Me: Oh you've got really pretty eyes.
Israeli dude: Yes they're beautiful.
Me: I've got pretty eyes too (I lean in close, open my eyes real wide).
Israeli dude: They're nice but not as beautiful as mine.
(a beat of silence)
Me: Our children would have beautiful eyes.

Awkward chit chat ensues and then Israeli dude leaves and my boss tells me, "It would've worked on me".

No, I will not go there,
walk that well traveled path,
Feet planted firmly on the ground
stepping solidly.

No, I will not obey you,
tow the line habitually drawn,
straight lines carved on the earth
which I cross over defiantly.

No, I will not love you
give in to your many advances,
your pleas for love,
for love,
for love.

No, I will not care,
give myself over to empathy
hoping to create a moment,
a chain around us, bonded.

No, I will not forget
your image intricately drawn
in the back of my mind, a shadow,
your smooth skin, prickling.

You know your mother is a pothead when:

You borrow her pipe because the pipe she bought you broke. You actually tell her this. She actually loans you her glass pipe.

'Cause when we kiss our stars align.

Tell me this one random night and I just might
fall a bit hard for you
for this moment for the heart for rushing endorphins
coursing freely through this shell of a person.

In what moment did I fall for you? Was it Saturday night, at the bbq? You in your big boy shirt and me in my overly short Tina Turner dress. Was it when you teased me non stop where I was forced to fight cleverly back with witty sentences. There were also some things I could not fight back against. Yes, you teased me mercilessly. Did I fall for you when you had to include your friend in this little ode to me, saying, "You are the coolest girl we have met in a long time." at the bar, drunkenly, with eyes glazed over, arm around your friend. Why not own up to it and say it was you all along who thought it. I mean, your friend was nice but he and I didn't hit it off like you and I did. Was it Monday, when I suggested we all go out Tuesday and we did. We all did and something was there that wasn't before. But you mentioned, later, how you thought I was beautiful the moment you saw me. You knew it well when you told me that you knew I wasn't all that attracted to you when I first saw you. I agreed, what could I do? I smiled shyly, chastised or caught or who knows. I like you now, isn't it enough? Is it ever?

"You are beautiful outside, but what's inside of you makes the outside even more beautiful", dear sweet nothings that I could eat a million of and never be full, satiated. Whisper them again and I'll try to burn them into my memory as they vanish from my mind seconds later.

You're not my type! I don't think. Though you're not too tall which is something I like in men (a couple of inches taller than me), kind of sensitive, and quick witted and self deprecating. God, I tend to lean towards guys that need mending. Why am I so intent on fixing a man? Being his very own Mother Teresa. I blame this all on my Catholic guilt induced upringing. It seems all my exes were defficient or damaged or malformed in one way or another. Is this what psychology is all about? Cataloguing every single person with some kind of mental problem (there's a movie or something about this somewhere).
You are way too into yourself. You're vain and conceited and I love douchebags, maybe. I love the guys that drive me literally crazy. Too smart, too fast, too vain and proud. I love them all. Bring me your smart, intelligent douchebags who drive a million girls like me crazy.

You know your mother is a pothead when:

You borrow her pipe because the pipe she bought you broke. You actually tell her this. She actually loans you her glass pipe.

This is not normal.

I feel heavy, my lids heavy, my breasts heavy, my belly heavy. I feel like a piece of lead getting pulled close to the giant magnet that is gravity. There is no holding back gravity, what is there to defy? The human body alone can only get propelled a certain amount on it's own. I suppose that's why gymnasts, athletes and dancers are so amazing. The human body is capable of so much, how far can it even go? Incredible to push it to it's limit.

I just had an idea for my birthday which can be amazing or terrible. The idea would be Trashy Glam theme at the bar. It could be such an awesome, fantastic, Fabulous with a capital F or it could be a disaster, no one would end up getting dressed up and it would be me and a couple of girls dressed trashy glam and everyone else in regular clothes (like last year's party). I don't intend to go crazy over this birthday thing like last year, I am going to take it easy and not be a hostess and just chill and get really hammered for my celebration. I never truly celebrate when I am host, I run around worrying and picking up after people.

No, I will not go there,
walk that well traveled path,
Feet planted firmly on the ground
stepping solidly.

No, I will not obey you,
tow the line habitually drawn,
straight lines carved on the earth
which I cross over defiantly.

No, I will not love you
give in to your many advances,
your pleas for love,
for love,
for love.

No, I will not care,
give myself over to empathy
hoping to create a moment,
a chain around us, bonded.

No, I will not forget
your image intricately drawn
in the back of my mind, a shadow,
your smooth skin, prickling.