... i used to be the main express...
okay, so i've decided to update this motherfucker. go me. wow. it's been fucking ages since i last wrote in this journal. perhaps i should make a more consistent effort to make weekly journal entries... because it make it that much easier to track my own life.
anywhoo, let's pick up from where the last journal entry left off, shall we? first thing's first. let's talk about work.
things on first marblehead are bad, and most likely going to get worse. out of brenda's starting class of fourteen, only six remain. and out of nancy's starting fourteen, only eight remain. the part that shocked me the most is when candace quit. i became so stressed out and angry at her. when i asked her about why she quit, she told me that she, "couldn't take it, anymore," and that she was going to be attending school in september. as it turns out, candace managed to find herself a full scholarship, and a girlfriend. i'm happy for her, i really am.
speaking of mindless decisions, jamie did the same thing. he quit, only to move in with his long-distance girlfriend. now, in essence, that isn't bad, and i honestly don't blame him. in fact, he quit the right way; he gave a week's notice before quitting, so -if- he wanted to, he could work at rmh, again [ see, a lot of people tend to shoot themselves in the foot, when it comes to quitting rmh. they'll give -no- notice, and just leave the company without any warning. that only equates to a bad reference, should any future employers decide to call past employers, to act as reference ]. but the part that gets me is that the lazy fuck isn't bothering to look for a job, just for the sake of being there for his girlfriend's autistic little brother. has no one thought of a babysitter? i mean, it's not going to cost -that- much to get someone to look after the kid for an hour or so... i mean, i'm sure the kid has friends, and could stay at a friend's place for the amount of time that no one's home.
but, then again, jamie's always been impulsive. any similarity between his thought patterns and intelligent strings of thought are -completely- coincidental.
but, all-in-all, marblehead has been managed poorly. you remember that fucker name gordon hooper that i was complaining about, earlier? that fucking rodent managed to weasel his way into upper management. because of his constant lying to and cheating of customers, he managed to get himself the position of 'team lead,' as did michelle madore. it sickens me that people like that are being promoted. it sickens me so much that they're not letting other people "audition" for the part. not to say that gordon and michelle don't do a good job, i'm just saying that the terms in which they obtained their positions was unfair. i'm blaming this on the fucking favouritism.
i still hate customer service.
fucking bastards have had their bonus structure outlined. they get bonuses for transfers. this means that the applications department has a lot more bullshit to deal with. i swear, ever fucking day, this week, alone... i've had -at least- two calls a day that would start out with customer service representatives wanting to transfer over someone who wants to do an application, and when the customer is transferred over, i give my standard greeting, followed with, "i understand you want to do a student loan application, is that correct?" when they say, "no, i only want information, my voice changes from happy, to slightly surly." and the worst part is, they made the fact that they only want information known to the customer service representatives. i'm thinking that if customer service abuses their bonus structure a bit more, they're going to have it taken away from them. i sure as hell hope they do.
i -know- i'm not the only one who feels that way.
marblehead is also going overboard with training new people. they trained a class of eighteen, making the grand total of people on marblehead to forty-seven, and they're trainig a new fucking class. holy fuck. we barely have enough calls to accommodate the people we have, now. the most disappointing fact is that the newest class that's in training now is trained on marblehead, -first-... meaning, for an entire fucking week, they're going to be on marblehead phones from 1:00-9:00, because they don't know aegon. absolutely -nothing- for the previous classes.
i'm -very- disgusted and -very- disappointed in how marblehead is being handled. it's been mismanaged from the start. on the bright side, as i'm writing this, i haven't spent any time in aegon in the past month or so.
speaking of disappointment, i lost my dearest pet ferret, this week. poor little link lost his life under the recliner. i'm -so- not taking it with me when i leave. i'm giving it to jen, when we part ways... if not, we're going to drag it to the woods, and make a bonfire with it. i hate that chair so much. if it weren't for that fucking chair, i'd still have link. i'd still be able to play with him. i'd still be able to pet and cuddle him. i'd still be able to hear him, and tell him how cute he looked and sounded.
see, what happened is that, one night, jeff lifted up the recliner to see if link had stashed anything under there [ because link loved to hide things on us... so many shoes are missing ]... upon putting it down, jeff must've crushed him. neither of us had noticed it. it was getting late, and i wanted to put link in his cage, for the night, so i called for him. after a few minutes had passed, i was getting worried, because link knows his own name, and comes quickly when you call him. jeff and i knew he was still under the chair. jeff kicked up the seat of the recliner, so i could try to pull him from under the chair. i could feel his furry little body, but i didn't want to risk hurting him, so i didn't bother pulling him out for fear of hurting him, or him freaking out and hurting me... so i asked jeff to lift the chair up for me, and that's when i found his poor, lifeless body. he wasn't moving. he wasn't making a sound.
i immediately rushed to pick him up, shouting his name quite a few times; his eyes were open... he didn't look dead... i shook him ever-so gently, only to reaffirm my worst fears. i was heart-broken... my poor little link had passed away. crushed by the weight of his very favourite hiding place. i carried his soft, lifeless body to as far as the kitchen, dropped to my knees, and cried out loud. i fucking lost it. i haven't cried that hard [ at least, in sadness ] for nearly three years...
jen, jeff and i had a private little buriel ceremony for link. it was quiet and peaceful. jen wrapped link's tiny body in one of her shirts. i visited the site, the very next day to leave flowers on his small grave, and to talk to him. i know i'm going to end up doing that quite often. because i miss him.
since then, i've gotten a new carpet shark. a beautiful baby girl albino ferret that i named zelda. jeff also moved out, leaving a lot of his stuff behind. his father got lazy and flipped the proverbial bird to the remainder of jeff's stuff in saint john. and after lengthy argument, jeff's mom sent jen and i what he owed us, minus the price of one ferret.
with jeff gone, everyone decided that they wanted to move. i wanted a one bedroomer, while everyone else wanted to live together. mark showed jeremy a beautiful apartment, which he immediately laid down the damage deposit on. in the course of my searching, i laid down the deposit on the second apartment i saw; a gorgeous one-bedroom victorian apartment… which was a gorgeous contrast to the apartment i saw on saint james street. ugly as fuck, dirty and a landlady that could scare chrome off of a bumper.
after laying down the deposit for my new apartment, i came across this old hag of a woman. she was sitting across the street from where i was walking. when i first met her, she seemed sweet and and kind. she sat on the steps of a building that, i assumed, she had no affiliation with. she was sitting down, enjoying a book. even though i had my new apartment, part and parcel, i was on my way to look at another apartment on germaine street, because i had already set the appointment, and it was only common courtesy to show up. i heard this voice. it was coming from the woman across the street. she wanted to use my cellphone... i had her assure me it'd be for a local call, and i obliged, and turned down the money she offered me. after using my phone, she roped me into a conversation. she introduced herself to me as "trudy"... and apparently, her story was that of a true tragedy. she'd been rich, she had everything that anyone could ever want, yet she had a husband who took her for everything she had.
"if you need anyone for open-heart surgery, i'm your woman... but i just can't seem to figure out these cellphones, nowadays."
this quote made me a little skeptical of her character... however, she literally begged me to take her somewhere nice and warm to sleep... so, again, i obliged her. the poor thing had a jacket on, and she was shivering. she kept telling me about each and everything she lost, and how she was going to treat me like a princess for helping her out. she managed to keep her story somewhat consistent. something else that confused me about her character was that when i asked her about getting work, she told me that she was too old and too sick... which i thought was bull.
the mistake i made was taking her to -my- place. i only turned my back on her for no more than a minute, because i made her some dinner because she kept complaining how starved she was. anyone who knows me, knows i'm a compassionate person.
once trudy had fallen asleep, i called my sister up and told her that i had someone over, and asked to run a background check on this girl. she called me back in a half-hour and gave me the scoop. apparently, the story she had has evolved over the years. "trudy" is nothing but a liar, thief and bum. she was never rich, and it was her addiction to alcohol and crack that caused her downfall, and got her kicked out of her apartment.
i was scared of her, and didn't have the heart to kick her out. jen found out that a friend of hers had been screwed over by this chick, and she had more than the courage to kick her out. i watched from the sidelines, as she yelled at the woman, and hurried her out of my apartment.
she made off with -at least- $20. luckilly, a ten-dollar bill fell out of her pocket, so the loss wasn't -that- bad.
what an arduous three-day hell trip moving was.
i started moving my belongings on the last friday of july. my first priority, of course, was my baby girl; a young albino ferret by the name of zelda [ ... okay, i know that, perhaps, it was a bad idea to purchase a white animal, when the majority of my clothing is black, but i love my zelda more than that ]. she and her stuff got moved over first. i couldn't move too much, because bonny had a few things stored in my apartment, and kind of needed the space, because the storage room, i guess, was being painted.
throughout the entire weekend, i walked back and forth, taking a few things i wanted to spare being thrown in a truck. everything got packed up in boxes, in the meantime. all was packed and delivered, late sunday night. we had half the people we thought, to help out. three had bailed on us, leaving a team of three guys and two girls. by the end of it, steve was so exhausted, the only thing keeping him going was rage... and that scared me so badly. i knew he was harmless, but that didn't do shit to qualm my fear of him.
one thing that really bothered me was my landlady's reaction to everything. at first, she was a total sweetheart. when moving in, she was friendly, helpful and so down-to-earth, i felt i could talk to her when i needed to. now, jenna talked to her way before we decided to make the move, and she said that as long as there was no structural damage, things would be fine, and that she wouldn't come after us for anything other than last month's rent, which we would sign over the damage deposit for. guess what became an issue, as we were moving out? she wanted the apartment professionally cleaned… and what for? the place was filthy when i moved in; it wasn't clean when i moved in, and i did all i could to clean it as i was leaving. no amount of scrubbing was going to remove the many layers of dirt that years of neglect had caused the apartment to accumulate.
i treated everyone but steve to pizza, shortly after the move was done. the only reason i didn't invite steve was because i didn't know where he was, or when he'd be around, so, at least, i could invite most of the moving crew for something to eat.
now, all was going good for the first week. until the first weekend.
one thing i probably should mention is that jeremy is a good friend of mine. i see him as more of a big brother than anything. the way i interact with him, to a lot of people, is reminiscent of the way a pair of lovers would… but we're not in a relationship, and neither of us have made any plans to do so. the only reason this is so, is because i'm pretty much a loaner. anyone willing to spend time with me, in my eyes, deserves to be treated like royalty… and not many people try to be my friend, so i treasure all those who make the effort to be my friend. only a few, in this city, have made the effort.
anyway, as it so happens, jeremy was lonely and needed a hug and someone to talk to [ and with what happened to him, i don't blame him. poor guy had been cheat on and used by someone i once considered to be a good friend ]. i knew that i'd appreciate the company, so i invited him over. i met him at the door, and hugged him for an obscenely long amount of time. it was one of those tight "thank you"-type hugs. hoping he'd benefit from having someone to talk to [ as opposed to bothering jenna and mark ], i brought him into the apartment. he fixed the entertainment center's wobble, and properly hooked everything up for me. we began watching the cell, and i massaged his shoulders. i instinctively do that whenever he removes his shirt, because nine times out of ten, he's done something to earn it.
he opened his mouth to complain about how he wanted to massage my shoulders, and how i'd have to remove my shirt to do it. i decided to just give in, and in a flash, my shirt was off. that wasn't enough, so i had to remove my bra, but we both insisted on me having a towel thrown around me. anyone who knows me knows that i'm modest. as jeremy put it, "it's almost like you're afraid of your own body"… and to a certain extent, that's correct. i've always believed myself to be misshapen and undesirable.
the one thing about jeremy is that he's a big guy, and he's a bit rough, but my back was all full of knots, so i guess that he needed to be rough on me. after the massage, i cuddled into him. in between that and a little dialogue, jeremy pulled me onto his lap. after talking for a little bit, i don't know what happened, but jeremy made the first move by kissing my neck, and then applying pressure by sucking and biting.
anyone who's known me intimately knows that that, alone, will drive me wild. that quickly led to passionate open-mouthed kissing. if i hadn't've come up for air, it would've been more serious. i took a few seconds to breathe, rested my head on his shoulder and gasped, "what the fuck…?" i breathed hard and heavy on his neck, and that was driving him wild. thinking it'd be cute to try to see how sensitive my neck really was, he began kissing, and then sucking on it. my moans spoke for themselves. he wasn't applying any pressure, but that's just how sensitive my neck can be.
we kissed one more time, while jeremy pushed me up and down on his lap, to feel what had grown because of me. all of a sudden, after hearing, "we can't do this…" i came to my senses. i fell off of his lap, into an ashamed and confused little ball of w-t-f. jeremy went to take a shower before he headed off to work. we spent the remainder of our time together apologising. i spent the majority of the day afterwards either sleeping or crying.
either way, thing's've been going good, and i've been recovering from the incident. i got my new dreads in the mail, about a week ago, and i absolutely adore them. the reactions i've been getting with them are the exact reactions i've been hoping for and expecting. anyone who knows me knows that i love being unique. the dreads are not only a symbol of that, but a symbol of everything i've wanted to be, in terms of fashion, and that's another huge step in my independence; dressing the way i want, and having the money to do it... and yes, my look of choice is goth. i'm not deep into the subculture, or anything. it's just my fashion statement. honestly, whoever heard of a goth that likes elton john as much as i do? i don't believe that my type of goth is intentional; coincidental, merely.
the only thing that bothers me a lot about what i do is that i make the mistake of telling people where i purchase my accessories, and then they go out and pretty themselves up like i did, and often, outshine my uniqueness by doing it better than i did. from here on in, if anyone asks me "where did you get that?" my answer, always, will be e-bay, and let them figure it out.
...i want to be unique, fuckers. let me do it in peace.
ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,mrl_kitty,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø
anywhoo, let's pick up from where the last journal entry left off, shall we? first thing's first. let's talk about work.
things on first marblehead are bad, and most likely going to get worse. out of brenda's starting class of fourteen, only six remain. and out of nancy's starting fourteen, only eight remain. the part that shocked me the most is when candace quit. i became so stressed out and angry at her. when i asked her about why she quit, she told me that she, "couldn't take it, anymore," and that she was going to be attending school in september. as it turns out, candace managed to find herself a full scholarship, and a girlfriend. i'm happy for her, i really am.
speaking of mindless decisions, jamie did the same thing. he quit, only to move in with his long-distance girlfriend. now, in essence, that isn't bad, and i honestly don't blame him. in fact, he quit the right way; he gave a week's notice before quitting, so -if- he wanted to, he could work at rmh, again [ see, a lot of people tend to shoot themselves in the foot, when it comes to quitting rmh. they'll give -no- notice, and just leave the company without any warning. that only equates to a bad reference, should any future employers decide to call past employers, to act as reference ]. but the part that gets me is that the lazy fuck isn't bothering to look for a job, just for the sake of being there for his girlfriend's autistic little brother. has no one thought of a babysitter? i mean, it's not going to cost -that- much to get someone to look after the kid for an hour or so... i mean, i'm sure the kid has friends, and could stay at a friend's place for the amount of time that no one's home.
but, then again, jamie's always been impulsive. any similarity between his thought patterns and intelligent strings of thought are -completely- coincidental.
but, all-in-all, marblehead has been managed poorly. you remember that fucker name gordon hooper that i was complaining about, earlier? that fucking rodent managed to weasel his way into upper management. because of his constant lying to and cheating of customers, he managed to get himself the position of 'team lead,' as did michelle madore. it sickens me that people like that are being promoted. it sickens me so much that they're not letting other people "audition" for the part. not to say that gordon and michelle don't do a good job, i'm just saying that the terms in which they obtained their positions was unfair. i'm blaming this on the fucking favouritism.
i still hate customer service.
fucking bastards have had their bonus structure outlined. they get bonuses for transfers. this means that the applications department has a lot more bullshit to deal with. i swear, ever fucking day, this week, alone... i've had -at least- two calls a day that would start out with customer service representatives wanting to transfer over someone who wants to do an application, and when the customer is transferred over, i give my standard greeting, followed with, "i understand you want to do a student loan application, is that correct?" when they say, "no, i only want information, my voice changes from happy, to slightly surly." and the worst part is, they made the fact that they only want information known to the customer service representatives. i'm thinking that if customer service abuses their bonus structure a bit more, they're going to have it taken away from them. i sure as hell hope they do.
i -know- i'm not the only one who feels that way.
marblehead is also going overboard with training new people. they trained a class of eighteen, making the grand total of people on marblehead to forty-seven, and they're trainig a new fucking class. holy fuck. we barely have enough calls to accommodate the people we have, now. the most disappointing fact is that the newest class that's in training now is trained on marblehead, -first-... meaning, for an entire fucking week, they're going to be on marblehead phones from 1:00-9:00, because they don't know aegon. absolutely -nothing- for the previous classes.
i'm -very- disgusted and -very- disappointed in how marblehead is being handled. it's been mismanaged from the start. on the bright side, as i'm writing this, i haven't spent any time in aegon in the past month or so.
speaking of disappointment, i lost my dearest pet ferret, this week. poor little link lost his life under the recliner. i'm -so- not taking it with me when i leave. i'm giving it to jen, when we part ways... if not, we're going to drag it to the woods, and make a bonfire with it. i hate that chair so much. if it weren't for that fucking chair, i'd still have link. i'd still be able to play with him. i'd still be able to pet and cuddle him. i'd still be able to hear him, and tell him how cute he looked and sounded.
see, what happened is that, one night, jeff lifted up the recliner to see if link had stashed anything under there [ because link loved to hide things on us... so many shoes are missing ]... upon putting it down, jeff must've crushed him. neither of us had noticed it. it was getting late, and i wanted to put link in his cage, for the night, so i called for him. after a few minutes had passed, i was getting worried, because link knows his own name, and comes quickly when you call him. jeff and i knew he was still under the chair. jeff kicked up the seat of the recliner, so i could try to pull him from under the chair. i could feel his furry little body, but i didn't want to risk hurting him, so i didn't bother pulling him out for fear of hurting him, or him freaking out and hurting me... so i asked jeff to lift the chair up for me, and that's when i found his poor, lifeless body. he wasn't moving. he wasn't making a sound.
i immediately rushed to pick him up, shouting his name quite a few times; his eyes were open... he didn't look dead... i shook him ever-so gently, only to reaffirm my worst fears. i was heart-broken... my poor little link had passed away. crushed by the weight of his very favourite hiding place. i carried his soft, lifeless body to as far as the kitchen, dropped to my knees, and cried out loud. i fucking lost it. i haven't cried that hard [ at least, in sadness ] for nearly three years...
jen, jeff and i had a private little buriel ceremony for link. it was quiet and peaceful. jen wrapped link's tiny body in one of her shirts. i visited the site, the very next day to leave flowers on his small grave, and to talk to him. i know i'm going to end up doing that quite often. because i miss him.
since then, i've gotten a new carpet shark. a beautiful baby girl albino ferret that i named zelda. jeff also moved out, leaving a lot of his stuff behind. his father got lazy and flipped the proverbial bird to the remainder of jeff's stuff in saint john. and after lengthy argument, jeff's mom sent jen and i what he owed us, minus the price of one ferret.
with jeff gone, everyone decided that they wanted to move. i wanted a one bedroomer, while everyone else wanted to live together. mark showed jeremy a beautiful apartment, which he immediately laid down the damage deposit on. in the course of my searching, i laid down the deposit on the second apartment i saw; a gorgeous one-bedroom victorian apartment… which was a gorgeous contrast to the apartment i saw on saint james street. ugly as fuck, dirty and a landlady that could scare chrome off of a bumper.
after laying down the deposit for my new apartment, i came across this old hag of a woman. she was sitting across the street from where i was walking. when i first met her, she seemed sweet and and kind. she sat on the steps of a building that, i assumed, she had no affiliation with. she was sitting down, enjoying a book. even though i had my new apartment, part and parcel, i was on my way to look at another apartment on germaine street, because i had already set the appointment, and it was only common courtesy to show up. i heard this voice. it was coming from the woman across the street. she wanted to use my cellphone... i had her assure me it'd be for a local call, and i obliged, and turned down the money she offered me. after using my phone, she roped me into a conversation. she introduced herself to me as "trudy"... and apparently, her story was that of a true tragedy. she'd been rich, she had everything that anyone could ever want, yet she had a husband who took her for everything she had.
"if you need anyone for open-heart surgery, i'm your woman... but i just can't seem to figure out these cellphones, nowadays."
this quote made me a little skeptical of her character... however, she literally begged me to take her somewhere nice and warm to sleep... so, again, i obliged her. the poor thing had a jacket on, and she was shivering. she kept telling me about each and everything she lost, and how she was going to treat me like a princess for helping her out. she managed to keep her story somewhat consistent. something else that confused me about her character was that when i asked her about getting work, she told me that she was too old and too sick... which i thought was bull.
the mistake i made was taking her to -my- place. i only turned my back on her for no more than a minute, because i made her some dinner because she kept complaining how starved she was. anyone who knows me, knows i'm a compassionate person.
once trudy had fallen asleep, i called my sister up and told her that i had someone over, and asked to run a background check on this girl. she called me back in a half-hour and gave me the scoop. apparently, the story she had has evolved over the years. "trudy" is nothing but a liar, thief and bum. she was never rich, and it was her addiction to alcohol and crack that caused her downfall, and got her kicked out of her apartment.
i was scared of her, and didn't have the heart to kick her out. jen found out that a friend of hers had been screwed over by this chick, and she had more than the courage to kick her out. i watched from the sidelines, as she yelled at the woman, and hurried her out of my apartment.
she made off with -at least- $20. luckilly, a ten-dollar bill fell out of her pocket, so the loss wasn't -that- bad.
what an arduous three-day hell trip moving was.
i started moving my belongings on the last friday of july. my first priority, of course, was my baby girl; a young albino ferret by the name of zelda [ ... okay, i know that, perhaps, it was a bad idea to purchase a white animal, when the majority of my clothing is black, but i love my zelda more than that ]. she and her stuff got moved over first. i couldn't move too much, because bonny had a few things stored in my apartment, and kind of needed the space, because the storage room, i guess, was being painted.
throughout the entire weekend, i walked back and forth, taking a few things i wanted to spare being thrown in a truck. everything got packed up in boxes, in the meantime. all was packed and delivered, late sunday night. we had half the people we thought, to help out. three had bailed on us, leaving a team of three guys and two girls. by the end of it, steve was so exhausted, the only thing keeping him going was rage... and that scared me so badly. i knew he was harmless, but that didn't do shit to qualm my fear of him.
one thing that really bothered me was my landlady's reaction to everything. at first, she was a total sweetheart. when moving in, she was friendly, helpful and so down-to-earth, i felt i could talk to her when i needed to. now, jenna talked to her way before we decided to make the move, and she said that as long as there was no structural damage, things would be fine, and that she wouldn't come after us for anything other than last month's rent, which we would sign over the damage deposit for. guess what became an issue, as we were moving out? she wanted the apartment professionally cleaned… and what for? the place was filthy when i moved in; it wasn't clean when i moved in, and i did all i could to clean it as i was leaving. no amount of scrubbing was going to remove the many layers of dirt that years of neglect had caused the apartment to accumulate.
i treated everyone but steve to pizza, shortly after the move was done. the only reason i didn't invite steve was because i didn't know where he was, or when he'd be around, so, at least, i could invite most of the moving crew for something to eat.
now, all was going good for the first week. until the first weekend.
one thing i probably should mention is that jeremy is a good friend of mine. i see him as more of a big brother than anything. the way i interact with him, to a lot of people, is reminiscent of the way a pair of lovers would… but we're not in a relationship, and neither of us have made any plans to do so. the only reason this is so, is because i'm pretty much a loaner. anyone willing to spend time with me, in my eyes, deserves to be treated like royalty… and not many people try to be my friend, so i treasure all those who make the effort to be my friend. only a few, in this city, have made the effort.
anyway, as it so happens, jeremy was lonely and needed a hug and someone to talk to [ and with what happened to him, i don't blame him. poor guy had been cheat on and used by someone i once considered to be a good friend ]. i knew that i'd appreciate the company, so i invited him over. i met him at the door, and hugged him for an obscenely long amount of time. it was one of those tight "thank you"-type hugs. hoping he'd benefit from having someone to talk to [ as opposed to bothering jenna and mark ], i brought him into the apartment. he fixed the entertainment center's wobble, and properly hooked everything up for me. we began watching the cell, and i massaged his shoulders. i instinctively do that whenever he removes his shirt, because nine times out of ten, he's done something to earn it.
he opened his mouth to complain about how he wanted to massage my shoulders, and how i'd have to remove my shirt to do it. i decided to just give in, and in a flash, my shirt was off. that wasn't enough, so i had to remove my bra, but we both insisted on me having a towel thrown around me. anyone who knows me knows that i'm modest. as jeremy put it, "it's almost like you're afraid of your own body"… and to a certain extent, that's correct. i've always believed myself to be misshapen and undesirable.
the one thing about jeremy is that he's a big guy, and he's a bit rough, but my back was all full of knots, so i guess that he needed to be rough on me. after the massage, i cuddled into him. in between that and a little dialogue, jeremy pulled me onto his lap. after talking for a little bit, i don't know what happened, but jeremy made the first move by kissing my neck, and then applying pressure by sucking and biting.
anyone who's known me intimately knows that that, alone, will drive me wild. that quickly led to passionate open-mouthed kissing. if i hadn't've come up for air, it would've been more serious. i took a few seconds to breathe, rested my head on his shoulder and gasped, "what the fuck…?" i breathed hard and heavy on his neck, and that was driving him wild. thinking it'd be cute to try to see how sensitive my neck really was, he began kissing, and then sucking on it. my moans spoke for themselves. he wasn't applying any pressure, but that's just how sensitive my neck can be.
we kissed one more time, while jeremy pushed me up and down on his lap, to feel what had grown because of me. all of a sudden, after hearing, "we can't do this…" i came to my senses. i fell off of his lap, into an ashamed and confused little ball of w-t-f. jeremy went to take a shower before he headed off to work. we spent the remainder of our time together apologising. i spent the majority of the day afterwards either sleeping or crying.
either way, thing's've been going good, and i've been recovering from the incident. i got my new dreads in the mail, about a week ago, and i absolutely adore them. the reactions i've been getting with them are the exact reactions i've been hoping for and expecting. anyone who knows me knows that i love being unique. the dreads are not only a symbol of that, but a symbol of everything i've wanted to be, in terms of fashion, and that's another huge step in my independence; dressing the way i want, and having the money to do it... and yes, my look of choice is goth. i'm not deep into the subculture, or anything. it's just my fashion statement. honestly, whoever heard of a goth that likes elton john as much as i do? i don't believe that my type of goth is intentional; coincidental, merely.
the only thing that bothers me a lot about what i do is that i make the mistake of telling people where i purchase my accessories, and then they go out and pretty themselves up like i did, and often, outshine my uniqueness by doing it better than i did. from here on in, if anyone asks me "where did you get that?" my answer, always, will be e-bay, and let them figure it out.
...i want to be unique, fuckers. let me do it in peace.
ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,mrl_kitty,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø