This morning, I made myself the only think I can cook (Gigi’s definition of cook–pour liberal amount of Folger’s Crystals into 20 oz. mug without using spoon, so that there is enough caffeine to have my brain fly out of my cranium, hit the ceiling, and reluctantly, crawl back in. 8 Splendas[or 6, 10-no method to the madness], and Fat-Free Milk, a.k.a. a tablespoon of milk in a huge contaiiner, watered down for the W.N.=Weight Neurotic.)
I sipped the too-dark concotion and it was sour-ish. Borderline Coffee. It’s a state. The coffee is still tecnically okay, but it’s starting to turn.(Who came up with that term? Turn? What is this? Does milk practice plies when we shut the refrigerator door?)
When I turned the big TWO-FIVE, my great uncle, known to smell of cigars and a musky cologne(that I caught him buying in bulk at a small Flea Market at the edge of Chelsea, but hit behind the fake Burberry scarves so as not to embarrass him). HE found ME and gave out what you all must have heard–”OY, MINE GREAT NIECE. OY, GEVALD! SHE NEEDS TO GET MARRIED! OY, GIGI! WE NEED TO FIND YOU A GOOD MAN! MAYBE WE WATCH TEVYE AGAIN. IF YENTEL WAS STILL AROUND, I WOULD MARRY HER NOW.”
Yep. I know. You heard it in Rochester. When you were listening to music so loud, and on such a high pitch, all the neighborhood dogs came a’ runnin’ and it wasn’t even “Who Let The Dogs Out?!”.
He then proceeded to speak(yell)(he is having problems with his hearing aid. It’s the one that is least seen by others, but can be problematic…So he takes it out, and fuhgettaboutit. We have to yell, use sign language, and then curse(under our breaths)because he says things very…matter of factly–as in the sour milk example.
Back to my 25th bday…. GreatUnc looked at me and said the following: “Gigi. You are like milk. You passed your expiration date. No boys will want you now. Once milk is rotten, boys go for the fresh milk.”
Essentially, he called me milk that has turned cheesy because it’s so rotten, and there are no takers.
I need a drink.
That was a few years ago.
Today’s coffee tastes…sour.
I need a drink. Bacardi, anyone, for the Unwanted Sour Milk Girl Past The Expiration Date?
Gigi, back again, missing you all—
It is so hard to write, when there is so much emptiness in one’s heart…
Yet there is so much pain as well, which makes the void larger….
Until next time…
DON’T BE INSULTED IF I DON’T OFFER YOU COFFEE. I MAY HAVE SAVED YOU FROM FOOD POISONING.
pol·y·an·dry /ˈpɒliˌændri, ˌpɒliˈæn-/ Pronunciation Key – Show Spelled Pronunciation[pol-ee-an-dree, pol-ee-an-] Pronunciation Key – Show IPA Pronunciation
||the practice or condition of having more than one husband at one time. Compare monandry (def. 1).
||(among female animals) the habit or system of having two or more mates, either simultaneously or successively.
||Botany. the state of being polyandrous.
Okay!!!!!!!!!!!! Noway do we want more than one man. One man is more than enough. One man(he was just mean) had me crying my eyes out, losing my religion, and my skin losing its usual glow and having a sickly pallor. One man to do laundry for, cook(i can’t–frozen beigels in the microwave is cooking), clean(it’s exercise!!!), be a nurse to when they think they are dying of the common cold, and bear their children(the step before is supposed to be a lot of fun, but I’m still a V Card Holder, something everyone and you, I am sure, didn’t forget).
Polygamy, I understand. When one wife is PMSing, you run to the wife that isn’t bloated and smells like lavender lillies. When one wife is feverish, you go to the one that is healthy and happy. A man can never get enough! Seven would be fine I think. (Sleepy, Sneezy, Sleazy…whoops=0)
Sorry for being away for a week guys…My life is nowhere, and Im scared.
Gigi, without even half a man…yet, she feels like nothing….
Virgins used to be a prized possession–were they not??? These days, it is so hard to find one, and yes as I have mentioned before I am a member of the V-Card Holders( a cool, obscure way for saying I never hit a home run, or am a virgin–yes–we do exist, even if we are an extinct breed.)
I think originally I was a virgin by fear–I was afraid that Murphy’s Law combined with G-d’s Wrath would be a terrible combo, and as many condoms and Birth Control Pills I used, I would get pregnant, and I would be a single mother, wailing on Ricki Lake, and pulling the hair of Laquisha, the chick that my ex(but we never married) was cheating on me with, when I was pregnant with our twins(freak accident along the lines of a badly written soap opera and Murphy’s Law), and had a baby with her, and paid alimony for that child, while I collected Medicaid and was living in a Trailer Park…
WOAH…LOL….Real Life…!!! (Yeesh…that was a frightening ending, all I needed was the Murphy’s Law…)Afterwards, I think I kept my Virginity because I felt that if I waited that long, why lose it, and why lose it with someone that could break my heart–and the break wold be that much worse, if the loss of that piece of tissue was associated with that guy.
None of my friends are virgins, and most guys don’t respect it–they tell me if I want a serious relationship–I should know, they want sex–and if it’s not at the beginning, it WILL happen, may as well do it already.
At the risk of sounding like the song, are we like animals, that just mate?
“I Would Appreciate Some Input!”
Without further ado, I bring you the song i know by heart because it’s so bad, its so gooood!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gigi, singing the words on top of her virginal lungs, and waiting for her input–come on–i shared…’tis only fair…
While I remain without a job, I have come back here, to JReromatch, as you all are my contemporaries, and I feel in a way, my friends that understand me, I have been helping out different people in politics, diff marketing ideas, and non-profit creative input. I have been spreading myself really thin, and am really worried because I am afraid as I need a job and not knowing what will be wakes me up in middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicky, and unable to catch my breath.
I spoke to a friend today, who is someone I know for years, single guy as well,very sweet guy, lets call him, Martin. When I told him who I help and how many pple I was vollunteering for, and this was while I was on the treadmill, so I was out of breath, he asked me a question that made my heart skip two beats and It took me a few seconds to reply to him….
“Gigi, It’s nice that you are doing all this for so many people and organizations. BUT WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR YOU????”
DEAD SILENCE ENSUED.
I couldn’t answer him.
This is coming from the one that always has an answer.
The question is plaguing my mind, and tormenting my heart…
I CAN’T ANSWER IT BECAUSE I AM SO SCARED…I AM LIVING IN THE MOMENT–NO, I AM LIVING IN THE SECOND…NOTHING IS CONCRETE OR CEMENTED…THIS LIFE OF MINE IS LEGO PISOM AND RASMSES AND IT HAS SUNK BEFORE AND IT CAN SINK AGAIN ANY MOMENT….
Who did I become?
I have no idea?
I am too afraid of life, and too busy battling fears to know who I am.
Now I have a very quiet, rainy weekend to mull that over.
Did the title subject just freak you out?
No, I am not moody, nor high one moment, low the next.
It has been almost a week–and a hellish week at that.
That last dance? A little tease. For the males? Think a twenty five cent dirty XXX show of whatever it is you see there, so that you feed the pathetic little place another quarter, and another.
For the females? A friend’s immaculate home, on a nearby tiny ornate table, a candy dish full of light brown chocolates, each piece looks so decadent, your mouth waters…perfect. You reach your hand out, and touch…glass. Ah, what a conversation piece this decor!
Ah, what a tease!
Dancing last Saturday night was a tease. Men clamoring for me? A tease yet again.
THE CLOCK STRUCK TWELVE AND CINDERELLA WENT BACK TO HER USUAL LIFE–ONE OF REALITY–PAIN, A LIFE LIVED IN DISGUISE OF WIT, A FEAR OF REJECTION, A FEAR OF BEING LOVED, A FEAR OF BEING UNLOVED, A DREAM FOR A PRINCE, BUT FIRST SHE NEEDS THE GLASS SHOES–AND SHE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A JOB….
I don’t know why I was fired from this job. My shrink wants me to call the one that hired me and ask. That would be ripping open an unhealed wound and AIDING ITS FESTERING PROCESS.
I will not be hurt again.(Ha, yet I hurt myself so many times.)
In reality, I want to go back to baggy clothing…Not knowing what love might be, because again…I cannot be teased…and I CANNOT DANCE ANYMORE BECAUSE IF CINDERELLA REMEMBERS THE STEPS OF THE DANCE, SHE MAY HUM THE SONG TO THE STEPS AND REMEMBER A NIGHT THAT WILL ONLY BE A TEASE AND HAUNT HER BECAUSE SHE CANNOT REPEAT IT.
Sooo…. about last night…I was in The Hamptons for the weekend, and it was celeb sighting this week more than ever. A gaggle of genetic freaks a.k.a. Supermodels w/ barely any torso, yet legs that go on and on like a Congressional Filibuster populated the place. Funny thing–I have a close friend in the fashion and celeb world–so this doesn’t faze me…And last night, I had a party for a friend who turned the big THREE-OH. Very very classy club–if I mentioned the name, anyone that reads Page Six would perk up. He is a succesful entrepeneneur, so he made this bash in his favorite venue…He is single. hot(hey, fellow chicas, down girls! lol! can’t say the name–he is enjoying life too much to settle down–he’s honest–gotta give him that.)
Once inside the club, we were a private pary, and we were a very eclectic mix of people, which was great for me, because I made some new friends that after Hampton Weekends and Labor day, live in THE CITY THAT IS SORELY IN NEED OF AMBIEN!!!
CHEATER CALLED ME SAT NITE PRE-PARTY. I TOLD HIM I PITIED HIM BECAUSE HE WANTED ME TO DRESS IN A MORE SEXY MANNER, AND I STARTED DOING THAT–EXACTLY WHEN HE INFORMED ME HE SLEPT WITH SOMEONE.GIRLS: TELL A GUY YOU PITY HIM????? CHEATER PATHETICO WAS SO DISTURBED THAT I SAID I PITIED HIM, HE KEPT CALLING ME…HE TOLD ME TO HAVE A GOOD TIME AT THE PARTY, AND WITH ASSURANCE IN MY VOICE, I REPLIED “OH, I WILL” AND HUNG UP…WHEN HE CALLED MID-PARTY I COULDN’T HEAR HIM, AND HE WAS POSITIVELY TURNING GREEN…I COULDN’T HEAR HIM–SOUNDED LIKE A VERIZON COMMERCIAL….HEY, DON’T BREAK MY HEART. EVER. AND THEN DESCRIBE IT TO ME IN GRAPHIC TERMS IN A COLD VOICE. WAS THIS REVENGE? NAH…I WAS ALIVE!!! I DON’T SMOKE, HAD ONLY WATER!!!, AND WAS HIGH ON LIFE!!! I FELL IN LOVE WITH A SIDE OF MYSELF I NEVER MET BEFORE….
More later, in the meantime–my favorite club song–turn up the volume and DANCE!!! Even if you are alone…Come on…
Gigi–in like with herself, and staying away from toxic people.