BIG NEWS

For those of you who still come here or want to read what’s happening to Daphne, I’ve moved and renamed my blog!!! I sent out an email to friends giving them the new address, but if you are a friend of a friend, or a rando even, I’d love you to still read about my exploits. Just comment that you’d like the link and I’ll respond do you with it! OR ask the friend that you got the link from in the first place and make them give it to you. Thanks for reading!

“Half of me, I feel like a jackhammer, I love to holler and stomp my feet and throw rocks. But there’s another side of me that’s like an old man in the corner that’s had too much wine. I’m probably too sentimental for my own good sometimes.” -Tom Waits (stolen from Leah’s blog)

Yikes

They’ve saddled me with stupid projects and I also have a gchat addiction, so I couldn’t post. Tadaaa

Things in my life….

MY SISTER’S BIRTHDAY WOOOOOO!!!!!!

I hope she is having the BEST DAY EVERRRR.

Other news, hung out with boy in question last night. Maybe we can code name him BIQ. So Biq and I had a convo wherein he told me I was not allowed to eyefuck anyone else. So let’s look at the current guidelines of our situation:

*No hooking up with other people

*No kissing other people

*No eyefucking other people

*Spending several nights a week together

*I left my boots at his house this morning

*We’re buying tickets for things more than a month away

*We’ve discussed day trips, and will be going to IKEA together soon

*We have inside jokes

*We’ve showered together

…Do I have a boyfriend? Methinks yes. I basically have a boyfriend but the door to the relationship cage isn’t locked in case I want to get out. The DTR turns that key, and I’m not going to lie, we almost turned it last night. But… I like him. I like him more the more I hang out with him. He kinda dazzles me in some ways, and he’s never boring. Hmmmmm.

Happy St. Patty’s yall. I’m still hungover from last night so I’ll be taking it easy. I was so hungover today that I used the word “cunt” freely in a conversation and also told people I would pinch the shit outta them if they didnt put on green. Woops.

that girl thinks shes the queen of the neighborhood

WHY IS EMMA WATSON GETTING EVERYTHING SO RIGHT?

OK I’m back and ready to finish up my ramblings from yesteryore. So, the boy in question and I had a meeting of the minds. We have, as far as I can tell, very divergent romantic backgrounds. My track record is, since I was 16 (9 years) I’ve been in relationships for over 7 years (4 separate relationships). This past year and Sophomore year of college were whirlwinds of singledom. His track record looks more like, from the sound of it, short halfhearted relationships in quick succession (with one anchoring actual love). I’d say I’ve been in love twice. One puppy-dog, sweet sixteen love and one Romeo and Juliet epic bloody tragedy…

 

It’s scary liking someone new. I forgot what it was like to begin this… all the guys since the Swede have been known dead ends… picking guys that were geographically unavailable (Portland Boy? Nashville Boy?) or emotionally unavailable (recently split, one-nighters, etc). I think I’ve somehow gotten past the part where you shove the person away… but I’m now concerned about holding him too close. I’m outlandishly affectionate. I can’t help it that I’m a huge sap. But if that’s overkill, he’s going to pull away, and I’m going to try to hold tighter. Sigh.

 

However we came out of our talk with an understanding that we shant get down to any funny business with anyone else… and if that is the case we have to spend more time with each other than just, you know, funny business. We spent a slew of days and nights together, and I can’t wait to see him again. Even if its just for fun, and for now.

After work today I’m going to go to Borders to see if there’s any scraps left from their close-out sale, and then its to the opera I go! WOOP

 

I’m not quite sure this weekend could have gone better. I stuffed in so many good friends and fun times… my social life is officially obese. And I love that fat fucker. ß9:30 AM too early to be crude?

So there’s a boy.

Yes it is the boy I was ranting about a week ago, saying I shouldn’t trust him and all that malarkey. I may or may not have accused him of using me as a concubine. However, after my rant that day we had a long talk where we both set out all our concerns [Pause. I’m sorry. I wrote all that and then got busy the rest of the day… will continue tomorrow and hope ya don’t hate me].

What you undoubtedly want is about two paragraphs of facts. I’ve forgotten so many of the facts. I don’t remember what is true and what might have been true. It hasn’t been a story to write about, you see. Nothing much has ever happened.

As for the picture – I hate cameras. They are so much more sure than I am about everything. I am sending you a photograph of a large drawing which I like. I hope it will do.

I can’t say how much I wish this kind of thing weren’t necessary. I feel like a man who has been to a horse race, and who is asked, “What were you doing while the race was on? What were you doing with your hands? How did your face look?” He wouldn’t know, and I don’t know.

—John Steinbeck in a letter to his publisher, shortly after the acceptance of his first novel, when asked for autobiographical and publicity information.

Wow I’ve been so busy today I haven’t even looked at other peoples’ blogs, much less posted on my own.

Deep breath 1.

Deep breath 2.

I love you guys. I hope your day was really magical. Or at least that you weren’t too sleepy. Happy Fat Tuesday, Imma go get myself a treat, and then after work I’m going to celebrate my beautiful friend Maria’s birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIEND!

Lastly, I saw this and thought it looked a lot like my body when I’m all naked n’ stuff (winter version, currently in gym mode to switch to summer version).

gchatting Jared

Emilia’s boyfriend,  Jared, and I have a similar sense of humor. We’ve established that I am his adopted sister. This is our gchat from today:

Jared:  yeah, I must say, the general behavior of college seniors is enough to make one arch an eyebrow
Daphne:  ugh I’m gonna keep getting older and those girls are going to stay the same 

Jared:  yeah, but the good news is that they’re really desperate and sad
I have one of their bras here
maybe some men will find that less-than-challenging, and thus boring
Daphne:  god I hope so
I’m not cut out for life as a spinster
I dont even like cats
and my hair is just plain luscious 

Jared:  that is the gospel truth
Daphne:  No hair nets and moo moos for me no sirrey bob
Jared:  I’m of the opinion increasingly that the odds are stacked against the young ladies of DC, sadly because there are all these cows just slinging milk, nary asking for a bushel of hay in return
Daphne:  I’ve dabbled in cattle. It’s a sad sad pasture. 

Jared:  all the milk-consumer must do is merely line them up, and have nipples thrust at them

Daphne:  However, of late, I have been eating top notch feed and think my milk be the best in the land only to be consumed from the finest goblet to touch but the noblest lips
Jared:  true, there are some consumers willing to pay a premium for organic, fresh-tasting milk 

Daphne:  Ah yes, however this market is quite small
and that shits got a shelf life homeboy
Jared:  but then, you have to wonder about all those “lactose-intolerant” men who really would pass on milk altogether, there are quite a few in the city 

Daphne:  Yes and they often parade about in the garb so that methinks them possibly both worthy and thirsty, but alas, then they bespoke their betrayel 

Jared:  upon closer inspection, that libation they’re quaffing is unmistakably Rice Dream
all the more frustrating since those who peruse the soy and rice milk section tend to be far slimmer and fitter-looking, not to mention stylish
Daphne:  Perhaps I shall go peddle my rich lactation elsewhere, a far off land where the tastes are more refined 

Woe is me who cannot find a lad to appreciate the notes of ginger and wit that so color the bouquet

Sigh. Hard out here for a cow.

BURNNNN

“Sir, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool,
But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.” Samuel Taylor Coleridge