Photo: Susie Malbacias

Today I find myself dismayed, dejected and in the doghouse.

Yes, my girlfriend isn’t talking to me. How it happened, I’m not entirely sure, which is probably why it happened in the first place. But I trust she will let me know why, one way or another, eventually–assuming she decides to speak to me again.

Hey, we’ve all been there and know what a living hell the doghouse can be. Personally, it feels like I’m being flayed alive.

So while grimacing through the day without my skin attached, I pondered, what might be some delightful distractions to take my mind off being in the doghouse? There’s always the comfort of escaping to the movies, or spilling my guts (and probably TMI) to my best friend, or relaxing in a bubble bath (yes, even lesbians take bubble baths just like other chicks).

There’s also mindlessly searching the internet for strange and entertaining videos, or the latest news.

Or, if all else fails, and a more dramatic diversion is required–it’s always vajazzle time.

But no matter how hard I try to distract myself (hair shirts and self-flagellation are next on my list), I feel like I’m stuck in a Matthew Barney film and I just want out.

Personally, I hate conflict, yet I would rather not avoid it when it rears its ugly Medusa snake head. I would much rather talk it through and work things out than ever go to bed angry. But not everything is up to me, as I am well aware, especially right now. In the meantime, I find that the doghouse does not have one shred of insulation and it’s colder than San Francisco in June in here. So, Juliet, I implore you–please find it in your heart to forgive me. And soon.

2 Responses

  1. Johnny

    So here I am at work reading your blog, and suddenly I remembered that I can clink on the links to elaborate on your quirky little metaphors. Without question, I click on the vajazzle link first. Being the big homo that I am, I clicked on the link because the name sounded cool, with no regard to what “vag-jazzle” could possibly mean. So out of impatience I click half-way through the video to find out what this vajazzling business is all about. As I am staring intently at the video of a woman getting gems glued to her cooch, the term vajazzle finally made sense to me. Unfortunately this new-found epiphany was inadvertently shared with one of my clients who quietly crept into the office, mid crotch-shot,

    “Hi! Uhh… Oh this video? Would you look at that! She IS naked from the waist down. Lordy! The things people put on the internet these days! You’ve got to be careful what you click on!”

    Yet another awesome moment that only seems to happen when I read your blogs. By the way, a nice stiffy with a buddy always helps me. I’m talking about a drink. A stiff drink. Pervert.

  2. Steve

    Ooh – kay… Absence, and vajazzle-ing, makes the heart grow fonder. I think you’re off the hook – double entendre intended.


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