Beautiful, beautiful butterflies!

Sigh, trying not to smile...failed.

The butterflies are back. I thought the butterflies might have been killed off entirely by the tired Tee debacle but they are back, full swing. Despite the fact that Nesto is from a patriarchal culture that feels the need to suffocate, I mean, "take care of" it's women, despite the fact that there's his ex that wants me crucified, despite Tee's passive-aggressive sabotage at every turn...I've got the muthafuckin' butterflies.

Saturday: We went to one bar, I was hit upon while Nesto was in the bathroom and he was very gracious in getting rid of the dude, appreciated. At the next bar, El Rodeo, I tried some Mexican dances, but mostly ended up stepping on his feet. I ended up running into a guy I know (in a basement bar on the South side of Milwaukee where I speak the same language as maybe one in seven people), but left in a hurry as a group of guys wanted to pound Nesto into tortilla dough because he picked my sweatshirt off the floor! Not so cool. (It was a "disrespect" thing. Also known as: find someone you want to start a fight with and cite an intangible offense like disrespect as the cause, psst - it's almost impossible to disprove this because the music is always too loud to speak civilly and then you can accuse the innocent of yelling at you.)

Let me share the best conversation of the night:

ER: (Don't forget sexy accent in your head) "Can you believe those fuckin' guys? What was that Marco guy saying to you? Whatever he was saying to you, he should've been saying to me, he shouldn't have bothered you...."

ET: "Soooo, are we going back to your house now? I don't want to get you into trouble, I know you're in a sticky spot still with the ex but I sure would like to come home with you."

ER: "...those guys along the bar knew that was bullshit, they were trying to explain to the owner what happened. I'm sorry that happened, those fuckers. Why would they think I was starting a fight, I'm with my girl? "

ET: "Nesto, I have no clue what the fuck just happened there, everybody was yelling in language I don't understand BUT I'm sitting here, practically throwing myself at you. ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME HOME WITH YOU OR WHAT?"

ER: "Oh. Oh! I'm sorry Etta (At-tah), I didn't mean to..."

ET: laughing

ER: "You coming home with me."

And the rest of the night was spent reviving butterflies. Sigh.

The next morning, I had plans to help Tee move and so had to scurry home but Nesto walked me to my car and asked me to stay with him, if I could.

That right there is a cause for pause. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. I am caught completely unprepared by Nesto's willingness to jump right in and spend some serious quality time. His charming eagerness to grow a relationship is in stark contrast to my jaded, self-erected electric fence.

He wants five kids, I'm happy with my one. He wants a wife, I am desirous of a good time, minus the strings. He has few friends, instead favoring "his girl," I wish I had more time to be with and make more friends. His contrary beliefs are admirable and simultaneously irritating.

In his cheerful compliments and spontaneous displays of affection, my comfortable role of seductress is fast becoming a woman who is way out of her comfort zone; bewildered, but liking it. Despite this, I will remain faithful to my number one assertion that I am NOT wife material, no matter how Nesto tries to convince me I am. Although he has gotten me to agree to sexual exclusivity, a large leap indeed.

Pirate Folk

I think it's just part of being human to anticipate and enjoy an altered sense of reality. How many of our ancestors smoked pot, ate halucinogens and drank themselves silly? Even little ones enjoy spinning till they fall, a childhood version getting high. This picture is me and Lo, spinning high together.

Lola, last summer with a found piece of treasure. The changes in her face since this picture was taken are outstanding, the curls however are the same.

Why am I wearing dress in a storage unit?

Me, surrounded by fire-damaged contents in our back warehouse. What a goofy picture of the Mama pirate.

Sporting the green with s'more co-workers. We took this picture for proof of my company "patriotism" because my brother-in-law likes to complain that I don't love it properly. I argue back that my one caveat in taking the job offer was that I could wear whatever I want and rarely do I want florescent green t-shirts.

My Pants Are On Fire!

I know Lola has been conspicuously absent from Blackheart Lola lately, she's taking a long lunch but I expect her back soon. Ugh, my office persona just butted in. No, she's wonderful, thriving and sassy, just as you'd expect a little Lola to be and her updates are coming soon, promise!
In the meantime, I will bore you with my revolving-door love life s'more. Behold:

Saturdays are a day full of excitement for me, the day I love waking up early on so I can get to the bookstore, the specialty grocers, hit up a cafe for lunch, hike and be active with my Lo. Two Saturdays ago, I got more than I bargained for. Lola was sick with a flu/cold combo that was kicking both our asses so when she slept in (past 8am) on Saturday, I thanked my lucky stars and slept on.

Until Nesto called. Usually a great source of joy, he called apologizing right off the bat. Since we haven't even gotten a chance to become close enough to fight, I had NO idea what he was apologizing for. It soon became clear, however his ex had "found" a text from me and wished to speak with me as she didn't believe him when he said he wasn't a liar, a cheat and a very bad man.

He felt really bad so I told him, "sure, have her call me. I'm awake now, might as well." Well, call she did, during a horrible I'm-too-tired-and-sick-to-do-anything-but-lay-on-the-floor-and-cry episode from Lo. Between the bouts of screaming, she framed her questions in a firm and suspicious manner but she was kind and real and believed me as I lied to her.

Granted, this is a Friends scenario where her and Nesto were already broken up but should I have driven him back to his car instead of bringing him home with me? Probably. Should he have answered "car" when I gave him the option of car or couch? Probably. Do I feel bad for "going for it?" No, not in the slightest. Do I feel bad for lying? Yes, more horribly than I could have anticipated.

Lying to her about my feelings for Nesto can only mean trouble down the road (if there is indeed a road) as they have a child together and we will be coming into contact with one another. While she may be a bit high strung, I can empathize with her feelings over their breakup after 13 (!!) years together and I can tell ya what, I sure wouldn't like being directly lied to by the "other" woman after I have to balls to call and question said woman. I feel terrible because she could be me and I could be her, but for a few simple twists of fate. Bad karma is whispering threats in my ear.

Most of all, I feel bad because she was nice. Maybe if I look at it from a "white lie" perspective in which my lie actually helped her, I would feel better. Did I save her unnecessary grief? They were already broken up, she moved out this past weekend. Would the knowledge have helped her heal in anyway, doubtful? If they were broken up, is it any of her goddamn business? White lie status nonwithstanding, the important question is this: Do I still feel like a huge douchebag?
The answer is a resounding "YES."

ADDENDUM:
Nesto just brought me some tea during the writing of this post and while the tea alone is delicious, the thinking of me part really gets my goose. Charming motherfucker. May he be worth the shanking I might suffer at the hands of his ex...

When Fungus Is Amongus, A Post For Stewie

Last Saturday I abandoned my baby to her father's loving arms and fled to the Dells. To any non-Wisconsinites, this is the tourist town you flee to for a variety of reasons, some of which include Noah's Ark, go-karting, indoor water parks, assloads of bars or simply to lose yourself in the kitschy neon lights. Think along the lines of a chlorinated spring break destination for the destitute northerner....

Anyways, we gathered for my friend's birthday and like every other time we gather, there is food, homemade, lots of it. Mari made German chocolate birthday cupcakes, fruit salad, sandwich supplies. I brought along a banana blueberry bread and good cheer. With my Marbar however, you can be sure there will be some sort of culinary plan within a plan, so you have to ask about illicit ingredients in homemade food before chowing down or you may unwittingly find yourself with an altered reality.

Never one to disappoint, a quick search of the guitar bag revealed some homegrown hallucingens, tucked into Lindt chocolate with a decorative pecan topping. An artistic one, that Mari.

I'll skip over the craziness of an indoor water park crawling with people while under the influence, suffice it say that it was fun...and weird. I'll skip over the the hotel bars I got persuaded to visit while under the influence, suffice it say it was tedious. I'll even skip over the sensual massage sessions, suffice it to say they were niiiiiceeeee. Fast forward all the way to the time when I decided to sleep.

After 10 hours of partying, I was tired. I snuggle in next to my Dobyns and begin to crash, only to be jostled awake by Troy snuggling me into an Etta sammich. Ok, whatever, my mama taught me to share. When Megan moved to the other bed with Billy in it, I shifted, allowing Troy a full half of the bed, methinks I was too kind in hindsight.

As I'm sinking into blessed unconsiousness, I feel a hand slide up my thigh and onto my ass. I removed it and flung it back to it's owner...and like a bad penny, it came back. All night.

I tried to find an alternate sleeping situation but that was a no-go, I tried pushing him off the bed, nope. I shook him, in hopes of waking him up enough to list my grievences so he could remedy the situation, ha, dream on. I got snuggled folks. I don't care to be touched while sleeping and not only was I touched, but I was fucking snuggled within an inch of my life. I awoke wrapped in Troy.

After escaping from his clutches, Dobyns went back into our room for her tea and came out laughing.

"Did you know Troy was naked?"

"What the fuck? NO! Eww, no."

So there it is, a moral for all you moralistic folks: when you are happy with the other occupant of your double bed, put it on lockdown.

Matrimonial Bliss? No Thanks!

It's taken me almost 24 years, but I've discovered my superhero talent: causing breakups. Cool huh?

Not to be confused with a run-of-the-mill "other woman," my powers don't require flirting, shagging or even speaking with a member of the doomed couple. I merely wish them broken up, and it happens.

You know that old adage, be careful what you wish for? Not a joke. I've wished for Sexy Nesto AND Sexy Adjuster to be broken up with their mates and lo and behold:

Nesto's ex is moving out of the house in a week's time and Adjuster's wife has filed for a divorce and they are both asking me for some lovin'

Now, I realize this may be a blessing I should take advantage of (having caused this chaos with superpowers) but I'm a bit worried about dealing with men who have very recently gotten out of decade+ relationships.

My goal: I will be extremely clear that I am not Wifey II material.

Since I've had Nesto mention Lo and I moving in with him and how cute our children would be (as in: not our existing daughters but children we should create together- yikes!) and Adjuster ask if I'd like to meet his children, who were born while I was still in my early teens, this can't be put off...

Will this become more and more common as I get older? Men looking to tie me down forever and ever and ever? Sccccaaaaarrrrryyyy....

I'm Back: Intro and Randoms

The Intro:
(Aka the email I sent to MB.)

You cured my fucking blog! I am convinced, in your almighty MB ways that by giving me a fabulous award, you have saved Blackheart Lola.

That's probably pretty incoherent, so let me explain. Last award, I was so excited. Thought through my answers, wrote a bit, answered a phone, came back and changed a line or two. I was creating a truly award-worthy post, y'see. Finally, it's done, I hit POST and the entire screen goes black.

For weeks, I've been periodically checking up on my magnificient blog of blackness to see if it's miraculously undouched itself. My computer-minded friends, the mighty internet, even the help boards couldn't save it, and I gave up.

I consoled myself in the fact that I could still keep up with the lives of my "regulars" but it wasn't until you gave me award #2 before I decided to click on my own link, one more time. For serendipity...

And wouldn't you know it, Mary Beth magic. Without further ado, I will blog for you madame.

Randoms:
(Aka kitchin up)

Last night as I was putting Lola to sleep, I had a thought and an urge to write about said thought. "Wish my blog was working." said my grey matter. Now, lo and behold, my blog IS working! and I forgot my thought. "Wish my grey matter was working!" says my blog.

I'm not real crazy about being buried. (Note to self, blog about body disposal.) There are so many awesome things you can do with your body after you are no longer using it, it seems a waste to pump it full of chemicals, put it in a satin-lined box and let it eventually rot and seep chemicals into satin and earth. That's too sanitized, wasteful and icky for me.
But after waking up this morning, wedged between Monkey and Lo, I may have softened my attitude a bit. I would be spending a happy eternity between the two of them, if it didn't mean they had to be dead as well. I think I'm still going to stick with my original plan: snuggle between them as much as I can while we're alive and then burn baby burn, after I'm dead. Oldie but goodie.

Things have been getting interesting on the man front but as one of them wants to read this blog, I'm not sure if I can comment quite yet. All I'm gonna say is that I went on one truly wonderful escapism Valentine's Day date which included books (three levels worth, hot damn!), wine and chow. Also, I took Nesto out with me and who should oh-wow-what-a-coincedence-show-up but Tee, so we hung out, the three of us for an hour or so. I don't remeber the last time I've been that uncomfortable, if ever.

A woman I know was pregnant and now is not. I guess deep down I hoped that she would choose the same route I did but I acknowledge the fact this route ain't for everyone. Shit, sometimes it ain't for me. Still doesn't help appease the hollow-soul grief I feel for her and the hard decision she had to face. I'm sorry lovie.

On that sorrowful note, I leave you. I am off to work. And in "work," I mean gather the information needed for my dead body post. Morbid? Maybe. Macabre? Just a touch. Interesting? Oh yes.