A year ago today...

I was sitting in a chair while my friend Sandra tried to cover my tattoo so it wouldn't show as I walked down the aisle.

This morning, I'm marveling that it has been a year since I married my giving husband. It feels like ten.

Before I robbed the cradle and stumbled into marriage, I thought I knew myself. Strong, independent, going to conquer the world, travel anywhere, do anything. Kevin used to joke that I was the "man" in the relationship because I couldn't be bothered with too much sweetness or sentimentality. He also thinks I'm insane , a martini whore and a wild child - but secretly, that's why he loves me.

This man, my husband of one year, has reduced me to a simpering idiot. He is so wonderful to me that I've become a complete girl.

God, he is such a sap.

And I just couldn't be happier.

Me and my fucking big mouth...

Oh Styro, you are an awesome internet goddess... (holding you from afar, telling you that if you ever grow up and stop being an Internet nerd that people from around the world will shed tears of grief and pull out their hair as they throw down magnum's of tequila and snort lines to blow their minds because there would be no more Styro and then we'd have to have a collective suicide pact and it would take too long to organize and when we finally succeeded it would just be a big ol' mess and someone would have to clean up that shit and do you really want that on your conscience? I didn't think so.)

Tasty pint on me? Penny Lane? December?

Just a quick note

To the self-serving sycophant sitting in the front row of my Management Information Systems class,

Shut. Up.

How did you get into an MBA program when you don't know how to take visual clues from the professor? When he says, "good point" and moves away, he is done listening to you.

Another thing, please stop waving your arm. The professor doesn't meet your gaze for a reason. He GETS PAID to talk about Information Technology. You do not.

Furthermore, no one in the class is impressed with your knowledge of acronyms and how you not-so-suavely insert them into your babblings. GUI isn't a cutting edge term - we all know what it means and how to pronounce it.

So please, for the next 7 weeks, spare us your simple-minded stories, irrelevant insights and jokes about people who use Linux client servers. If you don't, I may have to initiate a "systems crash" on your ass.

Thank you ever so much,
Roxy

I lie...

I'm posting about something non-novel related.

I just got a call from someone who is putting together a statewide conference for DECA instructors and administrators. She saw me speak to FBLA students recently and wants to book me for her conference later this month.

Really, I just can't believe that someone would want me to speak in front of their organization. Are they crazy? The obviously don't know me.

Still, I'm thrilled.

I always knew my big mouth would be an asset someday...

A comment...

to all 4 of my faithful readers.

I apologize, but I will not be blogging much about anything that doesn't have to do with National Novel Writing Month in the coming weeks. Starting the "novel" writing has consumed my every waking moment, and even some sleeping ones, and unless someone at my work does something really stupid - or George Bush really pisses me off - I probably will be focusing on novel related posts and such.

Never fear, however. Should something of mass importance happen (like I lose my job for writing my novel during business hours) I will be here to vent on my blog.

In the meantime, please feel free to check my work in progress. And yes, I do realize that Chapter 2 is a little trite, a tad bit silly and more girly than I really wanted it. Other comments welcome...

I can't believe I'm doing this...

but I'm going to post my novel as I write it.

Please keep in mind the following three things:

1. This novel is a first draft.
2. I have no idea what this novel will be about and just came up with the name for the main character about 15 minutes ago.
3. I will not spend time editing my work at this time in the novel writing process.

Those three things being said, feel free to check out my novel progress here.

Also, please feel free to comment constructively. You are allowed to hate it, think it's trite or to not even consider my work, but if you negatively trash my writing or tell me that my plot sucks I will be forced to curse you. Don't make me curse you...

I'm going to write a novel...

50,000 words. 30 days. Writer's block be gone!

Flash Fiction Friday

It was just a bad feeling she had deep inside - in the space where dark wishes gather and separate. Charlie had been gone ten weeks as of yesterday. Ten weeks. She marked the days in her mind, carefully drawing a line through each day on her imaginary calendar. One slash per day.

This time, he was gone for good. No wisp of hope or outside force could change that simple fact.

She was glad there would be no goodbye. His gray eyes wouldn't bore into her like cool, collected steel. He wouldn't read her thoughts or try to reassure her. His words wouldn't be her Jesus. She couldn't be saved with simple gospel and blind acceptance.

She wondered what he would have said...if he could have said anything. She used to define herself by what he said. She reached for his words, swallowed them warm and easy like liquid chocolate on a November night. In the past, she always did what he said. She always took the pills.

He always called her by name to get her attention - never used nicknames. He never apologized for interrupting or explained why he was there. Sometimes, he'd feed her sweet senitments before condemning her. She had to listen, frozen in front of the mirror. He locked her gaze - he had control.

At one point, she considered leaving so he could carry on without her. His life would have been easier. But she was stronger than that. She threw out the pills that made him the dominant one.

Rosanna laughed to herself. She had the control now. Now when she looked in the mirror, she saw herself - not him. He's been gone for ten weeks now. Ten weeks. She knew because she had her imaginary calendar and carefully marked a line through each day.

He's gone for good. He was just a bad feeling she had deep inside - in the space where dark wishes gather and separate.

Again, from Stat Counter

I posted here about how people arrive at my blog through search engines.

Here are the latest and greatest searches that landed surfers at Roxy's World:

This person was looking for drugs, and got me instead. Notice the spelling of said drug...

Apparently images of twitchy eyelids are all the rage as there were three people who searched this and arrived at my site.

Again with the drugs.

I don't even want to typethis one out. You have to click it. Preferably not at work.

A little story for Ginger's "16th" Birthday

Ginger and I used to go out and tear up the streets of Richmond quite a bit in the old days (read: two years ago). We've met some interesting people while endeavoring to remain upright after drinking heavily. Two we reminisce about occasionally are Dude & Ek.

We met the happy couple out at a David Carter shin-dig one night. As usual, we were toasted. Ok, we were smashed. Tell the truth? We were blitzed from smoking in the bathroom and drinking red-headed slut shots like they were cups of kiddie kool-aid.

Dude Williams was definitely a man's man. He was older - not quite crusty - but defintely browning around the edges. His lover, Ek, was a series of B's: bug-eyed, blond and busty. I can guarantee you that Dude & Ek weren't christened with those bar monikers. To this day, I couldn't tell you their given names. But I can tell you that they could party.

Shot after shot. Drink after drink. Slur after tasteless slur. Dude and Ek were like senior citizens on a day pass from the crazy farm. At one point, when Dude put his hand in Ek's shirt, I almost passed out from shock. Actually, I probably almost passed out from alcohol poisoning, but let's not get into that.

Our experiences with Dude & Ek culminated in a parking lot dance party after we closed down the bar. We set the CD to repeat The Gourds "hick-hop" cover of "Gin N Juice" and we turned the volume all the way up, flung open the doors and got our dance on. Dude & Ek broke it down, twirling around the parking lot, Dude trying to cop a feel on all three of his hoes at the same time. After three-plus repitions, we said our goodbyes to Dude & Ek crawled back into the car to pass out for a while before continuing on to yet another party.

Someday I'll write about Ray Rice - who Ginger and I met on a South Carolina beach. He had knocked up his girlfriend and told us it was his sister. Or maybe I'll skip that story and write about "The Longest Day Ever" which included chunky grass brownies, a Redskins game, Jerold the man/woman drug-dealer who was confined to his house by his police-monitored anklet and two trips around the Beltway that culminated in Ginger peeing down her leg in my mom's kitchen. Ahh, good times.

Happy Birthday, Ginger...