one, two, three, ACTION!

so last night, my ex and i were talking about what movie we are going to see for his birthday, yadah yadah, long story short he said he would sleep with me, but only in a threesome situation.
wtf?
i had to explain why i was offended by that comment.
i came up with what i now realize was a lame analogy.
"so basically, it's like if i make an apple pie, and you're like hell no. i'm not eating your pie. f*ck that. but then you see this naked girl eating my pie, and you're like, okay, i'll have some of your pie, but only because this naked girl is having some." his response was something to the effect of...he couldn't sleep with me one-on-one because there would be emotions involved. whereas in a threesome situation it's purely physical. so it's not that he hasn't wanted to "eat my pie" it's just that he thought it would make things too hard and we wouldn't be as close as we are today.
"fine....but that's still f*cked up, you know that, right?"
yes, he said.
when are trios a good idea? if it involves people that you have no emotional baggage for, then i guess they're a fine pasttime (if you're the adventurous, non-jealous type). however, i can't even remotely imagine doing that with someone i care about. seriously?? and who is the third party supposed to be? certainly not someone he knows because he's probably already messed around with her or has been wanting to, and i refuse to be a party to that. and it can't be one of my friends because i don't want to know the terrain, texture, hills and valleys of my friends' snatches (or any girl's for that matter). and i don't want him to either. and it can't be a stranger because that's kinda gross. and what do you do? put an ad on craigslist?

wanted: female to be third leg in FMF love triangle. must be clean. hot enough to get the guy excited but not so hot that she makes the girl feel insecure. must be good in bed but not so good that she outshines the other girl. must be willing to leave immediately afterward and never try to make contact again.

plus, i'd have to use a fake name because i wouldn't want her going to the enquirer when i'm all trying to win my emmy. and what on earth am i supposed to do while they are having their "time?" do the soundtrack? applaud? stretch?
i know this is a common occurrence, so i'm not knocking it or dissing it. i'm just curious.
i hate to break his heart. he was so excited by the mere prospect, like a pup who smells sausage on your breath.
but i can't.
i'm not going down like that.
i'm not going down at all actually.
i didn't know it took three people to get one person laid in L.A.

meeting the masturbator

i finally met her.
well, first i met her ass.
she was bent over in a pair of spandex tights. the fabric had thinned (or escaped to freedom), so i could clearly see her moon-pale ass rising and rolling out of that fabric like dough that had cracked-out on yeast.
the rest of her followed suit. if the michelin man had a sister--michelina, no doubt--she would pretty much look like this. pale, marshmellowey, with rolls and muffin tops and loaves coming at you from so many angles you'd swear you were at a pillsbury convention.
her voice was thick too and had the bitter, hardened edge of a woman whose pussy has seen more batteries and plastic than a mattel factory. she was standing on the steps leading up to her apartment when i asked her if she was my upstairs neighbor. yes, she said. i introduced myself, and then we stared at each other. her probably thinking, "i wonder if she's going to have thugs over here and play rap music." me thinking, "i can totally hear you fucking yourself." the moment ended with me simply walking away, feeling oddly satisfied. the chronic masturbation suddenly made sense, AND my theory that it was in fact a one person act i had repeatedly been awakened by seemed completely plausible. i mean, no one's tapping that. and NOT because she's a big girl. big girls need and receive plenty of love (more power to them), but when you tack on 5-6 decades, a stank attitude, anti-social tendencies and spandex, it's a recipe for not getting laid. now her exuberant self-gratification is justifiable, and i am somewhat comforted. that doesn't mean i excuse it, enjoy it or am not freaked out by it, but i feel better than i did when i thought she was merely some sex-addicted, big time exec who just didn't have time for a man. selfish and ridiculous, yes. but so is humping a fake dick so hard you wake up your neighbor.
i have since invested in ear plug balls and a radio on which i sometimes play rap music in L.A.

coldplay poem

i went to see coldplay last night. by the looks of things, you would have thought it was an al green "for lovers only" concert in the park. it was still pretty great though.
while i was waiting forever for them to go on, i had to make up some nonsense to keep myself occupied. below is my coldplay poem

couples couples everywhere
why does that boy keep sniffing her hair?
watch him lick her lobe so sweet
want to kick him in the back of his head with my feet

only because i wish to stretch!
not 'cause i'm a jealous bitch
who wants her own licker and sniffer
a man to take her to see coldplay and then stick her
between the legs

and why does he keep scratching her back like that?
simple affection giving me heart attacks
oh shit, ken and barbie just walked in sucking face
please don't sit next to me, find another place

'cause this is the singles row
well maybe the other end is lesbian
but i can't deal with you tonguing her down
while i'm trying to watch chris mar-tin

22 bucks to park
and all i've gotten is this hermosa beach style porn
dear god, please bring coldplay on. bring them on!

swedish store love

this dude named luis came up to me at ikea.

ACT I
studying the vases, i am startled by a voice near my ear.
luis (O.S.): you are amazing.
i turn. nothing at eye level. i look down a couple of inches. there he is. aaaannnndddd no.
me: thank you.
luis: i just had to tell you that.
me: thank you.
luis: i hope i didn't scare you.
me: i was in my own world.
(more shit i don't remember)
luis: what do you do?
me: i write, and i work at a school.
luis: i KNEW you were a teacher.
me: i'm not a teacher.
luis: oh, well you should be. you have a nice voice.
me: thank you.
luis: what is your name?
me: poppy.
luis: luis.
me: lewis?
luis: luis.
me: lewis.
(shake)
me: nice to meet you.
luis: okay, well take care.
me: thank you. you too.

ACT II
i am trying to get the hell out of that damn maze of a place. a voice calls out from behind...
luis (O.S.): poppy.
i remember that i told someone that was my name so i figure i should turn around.
luis: i just don't want to have any regrets.
luis holds out a piece of paper with his name and number on it.
me: okay.
luis: i hope you call me.
me: okay.
luis: so can i have yours?
me: if i call you, you WILL have mine.
luis: well, i guess that's all i can hope for. i will just pray about it.
me: that's all you can do.
luis: (laughs) yeah.
silence as he continues to walk with me.
me: but prayer is a very powerful thing. i'm all for prayer.
luis: good. well, i guess i better go get my bed now.
me: yes, get your bed.
luis: bye.

ACT III
i am putting my stuff in the trunk of my car. luis rolls by, smiling. privately, i roll my eyes.
me: get me the hell out of here.

the end.

the neighborhood self-gratifier

i've been remiss. i know. but i've been trying to finish a spec script, and honestly i haven't had much to report. but i will report on my horny ass neighbor. yes, i can still hear her bump and grind herself in the morning. no, it's not every morning. but more often than not. and it's not that i hear her voice, but i hear what she's doing. i hear her old rickety ass bed. well, how do you know she's not doing it with someone, you're wondering. i know because i only hear one set of footsteps afterward, and NO ONE is ever there BUT her. if she was talking to someone or if someone else was there, i could hear him/her. and if she had company, i would see/hear them walk up the stairs, which are right next to me. but that's never the case. and unless he's a wheelchair bound invalid or she's got him tied up in there like that dude in Misery, then she's humping herself blind in the morning. either with a pillow or one of those life-like penises. hello? aren't you raw? chaffed? just plain tired? is all that masturbation really necessary? am i the only person who is freaked out by this?? i mean, i'm all for people doin' what they have to do, but i don't want to hear the shit. it nauseates me. ugh. horny bitch. i'm just going to play music at a level just shy of too loud and dare her to say something.
i need to buy a house.
other than that, life is grand.
i am not interested in listening to anyone do herself or anyone else in L.A.