Love(less).

Short post.

As you might've noticed, the blog has been devoid of any relationship posts lately. Blame this on me being out of school for the last couple of weeks, and seeing friends a lot (who have been away for at school too for a while) instead of socializing avec des garcons.

I am kind of still emotionally preoccupied with the guy from school whose moved back home for the summer, so that's partially to blame for my lack of mingling with the opposite sex. But mostly, I miss my good friends and I'm enjoying seeing them again! :)

That is all.

Steaks and corn(y conversations).

Apparently, a string of decent weather days forces my family to react by having a barbecue. Food was good, family was the usual (stressful, passive aggressive, nostalgic, nice to see-ish, etc), and I feel blech from eating it.

I hate that, but lately (as in, the last five years), I've been too self-conscious about what I eat, when I exercise, my caloric intake and how many I've burned on the treadmill, etc. Not good, and really annoying, I think. If I conversed with my friends about my self-esteem and lack thereof, I'm sure they wouldn't take it well. My buds are not that feminine supportive. Really, it's like having a group of guy friends that would prefer to call me a dumbass and punch me in the arm. Oddly, I think I prefer this, because it stops me from getting mopey. I can just blog it out, and move on (usually). Sooo... I've blogged it out. And, I'm over it (-ish).

Hmmm. What else to say. I went shopping with an acquantaince but wants-to-be-my-friend from my university, and it was, aside from boring, depressing. She lives fairly comfortably, and I have student loans and tuition fees to care about. Needless to say, after visiting Lacoste, Holt Renfrew and a plethora (pfft) of other stores that I can only afford when my parents are funding the shopping spree, I was less than chipper (on the inside!) =( Also, I hate the inane conversation that most girls (that I know, who aren't in my close circle of friends) like to occupy themselves with. How many times can you say, "No, I do not think that such and such is into you." or "I think that top is a bit too "Dirrty" for daytime". Seriously.

(blogging) sabbaticals, school, and summer.

Sorry for being AWOL these last bunch of days. As mentioned in a way earlier post, I am in exam period and am thankfully, still alive.

Exams are a bitch... university is hard, but otherwise, life is good. My muchachos from other universities/cities are coming home soon, so that promises to make (at least) a decent summer andddd I got hired at as a research assistant with one of the psychology groups (a professor and phD <--I can never remember which letters are capitalized and which are lowercase! -- students) at my school for next year. Basically, I will be photocopying, finding journals, analyzing statistics for no pay, and for a good chunk of time, but I'm told these are the types of things you do to bulk up a CV or resume. Ergo, I toil academically. In less academic news, I'm thinking my summer will be loveless, or new loveful. Me and (the guy from a previous post, lives out of town... etc) won't be continuing our fling. Alas, no summer lovin'. I'm not that remorseful or depressed about it. I'm just excited to be school free for the next four-ish months! Technically, not school FREE (I'm taking summer courses), but significantly less school occupied. I lied. I reverted to making my news academic, my apologies. In wayyy less-stop-me-if-they-are-academic news, I am three weeks late in surfing the crimson tide. Colour me worried! I'm 99% sure I'm not preggers, but still. But, seriously--health-wise, something to be concerned with? My friends assure me it's normal, and I'm not about to book a doctor's appointment (I am not a fan of doctor's offices, ironically) for something that isn't a big deal.

Anyway. Later, lovelies. I have (one last) exam to study for!

Daisy =)

Runny noses and sore throats.

Anyways, as previously mentioned, I am sick. The worst feeling in the world, especially since my illnesses are never over once they're over. It takes like, three weeks (?!?) to fully get over them, in the mean time my nose runs at the most random, inappropriate moments (on the subway, sans tissues; in class, again, w/o tissues, etc). But, I'm still not there yet. I am still sick, sick.

Question: I should probably know this, and I could Wikipedia the answer, but does anyone know why noses get runny? I realize it's the increase in mucus production to release bacteria/viruses/invasive things, but why does the mucus get really liquidy (TMI?)? Like water? Blech! I'd imagine it's just an overproduction of mucus, so there isn't time for it to... congeal? (I'm thinking that's the wrong word).

Anyways. I'm basically tres occupied with academics right now... the end of term is approaching, meaning I have finals and final assignments (essays ga-lore) to complete.

That said, I'll try to keep posting.

Chya,

Daisy.

Sick.

I'm getting sick.

My throat is really sore and itchy-feeling, and sore throats (for me) usually augur runny and stuffed noses, chills, drowsiness... all that fun stuff.

Fab-u-lous, right?

Me and the guy from my second post, can't remember the pseudonym I gave him, and I don't plan on reading back right now (bleh! I am sick, laziness is expected!), were supposed to go out on Friday night, but I have a feeling that my illness will be in full swing by then. And he's a horny bastard, and I probably won't be in a sex-giving mood. Therefore, I will probably have to rain check that shit.

Ughughugh.

PS Term is almost up, and he'll be going back home! I wonder how this fling of ours will work out over the 4 months of no school... I've never long distance relationshipped before, and I've always been hesitant to support/believe in them... practicality seems to be against them. :(

Foreign exchange students.

I had sex tonight, about four hours ago. French guy from my university. Seriously, I'm against irrational stereotypes and racial prejudices, but whoever said Frenchmen were effective in bed were definitely spot on.

We'll call him "Pierre". Pierre was fucking amazing (haha, pun-ish?). A bit too slow for my tastes, but a romantic tryst savant... And a great kisser. Ahhh, plus he paid for dinner (sushi and sake), and we got to do my favourite part of the date (pre-coital activities) where we walk intertwined down the sidewalk, illuminated by streetlights and traffic, but under a really dark sky. So pretty and cinematic. I really enjoy these types of moments: when you're practically stumbling as you walk, because the position of the two of you is awkward (too close, different heights... etc), but it's worth to be able to stay warm and close the way home. Ahhh, lovelovelove it.

Anyway. He lives in an apartment off campus, with a roommate (who's gone home for the weekend). Tiny apartment. Real estate that's affordable and close to campus is necessarily sketchy dilapidated and/or a grow-op. Anyway, we fucked on a ridiculous looking metal framed bed with unmatching bed linens and a bicycle hanging on the door. I'm sort of fascinated by bilingual and multilingual people, I always wonder how their thinking process sounds to them... are they constantly translating things (as I had to do when learning to speak French), or do they confuse the two languages, you know? As we were intercourse-ing, he would mutter/gasp French words. So hot.

And with that, good night.

Tete a tete.

Kthxbye, Facebook:
I licked at the tip of his penis. A milky fluid oozed out of it, I used my tongue to taste it. Salty. I cringed, he responded by pushing his cock into my mouth. I hesitated and gagged, he pushed deeper. He was fucking my face and holding onto my mess of hair. He roughly pulled my head onto him, and pushed me off. I was gagging, but my pussy was flexing with excitement. I wanted it harder, faster, deeper.

He pulled me up. I was gasping for air, my mouth was open and my eyes glazed. I could imagine what I looked like: A filthy whore wanting to be mistreated. I wanted him to hurt me and violate me.

He picked me up and threw me onto the bed. “Ouch”, I said, coyly. He smiled, then leapt onto me. Using three fingers as a surrogate cock, he banged me. Ouch. He growled into my ear and kissed my neck. Tongue, teeth, tongue.

My entire body was thrusting beneath him. He handled my breasts. He began to knead them with his hands gently. I moaned, he used his mouth on my nipples, then tugged at them with his teeth. His cock lay against my abdomen, stiff and sticky. “I want you in meee”, I managed to let out. I fingered his cock and tried to stick it into my vagina.

He slipped out of my grasp and nipped my breast. “I’m leading this,” he reminded me. I surrendered, and lay helpless on the bed. He rested on his elbows above me, inches of space between us. I looked at his cock, thick, long, pulsating.

He placed the tip of his cock at my pussy’s opening. I closed my eyes, readying myself. Suddenly, I felt a painful jab. He shoved himself roughly into my ass. Tears escaped my eyes, I struggled, but he restrained me.

He stopped thrusting his pelvis, as I was holding my breath. He pulled his cock out quickly, and slammed into my pussy. I gasped. He placed my legs on his shoulders, and proceeded to fuck me as hard as he could. I imagined that if I held my abdomen, I would feel him slamming into me. I bit my lip.

My pussy started to convulse and I breathed more rapidly. He continued fucking me. I came hard, and juices flowed out of my cunt surrounding his cock. It was glistening. He wiped some of my fluids with his hand, and shoved his fingers into my mouth. I lapped at it.

Still thrusting into me, he told me was coming. He pulled out before he ejaculated, and came over my face. He told me to lay still.

He got up and left the room. I began to finger myself, with his cum all over my face. I was enjoying myself when he returned, with a camera. “Cheese, whore… This one’s for Facebook.”

(After-the-fact introduction?):

The boy was from school. Typical, stereotypical, university male: averagely handsome (think a less refined Abercrombie or Hollister type), confident of his intelligence and attractiveness (arrogant!), well off, alcohol- and girl- loving.

We had a couple of classes together and flirted back and forth. He asked me to coffee, I agreed. We drank coffee. Technically, I had a green tea, and he had a sweet pseudo-coffee drink (maple latte, something), which I teased him for.

We talked about our high school, we complained about university, we agreed to go the campus gym together sometime. We set a new coffee date in the near future.

He told me he lived on campus. I told him I wished that I did. I asked him how living in residence was: “Are the rooms tiny? My friends complain about lacking closet space. And the walls… paper thin, right?” He responded in the negative, and invited me to inspect his room.

It was 7:00 at night, I congratulated him on his clever pick up linw, and told him to wait until he’s bought be dinner first. We laughed, we walked. We ended up at his room. It was small, with paper thin walls and a tiny closet. He had a guitar beside his bed. “You play?”. Yes. He played some song “I absolutely love”, and then we made out.

He didn’t have condoms, “you don’t do this often?”, I teased again. Apparently not. Somehow we began talking about how we like to have sex… my first time was in a limo after prom. It lasted, probably five minutes. He (from prom) was so careful to ensure my enjoyment, it bugged me, I told him (tonight) I liked it rough. He told me about his first time. Grade eleven. Girlfriend of two years, anniversary.

She cheated on him, they’re “so over.”

We began making out again. 8:30. He asked me if I was thirsty, indeed I was. Sunny D or vodka..? He didn’t have much. I’ll do vodka. “Hahaha, I hate Sunny D. You shouldn’t drink that stuff.”

We did shots. I was still thirsty, but comfortable and buzzed. We made out again, clothes disappeared along with our qualms. I ended up on my knees blowing him. After an hour (give or take fifteen minutes), I found out he has no problem giving it to me rough.

We were both finished and satisfied, he got up and came back armed with a digital camera. With Paris Hilton in mind, I snatched the camera away from him and deleted all pictures regarding my body and his bodily fluids.

He told me he was just kidding, we lay down on his bed, under covers, and I told him I was tired. I fell asleep against his chest.

Sometime between then (9:00) and the next morning, he took his camera back out.