrive til I get to a safe spot to make a yoUie, drivedrivedrivedrivedrive back down 462 West, and then make the ten-minute trip home . . .



Ok, I feel better . . .

I'm safely back in Holyville. Maybe I'll wait til after our field trip to Phily before I hunt for KoBo again.

Ah well, I did get lots of KoDogs . . . they is YUM too. My FiyaGrrl knows how to feed me, just right. Now if I can just find more KoBo to keep my new habit going . . .


CGirl's Day

Well, just so you all know, I'm pretty happy up here too. Mommy's in class for three hours a day, so I get the whole house to myself. I watch movies and listen to music, and I bark for about five minutes every morning after she leaves for class. Sometimes Mommy admonishes me to shush, but most times, she just takes it in stride that that's just part of me being . . . well, me.

So, I go for two or three walks a day, plus long drives. The long drives are mostly because Mommy gets lost when we're coming home from wherever she drives us to. The good news is that she actually likes getting lost -- but I've gotta tell ya, after about six hours of getting lostedness, I'm really ready to just get home and into some serious pee-and-nap time. Mommy can just stop in some gas station -- but me, I'm pretty picky about where I pee. It's gotta be near home, otherwise -- in the words of Morgan Freeman in Shawshank, "I can't squeeze a drop." 'Course, Mommy's pretty picky too, but I've got picky down to a science.

Speaking of home, though, here I am today, hangin out on Monk Walk.

I like Monk Walk. Mommy can grab a smoke and I can say hi to all the two-leggeds that come my way. That's one of the coolest changes so far. Before I moved here, I used to be scared of EVERYTHING and everybody. My tail would go immediately between my legs and I would just cower everytime I went out anywhere or anytime anybody came near me. Now, I just growl a little -- and, hey, if you know me then you know that my growl means nada -- but my tail just wags and wags until my whole body is doing the wag-me dance. I just wanna know EVERYBODY, sniff their hands -- but Mommy won't let me sniff their butts. She says it's impolite to two-leggeds cuz they don't like having their butts sniffed. Oh well, they'll adapt. She says that soon, I'll have many more four-leggeds here, so that'll be really cool. I like the kitties across the hall, but I don't think they're used to the C4s like I'm used to the F4s. I think that they think that all C4s wanna do is chase and scare the F4s, but that ain't so. Ah well, they'll adapt.

Anyway, I think Mommy needs to do some laundry and unpacking cuz there's stuff EVERYWHERE. She told me that we're getting a new bed tomorrow AND two used chairs and a coffee table next week. WOW! All new furniture stuffs for me to hang out on while Mommy is in class.

I think I like it here. The H2s are really friendly and patient, and I don't get so scared of their cars and trucks like I did in that big city I used to live in. I get to run around on grass a lot, and when Mommy says, "Go say hi," I really do wanna go say hi. I like wagging my tail when H2s approach, much more than walkin round with it between my legs, and EVERYBODY smells either like F4s or C4s -- which really makes it easy for me to want to say hi. PLUS, I like the small town life. Livin is easy and except for having to share the bed, I like hangin out with Mommy most of the day and all through the night.

Well, I'd better jump off here so Mommy can go do laundry.

Have a good weekend everybody -- and to all my C4s out there . . .

WOOF, Dude! Peace out!


'Tis official . . . I am . . . a Seminarian. A Punk Preacher. A Mystic Minister.

Somehow, this seems a bit twisted . . . Rychus, yet . . .

Five books. One class. Three weeks. Five frickin books. Thick little fuckers too. Glad this is the short term and I get a break at the end of it. LoverGrrl, I dunno which of us is travelin to see whom but I've been feelin the urge to merge every second since our last mergickal moment . . . ain't never been so whipped in my life and I dunno if livin here in Holyville's done upped the ante, but before you came along it had been SO long since I'd touched . . . SO long . . . since . . . I'd wanted . . . I can't wait to give you me and have you . . . over and over again.

Hooray for Holyville, yea?

So, the new space still needs to get unpacked but ltlCgirl is havin the time of her life . . . so excited to be comin out o'her shell that she sacks out from the fatigue of finally bein a friendly four-legged and I just hafta shake ma heayud and laff my ass off at her. Til, of course, she decides that under-my-butt is the best place to keep her tired-from-runnin-EH-VA-REE-WHERE toodles warm at night. LtlShit, she is, but that's what I get for fallin in love with the ears that go poinkpoink when she's all happy and jumpin round like the Banshee she is.

LOVE bein in my own space. LOVE FUCKIN IT. My shit. My peace. My quiet. My noise. My newfound thug music love. (Yea, it's a fuckin hoot . . . go gangsta . . . keep poppin . . . rock witme let's git this bitch poppin . . . go gangsta . . . git rockin . . . like back when tha nigga was clockin . . . Fuckin Ay!

Tho lately, with the final projects from . . . well, here in Holyville, I'm guessin they're from UpThere . . . loomin on the horizon, it's been more Yanni than Gangsta -- I gotta figure out what I'm doin cuz three weeks ain't shit, knowhadeyemean?

Pretty up here in Holyville. Think I'm gonna love it for the next three years. My space. My shit. My life . . . and MyLoverGrrl . . . It's a fuckin hoot, ain't it just?


Where am I this eve?

Hell, I dunno . . . somewhere suspended between passion and rage. Sometimes it feels as if I live within that suspension -- as if something waits to trigger my rage as soon as I feel an inkling of passion.

My Passion, she is my Light and Life, my Laughter and my Longing. Spending our first Yule/Christmas/Solstice in the warmth of her home, in her city and in her arms, . . . this was so much a loving learning time for us. To learn how to interweave passion and patience into our day-to-day life, balancing the Es and the Es within the braid that holds us together . . .

MyPassion, do you know how your loving me as you do arouses within me the desire to love you all the more? Do you know, PassionateOne, how my desire to love you all the more makes me long and ache for you, even moments after your truck pulls away and my plane leaves the air strip? LoverMine, I miss you . . . so very much. Selah.

The rage that awaited, anticipating my return from your arms . . . it is becoming, more and more, less than the nothing that it can only aspire to be. I think that is, perhaps, the problem -- that something that what was once actually something to me is quickly fading into less than nothing with every aggravation that it is responsible for bringing into my life. As in Merlin, when things become forgotten, they . . . cease . . . to . . . exist. They become angry, irrational, writhing and grabbing onto whatever shreds are left dangling in the wind.

I used to be that wraith. Happy New Year to the one who showed me that I'm better than that.

And Happy New Year to YOU, MyPassion, MyFiyaX2. This year is only the beginning of what I have in store for you, LoverGrrl . . . only the beginning . . .