Reiterations and stream of conscious ramblings...
I'm going to be less organized and creative here and just jot down thoughts that popped in my head today.
I wonder why it is that it's nearly impossible to find the people from your past that actually matter. A freckle-faced asshole that pushed me in the dirt in 2nd grade wants to be my friend on facebook but I can't find one of my most significant ex-boyfriends or old college roommate. Her name is Shadia, an unusual name in Mississippi but is apparently very common.
I care more about what became of Mitch. We dated a lifetime ago. I know he's three years older than me and went to Brown. His name is Mitch Brenner which always gives me the search result of the male lead character in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. Funny... I saw the movie well before I met him and never made the name connection. I wonder if his parents named him that on purpose... Seems unlikely.
Did Jack Hoffman know what a glory hole was before Gold Rush Alaska aired?
Speaking of, it's interesting how straight guys like the idea of glory holes but are petrified of the thought of a man being on the other side. I realize men are lascivious beasts and would have sex most of the live long day if able. But if you're the kind of guy to stick your dick in a hole in the wall, why are you such a prude about who's on the other side? It can be Kim Kardashian in your mind. It can be Betty White. It's called an imagination. You're not going to marry someone you met blowing you in a glory hole– most likely. Just enjoy getting sucked off, zip your pants and leave as if nothing happened. If somehow it was a female on the other side of that wall I highly doubt she's a looker. I know. I get it. Men can be homophobic to convince themselves and others they are totally straight.
People in my hometown think I'm a lesbian. CT and I told people we were gay but it was a common assumption before that. CT is irresistible to most men and we got annoyed by our coffee dates being interrupted by them approaching her every five minutes. Our brilliant plan was to pose as lesbians to deter them. I realize it's silly on our part but we had no idea it would turn them on. Their eyes would light up and a wolfish grin would appear on their face.
Charlie, my corgi, seriously needs to lay off having me throw the ball to him. It is constant. If I want to sit on the floor, he rolls the ball to me with his nose. If I just want to pet him, he gets the ball. If I refuse to play, he sometimes takes it and puts the slobbery thing on my laptop. He's insistent. He's obsessed. I regret ever teaching him our goddamn ball game. Now the little bastard rolls the ball under furniture and makes Chewbacca noises until I get it out.
Although it has been Fall for a little while now, several people have pointed out that Fall has just begun. I understand their confusion. The weather has just started to get cold. Ever notice when it is cold that there's a burnt ember smell in the air (and I'm not talking about wood from chimneys)?
I feel like a bit of an even bigger dork than usual. For instance, I can't wait to rearrange my movie collection.
With a gift certificate my aunt gave me for my birthday I got sofa pillows. Yes, sofa pillows. Why? Because I wanted my slobber encrusted sofa to look better. And I can't leave the pillows unsupervised because I don't want Charlie messing them up. Highly impractical. Jeff also got me a sofa pillow for my birthday; a sofa pillow so nice that Charlie isn't even allowed to breathe on it. He can only look from afar. They are all animals: a fox, a whale and a basset hound.
(They are nice cushions though?)
I anthropomorphize everything I own and they are all male. Is that weird?
Guess that's it for now.