Posted by Layla Winterborne on Saturday, 27 February, 2010 @ 3:05 pm
I apologize for the long hiatus, everyone. I am currently dealing with a miscarriage and haven’t really had the energy to write anything.
I do hope that all of you are well. We will return to your regularly scheduled programming soon.
Posted by Layla Winterborne on Monday, 15 February, 2010 @ 2:08 pm
Is there a reason why this woman must speak so loudly of her children as she walks them around and around this small business space? The children cry as their stroller loops around once, twice, three times as she continues to titter excitedly into her bluetooth. “Shut up, Carter!” She cries.
***
Red hair. Not fiery nor mousy. She’s dressed as though planning for a ski trip, though I can’t imagine skiing with such large hoops in my ears. Her speech is slow and languid as she complains loudly of this assignment and that assignment, her date from the night before overpowering her work at hand. Annoying, annoying, annoying peppers the conversation as she claims that her procrastination is not her fault. “I’ve just been so busy!” She exclaims as she hurriedly brushes her perfect hair away from her stress furrowed face. “It just seems that everyone is having a birthday or getting married at the same time. I just don’t see how professors expect us to keep up with all of this work!”
***
Your face stands out, sour, amongst the sea of smiling women. Laughter, Thank You’s, and clapping hands echo throughout the theatre and yet my eye is pulled toward the anger in your face. Arms and legs crossed in a way which separates you from the world. Jane, your feelings seem so hurt by positive criticism.
Posted by Layla Winterborne on Thursday, 11 February, 2010 @ 8:57 pm
The New Boss: You’re Jewish, right?
Me: Um…no. I’m about 1/4 Czech and 3/4 Comanche.
The New Boss: Czech + Comanche= Jew.
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Ya’ll, I’m not really sure why anyone trusts me to drive their car. Hell, I don’t even trust myself to drive a car. I have gotten so used to riding my scooter everyone that every time I try to turn, I find myself leaning in the direction of the turn and being reminded of playing Mario Kart 64 and thinking…hoping…that if I turned the controller in the direction in which I needed to go, that perhaps, I wouldn’t go sliding off the side of the cliff and go from 1st place to 12th.
(Fucking Peach man…she ALWAYS got me.)
But seriously…I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty competent driver but I swear to god…these past couple of days with the rain and everyone freaking out about OMGSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOW but everyone knows that it doesn’t snow in fucking SOUTH TEXAS. The most that we get is slushy rain…I CAN’T SEE THE DAMN LINES ON THE ROAD. You would think that Texas, of all states, would spend a little more money on making sure that we can see what fucking lane we’re supposed to be in. I also cringe every time I drive by a police officer because I’m convinced that they’re automatically going to assume that I’m drunk and pull me over and haul me to jail…and I totally can’t go to jail because I’m fragile and then they’ll discover that I don’t really work at a bakery but that I’m actually a prostitute that does lines of coke off of rich guys dicks for cheeseburgers.
(Oh hey ya’ll…on that note. I’m not an event coordinator anymore. Seriously, I decided to join the glamorous life of street walkers. Only I’m a little more creative with my time spent with the dudes.)
(I’m totally serious about the street walker gig.)
(And by totally serious, I mean not at all.)
(Okay, maybe a little.)
(No, not really.)
I’m about one car trip away from taking on the task of repainting every single road stripe by hand.
***So everyone knows how much I love naked vagina…here’s a link to a website that you should go check out. Not safe for work and more puss than I can ever hope to have. https://guesshermuff.blogspot.com
This is one of those rare Internet gems that one hardly ever sees now a days. Totally classy and wholesome. A definite family pleaser. Seriously! You should use it as an ice breaker when you go meet your boyfriends parents this weekend.
Posted by Layla Winterborne on Saturday, 6 February, 2010 @ 1:45 pm
There is a melancholy…a shimmer which hangs upon the thick, humid air, begging to be touched.
An electric pulse entering through outstretched fingertips…beneath fingernails…soul wrenching vibrations which leave you gasping for breath, eyes watering…and everything seems so dark…so dark.
It’s always this time of year…with impending spring and the way the sunlight filters through the slants of the blinds. The melancholy embraces me in a way that my lovers have yet to replicate. Enveloped, surrounded by a deep pulse which reverberates deep echos that pound…in and out…in and out. And god! If only I could be loved so deeply…to feel the pounding in the hollow of my throat…in my abdomen…in the soles of my feet…the palm of my hands…my heart…my soul…
To feel IT in every fiber of my being.
The melancholy does not embrace me now as it did then…and I find myself grasping, crying out…Demanding that it touch me. Love me. And yet he still flits…flirting at the edges, touching me in ways that raise the flesh and leave me yearning…begging…to feel. An inconsistent lover…a “booty call”…kissing me lightly with quick flicks of the tongue…touching mine…lightly grazing my teeth, my cheek…but never lingering.
As much as I surrender…he will not take me.
