The hormones are a little out of control today. I had to go run outside and wander around for a little bit because I was getting squirrelly.
Let us contrast two situations:
A few weeks ago, the comic guy asking me out. An all-around "ugh" experience. I have to admit that one of the first things I'll think about is "do I picture myself with this person in the carnal sense?" The answer was a resounding HELL NO there. And kind of made me gag and want to go into convulsions as well.
Mr. Lassi. Sadly, no, he has not asked me out. (I do the 12 year old tactic of steering clear and lusting over my object from afar.) But same question as above? It's like TECHNICOLOR. I get this evil little smirk on my face and then I have to shake my head and refocus on my word processing jobs.
Meeeeeow. He's gotta be near 6'5" tall (which is unusual - I've never seen a guy of his background THAT tall and who looks like they could be a linebacker). Plenty to hold onto there *drools, then smacks self on the head*. FOCUS! FOCUS! FOCUS! Pretty words on Microsoft Word! And oh my god, he's got this really deep voice and don't ask me what that makes me think about. I've got tinglies just typing it.
Dear God. For my 30th birthday, could I PLEASE GET LAID by a decent guy?!
Yeah. Not likely.
2 comments:
You could always donate your body to medical science if you're not using it.
You just no help at all, are YOU! I would donate myself to a nunnery if it weren't for all that god crap. Because I'm getting just as little as nuns do.
Post a Comment