Tag Archives: work place romance

Skype Date Anyone?

Posted on by Standard Respond
Caution...handle with sedatives.

Caution…handle with sedatives.

Never reveal more than you are willing to let loose…she had said to me.

I had been planning this Skype date all day.

“Hmm…where on earth did you come from?  You are like candy to a sweet tooth!”  another forbidden lover remark.

Ah, yesterday!

Currently I am in the attic bathroom looking for more pills.  I tend to be a little scatter brained when it comes to popping pills…that is when it comes to following the, as directed label.  Other than that, I pop ‘em whenever the need arises.  Which is right about now?  I just want to sleep for about one month and I think that should cure the sadness and the feeling of being overexposed!

This is what brings me to the above mentioned conversation from the past.

I had managed to get my elderly married girlfriend to Friend me on Facebook.  Then I manipulated her into texting.  Something she had vowed to never do.

‘Too much ignorance in the world with all this new communication and no one is talking! NO, I will never text.’

Promised her sex in the back of her truck, got her to text the next day.

The Skype dates that occurred while Mother Theresa, Father Floyd and Beckett Couvillion were all busy downstairs ignoring each other; they came with another vow!  Kate would only allow the whole sorry state of current juvenile affairs to happen if I offered to Skype nude.

“Shit, yah!”

And, so the story goes.  I would fondle myself.  She would try to go away.  I would fondle myself some more.

Yet, is this where the line had been thrown into the water and the catfish readied for picking.  I had actually told her our ‘love story’ would make a good book.  She should even contact Diane Sawyer.  Ha-Ha.

Everything seemed so easy.  The sex, the hidden moments at work, the stolen liaisons on my parent’s couch were all my attempts at playing grown up strip poker with a deck of UNO cards!  Kate was the elder I had been looking for.  But before I douse myself in sedatives I really need to ponder this idea:

Why on earth did she remain in the house with her wife?  Why did she invite me to her home with her spouse and why did I not notice the in-depth questions?  No, my father’s name is Michael not Lloyd.  No, wait its Floyd.  My mother?  She does something with speech at UNH.  Me, no, I’m sure my mother would ever accept me being a lesbian.  I would become disowned.  I will be banished from Auburn Street.

How did I put it to her?”

“I would be out on my own.  My mother would never forgive me and then what would I do?  I don’t know how to live on my own!”

A book about Travels with Ambien, umm, Annie Grace, yeah, I guess I suggested it in a naked, lurid sort of way!

Dark Shadows & Vacant Parking Lots

Posted on by Standard Respond
One nuclear family can destroy your whole life.

One nuclear family can destroy your whole life.

The question I get asked the most when someone finds out I’ve been adopted:

When did you find out you were adopted?  Every day it seems like my Mum reminds me.  But I was told, even if I didn’t understand it, by my Mum.  She was always up front about it to me.  Sometimes to the point that it was a threat or something like that, a hidden vow of ‘you will never be fully mine.’  Oxy helped calm me down and then that went away.  Booze helped with the depression but that went away.  Birthdays are still pretty hard on me!

Up in my head with little or no social life I have been given free rein to think as little or as much as I want.  Usually I can hide behind the fantasy movies, the porn, and the picture taking.  Somehow today I’m just no able to pull myself out of IT!

It happens from time to time.  When I worked at the Kennel I’d just put my head on the table in the back and not lift it for hours.  People would come and go.  Some would say, what’s wrong with her?

At the time, the question was usually directed to Kate.  At the time, she knew me better than anyone had ever known me.  I suppose it’s because she took the time.  Not many have.

I’ve talked about distance before.  How it’s made my mistakes seem smaller and of the need for less self-discovery.  In NH on a day like today, a good photographer would be out.  Taking hold of their genre and embracing their talents.

All I keep thinking of are the last words I ever spoke to Kate.  Not the nasty texting back and forth.  Not the sending of hurt texts to Zoey so Zoey could let Kate have it on Facebook.  Not the forged and phallic shame of harassment.

She, Kate, had been out for a smoke before turn outs for the dogs.  I had been attempting to leave but really wanted one last moment with her.  Why?  Only the Gods and Goddesses know.

We had kissed passionately by her truck.  It held more to it.  The embrace and connection had been the strongest I had ever felt it.

She whispered in my ear as she always did,

“Ambien what do you want me to do?  How can I make you happy?”

My last and final words for the rest of eternity in regards to that affair:

“I just want your fingers in me right now!”

That was it.   End of our torrid story.

I had Facebook-ed Zoey and thanked her for not shunning me.  She had known what a volatile relationship Kate and I had.  She had known that our last intimidate moment together had been in a vacant kennel parking lot late December.

Four days later, I called via threats of disownment from Mother Theresa and pointed the harassment finger at Kate.  Four months later, did it really matter?  Four months later, I am no closer to feeling that connection I almost had.  A connection better than having not been born unto my disapproving mother, not having been considered her blood and having felt like happiness was not something that would always be taken away by my simple lack of not approved genetic make-up.

Trained but Undisciplined Employee

Posted on by Standard 1
Carnival Ride at Naperville Last Fling

Stop the ride I wanna get off!

Somehow or another when time moves slowly on and there is a moment for reflection, everyone sits back and asks themselves, WTF!

The facts currently as I know them are this:

I quit my job as supervisor at Ma and Pa Kennels.  My mother insisted that I give my resignation because after all: Who wants to work somewhere where they can have sex on the boss’s desk?  Sleep during their shifts.  Pursue employees with naked pictures of themselves on their phones and ask subordinates: ‘hey, do you want to come and pose naked with me…it’s a project my mentor is working on.  The more the merrier!’

Fuck ya’, I loved my job and now I hear they’re hiring again!

During my Mother Theresa times, the running out of sedatives and, ‘woe is me…what am I going to do with my life…I just need to find myself.’

Conversations went like this:

It’s why I wanted to hide.

It’s why I want to go to bed and stop crying.

I’m scared! I am so afraid that I don’t understand what it means to spend my life with someone.

But as mania provides for those who suffer from it, there had been more days like these:

Well you’re pretty amazing and I don’t know what I would do without you in my life!

I’m only excited to work tomorrow because I’m with you!

Started wearing short shorts to work.  Ha-Ha and, purposely bend over right in front of you.  Remember?  I didn’t have any underwear on!

Working, living, loving and being within a short distance of Travels with Ambien Grace is like a carnival ride you cannot get off.

Take it from me, either enjoy the strangeness of it all or call it a day and call a cab!

 

 

The English Slaughter

Posted on by Standard 41

It’s a ugh face…I know that isn’t a real word but it is to me!  To the many fans of texts and Facebook and MySpace and social media and Twinkie fantasies, it’s ‘bout the only language they  know.

Kinda…like English but not really, ya’ know what I mean.  Truth!  Right?

Ignorance kills more people on a daily basis then guns but being stupid can be Working for a Livingsorta fun.

I’m confused most of the time and have to ask questions.

Like ya’ know..How do you make a cup of coffee?  For instance, I tried to cut down on expenses.  Stopped the D&D drive-up and went to Cumby’s for my high fat muffin and low cal coffee.  I just didn’t get it.  Where does the crème come from and how much sugar do I put in?

Someone always made it for me…so now I am clueless.

If I message a friend and ask them to politely get sic on an old acquaintance: am I just like…how did my friend put it?

Someone with a sound idea of what is the right action to take would tell the truthful story and not distort the hell out of it.

What would be the distortion?  The way my team wants to view the world or the way another team wants to view the world?

I guess that is what fiction can be about.

One more example and I’ll try to focus on reality in the world in my head in my room and get back to you later.

So here it goes:

Say, I had been managing your business but really really really gotta have some naked photos; the employee well, I asked her to take her clothes off but only from the waist up.  Purely professional!  No one seemed uncomfortable.  And, Zoey is easy to work with anyway.

Would that be considered wrong professionally?  Or, was it just clean fun?

Distorted is a hard word to wrap my emotions around.

I’d rather just stay confused.

 

 

Catfish Are Jumping

Posted on by Standard 7
Catfish (film)

Catfish (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This past winter, not that winter has gone anywhere.  The streets of Concord NH are filled with soiled snow and bad trash.  When I find the energy to walk the dog pass the front yard the decadence of living amongst the privileged politically correct and distantly engaging makes me want to run away and join the circus.  But hey, I pay no rent, I eat like there is no tomorrow off the parent’s paychecks and I have no real responsibility to anyone except me.

Soon the lawn will be needing a clip and the maid will be needing guidance as to how to do a proper spring cleaning.  The orders will come down from the Higher Up: Mother Theresa.

Slowly I’ve packed away the wreckage of my past or at least one small box full.  It holds the knitting and the yard and the needles I had been working on a scarf for Kate, psycho-bitch ex-girlfriend and her wife.

I smiled at the thought of knitting and how just that and a clozapine could calm me down.  I frowned at the revelation of what might have happened to me.  I gasp and grab the IPod and look up the definition of Catfish.

‘A catfish is someone who pretends to be someone they’re not…’

Hmm, I scratch my head, watch as the dandruff hits the floor.  A light goes on in the deep recesses of my not so complicated mind.

I remember the discussion with Kate as though it were only yesterday:

Me: I love you with all my heart and won’t let anything get between us even my mother.  Nothing can tear us apart!

Kate: Well, I’m taking Kris out tomorrow but we can get together after that.

Me: I’m trying to find my daddy a birthday gift and Xmas gift.   Wait, are you sharing a bed with her still?

Kate: She is my wife!  What do you want me to do?

Me: But I don’t think I want to know anyway about your sharing a bed.  So never mind.  Let’s forget it.  Fuck, shit.  I can’t forget it.  It’s just that sometimes I forget she’s your wife until you say that she is your wife.

Kate: Well, she is only human, with you gone…things with her and I can get back to normal then.

Me: That is my biggest fear.  Because she wants her relationship with you back and all I can think about is her in your arms at night or you in hers and I’m gonna be gone for 10 months and you’ll probably think what the hell was I doing with a 22 year old?

So many messages about Kate not willing to leave Kris, countless turn arounds like: She’s my best friend.  I still love her.  I’m never going to leave her.

Suddenly it dawns on me, could this all have been for glory.  Could it be that when Kate said she had been thinking about writing another book, the wheels had already been set in motion ?  And, me in my ignorance, practically begging her to write it about us!

Was it all a lie?  Should I have gone for the straight girl from work, the one with the big muscles, the body builder?  Should I have left well enough alone?

I am my own book waiting to happen.  The sexual encounters with the police watching.  The rendezvous by the Christmas tree at work, me naked and begging to be punished with a spank or two.  The very same tree I had been taking Santa photos of.  Photos with small children and their dogs.

Holy Shit, wait ‘til Mother Theresa hears about this one.  Wait, I don’t think I’ll tell her.  She’ll never know.  She’s stupid when it comes to my sexual distortions.   Good thing she’s back teaching at UNH.   Can you imagine if the faculty found out?

I wonder, what about AmeriCorps, do they know about my lack of self-control when it comes to married women?

Now, I am truly panicking and I have to leave you all for a moment.  This definitely calls for a double dose of pills and a triple dose of melatonin.  Perhaps, I could hibernate through it all, stick my head in the sand!  Better yet, I need to start texting anyone that will listen to me!