Kiddie cupcakes & the Marijuana MILF

It’s happening so casually I don’t even have time to bug out about it.

More than anything, I think it shows just how much I’ve grown since I’ve been here. In spite (because?) of the drugs, the drama and stretches of isolation—I’ve still found a way to learn something. For me, that’s really what it’s always been about. More, more, more. Billy Idol style.

So when she finally relented and sent me tonight’s message, it just felt…right. 

I was the first to broach the idea. I figured I had nothing to lose. But more than anything, the last couple of times her and I spent any time together I realized how much we really work.

It’s that adage about people that are too much alike not being able to deal with each other. That was she and I. But when it was on, whoa, it was ON. The sexual shenanigans were legendary.

We were like animals. I guess there’s a certain liberation that comes from meeting someone on the internet. For all of the times, I’ve tried, she’s the only one it’s ever clicked with at all.

We shared deep passions for music, marijuana and fucking. A blissful combination indeed. 

But I was still in my Jay-Z FTW mode, and she was coming down from a wild run of her own and thinking about really big things. Never the two shall meet. The sex kept us close longer that expected. And after that, the weed allowed us the time to see each other occasionally, have a laugh, talk some shit for the hell of it.

Now…huh. The physical attraction never went away. She’s the kind of woman that will always turn me on. Dirty sweet dirty. When I manned up and threw my cards on the table, her immediate reaction was oh HELL yes. She was even a little touched. It made me feel good. So I continued. Push, pull, fun and games. And then tonight she says the time has come. She’s a sweet lady that needs to get in touch with her sexy side again.

It all feels so...adult. We're both single, but there's this illicit vibe that I'm enjoying very much. There are no bones or superficial dance. We enjoy each others company, and we like to fuck each other. And that's what we're going to do.

At your service…

Happy birthday, Keith Richards*

Girl. Hot girl. Twitter, of all places.

Eventually found our way to AIM.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...

At some point she's just not there. Hm. OK, cool. Whatever. La di da.

I make another whiskey and Diet Dr. Pepper cocktail. Still thinking up a name for that one.

Dig into my new bag of OG Kush buds (just purchased this afternoon from my handy marijuana delivery service) and fish out a few small nuggets. Toss 'em in the grinder, and throw 'em in the glass pipe. Yes, that glass pipe.

The glass pipe that traveled many miles before finally ending up here. I fire it up and think of her. I just saw that she's leaving for a trip to Chicago in the AM. Hm. It also seems she was caught in the undertow of the old big house we all used to call home only a few scant moons ago.

All I can think of is hiking in L.A. the other day, marching happily to a really inspiring mix of music.

The Neil Young song "Walk On" came up. And WTF? It pretty much says it all about 2009 for me.

Anyway, the AIM girl. I'm drinking, smoking, onlining, and she's still gone. The line is just open, like an errant phone left off the hook in some old-timey detective movie.

And then, right there on Twitter, came an answer to my unasked question.

"TRUTH: Theres something about the late-night-fucked up-6am-sunrising-orgasm that is just extra special. Were going to bed now...night"

So. While I'm sitting here wondering just what this mystery woman was up to, she was actually getting her poundcake on in some NYC dorm room, more than 3000 miles away.



We are all technology's bitch. Some more than others. I'm just polishing off a pint of Jim Beam, thinking how Keith Richards would have just slammed that thing during pre-game and called me a bitch.

Story of my life.

(Shout out to Jay McInerney)

Love is a grenade

It was late, a little after 2AM.

Suddenly, my phone erupted in a series of short, staccato bursts of vibrations.

Txt messages from...Sex Bomb?! Wow.

My crazy one-night-stand with an old and dear friend over the summer. The messages were self-explanatory.

"Just left the Viper Room. Someone gave me a line. I am exhausted. But awake. You got a line? Wanna do one and chat for an hour? Put a cap on it! I'll bring some wine?"

Rollin'

I love rolling joints.

Yeah, I smoke most of my weed in a very nice glass pipe these days. I'm thinking about buying a new bong, too.

But sometimes I just like to twist up a jay, roll a joint, whatever the kids are calling it these days.

If I'm living large, I love to roll up a fat blunt. But with the pricey pot I'm smoking these days, blunts are for special occasions. But I do love that tasty cigarillo flavor.

I just rolled a very nice joint of Bubba Kush. A few tokes later and I'm nice and stoned.

The perfect state to be while checking out Phaedra Fallen, a blog that has been turning me on/getting me off for a while now.

She's got a perfectly dirty mind, and lately has been giving us tasty peeks at her fine-ass body (see the hot bod in the picture? That's what I'm talking about, baby!).

I've been watching that show "Royal Pains." I love the scenery, but it's all about the sexy Indian babe. She's hot to death.