Tuesday, December 12, 2006

6 weird things you don't know about me


alsense tagged me. I was sick. flu with a sinus infection back. really hot. everybody cum! al, forgive me. after hitting vocab's blog tonight, I was reminded of the tag. I am now fulfilling my tagbligations as you have so generously done for me on a million occasions.

This tag has rules. pay attention
1. Each player of this game starts with the “6 weird things about you”.

2. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly.

3. At the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

:--0

1. I am not a hypochondriac. I fear death. there is a difference. so, I write eulogies. incessantly. shamelessly. about myself. the people I love. whenever I am more terrified than usual about the peel factor, I eulogize myself into a heated frenzy.

2. I get distracted way too easily when I masturbate. my mind goes off on tangents that are so random, I can't even begin to tell you. I get fixated on a word or a thought and repeat it in my head three times until I segue into yet another ridiculous, random distraction.

3. I have the worst gag reflex known to man and hate, detest, despise and abhor the smell of rose milk. it offends me and makes me so nauseas, I gag. but I love the smell of fresh cut roses.

4. I am an avid perfume collector of fine and vintage scents and have over 1,000 bottles.

5. I play the saxophone. badly, but I do play.

6. I take black and white photographs that I never show people but have sold under an assumed name.

I am tagging: write procrastinator, toady, crionaberry, honeysmack, mister mister (he hates it so much when I tag him that it's become a new katie-compulsion), drug nazi, c-punch and johnny yen.

fat men

when I was a kid, I asked my dad if fat men had penises. I asked because I couldn't see them.

what I can't figure out is if peni recognition at such a young age means I was molested or intuitive.

hmm. something new to ponder and hopefully obsess about.

what is wrong with people?

love this man. he's fabulous. must be a real yoga enthusiast.

the other day I found my neighbor standing in the hallway talking on the phone and peeing in a cup. I briskly walked by. he turned his back. like that's really going to help at that point?! after I walked by him, he said, sorry about that. I said, what do I care. you're not peeing in my cup. knock yourself out. pee in every corner of the building. I really don't care.

I think I'm becoming desensitized or I've truly stopped caring. either way, my life is a mess.

creepy neighbor

I have a neighbor. he's a dick. very cliche and pretentious. drives a convertible. struts himself around the block around evening time, toting his pussy-should-be-at-the-end-of-a-mop, dog, smoking a cigar twice his size. he's a bit of a mini me. works out to glisten. he's all about steamed chicken, veggies and maintaining his mini lean man physique. I'm sure I'm the anti-christ to him. he probably thinks if he stares at me too long he'll catch fat. I should send him a letter telling him it's not contagious, but I prefer when he quickly looks away.

yesterday morning we were both getting into our cars at the same time. I had jewcifer with me and in the creepiest fucking tone, he said, he's your buddy, isn't he? I thought, eww. that is so porn and so wrong. I said, no more than your dog is your buddy. he looked surprised. I raised an eyebrow and said, the way you said that was creepy. sorry. but, it was.

as if. louie is my son. I know divorce lawyers. believe me, I've heard the yarns. and, no matter how you slice it, it's rape. if someone can't consent, you are raping them. it's a boundary.

 

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