Contemplation/Primordial and the Rain...

Here at KHG HQ there has been quite a lot of contemplation going on.  Not only in the romantic department, but also in the what the fuck am I going to with my life department.  Trust me, that isn't a fun thing to think about. 

I had mentioned before that I'm a poet.  Now wait.  Don't stop reading yet.  They are pretty damn good.  They certainly aren't gushy, that's for sure.  So I have decided to share one with you, dear readers.  In doing so, I would like to ask you all a huge favor.  Could I get at least one, teeny, tiny, measly COMMENT about the poem?  Or a COMMENT about the other blogs?  I know you guys are out there...Help KHG out!

Primordial

I welcome

The Darkness and

The Cold

 I want the rain

To come in torrents

The absolute blackness

Comforts me

 

I think of the waves

Pounding on the shore

The ones

That you cannot have

 

Perhaps nature planned

To take away what you love

Due to the destruction

You wrought upon me

With each passing day

My abject sadness

Has started to boil

You came and took

What you wanted

Leaving nothing

In your wake

Except the memories

Your smell

Your touch

Those eyes

That took it all in

Your devilish smile

The want

The need

The unending ache

 

In the deepest

Recesses

Of my mind

You live

And I cannot

Evict you

Try as I might

You climbed into

My soul

Yet once where

There was light

All there is

Is a Primordial darkness

That envelopes me

Like a warm cloak

I wrap myself up

In it

Creating a cocoon

Protection from the World?

Or Protection from You?

Now dear readers, can you guess who that was written about?  Hmmm... He's been mentioned on here. Here's a hint: It is NOT The PUGILIST!!!  I wrote that poem last March.  If you leave a comment, which I truly hope you do, tell me who he is and I'll think up something you can win.  But it has to be the first commenter!  

For now dear readers, KHG needs some peace.  Ciao for now.

*****NEXT TIME, ON KHG:  The First Date...Parte Seconda.  Don't miss it because this is where the juicy stuff happens!

A First Date at 2AM...Part One

Here at KHG HQ we wish whatever you celebrate may it be a happy one.  Now, enough with that sentimental bs and on to the good stuff.

I am sure dear readers, that you have all been sitting on pins and needles waiting to find out about HIM.  Yes, the Pugilist.  He really does look like a cross between a boxer and a street thug.  Picture someone Tony Soprano would hire as a hit man and you've pretty much got him.  Combine that with a super thick Italian accent and it pretty much completes the picture.  Like I mentioned in my previous post, I don't like good looking men, and trust me, he isn't.  What he lacks in looks he makes up in personality.  My Pugilist has got quite a personality, let me tell ya.

So here's our first date.  DISCLAIMER:  I DO NOT ADVISE DOING THIS UNLESS YOU HAVE TAKEN ALL LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES.  I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE NO JUDGEMENT.  Ok, enough lecturing.  But wait-if you do know my mother DO NOT EVER TELL HER I DID THIS.

So, remember KHG is on a dating site.  I literally joined on Sunday, Dec. 16th, and started getting quite a few messages.  A lot of the guys were really nice, but I never felt anything.  And there was creepy breakfast guy, too...  I had put that one of my all time favorite movies was "Lost in Translation" with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johannsen.  I have never known a straight man in my life that liked that movie.

I get a message back from a guy who tells me he loves the movie.  So in the late evening of Dec. 19th/20th we were IMing (which KHG hates btw) the Pugilist suggests we talk on the phone.  I'm a bit wary (see post #3 in regards to why I don't like giving out my phone number).  He asks for my number twice, and finally I give him both-cell and landline-and tell him to call me in 5 minutes.  He does.  When I pick up, on the other end of the line there is this deep voice with an Italian accent that made my knees melt.  Holy Mother Mary.  He had me at hello, or "Ciao Bella".  So we talk and talk and talk and talk... Until it is 115AM and he's talking about food.  I interrupt him and tell him that he's making me hungry.  Out of the blue, he says "Bella, what you doing now?  Let's go drink wine!".  Uh, wtf?  He comes my prudish response "But it's 1:15AM, the bars are closing."  His response?  "Bar!  Mah!  We don't need bar!  I have an excellent collection of wine."  My impulsive, psychotic brain goes into overdrive and I think where we could go.  I then blurt out "You CANNOT come to MY HOUSE!".  I am greeted by dead silence on the other end of the line.  Then this "Bella, I would NEVER ask a lady to come to her home in the middle of the night."  Ok.  Phew on that one. 

So we go back and forth as to where to go.  We decide the only logical place is the beach.  He asks how long I need to get ready and I say 30 minutes-'cuz I'm a chick.  I leap out of bed (well, as much as I can leap) and do a quick clean clothes inventory.  It isn't pretty, lemme tell ya.  I run into the next room, pull on some legggings.  Over that, a pair of boyfriend jeans, then two long sleeve long underwear shirts, thick socks, high boots (hey, I'm no fool-what man doesn't like a pair of high boots.  Haven't met one yet.) grabbed a big winter coat and my purse.  As I'm walking out my door, I notice out of the corner of my eye my Leatherman.  What is that you might ask?  It's like a Swiss Army Knife, and is encased in a leather case, ergo the name.  When you first open it, it turns into some type of pliers.  To get the actual knives out you'd be there all day (or night in my case) but again, in my addled brain I think that the Leatherman can protect me if he decides to rape or kill me or both!  So I grab that and throw it in my purse.  I fly out the door, jump in my car and crank No Doubt-well what did you think people?  That I'd put Sinatra on?  I needed to hear my Gwen.

So I'm flyin' down the road by the beach headed towards the restaurant parking lot and I see a car parked there.  Now don't go asking KHG what KIND of car, because she can't tell one from the other.  Trust me.  I pull up next to it, and out gets this guy.  I've described him before, but let us now visit him in more depth, shall we?  He looks like he's around 5'11", 190lbs.  He's wearing jeans, and it looks like a few shirts underneath with a zip up hoodie over that.  He's also balding.  But it is his face dear readers that just amazes me.  Can I get a show of hands out there as to who watched the Sopranos?  Mmmm...Ok...Looks like a lot of you did.  How about watched the Godfather movies?  Anyone?  Ahhhh...Good.  Very good.  Ok.  So picture Vito Corleone and Tony Soprano looking for a hit man.  Can you picture what the hitman would look like?  A slightly weathered face-more worldy than weathered, somewhat big nose, barrel chested.  Now picture your average street thug and cross it with Tony's and Vito's hitman, and finally throw in a tiny pinch of boxer and you've got him-The Pugilist.

I will have to leave you hanging again my dear readers, since I have to go and make some type of money to pay my rent.

Until then, don't do anything I wouldn't do.  Trust me-that gives you a hell of a lot of leeway. -KHG

I'm your Moll...

Since I know that you, my dear readers, are of above intelligence you have caught on to the fact that I have a teeny, tiny obsession with Gwen Stefani.  Now we all know that I don't play for the other team, so it isn't like I want to hook up with her or anything.  I'd just like to hang out with her and have some of her cool rub off on me.  Specifically her song writing ability and the way she dresses.

For your viewing pleasure, I have used my superior technical skills to insert the video for the very bitchin' song "Push and Shove" which is also the name of their most recent album that I am utterly obsessed with.

You are all probably asking yourselves "What in the hell does No Doubt/Gwen Stefani have to do with HIM?" you know, my new guy.  It's in the magical lyrics that Gwen spins my loves:

BOY YOU’RE CHARMING ME NOT GONNA FIGHT IT
I’M YOUR MOLL INDEED NOT GONNA HIDE IT
HUSTLIN’ YOU GOT ME
YOUR TURFS IN MY LANE
RESPECT NOBODY
BONNIE AND A CLYDE IT
NOT GONNA TESTIFY
GOTTA ME UNDER OATH BIG TIME

BABY YOU HUSTLER HUSTLER HUSTLER
GONNA WORK FOR YOU ALL NIGHT YEAH
GO FOR WHATEVER YOU WANT
DON’T LET ANYONE TELL YOU THAT YOU CAN’T
BABY YOU, BABY YOU GET THAT TAKE THAT

YOU WORK IT HARD (YOU WORK IT)BOY YOU GOT ME GOOD HOW YOU PUSH AND SHOVE (PUSH AND SHOVE)

OOH BOY YOU’RE HUSTLIN’ ME
YOU WORK IT HARD (YOU WORK IT HARD YOU GONNA LIE SOME)BOY YOU GOT ME GOOD HOW YOU PUSH AND SHOVE (YOU WORK IT HARD GONNA SURVIVE SOME) OOH
BOY YOU’RE HUSTLIN’ ME
(Songwriting Credits: (G. STEFANI / T. KANAL / T. DUMONT / R. GORDON / T. PENTZ / D. TAYLOR / A. RECHTSHAID)

Yes, "I'm his Moll indeed and not gonna hide it" and that sums it up to a "T" what is going on at KaliHawkeyeGirl Headquarters.

Until next time dear readers-be good, but never be THAT good...KHG 

The Bedroom, a Unit and The Pugilist...

Here at KaliHawkeyeGirl Headquarters (KHG HQ for short) we believe that what people do in THEIR bedroom is THEIR business, thank you very much.  That being said, we are always a bit er, surprised when others, ok men, who we don't know from Adam want to ask us in graphic detail if we would like to partake in rather interesting activities.  We are also quite surprised the pride the male species  takes in their, how shall I be delicate here?  Let us use the word "unit".

So we all know that KHG has joined an Internet dating service and is doing quite well.  There is an actual guy KHG likes, but we will get to him later.  First, dear readers, you have got to hear this one. 

So on this site, you can message one another, kind of like email, or IM.  Well, I was just blowin' up on this MOFO.  Seriously.  And trust me, I was completely stunned by it.  I then get this message from "MisssionValleyGuy".  You use a pseudonym on the site.  In the interest of not being raped, murdered and my body mutilated, and then dumped out in the back country, I will not be sharing my pseudonym with you all.  Sorry.  Ok.  Back to MissionValleyGuy.  Seems nice-he messaged me.  We joke around that all the stores that I spend way too much money in are in Mission Valley.  And then, comes THE EMAIL.  Oh yeah, you know, the one that slyly insinuates some fucked up thing he's into in the bedroom.  So here it is, as best as I can re-create it:

MissionValleyGuy:  So, if we were in a committed, loving, healthy relationship, how open minded would you be?
(Uh, what the fuck?)-that's me thinking, btw.

Me- If you are asking about how open I am sexually, just be blunt, ok?

(Oh, and he was.  Trust me.)

MissionValleyGuy:  Well, again, if we were in a committed, loving, healthy relationship, would you be interested in having a 3-way with another man?  You should also know that I'm bi-curious (as in he would want to have sex with our imaginary 3-way partner.  Imaginary you say?  FUCK YES.  At least in my lifetime).

So I wake up to this email from him the other morning.  Now I am no prude, trust me.  It takes quite a bit to shock me, and this did.  I mean really.  Yeah dude.  I'm going to want some guy I love have sex with another MAN???  Holy Mother of God in Heaven who IS THIS FREAK?  So I took a deep breath and wrote the following back-

Me:  Absolutely, positively NO.  I am sure that on this site, there is a woman that would be interested.  She is not, however, ME.  In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I will now be blocking you from my account.

Then, of course, I had to call my mother. (KHG is a bit addicted to her mother.  Let's think of her as sitting on the KHG HQ Board of Directors).  She laughed so hard she had to put the phone down.  And yes, I might of had a good laugh, too.

Now let us turn to the male obsession with their units.  Oh hell, it's called a penis, and that is what we'll be calling it.  Penises just aren't attractive.  I'm sorry.  They  have their uses, but modeling careers they ain't getting.  So last Spring, KHG (sorry about writing in the third person, but it's my blog so there) signed up for her very first Internet dating site.  Things were going ok.  I was talking, as in I was dumb enough off the bat to give this guy my cell number.  One night, around 930PM, the little "ding" sound that I was getting an incoming text went off.  I checked to see who it was.  What was it you ask dear readers?  Why it was a picture of an erect penis, and he even got his balls in the shot for me, too.  At that point, I didn't know what to do.  Send him back a picture of my genitals?  I mean really people.  So I texted him back to lose my number and NEVER text me again.  He responded immediately with a sheepish "Ok".

So, I had to tell my mother about this.  Only she was in the car with another member of KHG HQ Board of Directors, my father.  Now, I should stop at this point and say that my family has a rather sick sense of humor so don't be too shocked that I told my parents, ok?  My mom takes my call on her cell and puts it on speaker phone.  I explain what happened.  As first, my dad couldn't understand what I was saying.  So I not only had to use the word "penis" with my father once, but twice.  My mother laughed hysterically, and once my dad finally caught on to what it was that happened, he laughed even harder.  He told me I should take a picture of my, er, unit and text it back!  I politely said NO.  So you can imagine after this incident that KHG has a bit of an aversion to Internet dating.

Then, Thursday, December 20th, 2012 happened.  I met him.  Why who is him KHG?  Ah.  He is going to have to be the subject of my next post, but I will give you a description of him, and he's going to need a nickname, too.  My pugilist (that means boxer-no, not the dog, an actual boxer-those men who beat the hell out of each other and people call it a sport).  The Boxer is almost 47, from Italy (oh sweet Jesus that accent!  He also speaks Spanish and French, too.  KHG speaks Spanish, so we sometimes speak it to one another).  The Boxer is 5'11", gray, thinning hair (ok, a smallish bald spot) barrel chested, with some nice legs.  He is not pretty whatsoever.  I don't want to date Brad Pitt, thank you very much.  His eyes are a green with a little brown, so I guess they are hazel.  He has this great nose, which he refers to as his "Roman Nose".  Yes, it's big but not awful.  I told you, he looks like a boxer.  Well, a boxer crossed with a street thug.  And KHG has got it bad.

Next time on KHG, we will discuss the first date between KHG and The Boxer.

So for now dear readers, always be good, but never THAT good...

-KHG

A New Start?

12/19/12

At my advanced age, I should have some type of career, but I haven't.  Ok, I'm not THAT old but I've never found anything that I loved.  I want to spring out of bed in the morning and go to a job that I adore.  Work with people who are awesome.  I then remind myself that I am not Gwen Stefani, and I'm not going to kiss Gavin, Kingston and little Zuma and hop in the car to go write bitchin songs with my all guy band :(  And you know what?  THAT JUST SUCKS.  So I've got to come up with something else.  Yes, I love to write, and I have made some money off of it.  But trust me, I'm barely making my rent off of it.  And the bitch of it is, I love it.

What I love the most is writing poems.  I know.  <groan>  A poet.  I'm really going to rake it in wrting poetry, aren't I?

Now dear readers, I suppose an explanation of the title of this blog is in order.  Yes, I live in California.  In the interest of not having all of my fans/groupies/stalkers/serial killers come find me, I cannot disclose what city I do live in.  Let's just say it is a pretty damn boring one.  But "Kali" doesn't stand for California.  Kali stands for: "Anyone?  Bueller?  Bueller?" ok.  I will put you out of your misery and tell you.  Kali is the Hindu Goddess of destruction.  Yep.  But she doesn't destroy people, she destroys fear.  And that is what I need in my life-to destroy the fear I have regarding the fact I have zero, zippo, nada self confidence.

So now you are so wondering what "Hawkeye" stands for.  Now do we all know States nicknames?  Why no KaliHawkeyeGirl we don't.  Please tell us!  The Hawkeye State is <drum roll please> IOWA!  Can I get a WOOT!!!  Oh yeah baby.  It's all corn fed around here.  Ok, ok.  I think I'm funnier than I really am.   It's an ongoing problem in my life.  My parents were born and raised in Iowa and from the time I was an infant until I was 13 every summer we lived back there.  I know what you're thinking.  Iowa?  They lived in Iowa?  Yep.  My parents bought a house back in their howetown (population 8,000) which caused one hell of a scandal and here we came.  So here's a trivia question:  What movie is this from?

"Is this Heaven?"  "No, this is Iowa".  But to two little girls from California, Iowa was heaven.  If you know the answer, please leave it in the comments section and I might even send you a copy of the movie!

By this point, I am sure you have either A. Stoppped reading this drivel, B. Puked from the nostaglia or C. Have fallen totally in love with this blog and will become a loyal reader.  I'm hoping for C, but think it might be A.

Now dear readers, I have a confession to make.  I joined one of those dating sites Monday night.  My hair stylist talked me into it.  You see,  this past year, well since Oct 20, 2011 but whose counting, I've been in love with someone who has a teeny, tiny problem-he doesn't love me.  We've known each other for years, but hadn't seen one another in 15yrs.  Dumb me found him on Facebook (which might be the most evil thing ever created by man-or the coolest.  I'm undecided on that one).  Well, Surfer Boy (we'll just call him SB for short, okay?) swore to me upside down and backwards it was done with his girlfriend and I ate it up with a spoon.  And of course it wasn't.  The worst part?  He's in his late 40s, and she's 65 YEARS OLD.  It took me a long, long time to get it through my rather dense skull that he's with her for her money.  That just breaks my heart.  Why you ask?  Because I gave my love, something that is truly precious, to a man who is more interested in using some old hag for her money than accepting my love.  It would be too difficult to do so.  Oh it's easy to take, but to give is another matter, and he can't do it.  And I'm still in love with the fuck!

So yesterday morning, I went out to coffee and breakfast with this guy on the dating site.  We'll call him Mr. Marketer, or MM for short.  MM is a bit touchy for me-as in he wants to touch every part of my body.  Now that would be fine, but on a first date at 630AM?  Uh, I'm not sure about that.  I was very polite after the date and texted him that I had fun and if he had time to please email me.  Did I get an email?  Nope.  Am I pissed?  Kinda, kinda not.  Here at KaliHawkeyeGirl Headquarters (KHG HQ for short) we try and give people the benefit of the doubt.  Ok, that's a total lie, but it is something I'm trying to do.  Maybe MM was super busy.  Maybe he got hit by a bus?  Or maybe he didn't like me.  Who knows?  Who cares?  Oh yeah.  I do.

So back to this job bullshit.  This morning at 930AM, I have an interview for a temp job that I really need.  Thank God last night I went through my emails, because I didn't think I'd heard from the lady who is to interview me, because on Monday she'd said the interview would be on Wednsday but I never saw an email from her.  Somehow, I missed the email.  I found it at 415AM and the interview is at 930.  I might be looking a bit blearly eyed, but lemme tell ya folks-I can sell ice cubes to Eskimos and I can nail this interview.  So I will tell you what happens when I know.  I'm sure you will all be sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear.

'Till next time-be good, but never be THAT good.

-KHG

A First Step...At 5:47AM

So here we are.  I mean I am.  Here that is.  Writing out my very first blog post.  I was supposed to do this on my birthday, but hey, that was an eventful day!  So I waited almost 2 mos longer to make it.  Now, as I type, Christmas and finally the New Year approach.  Has there ever been a more miserable year than 2012?  Dear God, I truly pissed off someone to get the year I did.  It all started with one pathetic broken baby toe and snowballed from there.  The year ends with having a sleepover at Hillcrest Trauma, and truly not knowing what in the hell is wrong with me.  The one constant good thing in my life, as always, is my Monks.  That one is in constant flux, yet always loyal and by my side.  That love is what pulls me through.  Now, 71 years after what my favorite President called "The Day That Shall Live in Infamy" I begin my blog.  I find that very fitting.

Pearl Harbor 70th Anniversary