I Forgot my Password. Alright?

So here we are. It's been 5 months since I last blogged here. I couldn't remember the log in or anything.

Most of my badly behaved antics had been happening on Youtube... I bought a puppet (did I mention the puppet the last time I was here?) And she's a real piece of work. heh.

As of 3ish weeks ago, I'm on hiatus from the thrift store. NO, I didn't do anything BAD... lol. My own businesses are just so busy in summer, that it's difficult to be standing behind the counter or touching ALL THE THINGS for hours. Hours that I could be working on my own stuff.

I recently met a dude who does home renovations and is a home builder too. I gave him my step fathers number, as he said he was looking for brick layers for his business. I hope that works out. I'll get brownie points. I figure at some point I'll hire him for basement renovations  - you know, so I can have a proper craft room. Dungeons are cool and all... but I'm not fond of spiders.

I have more to tell you....

G.

SEVEN HOURS WASTED.

I do this thing. I've always done it. I'm feeling like I MUST catch the reigns on it soon. Because it's utter bullshite.

So, this morning I had an appointment at 9:45am. That took me to 10:30. I was out of the office before 11am.

My NEXT appointment isn't until 6pm. (At a different office. I got THREE JOBS!)

It's currently almost 4pm as I write this. Now. Ask me what I did all day.

To be fair, I did pop into the office to change my window display from Winter to Spring, took stock of what linens I needed there. I popped into the bank. I came home and put a load of laundry on.

Other than that, I've been sitting here, in my work clothes, surfing, listening to music... and watching the clock. Waiting till it's time to leave for my next appointment.

I have always done this thing. I feel like I can't get into anything at home, because I will miss my next appointment. Even though today, there was SEVEN HOURS between appointments. A seven hour gap with nothing in my dayplanner.

All of my jobs are part time jobs. The thrift store shift now, is routinely 1 to 5. It's a four fucking hour long shift. I sit here ALL MORNING, waiting to get ready for it. Not even kidding.

I have an entire work space to move into my bedroom. (This is a long story for another time.) And I am sitting here. Waiting.

What is UP with that?

The answer could easily be that I put in my dayplanner: "Sew monkeys."

I wonder if it would make a difference?


G.

Hot Flashes for the Masses.

It cracks my shit up when stuff like this happens. Thanks for the note about your donation.

I was thinking about taking it. Because I FREEZE at night. But then the though of this lady sweating all over it.. Nah.

G.

Viking Aggression.

So. Netflix has a groovy ass show called The Last Kingdom.. or some shit like that. It's about Vikings. Sexy sexy assed vikings with motherfucking face tattoos, who describe the sex act in words like "Plowing" and "Humping."

These things make my aggressive and somewhat pissed self happy.

Someone had the balls to suggest that I NEEDED Unconditional Love in my life. And I don't know if it's because I watched two episodes of this viking show last night, or if this is pure offense, but MOTHER FUCKER, who says I don't HAVE unconditional love in my life???

Just because my life looks like nothing this person was used to seeing, doesn't mean I'm not well rounded in my own, very unique way.

Fuck that noise.

And fuck this axe that came into the thrift store, that I DIDN'T buy, because the weird grade-2 style skull put me off. WHO am I going to SMITE with that thing? They'll laugh me off the battle field.

Just fuck it.

G.

Cocks. No, For Real This Time.

There were a tonne of clothes to put away today. I was sorting through the new items on the rack to put in their proper categories... when THIS HAPPENED....

What are this?

 I had to look.. and look again. And then I laughed so hard, if I hadn 't squeezed all my girl parts tight,  I would have peed a little.

Are those.... PINK PENISES ON THESE JAMMY PANTS???

 OMG. Yes. Hundreds of pink happy Cocks. complete with Scrotum. And I wondered how hard the Boss Lady laughed when she actually put them on a hanger and put them in the pile of items to go onto the floor.... Maybe she thought I would purchase them for myself. I did not, however. I put them RIGHT at the front of the ladies pajama rack... Oh yes.

It was seniors day today. I wonder how many seniors peed their Depends when the came across them.

Life is Good.

Grace.

Extra Hours. Ribbit.

So. The Ex Man is going to be running a hot dog cart this summer. (actually, the plan is for this to happen from April till end of October.) This means he won't be working in the store. This means the Boss Lady gave me dibs on more hours.

And I took them. Instead of being 2 days a week, and one weekend a month, It looks like I now have 4 days a week, and definately the one Saturday or Sunday, but maybe more. And the hours are extended from a 5 hour shift to a 6 hours shift. I am good with this. So is my Visa and Mastercard. Which I lived off of all winter long.

It was pointed out to me that, although I earn $60 an hour when doing tarot, and $45 an hour with Reflexology... and this job is about $11.50 an hour... that THIS JOB is the one I can plan around. This is the one I can count on. The other two things I do are lovely, but I never know when I'll have work.

Did I lose you with all of the numbers?

Look. Here's a Kitchen Bull Frog.

Bull Frog. Get it?

All you gotta know is that it means I'll have more opportunity to find wacky ass shit to take photos of, and maybe I'll be inspired to feel connected again. (I've sort of had my head up my own ass at the Thrift Store lately. Don't feel like playing. Almost no bad behaviour at all...)

Also. The Bull Frog totally came home with me.

Grace.

Sultry Pirate Cock

Arrrrgh, young lady, yes indeed, this beauty here is my very own brass pirate ship. 

 

Would ye like to come aboard?

Look at the legs on this guy. He made me laugh. Even though he's doing his very best to be a sultry pirate cock. I put him on our facebook page, and he SOLD. For a dollar.

I hope it didn't hurt his pride.

Grace.

Awkward Cock

I'm always curious about how many curious pervs find this page by searching things like "awkward cocks."

Awkward cock

Hair art! I haven't done one in a while. I suppose a naked showering body just needs to wait for inspiration. Patiently, so the genius can just flow through.  I haven't had a lot of patience or time in the shower in the last... (how many months has it been?)

But sometimes, when you are putting titloads of conditioner in your dried out winter hair, inspiration strikes... And this is what comes of it.

Grace.

More Effin Stairs.

I fell UP the stairs. UP THE BLOODY STAIRS.

The last stair at the top is a little smaller then the rest, shorter. I think what happened is I was LOOKING at the shorter top step and tripped on the second last step to fall on my THUMB. On my THUMB.

It went all awkward and crooked and I thought BOLLOCKS I've broken my thumb.
I have a reflexology client in 2 days. Where the MAJOR movement is called Thumb Walking.

THUMB.

Eff.

All the good mojo needs to go into this thumb.

Stairs are assholes.

G.

The Effin Stairs.

There they are. I got a photo. Of the EFFIN STAIRS.

I do not like them. I want to write a Doctor Suess like poem about how much I do not like them here or there, but I don't like them enough to even do that.

Ass of Steel. I had BETTER have one helluvan ass by summer. I swear it.

Where's The Beef?

Where's the Beef?

I totally bought a $3 bag of buttons, because THIS ONE was in it. I've been wearing it on my green corduroy jacket. An original 1984 Where's the Beef button. I mean, come ooonnnn.

There were a lot of local old buttons in the bag. Most of them "vote for" someone I don't know, or for the library. There were also quite a few of those popular "I don't smoke" ones. I should get a pic of the bag....

Anyway. I'm like a damn superstar when I sport this button. Aw Yeah.

Grace.

Time Traveller. That's me.

I took this home from the Thrift Store. I knew it was mine as soon as I saw it. And, the Ex-Man priced it SO low. Probably KNOWING I would take it home. 

1970's cheesy self portrait. I'm a time traveller.

I had it stashed behind the counter, and the Boss Lady saw it and said "Oh, it looks like you!" And we joked about how I'll just use it as my mirror in the morning. But when I come in with unplucked eyebrows and chin hairs, she was to pretend that I look JUST LIKE THIS. Every damn day.

I also joked about pencilling in my facial scar. heh. 

I don't know about the Feng Shui of it - Hanging pictures of single ladies in my house energetically keeps me a one woman army. But, I love her.

Grace. 

Willie Nelson.

There's a man who comes into the store who looks so much like Willie Nelson, that in my head, that's just become his name. Willie Nelson.

Normally, Willie Nelson keeps to himself. Rarely smiles. I have to coax a "hello" out of him on a normal day. He's quiet.

Except for the days I wear a corset in to the Thrift Store.

Then, Look out. He's a Chatty Cathy. or Chatty Willie.

The first time he saw me in a corset, he had been coming to the store for at LEAST 2 years. Never said more than the minimum I would let him get away with. I'd have to nearly force the "Thank you" out of him at the end of a transaction.

The first time he saw me in a corset, he came out with a resounding "Nice figure!" Which made me cackle.

I've put this to the test. No corset, no wording from Willie Nelson.

With Corset:

"How are you? Oh, can you believe this weather? I'm looking for a such and such. How's it going around here? Things look great in the store! What's new upstairs?" on and on and ON.

I just don't know what to make of him. He's Always On My Mind.
But Only when I'm corseted.

Grace.

Buns of Steel.

I just spent 10 minutes looking through old photos of the Thrift Store, for a picture of the stairs. I don't have one! I'll have to get one on my next shift.

We have a second floor. With the reworking of the store, a lot more shit has moved upstairs.
Dishes. Books. The entirety of the kids section. More dishes. Kitchenware. Heavy ass breadmakers. Picture Frames. An ungodly amount of them. Puzzles and games. More fucking dishes. Lamps. Up the effing stairs.

I'm doing those stairs, on a SLOW stair day, about 10 times. Putting things away. Helping customers up and down them, either physically or helping them carry dish sets and piles of books or arms of kids clothing down them. On a busy stair day, I've done them about 30 times.

They are narrow. By this I mean both that there is only room for one person on them at a time. AND that my entire size 7 ladies foot doesn't fit on the stair.

By the end of the day, I'm doing them 2 at a time. Both because I'm impatient, and I'm working on my Ass of Steel.

To be fair, though, I DO sometimes go up there to get WARM. All the heat from the first floor fills up the upstairs first. I have been wearing a sweater over a long sleeved shirt, and usually my scarf and a hat until It warms up half way through the day. So, I could probably be doing them one or two less times than I do them.

I may start to wear ankle weights to work, though. So the ass will get steelier, faster. 

I'm not sure the ankle weights I have will match any of my corsets, though.
I could totally just put them underneath my legwarmers though. 

ASS OF STEEL!

Grace.

Cocks. They're Everywhere.

Mostly, I see the poetry in things. And then I see the cocks in things. 

Here we have a most beautiful triptych. 

First, the little blue vase shows a man making all the gestures to a lady, who is completely smitten. (Okay, he's not making ALL the gestures, but you just know he's talking the talk.) How do you know she's smitten? Her ankles are out. That broad is totally putting out.

Second, we have the Giant Cock. The giant cock standing on a piece of wood. Mounted, on a piece of WOOD. There's a split in the wood. WOOD. Giant Eager Cock.

Third, we have the dirtly old man holding onto his tomatoes. There's some rod like corn in there, too. By the time your eye scans over this trio of unintentional artistic endeavor, you know what the old guy is asking. You KNOW it.

The only way to improve upon this art, is to paint his blue pants skin colour.

This is how I entertain myself in the Thrift Store.

Giant Cocks.

Grace.

Thor. Cracking Skulls and Crunching Nuts.

So the store has had a facelift. Paint, new shelves, all cleaned, a tonne of stuff moved up the stairs. (I do the Gawdammed stairs 35 times a day. Where is my ass of steel? WHERE IS MY ASS OF STEEL?)  Anyway..

The shelves give more room to display shit. But the Ex-Man has been putting things on there that are sort of hoity toity. Mostly.

I walked by this guy today. And he made me SO happy. As he was very much Thor energy for me today. And he was all about cracking skulls and crunching nuts, if that's what The Queen required.

Cracking Skulls and Crunching Nuts. As You Wish It.

And I let him know, NO, I do not need anyones nuts crushed at the moment, but that's it's lovely to know that if I needed him in a pinch, it would be a very straightforward thing him to do for me.

Thor is always there for me.

(see what I did there? In a pinch....)

This One Time, I was Monogamous.

Sooo... It's been a while. All of my energy was going into shovelling snow and Monogamy Man.  I know. I know. I didn't even really TELL you about Monogamy Man.  He's the fellah who knows all the lyrics to every 80's song in my head that I use in place of a punchline and he's the fellah who closed down the coffee shops with me excitedly chattering and writing on napkins, and he's the fellah that came all the way from 24 years out of my past to make me laugh until my guts hurt and fill my eyes with sparkles just with his smile. He's the fellah who wore the cologne that drove me crazy.

Crazy enough to say to my other lovers, "Guess what! I'm going over here with Monogamy Man, and I am going to be MONOGAMOUS! Can you believe it??" Yeah. That's some powerful cologne.

Two out of Three lovers said "I love you! Go and explore this thing! I am excited for you, and you are in my heart always."

One said "Oh hell no, I refuse to accept that you are doing this at all."

Hagrid knows The Power of Love.

So, that was at the very end of October. It's the beginning of February, and Monogamy Man and I have already run our course. ALREADY. What the fuck? Does three months even COUNT? It was fast and it all made sense, and the Universe had my BACK! Everything lined up beautifully.

I have the sads. I'm disappointed in my inability. I'm mourning. But I'm deep in thought about the whole thing too.

I wanted it. I wanted the promise and I was asking the Universe for stability and a PARTNER that I could DO big life things with. And then MM showed up, and promised ALL THE THINGS. And I changed my whole path. I made plans.

I love that man. And that doesn't go away with the return of his apartment keys and the collection of my slippers from his doorway. I miss him. But I wonder, is it only because he's removed himself from me? My previous loves never really went anywhere in spirit or thought. I knew they were out there loving me. MM is really withdrawing himself from me. THAT'S painful. I'm not used to that at ALL. I'm friends or at least on friendly terms with all of my ex lovers. (Except for that ONE dude. ) I just don't go around severing connections all willy nilly. A sharing of heart space is IMPORTANT and everlasting to me.

Sigh.

My friends were concerned about me, when I told them I was going to go all Monogamous. Because they KNOW me and LOVE me. ALL of them even after seeing how crazy I was for MM asked me "are you SURE?" with concern in their eyes. (I'm the only one among them who has ever called themselves poly, by the way. They are all monogamous or are monogamous when in relationships.)

Anyway. I'm not ready for adventurous or bad behaviour yet. I'm not even ready to be vulnerable in the arms of any of the former lovers who would be willing to cradle me in their comfort zones.   I've been talking this shit out to try to heal. Or find the big answers. The big reason for all of it.Why would the Universe allow me to fall so desperately and deeply in Joy and Love with someone, just to take him away? Fuck, I hurt.

The book in the pic above came in to the thrift store today. A tiny little thing, from 1904 or some damn thing. Written by a religious man, so there's lots of GOD in there. I still flipped through it looking for clues.

Grace.


 

I'm a Ruin.

I have a young friend (She's nearly 20 I believe.) She is named after a Goddess. She sent me a message today saying "This song reminds me of you."

I'm angsty and weepy and THIS was effin perfect.

Thanks be to the Goddess.

I'm a Ruin - Marina and the Diamonds

(blogger is NOT letting me embed the video. )

 I noticed from this version, there are lyrics missing:

I've had my share of beautiful men
But I'm still young and I want to love again
It's difficult to say goodbye
And easier to live a lover's lie
Yeah.  Angst loves this shit. I love FEELING, it reminds me I'm alive.

Lemme See Your Package, Part 2.

What was REALLY funny about these underwear, is that they had such a small WAIST on them. 25? 28" waist? So, that would have made the Whopper enclosed look even BIGGER.

Home of the Whopper. No cheese, please.

Home of the Whopper.
No cheese, please.
Extra special sauce.
Hold the Pickle. HOLD THE PICKLE!!!
I'd like to eat in, please.

Where are the napkins?

I could go on and on.
Just like this guys package probably did.

Grace. 

Lemme See Your Package First.

My co-workers are funny as fuck. It's always the Ex-Man that finds this shit, and immediately thinks of me. 

Ah well. At least he's thinking of me.

It's a good thing he's got no baggage. With all of mine, there's no damn room for anyone elses.

I checked out his package. Then I put him on the shelf. And I walked away, leaving him for someone else.

Yup. That's about the way it's been.

Assholery.

Grace.