Crappy updates are better than nothing?

I received a comment recently that contained some rather shocking information - "it's been 8 months since you posted". Son of a bitch...really?

I haven't forgotten about this blog or any of you, I swear. I want to write again, the way that I used to, but I'll be honest: I don't know when that will be. Maybe if I bring you up to speed, you'll at least understand why I've stayed away so long and why my involvement here will be limited for the foreseeable future.

Let's see...when last you heard from me I was relaying the story of my England trip. I, regrettably, never finished telling that story but it's on my To Do list. Suffice it to say, it was wonderful and so were all the people I met. It was a blogger's meeting on steroids: Philip, Sharon, Kelly, Nathan, and some guy at a pub in Kent that was happy to randomly be introduced to "The Sex Blogger". I had no idea I was known as such, even by one person, but hey...the important thing is that he seemed pleased.

After I returned from England, I spent the summer preparing for college - getting all the stupid paperwork together and drinking a shit ton of booze because, obviously, there would be no time for that come August. At the end of July I started a new job in a completely new field that I had, technically, no experience in...but they offered me nearly double what I was already making so I said, "Fuck yes" and turned in my stilettos for steel toed boots. I don't actually do physical labor, but I work in a building out in the middle of hundreds of men that do physical labor. Which, by the way, is a blessing and a curse. It's like one of those wading pits of plastic balls - men are everywhere, smothering you, smelling weird and alternately making you want to dive in or go wash you body with Clorox.

In October I MOVED OUT OF MY MOTHER'S HOUSE. Some of my long term readers will know that this is a huge deal for me. After 8 years of absolutely no privacy and constant bitching, I'm enjoying my peace and quiet more than previously imagined. I've had a great few months of decorating and arranging, sitting on my new couch and watching what I want, throwing dinner parties and walking around in my underwear. But the best part is: I can masturbate without any interruptions. Actually, I may have overdone it the first month. I now probably own more sex toys than is strictly legal, but in my defense, if you were dying of thirst in the desert and suddenly got rescued, wouldn't you drink water until it was squirting out of every orifice? Yes, it was like that.

The same month I started seeing someone and...(cue drum roll) I'm still seeing him. He's someone that I used to date on and off a long time ago and, now, I'm all mature and shit so I can handle the serious relationship that he's always wanted and I've always been deathly afraid of. He's sitting on the other end of the couch now, watching the Super Bowl and occasionally looking at me like, "What are you doing? Why aren't we banging right now?" He likes me a lot, not just my vagina, and I like him too. It could be a serious thing, we'll see. And...he DID manage to change my mind about oral sex. I've decided that I do like it and Michael Bolton can go straight to hell.

Right now I'm in my second semester at a technical college, working on enough credits to transfer to one of the larger institutions here that offers an MFA program in creative writing. I completely abandoned my original plan of going to school to get a degree that was going to make me some money and do what I really wanted. It's terrifying and I hope I don't regret it. Last semester I only took two classes, but I quickly realized that I would be there forever if I kept going at that rate. So...I'm currently working 10-12 hours a day, then going to class Monday through Thursday from 6-9 for a total of four classes. One of those classes is Public Speaking and it sucks a giant donkey dick. As a matter of fact, my boyfriend (how fucking weird is that??) thinks I'm writing my first speech right now. I should be, but I miss this. Well...not THIS exactly. This isn't a "post", this is an update. But still, you know what I mean.

You're all a bunch of fuckers because you don't have to stay awake for 17 hours a day, stand up and speak in front of 18 year old recent high school graduates that hate everything, and fight with your mother over why she can't have a key to your house. But I love you anyway. And I miss you. And one day...one day I'll come back and write something amazing and you'll say, "Ah, THERE she is."

I do answer emails, so, if you want to keep in touch on a more regular basis...send me one. I'll reply and it might be more interesting than what you've just read. Now, you'll have to excuse me...the Super Bowl is apparently no longer that interesting and it's my turn to Hail Mary.