I have several startling confessions I’d like to make in a row

I’m happy, you know? I spend every day doing about the same thing and it’s great. I’m going to be completely honest and tell you because this is my weird, boring diary:

5:20 A.M. (4:30 on Mondays and Fridays): Wake up

7am (6am M & F) – 4 pm : Work

Have 12pm-1pm lunch break, spent either editing a few pages of my current book in progress (code name – CF) or reading. This week I’ve mostly been reading Silence of the Lambs. I read Red Dragon and clearly 100% had to read SOTL right away after.

4-6ish – work out – I come home and handle a few household things, then change into my work out clothes and smoke weed. Then I either use my indoor bike, do yoga, or do a pole dance warm up and practice because I can do all of that while watching TV in my living room. I’ve been watching the subtitled version of Sailor Moon on Hulu. It’s amazing. I watched most of the entire series when I was between I think 9th and 10th grade, and it’s meant a lot to me even before then. I went through a LOT of fixations/obsessions of things when I was younger. One day I’ll give you a list.

6-8ish – Writing – Right now I’m transcribing. So I printed my first rough draft that I already showed y’all a picture of, then I edit it with pen (in my car, as mentioned above or at my kitchen table), then I type all of that from scratch. It’s a TON of extra time, but it really helps with pacing and catching typos that your eye doesn’t catch, at least at first.

8-10 – Sometimes this bleeds into writing time, but this is why I feed us. So either making dinner at home, or procuring it some other way. I get hella shameful sometimes with how often we eat out. I’ve been trying to get way better at it…but let me tell you, it’s really easy to just not make dinner and have a mess to clean up, especially in my no-dishwasher rental house.

Then, as you can tell by the time I get up in the morning, I need to get to bed at a reasonable time every night.

And that’s my life. I write as much as I can, and I don’t get how anyone with kids or any sort of life could possibly do such a thing. I know they do, though, that’s what I’m saying.

The weekends…honestly…this is depressing to admit any everything, but pretty much every single weekend, I go TWO places:
1) Either Friday night, if I’m not too exhausted after working 6am-4pm, or on Saturday morning between 7-11am I will get groceries. I will NOT go to a grocery store when it is busy. I WILL NOT. I worked too many hours retail to be able to handle that anymore.

2) Sunday at noon, for one hour, I’m at my pole dancing gym. It’s $18.75/class so I really can’t afford to go more often than that.

But other than that, most weekends, I do nothing else. So as you can see, I’m afforded many hours to write. Thank god I don’t have any friends to hang out with or social obligations or children to look after……

I’m an odd mix, because I really do crave normal, healthy relationships with other people…but I mean, how does one go about forging such things in adulthood?
Look at anyone’s groups of friends/people they spend time with – take away coworkers, relatives and people from high school, and then let me know how many are left. Because I have a hunch. Well, I don’t have any of those people. Well I have coworkers but I do NOT have a hang-out relationship with any them, which was untrue of all of my previous jobs. I was crazy close with coworkers for certain periods of time in my life. I lived with and worked with the same chick. We’re still acquaint-a-friends. And, again, of course no kids. I am WELL aware how much spare time that affords me.

Every weekend I have to stop myself from losing myself in a cleaning black hole. I have a tiny house and five cats, my husband is messy, I cook dinner all the time. I’m more an obsessively organized person, sometimes I let cleanliness slack, only a little. I kind of have to because it would take all of my energy to keep up on it to the point where I’m happy with it. I have to content myself with malcontent, like always, right? I’m so many different fucking oxymorons rolls into one, aren’t I? Like cynical optimist and organized chaos…need I mention well-organized disarray? I’ve also got this arrogant/insecure thing down pat. Plus I am a fucking WEIRD mix of cool and nerdy. Also, have a few random really high-class traits, but also a mildly trashy upbringing and disposition, but I’m also obsessed with TALKING about how trashy I am…which…is weird…

While I’m listing shit, my most favorite concept is unity and variety. I also love form v. content.

I should go. I’m so drunk. Yeah, GUESS what else I should list. How often I’m fucked up:

1) Smoke weed between getting ready for, and leaving for, work. See this is why this is my super secret super honest anonablog.
2) Smoke weed before working out after getting home
3) Smoke weed and drink beer while writing and then while cooking dinner
4) Smoke weed and drink beer after dinner/before bed

GUESS what I do on the weekend…yes in fact it’s more of the same.
Do you all realize how lucky you are that you’re following this blog? One day, I’m going to be a famous author. I feel it. I can’t tell you more than that. OH wait, also that I’ve openly and privately dedicated my heart and soul to the written word, first and foremost expressed in my debut novel. I was writing when I was eight years old on an electric typewriter. I got a Masters in literature for pretty much no practical reason. I guess some people might not feel like they have a destiny, and that’s too bad for them. But that alone is a part of my life that’s never been unclear or disappointing.

Every once in awhile someone’s bound to come along who isn’t total garbage. That was Paul.

Well it hit me at work today that I never told you about Paul. Of course that’s not his real name, but it does start with the same letter. I started dating my first boyfriend right around my 18th birthday, he was useful, so i had a boyfriend for prom, and my grad party, and he had a truck and was a huge help when i moved out of my parents house. But in no way was i using this guy, i really liked him, i definitely was not the one who wanted things to end when they did, which shockingly was when he left for college. But his college was only about thirty minutes from my apartment, and we never dropped off communicating, so we still got together for sex that first semester we were in college. But, during that same time, i met Paul, through the same avenue that i met my first boyfriend- myspace. Paul messages me out of the blue on myspace, claiming that he searched through myspace for anyone going to our college and my page was the only one he found interesting. Which i can kind of understand, i exhibited way more personality at 18 than most will their whole lives. So Paul and i started talking on AIM, and as it turned out we had a lot in common, especially not being over our recently ended relationships with other people.A few months pass, Paul and i talk online on occasion, then when it came out that neither of us reconciled with our exes like we’d hoped, Paul asked me to a movie. It was The Departed. Ill never not think of him when i see or hear about that movie. While we were watching it (in theatre) he asked me “would it be weird or wrong if i put my arm around you?”After months of my ex, who texted me when he was horny (like i wasn’t going to invite him over every single time) then bailed as soon as we were done, it was kind of hard not to start liking Paul, a lot. But, he was 21 and i was 18, and sometime between that first movie and anything else happening, a long time friend of his who was his age came out with feelings she had for him, so naturally he tossed me like rotted fruit. It kind of destroyed me a little bit more than the rest of my life already had, because here was the THIRD guy i’d invested my emotions in and was led on by when all the while someone from their past already had a hold on them (how does one compete with history? I mean really). And i really liked Paul, he was intelligent and kind and i could just sense this stable goodness about him because I was good at sensing that sort of thing, even back then. And, most importantly, he was the first person i met who made me think someone could like me for who I am, not how i looked. His interest in me generated from my personality. At 18 this was the first real life example i had of such a thing, at least happening to me. I remember so distinctly, when we were in the movie, it was The Departed, his heart started beating really fast during the sex scene, and i could feel it because his arm was around me and my god was that arousing, it still kind of is. It still is.Of course, 18 year old Cassie couldn’t leave herself with a speck of dignity so i tried telling him how i felt after he’d already started dating her. I got “i had no idea you felt so strongly” which…yeah….of course 18 year old me had NO idea how to express herself. I’m a fucking font of constant self aware expression now compared with then, back then i was so scrambled i couldn’t understand my own feelings. Trauma does that. The inevitable happened and Paul and i stopped communicating. It’s really not hard to see, now, why things happened as they did. But, truth be told, I was way more emotionally invested than he could have possibly known. But, I mean, what do you expect from a teenager? I was mature for my age, but I had very little experience with boys, because my pretty much a terrible human being first boyfriend. I found it especially funny that I didn’t know it when we were talking, but Paul and I would end up having the same major in college, this was when I was trying to deny my authorly intentions in life, when I was like “Oh I’ll be an accountant and write in my free time” (ha ha) this was the most hollow, pointless, vapid point in my life as well. I was also very skinny. Which I do miss, but man are my boobs way bigger now. Anyway. I guess a little bit of me will always be vapid, huh?

So, in conclusion, do I blame Paul for what he did? No. He was a good guy. That’s why I liked him so much. And, I mean, like three years later I met my future husband…so it was just three more years of crap and bullshit and guys like Doug: “You’re gonna want to strap yourself in for this next one.”

But, while I’m being perversely honest like I love to be, I would definitely put Paul on the Fucking Guest List, as I like to call it. Who else is on there? Well, that one professor I told you about (duh), and my one coworker, and my neighbor, and that one other guy from the company, and then the guy who used to work for us. Their names are Daniel, Sean, Noah, Joe and Donnie. But are you going to remember that? Those are actually real names, but like, does that matter? I mean, even IF someone in my real life found this, I would just be like “way to read my hundreds and hundreds of pages of blogs, you stalker” because we all know that’s what it takes to get to anything REALLY interesting about me. This is like my 102nd blog…which is almost an accomplishment because you cannot understand how compulsively I destroy my journals and diaries…because…IDK it’s like I didn’t want evidence of any kind of emotion or thought lying around…because somehow it felt like it was going to be used against me….yes, let’s all take the ten seconds it takes to sleuth that one out.

Also, have I admitted that I actually like hentai? Like, not the fucking weird tentacle porn, but like a LOT of hentai has an actual plot to it, and because the actors are just doing voices, they’re actually still good actors. To get people who look good and are willing to fuck on camera for money…you’re going to filter out all the talent, are you not? I guess because if I’m watching porn it can’t just be some weird amateur POV slapping sounds and nothing else BS. Like, it needs an actual story. If I ever had the $ I would totally produce a porno, just because I have a pretty kinky period (historical, not menstrual, I get why you might confuse the two given this new topic) piece I want to make. Not telling you about it here, sorry. Maybe one day I’ll get to be like hey guys guess what I did.

Also, what I did today was write less than a page (of my book) because I wanted to do this blog justice, I started it on my phone on my lunch break. I should try and get to it a little bit more done tonight. That’s moving along as steadily as ever. I’m pretty diligent about going at it as much as possible. (ha)

Anyway, hope you had a good Monday back from a holiday weekend – aka a bunch of people are sun burned and pissy.

 

To be a twat or a pushover, that is the fucking question

Because on any given day, those feel like the two options left open to me. Both are unpleasant, in vastly different ways. I feel bad when I’m forced (or tell myself I’m forced) to be a bitch. But, the memories of the times I just kept taking shit from people, when I put up with being treated like garbage because it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary from home and it’s like shit people can smell that, those memories fucking haunt me.

I think I’ve decided on a pen name that is similar to my current nom de plume, but is not it. The big issue I have with Cassie Stevens is that my husband has a close personal friend with that last name, and he’s in “the field” so to speak, and most importantly he’s an arrogant asshole and I don’t like him. I mean, I picked this author name out when a young child, so obviously I didn’t know I’d marry a guy with a jackass friend with Stevens as a last name. But that’s what happened, and I should remedy it now. Plus like..no offense dearest blog, but I don’t want THIS associating with THAT. Like…that’s my pure heart and soul…this is….uh…the silt left behind, laid to bare in the sunshine because that’s the ONLY way it won’t make me crazy. That is also perfectly tuned machinery that I’ve spent more than a decade cultivating in my mind, one that has always shown a talent for and keen grasp of the writerly arts. This…this is almost stream of consciousness…okay a lot of time it is exactly that.

So like, I can’t have my Cassie blog muddying the waters with the masterpiece I’m breaking myself to complete. Gah I know I sound like a douche, but maybe one day I’ll be able to back up my millions of outrageous claims. Like….I don’t know… in a TRULY hypothetical scenario, if I were forced to choose between getting to be a successful mother…or a successful author…I would choose the latter. RIGHT NOW, at least. I don’t think a person can say that after they have kids. Because..like…no. But since I don’t have any and am definitely not pregnant…I can be honest with you. Right like I’m not always? Ha. Anyway. But it just seems more naturally a part of me. But, I have also thought about being a mother for the vast majority of my life. For many years, up until I met my husband when I was 21, I felt that I might not have kids because I might not meet anyone to have kids with. I’d always wanted the traditional situation, married to a guy with kids, like normal  ass shit, but when your childhood is all fucked you kind of think its going to follow you into adulthood. Look at my brother. I mean. BUT – minor footnote on my brother, lately I’ve really started to think about how my dad so heartily projected his entire personality and identity onto my brother…like he didn’t get to have a single interest of his own…and he had to spend more time alone with my dad than any of us, even our mom. LOOK what it did to him. If I have the chance I want to write a book from his perspective about how he grew up without a fucking chance. Because, I can assure you, while still knowing and perhaps reviling his flaws as much as I do, that guy did not get a fair hand in life. I know he sucks, and can be so fucking manipulative and terrible and EXACTLY like our POS dad, but…no one but me understands why that is, I think. My mom might, if I talked to her about it. Since we communicate via email, we are actually more emotionally open than when we used to see each other in person, because she’s all hyper repressive, her whole family was German, so like, of course, right?

So, when you don’t think you’ll get married, you don’t think you’ll have kids — not intentionally, anyway — but you still think you’ll be a writer. But you’re young and working full time retail and living on your own and going to college full time so you’re NOT exactly full of time to write. Back then, my “breaks” were working full time through the summer, which always entailed working until 11pm, sometimes working a STUPID 7pm-3am or 12am-8am BULLSHIT stock shift, and of course always working the holidays, I have deep bitterness about my retail days. We all know this. So back then, I wasn’t writing. When you’re an English major, getting a bachelor’s then a starting your master’s a year later, you don’t have much creative juice left for writing anyway. Plus during the semester there’s never not a time when you should be reading or writing something else, so there’s no motivation or drive to write for yourself, usually. I did a little, when I’d get SO high on adderol and weed and beer and shit I couldn’t control it. But not much. Plus, I will always get distracted by other creative things. Like acrylic and watercolor painting, jewelry-making, cross-stitching, crafting holiday decorations chiefly out of dollar store items, lets not forget reading. Especially right now I’m like..oh I could go read in the pool….why am I inside then? BUT that whole time, the whole like freaking eight years I was in college,  I thought about my writing.

Then, you know the story, around the time I started this blog I also ACTUALLY started getting going with my novel. Because as soon as grad school was over I started my shit my R, and that took up all of my spare time and then some. Then when I went to that class this past February I started truly organizing and honing in and I actually got a lot of it worked into a cohesive vision. I have material for at least a sequel, if not two more books concerning these characters. From there I guess I would then write other books I sort of have ideas forming for, but not much because I way busy with what I’ve got going on.

But, I mean, it’s not SO much to ask for both things, I don’t think, not when I’m so willing to put the work in for them. I’m always willing to work. I have far too many flaws, but I’m not lazy. Everyone has their lazy moment, but the truly lazy are easy to tell. Want me to name some flaws so I seem humble? Well, I delight in the misery of other people. Not everyone, but the people I hate, the ones I’ve deemed unworthy by their actions and behaviors….yeah, those people. And that’s such an unhealthy thing to do, it’s got to be right up there with obsessing over the past and comparing yourself to others. And, um…I spit when I talk…not like a lot, but I notice it….sometimes I wonder if other people do too. Um…..I mean you guys know about the weed and drinking, so why bother? I guess I’m incapable of expressing myself correctly or healthily. So there’s that. I truly cannot figure out my relationship with sex. Like I spend a frightening amount of time thinking about it…but usually in the context of how I’m going to use sex scenes to propel my novel, because that’s how you make it work. And, to be perfectly honest, I get a noticeable reaction from partners if I start thinking about two characters in my book fucking. Like…isn’t that just a little disturbing? Like my body reacts more to that than actually having sex. I become noticeably more pleasant to fuck (not that it wasn’t nice before, haters) when my mind wanders there. It also helps writing those scenes later on, because you’ve contemplated them in the true throes of passion.

…I don’t think I’m ever going to tell anyone that, though. The blog doesn’t count. I don’t even want this domain name anymore, I might get a different one.

Anyway,  I feel like my subject conundrum is a big problem for me. I don’t like either of those roles, but other idiots who are just basely mean and pointless and rude are always drawing it out of me. Husband will be home soon, so I should jet. Have a good holiday weekend. I work Monday then am off two more days, then work Thurs-Friday, then another weekend, so I’m mildly excited about the weekend.

Lates

~Cassie

If you’re proud of your bruises, you’re either demented…or a pole dancer

Or both. Mwahaha. Anyway, yeah I’ve been getting better. I’m sorry I’m not yet affluent enough to afford video-hosting on my WordPress – BUT if you want to see how I’m progressing  – it’s on my Twitter right now, two pretty short videos, my handle is @CassieAnonablog.

I work tomorrow like usual, then Monday night we’re leaving for Kentucky, Shakespeare Behind Bars is Tuesday night! The plan is to get to the hotel Tuesday morning and check in and sleep until we get up to get ready for the performance. I might see people from my graduate school, I might not. Either way I’m excited for a lot of driving for something enjoyable rather than an emotionally heavy funeral.

I didn’t even get into it with you guys, but my husband kind of lost his shit at the hotel, on our way to the viewing before the funeral. When I said “We parked by this door” in a not even rude or mean tone, I was just trying to exit the hotel using the door nearest my car, my husband LOST his shit. He stormed ahead of me out the hotel door and punched the brick wall outside about 7 or 8 times.
Yeah. Of course. Okay sure I had been somewhat edgy/bitchy, but it wasn’t on purpose, and I was exhausted and I drove us all the way down there, and sometimes I don’t do well in family situations because I don’t really have a family of my own anymore, like as in the one I came from. I won’t say I wasn’t partially to blame, but it’s just the fact that he takes a bad situation and makes it a volatile one, where the threat of self-harm is SO real from him. In fact he totally ruined the night after the last time we went to Shakespeare Behind Bars, three years ago. But we were both very sleep deprived and VERY drunk when all that happened. Since that won’t be the case this time, I’m not super concerned about our outcome this time.

But anyway I want to go write more before I run out of energy for the day, because I’m about to have a tiring few days, but they’ll be fun.

Watch me do really basic pole dance spins, on my Twitter because WordPress makes you pay extra to host videos…because of course.

~Cassie

It’s like I need to blog, so I hope you’re happy

I literally don’t have the time for you, WordPress, but I was driving home today and I couldn’t figure out why I was in such an angry fucking mood. The same thing happened to me at work today. I was like well I haven’t blog-complained in like two weeks…maybe that’s it.

To be honest my 30th birthday really sucked except for the fact that I got to hang out with my bestie, which was awesome. But like the brewery and the bookstore we went to both sucked, I didn’t have the energy for the club and she can’t smoke weed so that was an obnoxious hassle. Nothing makes you realize how deep your stoner level is than when you’re SO irritated from two days of having to smoke in the other room.
I wish I could lie and say that part of me was hoping my husband would have had something special planned…I mean I knew it was a long shot, but…I mean milestone birthdays come once every 10 years….but whatever. We were broke ALL winter because he of course had to find a job that only works eight months out of the year. It’s a step up from unemployment but…not really…

Okay, see? I’ve been so fucking bitchy today. And I know why. My husband’s sweet Grandfather passed away last Friday, so we’re going to the funeral tomorrow. I’m just psyching myself out about having to see his family. Because, let me tell you, being as I am, at his family reunion, I’ve noticed patterns to behavior:
1) My husband will act much more on his impulsive, teenager-ish, annoying, long-winded impulses. The way he put it to me was that he “feels compelled to keep talking.” It’s SO annoying because….how can you not read people who want you to shut the fuck up? Like it’s like he reverts to his younger self because he spent so many young memories with his dad’s extended family at their reunion (always held at the same inn in Indiana, a place my father in law hilariously thinks is nicer than literally any other place the family could have a reunion. His words. They’re all so fucking German when it comes to that, they have this way of presenting their opinion as fact then using underhanded ‘logic’ to support why they’re making a ‘logical’ choice and you’re not, wait did I just describe fascism kind of?).
2) His mother becomes extra EXTRA if you know what I mean. She “feels like an outsider” at the reunion, I guess because it’s not her family (gee I don’t know how that feels) and because she’s a second wife and HER kids usually aren’t there, or if they go it’s for one day not the whole annoying week. Like a few years when we haven’t been there she’s called my husband really emotional/crying over how she’s being treated by everyone at the reunion. She’s been going for the last 25 odd years. These people.
3) His extended relatives are all cold but polite. They remind me TO A T of the Lutheran church quagmire into which I was fully and unwillingly immersed throughout my first 18 years.  The people would never be openly mean or hateful or rude, but BOY believe me when I say they find their special passive aggressive ways to convey their disgust with you as a human being. I am not exaggerating at all. I have vowed a few things, one is that MY kids won’t be able to have jobs until after high school, sweet internships aside, and they will NOT be involved with any youth groups. And these people are as white, middle class, middle of the road, conservative as the Lutherans from before. The high school I went to was certainly one of the reasons my father in law liked me at the start.
4) It’s a waste of time, I’m literally miserable the entire time, everyone acts like a horrible strung-out version of themselves, I never get to do any of the fun shit, or if I do it’s NOT fun because other people ruin it – for example one of the last times I was there I said something to ONE person about how I was going to go for a walk after breakfast, silently I added “alone”…..EVERY woman in the family ended up going with me. Then later that day I was meeting my husband by the beach (it’s a lakefront inn), I text him where to find me and wait…and wait…and end up spending the ONLY time we had available for the beach alone reading East of Eden because my husband was a few hundred yards away with some relatives of his, head in the clouds as always. Like it’s just always a HUGE suckfest from beginning to end and that is NOT because I go into it pessimistically. I purposely strive for the opposite.

But, all of that coupled with my last memory of the reunion and everyone at it….and how my husband acted. Like that was and is seriously one of my worst memories of him, because the was RIGHT before I told him I’d have to divorce him if he didn’t stop drinking, because he clearly wasn’t capable of controlling himself. I think that might have been the last “big event” before I did that. Of course, he’ll blame his behavior at that particular reunion in part on my situation with R, which was happening then. But….do you get to blame your drinking on shit like that? Like REALLY horrible things can happen to a human being, that doesn’t mean they’re not the one going out and buying booze every day to cope. I never did.

That’s one of my biggest flaws I’m SUPER fucking arrogant about the things I have (in my mind) earned the right to be arrogant about. There’s not controlling it. I know they say arrogance breeds from insecurity…but insecurity, stemming from a lack of security, like while growing up, like you weren’t at all taught to value yourself, somehow? Yeah, that sounds right. So that just proves my point more.

Well, I guess I feel better. Hopefully my exposure to the asshats tomorrow is short-lived. They do this LONG, drawn-out, long, pointlessly long, group hugging/group goodbye/group send off, DID I MENTION HOW LONG IT TAKES, and it makes me want to cut myself with a butter knife because you have to hug THEM ALL. I hate it so goddamned much. My fuck how I wish my husband could feel how much I dread being around these people. Who he thinks are great. Because he’s trusting and dense like his parents. I find it endearing in my husband, though. I mean, he has a vicious cunt like me around, so I don’t think anyone’s taking advantage of him….least not when I have my way. Best example, my dysfunctional sister in law.

Wow since dysfunctional is annoying to type, from here on in my husband’s two sisters are Dys and Able. Able sums up the other one real nice. I mean she can also be a bitch, but that’s never been reason enough for me to dislike someone.

So IDK if Dys is going to be at the funeral, SHE’S not a member of that family though of course she sat in on those family pictures at the wedding….and her own (the mom’s side) it really irritated me. But, I pray she isn’t going…..she’s just fucking bad juju man, like the personification of spoiled milk. I just can’t. It’s straight disgusting how reliant and codependent Dys was when I met my husband.

And the reason why I do what I do works is because I don’t like command my husband to do anything, I don’t even tell or suggest….I point out. It took VERY little outlining for him to see how little an impact he made on Dys’s decision making….yet she still called him for his advice EVERY DAY. She HAD to call him every night when she was driving home from working a shift at the strip club, and tell him all about the horrible shit she’d done or just how horrible her life was. One time she called him because there was a can of Dr. Pepper in her fridge and she wanted to drink it and she needed my husband to talk her out of drinking it. THAT is the level of annoying I receive from Dys.

So I’m dreading tomorrow and am in a horrible mood. But i guess this helped.

 

Isn’t it funny how you could read this and be like…wow this is definitely a predator slowly isolating their spouse from family. I know that’s what bad people do, because it’s what my father constantly tried to do, with extended family and friendships, for my mother and my brother and I. It’s because it’s easier to try and control someone if no one is around to call you out on it/convince them you’re abusive/help them escape/etc.

The difference is I’m pretty self aware (see, arrogance) and also control is NOT my end game. The end game is being with someone I don’t feel like needs controlling because they’re functional on their own. Truly this is not too much to ask.

So tonight we’re driving three hours to a hotel, sleeping, going to the 10am funeral, then hopefully leaving by 2pm at the latest so we get home about like a regular work day, because it’s back to work on Thursday like nothing happened. SO pumped.

Gah I’m a bitch.

Anyway

~Cassie

30th birthday/420 weekend recap

The title says it all. It was great seeing my best friend for longer than three hours between her driving from her place on her way to her mother’s. She got here around 12pm on Thursday. But then she was gone from like 1-4, so I’ll count from then on. We went to a grocery store to stock up on the random things i needed to make Mai Thais (then, in total this weekend, we made one mai thai, I made her one at the end of the night with almost no rum in it…because we’re old now…anyway) and this fun alcoholic coffee drink I like making. Then when my husband got home from work on Thursday around 7 we went to a brewery by me that was disappointing. But then we came home and ordered astoundingly good pizza from a specialty award-winning one-location-only pizza place by me. So that saved it. Then we went to bed after a few more drinks.

Then Friday on my actual birthday we got up somewhat early, after my husband had left for work, she and I went to a breakfast place I’ve always wanted to try, but it’s always so busy I never try to get in on the weekends. That’s the first picture. What’s hilarious, what I didn’t notice happening at the restaurant but my bestie did, was that there was a couple sitting near us, and the girl got jealous/mad because either the guy said something about us/one of us being hot, or she caught him staring at us, because she said really loudly, in a voice meant for us to hear it (I didn’t hear it because we’d just gotten our food and I was like…devouring that…) she said “Oh that girl? Right over there by that waiter with the tattoos? Oh, she’s too gothy for ME.” Idk which one of us she meant, my bestie has dark hair, but I have a bunch of rando ear piercings.

IMG_9322

See, I told you we were real cute. We always have been! Anyway….I LOVE how, even a little hungover and unshowered, we’re still making this rudeass person in the breakfast place petty as hell. Mwaahaha bone structure.

Then part of Friday was spent running the boring errand of getting my paycheck from work and taking it to the bank, because LORD forbid we have direct deposit…..Anyway.

Then we went back to my place for a few hours. BFF got some cardio in, because God forbid she not do that for one day. Then she and I got ready. Then around 4pm we hit up a book store I’ve always been meaning to look into, but never got around to going to because they close at freaking 5pm. It was a disappointing book store, to say the least.
Then we went back to my place to wait for my husband. He gets home from work around 7pm. Then, we finally got to the Mexican place I wanted to hit up for dinner around 9. Then we’re there until almost 11pm.
I’d wanted to get all done up and hit up a gay club, like I told you guys, but then I was REALLY tired by the time we got home from the restaurant, I was like I don’t want to go pay cover just to buy expensive drinks and want to come home the whole time. So we only took only more pic:

 

IMG_9323

Then Saturday morning she left to go with her aunt to visit her mother in our hometown. Then I did NOTHING on Saturday. Like I did our laundry. And I SAT on Tinder. That’s right, I started a Tinder again, this time under my alter ego, Cassie. That’s right. AND, I managed to nail down a situation that i think will work out.
I won’t say the guy’s name because I don’t want to be rude about confidentiality, but he lives near enough and is the same age as me, and is very interested in being the bisexual interloper we need for a MMF threesome. I mean, that’s what I really want out of life, and my husband is also very into the idea. And he likes the guy I found. BUT, the guy said he can’t meet up until the weekend after next, sigh, so we’ll see if things hold up that long. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about Tinder convos am I right?

I’m a little embarrassed I had SO much extra time off, and I didn’t write any more than normal…but oh well. I had a good time doing nothing, swiping left, slowly wooing this one cute guy for my husband and myself….It was a good time. He sent a dick pic and that’s a good situation, so that’s awesome.

So, the last thing I did this weekend was get done up to do some photos. As you know I have an at home pole, well enjoy below, one is me on my pole, I’m not rich enough to have the video support plan…sorry y-all. Then there’s another one of me because I did my hair AND make up and wore a fancy new pole outfit.

Then the last picture is me having a mai thai by myself, in comfy clothes, as i know my bestie suffers at her mother’s house in our hometown. I feel for people who still speak to their parents. That sounds real tough.

Anyway, I had a good 30th birthday and long weekend off from work, I really do appreciate that I had my best friend and husband with me for it, as I have for so many now. I cherish them both and my relationships with them. I’m sure my 30s will be great considering how fucking bad my 20s were by comparison, right?

Hope everyone had a good weekend. My birthday gifts were my pole, and like 12 edibles, and a new bubbler that makes me feel like a wizard when I use it.

Peace

 

~Cassie