Lisa's POZ Blog

When life isn’t what you want it to be, it’s the little things that make it better right? And when I say little things, I mean like the grocery store having the ½ gallon half and half I like to buy, or your favorite coffee is on sale. Washing your car when it has been MONTHS of you looking at it saying “damn my car is dirty” or the satisfaction of clean sheets on your bed. You know the little things.

I’ve wanted to buy a new couch for a LONG TIME but everywhere I looked, everyone I sat on just wasn’t the “right one.” Craig’s List, furniture stores galore yielded not one couch that was comfortable, reasonably priced or the right one.

Yesterday, I walked into a local store, literally 3 blocks from my house and bought a brand new sofa. Barely sat on it, barely looked at it, and bought it. I’m not even sure it’s the “right one” but after 10 minutes of shopping, one hour later the new sofa sat in my living room. Go figure. I guess I just came to the realization that it just didn’t matter. It was reasonably priced, nice looking and I told myself “for this price, who cares if it’s not perfect?”

Well, it isn’t perfect and I am paranoid to sit on it for fear of ruining it. I have it covered in sheets so Moe doesn’t scratch it or get cat hair on it. I find myself sitting on the floor so I won’t damage the cushions. But hey, it looks nice, well not so nice with all the shit covering it up.

I thought it would make me “happy” having a new couch, hell, it’s all I do is lie on the damn thing and watch television. That’s probably why the last one got destroyed, my big fat ass sitting on it all the damn time.

I’m trying to “dig myself out” of the muck and the mire my state of mind has become by doing “little things” to improve my surroundings, my attitude and general well being. I still can’t figure out why none of it has been working?

The AD’s have tempered my “quick to react” approach, my anger seems to have eased up a bit, but my overall malaise still exists. A very good friend told me the other day to just “snap out of it!” I had to laugh at her, I wish it was that easy. I seem to stop just short of being “me” every day.

Here's my new couch by the way

I went to my first gay pride this weekend.

My friend Shane came down from Wisconsin on Thursday to see me and take me to my first gay pride parade. So on Saturday, we headed off early to get good seats.

First we attended the parade which was a BLAST! The festivities were opened up by a group of motorcycle riders called “Dykes on Bikes.”

Evidently they are a big deal, because the crowd went wild! We waited in anticipation on the curbside spot we had staked claim to and all of the sudden, the roar of the engines could be heard, and then up they drove.

WOW! Some were old, some were young, but I have to say, as a full fledge heterosexual woman, who loves her some penis, these women were HOT! There was something about the roar of the crowd, the women in leather that was very arousing to the senses. Okay, enough with the lesbian infatuation.

The parade lasted a long while and then we walked over to the festival in the park. There were masses of beautiful people. And when I say beautiful people, I am talking about scantily clad men, who wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. Not a backwards glance, a nod, nothing. Now we are talking about men wearing no shirts, jeans with the ass cut out and muscles galore. Exquisite, chiseled, tanned and glistening. Yum-ee.

Lots of stuff to see, lots of people to watch. I was in my element. Especially since I rarely get out of the house anymore. This was considered a BIG outing for me.

We ate bad fair food that we paid way too much for and walked around browsing through the many booths. THEN we went to a section that you had to be at least 18 years old to enter. I was pretty excited about what I was about to see. It was a fairly small area with just a couple of booths. The first one a piercing place that had pictures of what you could get pierced. Who knew people pierced these parts of their bodies? Certainly not me, but I still looked at the pictures, cringing and grimacing the entire time.

The next booth sold porn and had the actual stars of the video there. Young, nubile men with that “V” thing going on in the nether regions…..damn that “V” thing gets me every time. The place was swarming with men who wanted their pictures taken with them, so we moved on.

Dirty and tired we came home, showered and crashed.

The next morning, to round out the weekend, we went to a Gospel Drag Queen brunch at this place called Lips. Now come on, who doesn’t love a drag queen? All I really want to know is, where in the hell do they put their “junk” and how can I possibly get cleavage like they have? It was so much fun. I want to come back as a drag queen in my next life. Or maybe, a dyke on a bike, I can’t decide.