Getting Nailed

I aspire to write something good today, but for now my head's in other spaces. This morning's just getting started after one of my best sleeps in months. I've been so tired so long I've forgotten what good sleeps felt like. Fucking awesome is what they feel like.

Watching Weeds this morning, and it's a great episode with lots of sexual innuendo, but the one that had me cracking right up has to do with Mary Louise Parker introducing her black ("African-American") drug connection friend, Conrad (played by the oh-so-hot Romany Malco) as her "carpenter" for what will soon be her new front business for her drug-dealing escapades, to her uptight-bitch suburban-mom friend, Elizabeth Perkins, who's about to lose her breasts to breast cancer and wants one last night on the town with her Girls.

Perkins's character is seeing Conrad as being a potentially fun night of diversions and convinces her friend and Conrad to head out for a night of clubbing. During the evening, she turns to Conrad and says:

"Is it true that once a white woman's had... a carpenter, she never goes back?"

"Damn right," says Conrad. "When I nail something, it stays nailed."

I need me a carpenter. Incidentally, I've never had a black man, or a carpenter, but they're on the list. That long fucking list. Sigh. Ethnic guys are hot, but I'm not really into Asians. In my world, Persian guys are sexy and African guys are really sexy. I've had an Asian, but not Persian or African. The Asian was nothing to write home about, but I'm not holding that against the whole race, just him.

Fortunately, my sex drive's been out of commission for a while. For some odd reason -- okay, maybe it was reading about a sex scene peppered with drugs and illegal moves -- the one time my drive fired up was yesterday when I was sitting with foils in my hair and my ass in a hairdresser's high chair. How inconvenient is that? Nothing but pretentious hair chicks around and gay men. How bad of timing do my hormones have, anyhow?

And I can't get oral sex -- giving and receiving -- out of my head this morning. Gah!

Depress-o-meter: You know, I'm evening out and think I might stop the depress-o-meter. The stress-o-meter's on fire, but the depression's mellowing. The pills are beginning to take effect, even though they shouldn't be for a couple weeks, and I'm finally sleeping, which is a great tool for fighting this shit. Let's call today a five or a four, then.