Dirty texts, body farms, and incest

Oh, hello there, blog!

I almost forgot you were here!

I was telling Andy the other day that I feel like I should be blogging more regularly. That I shouldn’t start being boring just because I have a boyfriend. And while I don’t want to blog only to have something up here and be able to say, “Well, I blogged. Now I can get back to reading TFLN my low-paying job,” if I stopped blogging now, I’d feel that it was a result of being boyfriended.

And I can’t be havin’ that.

I’m an independent woman, yo.

This is MY SHIT.

Anyway.

So after all that whining about Being My Own Person and Not Allowing My Relationship To Define My Blog, I’m going to talk to you about my boyfriend.

Swell.

So, this past week was the longest we’ve been away from each other. He had some continuing lawyer education crap in Buttfucky starting Tuesday, and I had a wedding to attend on Saturday. He was coming home Friday, and I was leaving that same day, before he got back home. So it was Sunday before we could see each other again.

In a new relationship? Where it’s all sex, all the time?

Six days is a Long.

Fucking.

Time.

So what did we do to pass the time?

We sent naked photos of ourselves to each other!

Awesome!

I admit, this was my first foray into amateur porno photography. No man before The Lawyer has ever received a dirty picture from me, except that one time I sent Murray a picture text of my boobs. So I felt a bit cheesy doing it, but we did have a lot of fun. It’s a good thing we’re both on Verizon, because holy hell the amount of texts we sent each other last week. Lawd have mercy.

I had some real gems from The Lawyer: Drunk In Buttfucky Edition. I would have saved them, but there wasn’t enough room on my phone. They were somewhere along the lines of “I cn haslryd stadn up rghhtnow” and “jesus peprmnt telphone ham sandwch.” These were still going strong into the weekend when I was in South Carolina at my cousin’s wedding.

So I spent about 40% of the reception going into the bathroom to meet his demands of “show me your boobs/ass/vagina.”

Class. I has it.

Some other lovely bits of information I picked up at the wedding?

One of my cousins works on the body farm at [Southern University], where he has the distinct pleasure of boiling the skin and meat off dead human bodies, then piecing back together their skeletons. Hello, dream job! JEALOUS!

And here’s the really sad/fucked up info.

The mother of the bride? AKA my dad’s sister? Dating. Her. Stepson.

Let me repeat that. Step brother of the bride? Is dating the bride’s mother.

If you STILL haven’t wrapped your head around that one—this means that my aunt is dating her ex-husband’s SON.

They even have the same FIRST NAME.

FUCKING. KILL. ME.

Someone pissed in my gene pool.

Then vomited and shat in it.

I hate the fact that I’m even admitting this. It makes my family sound so trashy. But hey. The things we admit for blog fodder.

And if THAT weren’t exciting ENOUGH . . . when I went to The Lawyer’s house upon my arrival back home, we immediately got down to business and were promptly walked in on by his mom, who is visiting town to watch his swearing-in.

FAIL.

Now I’m going to have “It’s a small world after all” running through my head all day.

The other day, The Lawyer and I were discussing the difficulties of small town dating. He said that when he starts dating a new girl, he usually takes her on dates at least two counties away so there’s no risk of anyone seeing him with a woman who, unbeknownst to him, may in fact turn out to be a psychotic whore.

Such a gentleman.

I’m guilty of the same thing, though. So we’re even.

Even though The Lawyer and I have been dating over a month now, we’re still not using the “girlfriend/boyfriend/relationship” label, and we are rarely seen in public together unaccompanied by others.

That’s just how we roll.

Don’t hate.

We’re both playing it safe. We know tongues will start wagging soon enough.

Did you hear that LRC and The Lawyer are dating? I heard she’s pregnant! Yep, knocked up already. I’m  pretty sure they’re getting married next month, before she starts showing. What a pity, because I heard he cheated on her with a Puerto Rican prostitute.

Folks in my town have very active imaginations. I’m not exaggerating when I say that this is probably the type of rumor that will befall me.

Given the disappointing size of my town and the rampancy of its rumor mill, it’s no surprise that The Lawyer and I had this exchange while playing bar trivia last night:

The Lawyer: I just saw that guy’s cleavage.

LRC: Who? *whips head around, in true nondiscreet LRC fashion*

The Lawyer: He’s gone already. He was wearing a deep V-neck T-shirt, down to here *points to sternum*

LRC: Wow, what a douche.

Minutes pass.

The Lawyer: That guy.

Adam walks in.

LRC: (surprised to see Adam looking so metrosexual in a green deep-V T-shirt and a new emo haircut) Oh, him? That’s just Adam. What the hell is going on with him? His hair is all douchey and he’s sporting man cleave! Weirdo.

The Lawyer: Well, you’re the one who DATED him.

LRC: Only for like a month! And he never wore shit like that when we dated.

The Lawyer: Blink.
Blink.
AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA you DATED that guy? I was just kidding!

Ewps.

Heh.

Small world.

(Naturally, since Adam spoke to me last night, I awoke to a blank text message and missed call from him at 2am. It. Never. Stops. Folks.)

In other news, today The Lawyer will find out if he passed the Bar in [our state]. It’s very likely that he did because he already passed in [another Southern state, rhymes with Butt-fucky], but he said there’s always a chance that he didn’t pass.

Either way, we will be drinking heavily this weekend.

http://longredcape.wordpress.com/2009/05/08/pregnancy-also-the-ideal-man/The