The one film you probably don't EVER wanna casually invite a member of the opposite sex to watch with you as a date-night movie. *couN-Agh*
Or if you ever ever ever wanna get laid again:
(Click to read more)
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Three New Google Searches That Brought People to This Blog
- hemmorhoids and sweet potato
- a woman who has flashbacks to her previous life as a whaling captain
- pee pants unexpected
Labels: google searches
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This is Me Being a Fucking Nerd About October...
Have I mentioned that I already have my horror movie viewing-list all planned out for the month of October?
And I'm already trying to decide what the hell I wanna be for Halloween?
And I'm geeked because one of the schools near my neighborhood is putting on Night of the Living Dead for their fall play?
Yes: I am a motherfucking horror movie ***NERD***.
But since I've already established that, I might as well continue in the same vein, so here's a tentative head's up to those of you usually on my invite list...
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Pardon the Mush
I think what floors me the most about this new love is the tenuousness of it all.
I mean, most meetings are tenuous and a matter of things just happening to fall into place. But with N-A, it seems particularly so, a mere matter of chance sneezing at just the right moment. I think perhaps it's because we knew OF each other but just didn't KNOW. All that proximity without a wit of knowing.
I mean, we'd both been inhabitants of the neighborhood for a few years, but it's like our planets were on a trajectory where we merely circled one another, our shadows never falling across the face of the other's geography. I'd walked past him handfuls of times in my neighborhood, sometimes making eye contact, sometimes not, sometimes saying hi, sometimes not. I'd talked to him once or twice, never even CONSIDERING possibilities.
And every day, I'm reminded of how so many little things could've continued to keep our planets from colliding: not having met MOL, MOL not mentioning N-A in conversation, MOL not having vanished for the summer, not having decided to read at the coffeeshop on that particular day, not having allowed myself to be engaged in conversation, N-A not having spontaneously asked me to the movies, not having had an uncharacteristic burst of spontaneity and taken him up on the invite. As though, if one of us had, say, coughed or flicked a bug off our knee, it could've sent events cartwheeling in an entirely different direction. It's really quite ridiculous.
For a while N-A was angry about all this--that we could've entirely missed each other with just the slightest alteration in the chain of events that sent us skittering into collision. "But what if...?" he'd say. "What if...? I mean, all it would've taken is one small thing, and we could've totally missed out on each other."
And yet, so flukily, so unexpectedly, so strangely, one little spontaneous question spirals into all this.
Yesterday he said he had a gift for me. Grinning, he told me to take down the black garbage bag off his shelf. Inside were two shirts, a sweater, and two pairs of men's pants, all of which he had thrifted for me. All of which fit. And all of which were cute and me.
Yesterday, he called me
Suckerface
Kevin Costner dream haver
Bugger eater
Period blood drinker
Domesticated cat fucker
Coochie coddle
Clit flicker of strange fat women
Woman's mustache licker
Yesterday, one of his wiry beard hairs was stuck to my toothpaste and it made me grin.
It's things like these that make me think of what we could've blindly stumbled past in the unknowing, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.
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Me & My Schwinn, BFF!
So I finally picked up my bike this weekend--a cute little rose-colored Schwinn Suburban with a detachable front-basket and a little *RANG RANG* type bell--and I'm so excited to start riding it places. I feel like I'm twelve-years old again or something: like, I keep going outside just to stare at it and think to myself, Yay! That's mine! And then yesterday, I decided to trek all the way up to the grocery store to pick up garbage bags that I could've gotten at the corner store just so I'd have an excuse to ride it.
It rides like butter. If butter rode.
Weirdly, one of the things I most look forward to regarding it is getting to roll my one pantleg up whenever I bike anywhere. For some reason, when I see people do that, it brings me inexplicable joy (the kind of inexplicable joy you get from, say, sucking up something REALLY loud into the vacuum). Yesterday, when I rode my bike, I actually switched into shorts first because I thought to myself, "No, Lindy Loo. You are not cyclist enough to venture into the one-rolled-leg world. You would be acting like a total poseur, seeing as you nearly fell off trying to get on your bike at the bike shop, that's how long it's been since you've ridden one." So I can't bring myself to do it until I've been biking to and from places for a little while. THEN: that sexy calf of mine will be flashing itself ALL over town.
Seriously though: there's something about the "one rolled pantleg" on a boy, leg hair all whisping out all over the place while he walks through the grocery store/bar/library/coffeeshop, that makes me want to crawl all up on him and ride him like a bicycle. Growr.
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Guano as Foreplay
So can I just say how much I absolutely fricking LOVE the Planet Earth series?? I wanted to add it to my flixster list, but apparently I can't. So I felt the need to mention it. If you've not seen, it seriously is hand's down THE most beautiful nature show I've ever seen.
Most nature shows seem to rely on the awesomeness of the animals to make them successful. But Planet Earth also possesses some serious cinematographical chops--there are moments where I can feel my chest clench up and I want to shout My god, to be alive in a world where something like this exists is almost more than I can bear!
Needless to say though, N-A is SURELY looking forward to me finally making my way through the series, so that our pre-makeout conversations will no longer be along the lines of: "So did you know that in Borneo, there's one of the world's largest caves, and it houses like MILLIONS of bats, so many that there's this enormous hill of bat-feces in the cave. But it's all like beautiful and glistening from afar, and you're like, wow, what the hell. Until you realize that the reason that it's glistening is that EVERY SQUARE INCH IS TEEMING WITH COCKROACHES!!!!!"
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Music That is Difficult to Makeout To
- The score to a horror movie
- Anything with xylophone in it
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Come On, Ride the Train: Girl Talk
For some reason, I feel like I shouldn't like him.
But I've gotta admit: I dig him.
His shit's seamless. And it's WAY too much fun trying to pick out the origins of a trillion brief samples in each song.
And seriously... I have a hard time disliking someone who can sample James Taylor without it sounding laughable.
Plus, he's kinda hot.
Check it out:
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Touch Wood that I Don't Jinx Myself, Tomodachi
And it's becoming finalized: 6 days in England in November, 8 days in Japan in December. Passport has already arrived. Vacation messages have been sent out at work (thus far, with no complaints). The only bumpy patch is the fact that, in order to cover these 14 days off, I need to use up every last bit of vacation time (except for .96 hours). Which is gonna make for a HELLUVA rough next four months. *Hysterical hiccup*
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A Third Person Tale, Told By the Friend of a Friend, and Converted into a Dialogue (Which Sounds Like an Urban Legend, But Not)
Person #1: (fidgeting)
Person #2: Why you so fidgety?
Person #1: I kinda tore my asshole.
Person #2: What??!
Person #1: I kinda tore my asshole yesterday.
Person #2: (confused silence)
Person #1: It really kind of hurts.
Person #2: Um, what exactly were you DOING that you tore your asshole?
Person #1: Well, I was trying to see how much marijuana I could fit up there.
Person #2: Wait wait wait. WHAT?!!?
Person #1: I've tried it before. I mean, you put it in a ziploc, you lube up the ziploc, and then you very gently pack it up there.
Person #2: Uh...
Person #1: And I was able to squeeze a baggie up there the last time. This time, I got one baggie up there again, so I figured, why not try getting a second baggie up there?
Person #2: Uh, seriously?
Person #1: Swear to god. But the second baggie tore my asshole a little bit.
Person #2: You're fucking with me.
Person #1: No seriously. I'd like to say it was from, like, buttplay or a dildo or something. But it wasn't. And man, does it hurt.
Person #2: (pausing for a thought) So, um, have you been able to shit?
Person #1: Oh man. I've just been drinking, like, smoothies and stuff the past day.
Person #2: (pausing again) Did you try putting lotion on it maybe?
Person #1: Lotion? You can't lotion your ASSHOLE.
Person #2: Why not?
Person #1: Because who lotions their asshole?
Person #2: Well, who in god's name puts baggies of MARIJUANA up their asshole??
Person #1: Hush.
Person #2: (eyeing Person #1 skeptically) I so don't believe you.
Person #1: Fine. Don't believe me.
Person #2: (glaring suspiciously)
Person #1: But if you could avoid touching my anus when we're messing around, that'd be great.
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The Grasshopper and the Ant: A Fable
In case you hadn't noticed, I have some new sidebar links.
One of which links to my photos at JPGMag (which is where the pic above comes from).
I haven't been taking tons, but you may stumble across some new stuff there. And I'm actually updating it. So woot woot to picture-pages being back in action!
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