Saturday, July 10, 2004
In the summertime...
So, this is getting posted from Doug's laptop in the beach house someone in his firm owns. This place isn't quite huge, but it's got four bedrooms, and if you assume two people per, that works out nicely for me, Doug, Kate, Dennis, Jen, Carlos, Carter, and Maureen. Carter and Maureen sort of got invited along because Doug broached the subject while dropping me off after a movie, saw me look over my shoulder at Carter, and mentioned there was another bedroom. So they got invited along.
Fortunately, it was a really nice day out on the Cape, so we spent the day on the beach. Kind of fun; I'm not used to having this much space on a beach. This "private beach" thing is pretty nice if you can get it. Room to set up a volleyball net and still have room for those not playing to lounge out of harm's way.
Swimsuits were kind of an issue. I think I mentioned that I bought a new one a couple weeks ago, but haven't had much chance to use it. Just plain blue, and has a little more coverage than the red polka-dot thing. Still pretty sexy, and I can play volleyball or, you know, swim in it without worrying about popping out. Not that I'd necessarily think that's a big deal - private beach, remember? - but Kate's still a little intimidated by my boobs. Silly, really, since she's got a prettier face than I do, and when you get her in something like a bikini, you see that she's got this freakish 19-year-old girl figure, with a waistline to die for. And without looking skinny, at that. That she has no idea how hot she is only makes her more attractive.
The guys certainly thought so, at least, although they were all in knee-length trunks, and Dennis wore a T-shirt with his. I get it; I remember what it was like to be somewhat on the furry side. You can work out six hours a day to get a Schwarzeneggaresque body and still, the ladies think back hair is gross. Doug doesn't have any, but if it doesn't work out with me, remind me not to be a complete hypocrite by holding it against anyone.
No big deal for Jen, but when Maureen came out with he one-piece, she commented that she felt a little overdressed. We all laughed, but she said she burns easily; not uncommon for redheads like her. Probably the same for "Sam", who's pretty pale and blond "herself". Carter doesn't even own a bathing suit, and looked kind of uncomfortable seeing the rest of us cavort in ours. I got him alone for a few minutes, and he said he wasn't sure what was stranger, the impression the guys made, the impression the girls made, or seeing me enjoying being almost naked, knowing what he knows about me.
I told him not to do anything he wasn't comfortable with - remember, it's your life, so live it how you want. And he did. Doug was amused when Carter tried to claim use of the grill, but everyone was pretty surprised and pleased by this eighteen-year-old girl's barbecue skills. When I was getting a second hamburger, he was actually smiling, twirling his spatula and saying that the fake Carter may have been good with the foofy gourmet cooking, but you want basic southern-style BBQ, there's no substitute for the real thing. Couldn't argue with that.
Then we all sat down for the Sox game. Heck, they think I'm doing Game Chatter on Baseball Primer right now; I alt-tab over there whenever anyone but Carter or Doug looks over my shoulder.
But, that's done now (10:30); so I'd better save it while we put in a movie (hate to waste the house's owners' sound system).
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Who would ever have thought that I wouldn't have anything to write for a day or two at a time? But that's what's happened since basically Monday. I've turned on the computer, waited for a connection, gone to Blogger, and just stared at the screen.
Sure, I've taken a couple extra shifts this week, but it seems inconceivable that I've got nothing to say. A year ago, I was scared and confused all the time, but there was always something new to talk about. Now, what am I supposed to do? Oh, had another period. Walked in high heels without falling on my ass. Hey, I'm no longer totally incompetent with lipstick and other cosmetics. The FBI hasn't called. Carter is still Carter, bitter and angry but at least learning to live with it.
I could talk about baseball, or movies, but there's folks who really concentrate on it, and I get grumpy messages whenever I do. Which makes sense; the unique part of this journal is the whole gender-bender aspect, or thinking about identity, or what I can find out about this whole situation. Let's face it, even I can't sustain a whole lot of interest in just recording the minutiae of my life that's not really terribly different from anyone else's.
I suppose I could talk about Maureen, but what's there to say? She's all right; she hasn't been insulting or pushy since we moved in. I kind of expected it to be more contentious.
I only decided to write about this because I noticed there's 300 or so entries now, spanning about a year, and I looked at some of the first entries. It's kind of funny to look at that first week of entries, when the whole "Transplanted Life" concept really meant something completely different. I can't help but wonder how long that original blog would have lasted - I can't imagine updating it at a near-daily pace for much more than a month or so, and for all I know I would have just lost interest.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Things Marti Likes
1. Fried dough. As much as I know I should be watching my weight more closely, what with it being bikini season and how I've just bought a new, less-goofy one to wear while reading on the banks of the Charles, there is something irrisistable about taking carbohydrate-filled pizza dough, throwing it into a fryer, and then liberally sprinkling cinnomon and powdered sugar on it. It's chewy, contains about a million calories per bite, and is only available from pushcarts. Well, I had it in Fenway Park once, but it wasn't very good there. Of course, this is also where we experimented with putting mustard on it instead of the sugar, which some folks swear by, but not me.
Note that powdered sugar is just fun in and of itself. You invariably use too much and it blows in your face, which looks kind of silly but offers the opportunity for being kissed or licked off by your date.
2. Acting girly around Doug. I drive him nuts. I'm hot, I do guy things, and he's not sure how much that attracts him. So it's fun to tease. I was tactile last night, spoke baby-talk to the toddler on the bit of ground next to ours, and flirted. In part I'm trying to force an issue, see if he considers me girlfriend material or whether I should look elsewhere. Or whether it's even possible for me to have a relationship with a guy who knows about my past, specifically that my past is actually someone else's past.
Because, quite frankly, I'm getting kind of horny. There's really not a lot of opportunity to relieve that sort of pressure right now. I mean, I tried the other night, drawing a bath after I got home from work and I thought Carter and Maureen were asleep, and I'm not sure which of them looked more uncomfortable at breakfast - the guy in a girl's body who not only can't stand the idea of putting his new sex organs to use (and feels responsible for me having to satisfy myself), or the girl who thinks of almost any kind of sex as a sin but is trying to be tolerant enough to not say so.
Anyway, Doug got more responsive to it as the night went on. And not just because he was getting horny; we talked about where I stand in my life and the sorts of decisions and changes I was making in it. I think that reassured him.
3. Fireworks. What's not to like; they're colorful and loud and pretty. And we do it up nice here in Boston on the Fourth, with the pops and a gigantic show that may be the largest in the country.
4. Well-earned big tips. I still don't like the idea of tipping. Admittedly, before I had a job like this, it never crossed my mind that the restaurant not paying the waitstaff their full salary because it was assumed tips would make up the difference was a pretty crappy way to do business. Think about it - on a slow afternoon, the cooks get a full wage but the waitress doesn't, even though both are just as idle. Sometimes, though, you are just in the zone - managing tricky orders for a large party while also being gregarious - and it's cool to have someone recognize it. And you've got money for...
5. Cheap movie tickets. A few weeks ago I was sent the link for Loews Theaters' discount ticket site and ordered a bunch of "weekday escape tickets". At 6/$25, that's $4.17 for a movie and a small popcorn so long as you go Monday-Thursday. The popcorn alone costs $3.50, so it's kind of a deal. Just the sort of thing a movie junkie like me loves. I'm already calculating how many movies I plan to see before the end of the year.
6. Spider-Man 2. I like Spider-Man. I like Sam Raimi. I like the cast. And everyone hits on all cylinders. It's just a beautiful, beautiful thing, especially if you're already a fan, because as well as a good movie, there's the giddiness of seeing someone do things right. It's also Sam Raimi doing full-out Sam Raimi stuff for the first time since Army Of Darkness, or at least The Quick and The Dead. Dennis and I rather amused Kate and Doug and Jen and Carlos by rehashing all the great little things this movie did, along with the great big things.
I also invited them to the housewarming party in two weeks. They were glad to come, since it's been kind of tough to find excuses to hang around together since we were laid off.
So, now I've got to make sure to get Maureen and Carter on board.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
I've got to work, but Doug and I will be heading out to see the fireworks tonight. This is one of the days of the year when it's not just great to live in the city, but Boston specifically.
Got a few things I'd like to discuss with Doug, anyway. There's a few things running around my head that I'd like to hash out with someone. In two weeks, I'll have been in this body, if that's the right way to put it, for a whole year. I know I stopped thinking of it as a temporary situation some time ago, but I've kind of drifted; it's time to start taking a little more control of my life. There's a few ways to go about it, but I'm a little scared of what they entail. As much as I say this is my life now, I do still think and wonder about what Michelle would think if she saw how I was living. I mean, I certainly feel a connection to what Alexei has been doing in "my" body.
Assuming Michelle is still in a body at all. I'm always afraid that the FBI will call and say that they've learned from Interpol that "Mikail Korpin" is dead, that Dmitri had decided there shouldn't be any loose ends he couldn't keep an eye on. I try to imagine how I'd react to that news - sadness that the person who should be living this life is gone, and would I be somehow relieved that I could just settle into this life without worrying about some obligation to its proper owner down the road? I hope I don't ever have the opportunity to feel that way, but I wonder.