Don't Go Home With Your Hard On

Yeah, I saw the Leonard Cohen movie last night.

He is a fine, fine man.

What is it about L. Cohen songs that makes me want to do dirty things? Me and new boy (recently over the Pox) were all over each other. I felt like I was 18. A much more responsible and sober 18 - but damn. And then other things happened.

Why do I feel like I'm writing this to 15 year old boys? I now carry a change purse - and I'm self-editing my blog? Eh, whatever.

So - I still can't figure him out. I think I surprised him last night. Here's my thing - I like sex. A lot. I like sex w/ people who seem to enjoy me. He fulfills my basic sexual requirements. I got a lot of looks of awe (which I don't mind). But he still can't tell me who he went out with Friday night. Hmmmm. So I'm playing it like 'I get sex' until I figure out what the hell is going on. Not a bad gig.

And then there was the rest of the weekend.

I guess I may have had a 'seizure' at the Hideout. My MD thinks it's vasovagal, my parents think I have my dad's heart defect - but it doesn't stop me from having to go and get tests and shit done for the NEXT MONTH.

I have no time for this. I said that when I came to. I made my sister take care of my Mom & Grandma. I'm putting my money on the Dad thing. 20 bucks I end up with a pacemaker by the end of the year. And what could be sexier on a 31 y.o. divorcee than A PACEMAKER?

That's hot.

Listen to James Dean Bradfield, 'That's No Way To Tell A Lie' is a great song.

I had sex yesterday. That's something, right?