The Beautiful Kind

Speaking of skeezy sex sites, I have a profile on one. It’s 90% for entertainment purposes, and 10% for getting laid. See the trouble is, everyone wants to fuck me, and I don’t want to fuck them. I’m picky, bitch. But check out this message I got the other day, from a 44 year old cross dresser guy:

need a sissy toy to worship you?

How did he/she KNOW I was a goddess? I suppose you’re wondering if I responded. Of course I did! I told him/her sure, but only if I could fuck him/her up the ass. And he/she wrote back and said

i dream of having a goddess like you pull down my panties and fuck me with a strapon… making me beg for more!

Isn’t it just so sweet? Turns out I’ll have a Funny Valentine after all… xoxo

Here’s why: more than anything else, I hate having my time wasted. I guess it’s OK that they pay me to come in and dither around on a project for a couple hours, and then check my email or write on my book the rest of the day. My co-worker has even less to do. She watches TV shows online, and has taken to napping at her desk. Seriously, I had to wake her up to ask for a file yesterday.

Anyway, my book is the tunnel I am digging to escape from the jail cell - I mean, cubicle. Every day I chip away at it, like Edmond Dantes in The Count of Monte Cristo chipped away at the tunnel to escape the horrible prison. It is my hope. Only you’ll recall that he ended up making a spontaneous and daring escape in order to gain his freedom and claim his fortune. Hmmm…

OK so I’ve been on myspace for two days now, and am overwhelmed by the staggering amount of DOUCHE BAGS on it. It’s much worse than I thought. Not just broken links, errors, slow load time, obnoxious ads, but a sorrier lot than you might find on a skeezy sex site.

I keep getting all these uncalled for friend requests from cavemen who look like their name should be Chip, or, not just bands anymore, but other entities like clothing lines marketing themselves to the masses. Where are all the hip, sexy people? I can’t hold it up all on my own here, folks. And there are fucking TEENAGERS crawling all over the site. Is this legal? Do you just ignore them like gnats buzzing around your head?

Goddamn you, Edgar.

Example of caveman correspondence:

im new here in my space, and im in seacrh of true relationship and i hope to get one soon. I went thru’ your profile, and i found it very intresting, so i thout i should meet with you, cos i really wanna get to now more about you. hope also like to meet with me? if you have a messenger let have some talk

Personally, I’m astonished he spelled “relationship,” “profile,” and “messenger” correctly. Maybe I should consider it…in the words of Borat: “NOT!!!!”

Quiz: Which of these trios are hand-carved, painted dolls from Russia, and which are rubbery things to stick up the ass?

I hate when I get them confused…

Here is my most awesome Day of the Dead piece.

Last night I was at my parent’s house, which is crammed to the gills with shit (now you know where I get the collecting bug from).

Anyway, I walked by a table and saw this weird little bag sitting there. It’s about the size of a baseball card, perfectly sealed, and had something lumpy in it. I absent-mindedly pocketed it to inspect later.

When I got home, I opened it in my kitchen. What do you think was inside? Have you ever heard of this? Check back in a couple days for the answer…

OK the rule is, if I watch something 10 ten times, I have to feature it. At the very least, check out Episode 1.

GOD irreverence turns me on.

Mr. Deity

Last weekend I watched all three of the Star Wars movies. You know, the good ones. The ones with Han Solo.

It just is that ever since, I’ve been fantasizing about an mfm with him and Chewbacca (or would it be an mfb - male/female/beast? Oh come on, you know I dig the hairy/werewolf thing!) Gawd just look at the size of those…weapons. And I already know they work so well as a team…

I just looove at the end of Star Wars when Han Solo has the audacity to wink at the Princess as she presents him with the medal for being all fucking brave and saving the universe. And then in Empire when she tells him she loves him and he replies with, “I know.” GOD. I eat that scoundrel/rogue/space pirate shit UP. He can call me “Your Worship” anytime.

Well shit!

Here’s the thing. I hate myspace. HATE IT. It’s a breeding ground for immaturity and bad taste. Why are so many people’s pages so stupidugly and obnoxious?! You click on their link and up pops this godawful design with chain link and red borders and text that’s the same color as the background and you’re assaulted by a superchill rock out song that’s supposed to make you don sunglasses and high five the creator of the page, but instead just makes you want to avoid the person from here on out and you won’t tell them why. And those fucking hideous ads! (”Do you think Tyra Banks is fat? Answer and receive free cell phone minutes!“)

I have boycotted the site fabulously all this time (except for that brief moment I had a profile up and actually found someone who taught me how to knit) but now. Edgar is tempting me to sign up. So that I can join his army. Seriously, I’ve been looking for the right cult. An excerpt of his bio:

I am Edgar. I have gained notoriety in many political circles, and thought it pertinent that I create this myspace page to further my cause. Alexander the Great conquered the known world by the age of twenty-two. BAH!

With your help, I will be the world’s leader by the time I am five. When I was a wee lad, I was adopted by a delusional-vegetarian-liberal-communist-sympathizer. (I will call her Mother for the purpose of clarity)…

And do check out the slideshow. Join Edgar’s Army.

But don’t you dare call him a friend.

One of my best friend’s just got engaged. Even though I’m not really down with that whole marriage thing, I had to admit that the way her tattoo artist boyfriend proposed to her was pretty darn sweet.

I figure if they break up he can use it as a cheesy pick up line in bars - stagger up to women and roll up his sleeve…

And it can come in handy when he’s old, too. He can just change the “M” to a “C” so that it reads

WILL YOU CARRY ME?

I always like a scene where the man is on his knees…

Here is why I love Day of the Dead stuff so much:

- they are caricatures of ourselves.

- they’re morbid.

- they’re colorful and sparkly.

This one has this cowboy dude proposing to this fabulously ghastly woman with big ass hair. I hope she says yes.

- To have a partner who belongs to the same book club as me.

- Taking turns reading out loud to each other before having amazing sex and falling asleep cuddlestyle.

- Having a late dinner on book club nights.

- Going to the bookstore together on cold, dark evenings and having hot chocolate.

- Making out in the stacks of the library, public or university.

- Exploring an independent bookstore in a different town.

- Spending a day at New York City’s legendary Strand bookstore.

- Dedicating my first book to my lover.

Check out Babes With Books.

I finally did it. I was sitting at work in my stupid cubicle, prepping for my 1:30 phone conference meeting. 2pm rolled around and the meeting still hadn’t started. So while Ashley, the woman in the next cube, discussed meeting parameters on her phone and I heard other phones ringing but not mine, I masturbated and got off in the middle of a sea of cubicles. Yesss! that perked me right up.

I rule.

And then I had my phone conference.

Gol I just love snap button shirts. Practice your moves by watching this video. C’mon, snap to it!

I have a young friend who is so sweet, he indulges me and carries on conversations with me…after taking his shirt off. That way, I can trace his tattoos, the veins in his arms, the contours of his hot muscles, and strum his washboard belly as he tells me what college life is like. (I can’t stop touching that six-pack, it’s such a novelty!)

“I’m not looking to fuck just anybody these days,” I’ll purr, “I mean, sure I’ve slept around in the past…”

He’ll nod his beautiful shaggy head eagerly in agreeement. “Oh you’re talking to a college guy, I know what you’re saying, believe me. More than once I’ve been in my car driving home and look around and think, ‘What the fuck did I just DO?!’”

Don’t you worry, baby boy, I’ll take care of you…

Yesterday during a staff meeting my co-worker and I, both contractors, found out that we were set up in employee cubicles. This is as opposed to contractor cubicles. This means that at some point, we will likely be moved into cubicles better suited for our caste.

So instead of this

our new space will be more like this

(This would be reason #80 why I envy the geese hanging out on the campus lake. It is also the reason I like to imagine doing freaky things to the person presenting the meetings such as stabbing their nipples with straightened paper clips. That’s right, in my head I’m the Office Space Marquis de Sade.)