musings

Day 217: And the Award Goes to….

| Aspergers Girls

Search Engine Terms Awards

Yes, even search engine terms long to be noticed and adorned.

Below I’ve listed some of the less common search engine terms that led people to my blog. In my infinite desire to process and analyze and sort data, (and to chuckle), I have spent hours scanning through thousands of words to create a list of my favorites. (Yes, this is what I do for amusement.)

“Search engine term awards?” You query, with a wry grin.

“Well, yes! Why the heck not?” I quibble, with a devious wink.

The Picturing in my Mind Award

mermaid butt

naked man with a butterfly on his buttock

vampires naked

The Sweetness Award

memory of a little girl who once danced like a butterfly

innocent women pics

The Spit-with-Laughter on my Keyboard Award

invasion of the body snatchers kill and replace

Mememememememe

Youboob

organizing a messy aspergerian

Collective term for sloths

The Shades of Aspie Award

addicted to aspergers man

Sexy Asperger girl

Everyday naked people

Sexy Aspergers

Your sexy grandmother

wooing aspergers girls

do dominant guys like asperger girls

hot guys with asperger’s

aspies in bikinis

best female voluptuous sensual nude body

how i surprised my hubby for his birthday- naked

The Must Answer Award

can women with aspergers be sexy (Oh, Yes!)

asperger’s brain vs normal brain (Asperger’s wins)

do all aspergers girls lack empathy (nope, but you might)

how to tell if an aspergers guy likes you (ask him)

What are qualities women with aspergers want in a man (authenticity, humor, honesty, nice butt and eyes)

Can aspie girls be popular (yes)

What’s normal (good question)

why do aspies hardly text back (I think there might be another reason)

how to tell someone you have aspergers (I have Aspergers)

is it true girls lose their ass (no, last time I checked there were no assless women)

How do you make an Asperger man to love you (You learn proper grammar)

why are asperger people handsome (Because they radiate truth)

how to tell if someone with aspergers likes you  (If they talk  to you and compliment you all the time, send you little gifts, and smoother you in love)

do people with asburgers understand humor? (I’m laughing at your spelling!)

The Heart Smile Award

i am in love with an aspergers girl

caution i may hug you

embrace the beauty

aspergers visions god

what is aspergers indigo world change

incarnated angels asperger’s syndrome

for my song is a lullaby to soothe your soul…

i’m female, intelligent, emotional, imaginative – Asperger

need a list of care to take care of myself to look feminine everyday and pretty, beautiful for my husband to be?

my son has aspergers what is your superpower

The What the Frick? Award

not using the aspergers anymore

aspergers love to fish

husband hears wife ask rapist to please come again

Watch Out! Award

why am i attracted to other men than my husband all the time

Been There, Done That Award

aspergers crying music

asperger i cant help my blank stare

aspergers fixations love dependency

aspergers too much caffeine

aspergers need to escape reality

seven truths we must accept about  our ego

aspergers in children wont sleep and wont mind

aspergers need to write lists

aspergers mixing up words

choking on saliva while awake

I’m falling inlove

Why I can’t keep my friends, am I too intense

What to do when you are losing your mind

Prude

doll hiding closet scary

So Me Award

lady with messy hair & no makeup

california burger veggie patties real good food from this good earth

My Cupid Award

how to get to an asperger girls heart ( you just did)

~~~~~~

Great unplugged concert. Love the second song…..sigh…..

 

Day 215: Why You Don’t Want to Date Me

| Aspergers Girls

Why you don’t want to date me…

1) Well first off I’m married, and that can get complicated; and my husband has a black belt in a particular branch of martial arts, which I can’t spell tonight. So it would be a surprise attack.

2) I used to sing a song about my grandmother’s boobs when I was younger. I taught the song to my younger cousin. We would stuff our shirts with socks, cup our hands over our chest, and sing together: “Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom, boom. Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom!” It was a favorite party song. I choreographed the whole thing. On the first line our hands would shoot out in front of us. On the second stanza, we’d drop our hands down with each boom, until they almost touched the floor. Grandma’s boobs weren’t little, still aren’t. Don’t know why I called them little to begin with. But sometimes I still sing the song. Only now I’m crying in the mirror. (Don’t ask me how this is related to dating. It just is. Boobs are always related to dating.)

3) I get super excited. Just ask anyone who has ever taken a walk with me. I like to process when I walk. I like to process even more when I am first getting to know someone. I always apologize for my rambling. And I always get the same half-smile and bewildered eyes, in response. People usually say, “It’s alright.” But I secretly want them to tell me they really enjoyed all my insights. That has yet to happen.

4) I am a very picky eater and will stress over where to go out to eat. Then when I finally decide where I want to eat, I will take forever to decide between the three things on the menu that I might like. I discuss the pros and cons of each particular appetizer. I analyze the menu and point out to the waitress misprints and errors. I question the authenticity of the food description. I try to remember is it farm raised salmon that’s better or wild. I interrupt patrons to ask what they have ordered, and if it is indeed any good. I will taste your food from your plate without asking, especially mashed potatoes. I try to help people. Once I interrupted a couple and said: “Based on your conversation, it sounds like your grandson might have Aspergers.” No worries, I introduced myself first. The grandpa wasn’t too thrilled. I heard him say: “Boy, that lady has got some big ears on her!” I didn’t take it personally because my ears weren’t showing.

5) I will ask you many questions, such as: Is there anything in my teeth? Do I look bloated? How much do you think this would cost to make at home? Do you like the food? Are you full? Did you get enough to eat? Do you want dessert? Do you know soda is bad for you? Are you having a second soda? How are you going to work off all that soda? Are the refills free? Did you leave enough for the tip? How much? Are you sure? What do you think of the waiter’s personality? Would you hire him? Can I have the rest of your potatoes? Want to guess what color I’m thinking of? Will you guess the number? Did you have a good time? Do you like me? Do you think I’m pretty? Why?

6) As a former teacher and mother of three energetic boys, I am programmed to play games for survival. While we are waiting for our food, I will likely engage you in a game of hangman, connect the dots, I-Spy, and guess the animal I’m thinking. Electronics are not allowed at the table, as I require your full attention. And it is important to follow all my rules. And don’t even try watching television. Before we sit down in a sport’s bar, I will make certain there are no televisions in your line of vision, as to not take away from our time together. Of course, I would question why you were taking me to a cheap sport’s bar to begin with.

7) I am not a meat eater, and haven’t been since 1984 (the year I was born). So, if you ask me to help you cut your meat, especially ribs, I will try to use a butter knife and the ribs will fly across the table and plop on the floor and people will stare. But you will likely cut your own ribs, and I will give a look of disgust and tell you that I hate meat breath. Then I might, depending on my mood, remind you of one of the many documentaries I have viewed. I might even write the name down for you on a napkin. I will then eat your mashed potatoes when you are not looking.

8) I will compliment you. I will tell you have nice eyes or a nice smile, and mean it. I will likely compliment the restaurant staff, as well. Then I will stare at parts of your body that don’t look perfectly to scale. I will point out the facial hair that needs to be shaved, the rouge eyebrow hair, the freckle that looks questionable, the blemish, the grey hair, the wrinkled shirt, the old shoes, the nostril hair, and whatever else catches my attention. Unless you are a stone statue perfectly carved, I will find something to wonder about. I will obsess that perhaps you have a terrible disease or are allergic to something, and that is why there is a pimple on your neck. I will point out the bug bites on your arm. I will try to memorize your face, close my eyes and reopen them, and see if I can remember your hairline and freckles. Most of this I will do in my head and not say aloud. So I will be sitting there preoccupied, with a weird expression on my face, and one eyebrow raised high, and not listening to a word you are saying.

9) I will have to guess the amount on the bill. I will say, “Wait, wait, wait, let me guess!” Then I will calculate everything we consumed and add the totals up in my head, including tax. Then I will proclaim my guess. If I am within a dollar, I will smile so proudly. If I am wrong, I will go back and justify my answer, figuring out something I forgot, like the price of your soda. I will blame you for my error. Then I will lean over your shoulder to make sure you leave a twenty percent tip or higher; unless the service was terrible, then I will insist you leave fifteen percent exactly. If the waiter is exceptional, I will ask to speak to the manager about the wonderful service. I will tell the waiter first how great he is. And ask you to agree and nod. Then I will double-check the tip. I will still be worrying about the tip by the time we reach the car, and ask you to verify we calculated correctly. I will then ask if you remembered the boxed leftovers on the table, and ask you to go back and get them. I will complain if you have to use the bathroom, as I am tired, and want to go home.

10) You will be in shock, because on the first and second date, I was on my best behavior.

Day 210: Almost First Kiss

| Aspergers Girls

It was low tide and the sun had almost tucked itself beneath the waves of flickering cobalt. After a quick introduction, idle chit-chat and three or four bouts of nervous giggles on my account, a cute dark-eyed boy pointed to me, and said with a wink, “I choose you!”

I leaned in closer to Renny and grabbed hold of her warm hand.  I knew instantly, out of the three boys, I liked this dark-eyed boy the best.  Even as my knees knocked and my mouth grew dry, I was beginning to think that the whole meeting-at-the-beach-in-secrecy-plan wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

I crossed the fingers of my free hand, just as my favorite boy approached and casually brushed his shoulder against mine.

Yes, this would work.

I began dreaming about my first lover’s embrace.  I imagined this boy would want to know everything about me, then perhaps stroll me  home and ask me for a good night kiss.  As my mind played out a romantic episode, more suitable for an after school television special than real life, I heard from a distance my boy say, “First you.”

I looked to my side to find him tilting his head sideways in the direction of the shack on the edge of the concrete pier.  I was processing what he had said, when he spoke again.  “And then her.”  He pointed straight at Renny.

All of the sudden, I wished I had bigger boobs.

I crossed my arms across my chest and then heard the words Oh Crap shouting in my head.  Renny curled into herself with a blushing giggle and the boys appeared to be salivating.  Oh Crap my mind repeated.

Soon the circled boys shouted, “I’m next!”

Okay, so by now I was in a bit of trouble, but before I could think to say anything, my boy gleamed his full set of braces my direction, grabbed hold of my trembling hand and led me swiftly down the concrete pier.  For a fleeting second I believed he loved me.  Right up to the point, that is, when I glanced behind and eyed two boys nodding their heads, barking like sea lions, and flaunting a huge thumb-up.  Right about then my stomach, as well as my hopes, dropped a good ten stories.

The thought of slut crossed my mind, roller-skated back and forth, and then plopped down with its wide butt and sat there.

Out on the edge of the pier, with the sound of the waves crashing, I shook crazily inside the dark shed.  I tried not to breathe too heavily.  And I tried not to move my feet on the tacky floor.  There was just enough light trickling in that I could see the boy’s tinsel-smile.

With the door shut, the boy shuffled forward and set his hands on my shoulders, from there he slid them down my side to my waist.   His scent was that of the beach air: the smell of cypress, suntan lotion, and salt.

This is it

This will be my first kiss

I let out a deep breath and the boy’s hands touched down.

I felt him there, touching my hips, caressing me through the layers. In the next few seconds I forgot all else.

But then, something inside shifted, and my heart started beating so fast I could barely breathe, and I’ll I wanted to do was escape.

I pushed his hands off of me, and without thought yelped an adamant, “STOP!”

On my word, the boy leaped back, almost tripping.

I could see  his eyes narrowing and his left brow arching in question.  And I could visualize my pitiful look as I bit down on my bottom lip and made a sound like a puppy that had been stepped on.

I counted ten hard-heartbeats.  Then the words stumbled out of me, bumping here and there, so my voice sounded uncertain and unnatural.   “I can’t because…” I paused for a split-second.  “I can’t because our…”  I thought as hard as I could, so much that my head hurt, and then I closed my eyes and said, “Because our braces might get stuck together!”

That was all I said.  All I could say.  Because before the last syllable left my lips, I opened my eyes, burst open the shed door, darted up the pier, sprinted past the astonished boys and Renny, and raced the entire two-miles back home.

Day 206: Hot Dog! Bikini Shots!

| Aspergers Girls

I have written about going from Prude to Sexy in prior posts .

In pure delight, I have reached several of my goals regarding Prude to Sexy, including the guitar purchase and kayaking. I still desire to take those guitar lessons and start belly dancing. Might trade in the ankle tattoo idea for a belly button ring, though….

My middle son is convinced this is all a midlife crisis. My husband is quite smitten. And my dog, well she is happy as a clam with all the walking we’ve been doing. I’m averaging five to seven miles a day of walking, and hope to continue when the rain makes its way to my town and sticks around.

My BIG GOAL of bikini purchase and wearing the bikini in public was achieved last week at a lake with hundreds of people!

Although, in all honesty, my bikini is really “boy shorts.” But the attire is skimpy enough to qualify as bikini in my book. I haven’t worn a bikini or anything like it in over twenty years. My stomach hadn’t seen the light of days in decades.

When I wore my bikini at the lake, I spent the whole two hours processing with my husband about my bikini and my body. I still harbor some childhood bleak memories of naked grownups at nude beaches.

And I’ve been revisiting the past, some of the haunting tauntings that occurred in my freshman year of high school on the east coast, where kids called me slut and such because of my figure.

I’m learning to embrace my body….and reprogramming thoughts I have about words like voluptuous. 

It’s taken me over a week to post my bikini photo, and this IS a thumbnail size photo. But it counts! OH, and did I mention, since February, I lost 21 pounds?

And for those of you that want the Full Effect…..here you go!!!!

Day 205: What my Husband Hears

| Aspergers Girls

What my Husband Hears (aka: Why my Husband is a Saint)

Words I spoke today during our time together. Mostly on our walk through the forest. 

1. Do you think I look slutty? Are you sure? Do other women dress like this? Is this shirt too tight? I don’t think I should wear this shirt in public? Does it make me look fat? How do you know I don’t look slutty?

2. Look at my eye again. In the light. Can you see the pink in my eye? Does it look better? Are you sure? How do you know it is better? What if it gets worse. I think it feels better. Do you think my eye will be okay? Can you see the dry skin in the corner? What do you think it is? Look closer!

3. I am taking so many photos. Thank you for being patient. This is more of a leisure walk. We are stopping a lot. I’ll have to walk more later around the lake. I haven’t walked in two days. These shorts are too big. You are right. I should buy some new shorts today. I wonder if I am a size four yet. These are too baggy. Yes, they are too baggy.

4. Take a photo here. Oh, stop here. Oh, look there. Oh, look at that tree. Oh my, look at that. Oh, look, look! Look up. Look at the spider web. Look at the water. Take one of me from uphill. I look better if you stand uphill. Not so much of my chest. You are showing too much of my chest. How do I look? Do I look okay? Can you tell my eye is pink?

5. I ate too much caffeine. I had that tea, and chocolate bar, and the chocolate gluten-free cake. Feel my heartbeat. Is it beating too fast? Are you sure it’s not? I think it’s too fast. I’m okay, right? Feel here. I need to rest. I am tired. It’s so fast. I have to stop here and catch my breath. This walk is not enough to burn off all the calories from the cake.

6. Oh, we should go this way, and when we get to the fork in the path then we’ll need to go up and to the right; otherwise we will end up on the wrong street. These maps are not designed well. We are educated and intelligent people, and we can’t even figure these signs out! How are other people who aren’t as smart supposed to figure them out? I don’t mean that we are smarter than everyone. Well, you know what I mean. Maybe we should turn and go the other way. What do you think? …..I told you this was the wrong way!

7. Are you staring at my butt and smiling. I can feel you smiling behind me and staring at my butt. You are staring at my butt. And you are picturing grabbing it. I can see you. I am psychic, you know. This proves it. You are staring, aren’t you?

8. Oh, it’s a little Toto dog. How cute. Look at that Toto dog. Oh, he is so cute. Did you see that little dog?

9. I think I would like to have relations with a ninety year old man to give him his dying wish. Is that wrong to feel that way? To want to fulfill a man’s dying wish like that? It doesn’t feel wrong. But maybe it is.

10. You know if you cheated on me, I would forgive you. It would be okay. I know it would only be out of lust, because I know I am sweet and you will not find anyone as sweet and kind as me. So I know it would only be a physical thing. And by me saying this, it will probably make you less likely to cheat, because part of the reason men do cheat is because it is a no-no and forbidden, and you are not supposed to. So, really, since I’m giving you permission, it takes the danger element out of it. But if by me saying this to you makes you want to cheat more, then I take it back. You don’t want to cheat on me now because I said that, do you? Should I take it back?

11. So there are different types of men I am noticing. There are married men who stare and I think oh they are thinking they don’t want to be with their wife and are sad, and they wish they were with another woman. But then there are men who look, but love their wives, and want to be with their wives, but they cannot help but look at other women. You’re a man. All men look, right? And I understand if you have to look. All men look at other women, don’t they? You look, and that’s okay, but you do it in a sly careful way. Some men aren’t careful, and that would be hard. But if I was ever single, I would never meet the type of man I am attracted to. Because I’m not attracted to the men that stare in an obvious way. I’m attracted to the men who don’t look, or look really fast, and I would never know they were looking at me; so how would I ever know they liked me? You see it would be hard for me, because I like the shy guy who is a little insecure and doesn’t know he is handsome, and those are the type that would never approach me.

12. What’s your type of woman? Is that your type? How about her? You like women who are more like me, now, right? Before you liked tall and blonde. But not anymore. Do you know which of your friends I used to be most attracted to? Do you know why? No, not him. He is not my type at all.

13. If I die this is where I want you to spread my ashes. Right under this tree. Right here. Remember, okay. Here or Mt. Rainier. But this is much closer to home. Don’t you think? This would be a good place. This is just as pretty as Mt. Rainier and that is a wonderful tree.

14. I used to date the most handsome men, and it was so difficult. I would never do that again. They were handsome but not very smart, and I’d walk in a room and all eyes would be on them. And people would come up to me and say how handsome they were. And I knew those guys cheated. They had all theses chances. It’s no good dating a man like that. No good at all. Don’t you agree?

15. Oh, you are a good catch. As you get older, you out shine more and more of the men that are getting old like you. You are aging well, and they aren’t.

16. I’ve loved you through thick and thin. Mostly thick. Except for those two months you paid all that money to lose that weight. Other than that, mostly thick.

 I didn’t know my husband was taking the photo. The trunk of the tree was so lovely.

I took a photo of this trail. Then my husband did. His photo was much better. He won the contest between us. I told him my photo would be better. I was wrong. The photo below was not taken from uphill. Still not too bad. And you can’t tell I have a cold in my eye. Or can you?

~

(This post was originally marked day 125….that’s my mistake…from a combo of after midnight, dyslexia, and too much caffeine. It’s day 205. No way am I going back 80 days!)