So Real I Can Still Feel It

it's dark and cold outside, but cozy and warm in the car. i have all my belongings, my dog & my boyfriend. i'm not sure where we're going, but i know what we're leaving. we're in socks and sweaters - clothes that make you feel comforted and loved. there's quiet music on the radio, and we're casually singing along, lost in thought and time and the togetherness of the moment.

naturally, he reaches over and touches my thigh in a familiar and affectionate way. the way a lover would easily do, without giving it much thought. his touch sends a wave of calm and excitement over me, a contradiction that is typical of our time together. i love it. and i can tell i love him.

after a time, he breaks the silence. his sexy, thick, rough voice, dripping with his accent, says, "how long is your fucking mother going to follow us?"

ha. all a dream, but yet so so so real.

and the lover? my soulmate? the one with the electric touch? a man who has touched me before, in a familiar way. one who holds my happiness in the palm of his hand. he has the power to bring me to tears - either from pride and joy or bitter disappointment. he can do it all, and without saying a word.

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i'm taking the dream as a good sign. we're going to kick some ass tonight.


Things I Found Whilst Cleaning Out My Car This Weekend in Front of Union Station

one hot pink lighter
one pair of black, velvet gloves
one travel-sized bottle of scope
one used swiffer
one card for tres reyes tamales in san antonio
one booklet of sonic coupons
one half of a parking ticket
three forged parking permits
one wedding-cake-shaped bottle of bubbles
one tube of neosporin
one game of car bingo
one purple, lace thong


E is for Emily, who is back in full effect

break it down now.

is anyone even still reading this? i'm not sure i would be. e2theLos has been a little boring lately. but i'll confess - suddenly lots of people started reading. and the pressure to be funny, or at the very least entertaining, was intimidating. well, there's that, and all the naughty anonymous emailing i've been doing. but i'll get to that.

there must be something about me that says to people 'go ahead.' this is both a blessing and a curse. take for instance the gentleman who, at the store on friday night, asked for all 5 of our tasting wines to be poured into the same cup. 'the same cup?' 'yeah, lady the same cup. i'm just tryin' to get a drink.' 'okay then....' and i obliged, pouring all 5 wines - whites, reds & a rose - into the plastic cup. he took the wine, drank it in one swallow, and stepped back into the corner...where he proceeded to take. his. pants. off. if i'd known all along that all it took was a cup of wine & then men's pants would come right off, then i could've saved a lot of heartache, not to mention time spent at dollar beer nights pretending who can burp the loudest really is funny. hell.

later that same night a short indian fellow with a big nose and bad hair told my korean friend that asians look like aliens. and this is how he did it:

[short indian fellow with a big nose and bad hair:] if a space ship landed on earth, who do you think would get out?
[laurie:] i don't know...who?
[sifwabnabh:] well, not blacks. cause blacks look like monkeys. and not mexicans. cause mexicans are too lazy. and not whites, just cause. so, asians, cause asians already look like aliens!

when i heard this, i walked right over to him to ask him to leave - you can't openly be a racist in my presence and not suffer some consequences - when i noticed he is drinking an enormous glass of wine that wasn't from our store. perfect excuse. 'excuse me. yes, you. you. with that enormous glass of wine. i'm going to have to ask you to leave with that.' 'then i shall proceed,' he said. and he was about as tall as yoda...

so far i am two for two. sweet. bring it.

i also just found out that we've had a rash of shoplifters lately. i am totally gonna kick some ass if anyone goes near my 1998 rioja. i mean, if they're stealing it, they probably don't have a wine opener. and just the thought of pushing the cork down into the bottle, like we used to do in college when we snuck a bottle of cheap merlot into the sorority house and drank it whilst spying on the sigma chis next door, offends my sensibilities. *shudder*

so my father responds to an email i sent today which contained an article from the NYT about the spurs (i love manu.) his response was "good article. but the way, aunt louise died a few days ago." my mother tells me when she changes her socks. my father forgets to/chooses not to alert me when a family member, with whom i spent a considerable amount of my childhood, passes. and we wonder why their marriage didn't last...or why i am such a weirdo. go figure.

somehow i was totally hung over yesterday. like, i got up from my desk and thought "this is it. i am going to have to throw up in my office bathroom. i have finally reached the bottom. now i know how whitney houston must feel." three drinks over 3 hours plus dinner and an enormous homemade-cream-cheese-iced-brownie should not an office puker make. equally inexplicable is how i managed to convince my entire office that i was downing water, diet coke & advil simply because i didn't feel well. and to think that casting director didn't choose me to play possum in places in the heart. what a waste. i am so misunderstood. and then last night i only got four hours of sleep, and somehow today i am in a great & borderline-offensively perky mood. it certainly doesn't hurt that someone just delivered two andes mints directly to my desk. rock!

but i digress. wait, what was the point? oh yeah - naughty anonymous emailing. so after the crazy times at the store, jason & i opened a bottle of pomerol and decided to hop on craig's list to see what was going down. after a glass, i had the genius idea to post an ad ourselves, just to see what sorts of responses we'd get. i mean, we all know people are freaks, so let's see what they got.

the post read: i've got the titties you've been looking for. send a photo and tell a joke.

that's it - no photos, no stats, no adjective, nuthin'.

i received 55 responses. fifty. five. everything from, "hey, how did you know i was looking for those? i was about to check my backseat again!" to "the titties i've been looking for used to be attached to sharon stone - how'd you get them?" to "got milk?" old men, young men, skinny guys, naked guys, nice guys, geeks, body builders, players, teachers - you name it, they were interested. and persistent. as of yesterday, the emails were still rolling in.

all in all, it was a totally amusing experiment. i highly recommend getting drunk with your gay guy friends and having them craft your sexy responses, mostly cause if you're anything like me, you will be too shocked or too busy giggling to do it yourself. but it'll salvage a saturday night. try it. you'll see.

i'm pretty sure that after figuring out that guys like titties, however, i'm fairly close to curing the common cold. please, no autographs.