The last week has been a rather busy one. Between my daily tasks at the Foundation, preparing for what will surely be a horrid year for cherries and apples (maybe I need to reconsider the vineyards…), and my chemistry course at a local University. I barely have enough time to explore porn, post random tweets, or enjoy a bit of absinthe while playing the part of a tiny Lego Jedi in a Playstation 3 game. Oy gevalt! I need a vacation.
I agree with the Dead Kennedys. Kinky sex does make the world go around.
It was recently brought to my attention that when the link that indicates a page attached to this site (blog? blite? whatever this is…), a message is displayed stating that the page is not present. Well, it is there. Only, it cannot be seen by anyone yet. I know, I know…I could temporarily remove the link until the page is ready, but where is the fun in that? Just kidding. To be completely honest (which, by my indication could imply that I may not in fact be completely honest), I have been driving myself into a fit because of that page. You see, in addition to my charming sexiness, narcissism and occasional wit, I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Later in life, it was indicated that I also have ADHD. What does this have to do with my page? Well, I have not finished that one page and it has made it difficult for me to sit and write a blog until I can finish that page. That page is a humongous source of anxiety to me. Upon further thought, having to face the prospect of said page has made me really want a drink. Maybe absinthe is soon on the horizon.
I hate to write numbers. Unless I am doing math. If I am writing, I like to write the number out rather than the numeric representation. Mentioning the Playstation 3 because I am compelled to write out the name as it is rather than suit myself and write the number out gives me significant cognitive dissonance. This is what happens when one has conflicts in compulsions. …and people wonder while I like sedatives.
That last paragraph was difficult to write. I know what I wanted to say and now wonder if I was able to properly convey the message. If I was, hooray. If I was not, then obviously you are having trouble understanding me at such a distance. I recommend moving to an Eastern corner of the room, it may help.
What the Hell is going on with all of these people asking for the President’s birth certificate? Really? Have we really gotten so paranoid about immigrants that we have to ask the President of the United States to show us his papers?
Currently, I am watching WWE Smackdown while I write this entry. There are twenty sweaty, musclebound men fondling each other in a big playpen in their underwear. This is entertainment. We tell boys that this is how men behave. Then we are surprised when we find Tommy groping Johnny’s basket while making out under the pool table. Pray out the gay! Why is he gay? I never raised him that way!!! Well, if you give your little boy half-naked men to idolize, do not be surprised if he has a liberal approach to love.
People often ask me if I am gay. I never answer their question. At least, not outright. I typically answer by showing the person a porn video on my iPhone. If it is a guy, I will show him some hot lesbians. If it is a chick, I show her some hot lesbian porn. No one ever gets what I mean. They think I mean that I like hot lesbians in porn. Which is true, but not why I showed them that. Showing the other porn is more personal and like foreplay to me. If I share that, I may want to see you naked.
Well, I have gone on long enough for this evening, methinks. Tomorrow, maybe I will try to tackle that page and stop driving myself crazy about it. More than likely, I will not.