Okay, I'm back, but only for a few moments.

I've got lust in my fingers and poison on my mind.

I was standing out under my mother, you know, the Moon, and I got to thinking eh, for the briefest moment, about the conversation I had with MOM earlier.

She has a few glasses of wine and WAMMO, "Let's talk about your love life, Kir." Dangerous last words.

So I've been precarious, stubborn, dimwitted, and even, horrors, promiscuous. I'll be damned. Like I didn't know that. Like I don't run my track record back in my mind every morning I bother to open my eyes. I sit there and count on my fingers what I've had and what I haven't had, and what it is I plan to have in the future. And I'm thankful. Why? Because all in all, I've been lucky.

To whom do I owe all of this? I'd like to thank all the cancer females who raised me, first off, then I'd like to thank my mother-in-law for helping me sort through all her son's bullshit and any other mayhem that occured. Then I'd like to thank all the anorexics. What? Thank the anorexics?

Sure, thank them. If it were not for them being so tied up in hurting themselves, bless their souls, they would have noticed this Amazon (with a decent case of bulimia) was getting all the tail in high school and college. Thank you thank you, for blowing my standard of living and sense of self all to pieces. I'm sorry I could never live up to your standards, I am a product of excess after all, but you gave me pretty girls to admire, guilt to carry, and the knowledge that if I really wanted something, dammnit, I was going to have to talk myself into it. Pants falls under that category.

So there, I got my balls. I got my lust from living with at least sixty girls in a dorm by the time I was 13. I nearly got thrown out of prep school for being this 'ringleader' of sorts for the amount of porno they were finding in the girl's dorms. Yeah, that was meek little me. That's the same me who can't seem to get herself together. 'At age sixteen, she could talk herself out of anything, at twenty-two, she falters trying to tell a creep, enough is enough.'

Okay, so cancers, check, Deb, check, anorexics, check. And I'm not talking about the fake anorexics, no, no. Not the naturally skinny ones....they have the monopoly and I know it. (But you're still a bitch and your lips are already big anough, what do you wanna look like, Jagger? How about some calogen for those skinny hips? And your little sitey-witey's down. I tried to feel sorry....but I can't.)Um...lighter note, lighter note. I know there was a lighter note.

Ah! Sex, in all it's twisted tasty glory, was something that I waited for...but only a short while. And I quickly realized I was one of the few females who sex didn't mean, "Okay, now we can start forever right here". Sure, I did monogamy....for a while, here and there. And then I found that there were times that I could have been the founder of whore-mode. And each PERSON, and I do stress person, gave me a clearer and clearer view of what was attractive to me. And I realized brains were the only running theme throughout my history. And ugh! what I'd do for the brains!I'd tie you up if I thought for a moment you could get me off with your mind...and lock you in a room, and dedicate a shrine....and bring you offerings of hot tempting Catholic School Girls if I thought it meant I could keep the one I wanted.

No, I'm not drunk. I'm languishing in my own batter of 'what to do'. Please, please don't feel sorry for me in my situation. I can't stand the taste of your warnings and pity. I like you, all of you, but this I have to taste for myself. I like the taste of bitter if it makes the next taste all the more sweet. I'm not scared, never really have been, and that is probably my worst trait. I tried to hide behind the words, "I'm scared". But I'm not, and yeah, I won't believe it 'til I see it.

You guys didn't fail me. Monogamy failed me. But that's all right, 'cause monogamy and I were never close friends to begin with.

Trust me, your Kir is not nearly as defenseless and cute as she may seem. She's ravenous, and more than a bit tired of taking what she can just talk herself into. So please just wish me luck. Just a couple more sweaty tangled moments is all I'm really asking for.