Guess What I Got!

This Is Me

I saw my stalker again at the gym today and was struck by how cute he is.  I haven’t seen him in a few weeks due to my avid avoidance and the fact that he’s been going to other gyms a lot (he told me). Then I saw him getting friendly with the guy I had been staring at. They clearly have “met” before. Oh no he di’in! I’m not nearly as easy as I like to think I am, but please continue chasing me, kthx. Or we can have a threeway.

I ate a bunch of cookies today and hate myself.

And I don’t enjoy wearing these glasses. I cannot keep them clean, which frustrates me to no end. On top of that, they’re not really all that comfy. And I think that the more I wear them, the more dependent on them I am. When they’re on, I feel like I’m looking at layers of two dimensions, rather than three. I feel like I have a lazy eye when I’m not wearing them. Srsly. And that is unacceptable because I used to work with a chick I called Beatrice on my last blog and I never knew when she was talking to me because one eye was always looking off in the distance. I don’t even know if it worked, but I would constantly find myself trying to jump into its alleged line of sight. “Beatrice, I’m over here…”

One time she told me she was going to keep an eye on me. oRLY. I died.

The other nite I walked into the kitchen where it was dark save for a bright green LED on some appliance. I thought something was attacking me and started slapping my arms around frantically in an effort to scare it off. This is Texas, maybe it was a swarm of bats in my kitchen. Ghost bats you can only see and not touch. Then I realized it was the reflection of the light off my frames and promptly stabbed myself in the neck felt stupid. Glare is a problem, too. I walked into a large store today and the glare from all the lights was like fireworks. Felt like I was looking into a kaleidoscope.

You people have been dealing with this all your lives?

They are cute on me, though.

Found

This mp3 circa 1999. One of the greatest songs evah. Not that there’s anything wrong with some grit, but he sings it a slightly less abrasively these days.

HAZ!

Um, you know I bought these within 30 seconds of knowing they existed, right? This is out of control.  Hello mai naim is Sayum and I haz a holic and I am sumbody.

Shit

Well… I was about to bid you all adieu with this thing. And then my hosting company charged for another six months of hosting. You’re stuck with me!

I bet he thinks this post is about him

I’ve been watching Torchwood. I never saw the episodes of Doctor Who that had Captain Jack’s character, but I still had a clue who he was or what was going on, at least to some degree.

I had a little trouble getting into it at first. The writing is very different than anything I’m used to. Things tend to move quickly and sometimes storylines have a bizarre factor I can’t even explain*. All at once, the whole show can be under- and over-dramatic. That said, it is clearly a character driven show and their relationships are far more important than the details, scenes or storylines. It’s a lot like Buffy in that sense, and you’ll either love it or hate it.

And I love it. Gorl PLEASE**, do you think I would whip out a Buffy reference if I didn’t? You don’t know me like that! I am insanely in love with Captain Jack and John Barrowman. Gods, I want him to scoop me up and hold me up against his person as I weep uncontrollably and he’ll caress the back of my velour head and tell me it’s all gonna be okay and for once in my life, I’ll believe him, because he just came back from the dead again, as all hot men should do after you murder them in a crime of passion even though all you really wanted was to fill his gaint void because you love him sooooooo much. Sigh.

And - ack - Gwen and Owen are characters that all too often manage to be completely intolerable. And yet they’re lovable. Tosh and Ianto are adorable. I’ve only seen the first season, but I have the second downloading at the moment. Should be done by tomorrow. I’m disappointed to read that the third will be more of a mini-series. I’m not down with that. But there are books and I still have to see CJ’s Doctor Who epis, so that’ll keep me sated for a while.

* - I could be ruined by Lost. It was the only tv show I gave a shit about for a while, and it derailed for so long that I’m not sure I can ever be a target demographic again.

** - I tried to find John Barrowman’s latest album online and couldn’t so I downloaded it illegally and now I sit here listening to it feeling like I have ascended to a new level of gayness and that maybe tomorrow when I get up I’ll open my eyes and see the world with my new Rainbow Vision®™. And maybe it’ll have picture-in-picture and one channel can always be Captain Jack. I do have the attention span for that, for what it’s worth.

Oh Snap

Henry Rollins once said something to the effect that when you waste his time, you are slowly murdering him. I feel the same way. And I feel the same way about my emotions, which is a word just dying to be italicized. When you waste my emotions, you are murdering me, as well. But probably much more quickly than if you were just walking slowly down a narrow aisle or making me use your “sophisticated” voice recognition phone-bot who forces me to listen to her commands before I can choose which one to say back to her which she never understands the first two times instead of just pressing 1-2-1-1 to get to my bank balance.

On second thought, those do murder me pretty fast.

—

Starbucks, to which I am neither stranger nor friend, has a new brew they’re calling Pike Place Roast. There are billboards all over town that read “If you like coffee, try it.” Oh it sounds simple and innocent, doesn’t it, but there is some level of deception and brainwashing involved. I find myself wondering how how many millions of dollars and focus groups it took to decide on that line. Reminds me of Abercrombie and their “hello, how are you?” which required a marketing firm - who worked  on it “intensely.”

I’m not going to try it… but it is out of rebellion, spite or the fact that I don’t, in fact, “like coffee.” I know what I like and what I don’t like at Starbucks. And as far as plain coffee goes, I can taste the difference between the good shit and the cheap shit, and decaf. That’s the extent of it. Clearly I am not their target audience, and yet I still feel violated.

I Feel Like Clark Kent

On a whim today while I was out, I stopped in an optometrist’s office to see if I could get an exam today without an appointment. My whole life, my vision has been better than excellent, except that over the last few years, my right eye’s vision has deteriorated a little. My father’s almost legally blind in his, so I just assumed I was on a downward spiral. Also, someone mentioned that I should get my eyes examined since reading exhausts them. I have never had a proper eye exam, at least not one that didn’t occur in the nurse’s office at a public school.

Anyway, I was there for about an hour, but I got the exam, and the doctor told me pretty much what I already knew: that my right eye is nearsighted and my left eye is farsighted, and the battle between is the source of much eyestrain and headache. He wrote me a prescription. Apparently my left eye, the one with the near-perfect vision, has a tiny, minute stigmatism. Otherwise the Rx would be for the right eye only.

He used drops to induce dilation, and after the exam I exited the building and to my surprise, I had opened the door and stepped onto the surface of the sun. Pure, white, brightness. There was no color. Swear to God, I felt like a vampire and that smoke had to be coming out of my eyeballs. I went back in and a few minutes later I stumbled thru the nuclear fusion to my car where thankfully the combination of the new, dark window tint and my sunglasses made driving no problem.

Anyway, I went home to check up on my health insurance’s optical hardware coverage, which basically amounts to “10-15% off select models,” which I rightfully interpreted as “anything your gramps would’ve worn in the 80’s, and also, go fuck your mother.” In other words, full price was the quote. And I knew this was going to be an uphill battle because I have a big head and it’s hard to find anything that really fits right.

I tried a few big name retailers before ending up at LensCrafters. I immediately tried on and fell in love with a pair of shiny, black Ray Bans. They were the only ones in the store that fit right and weren’t made for old people. There was a pair of D&G’s that looked alright, but not quite. Anyway, I got them… in about an hour, just like the commercial said. Oh, and the manager of the store hit on me and told me I could come back “any..time..[you] want.” Kthx.

Results Post #1

Fifteen pounds lighter, and it’s only been a month (maybe a little more?). The pants I bought that were too tight before I started going to the gym are now a bit saggy, and my ass feels so muscular I can’t help but rub it all day - which only compounds my signature awkward mystique. I’m not sure anyone but me can see the results with their eyes, though they clearly see that I have a sore ass.

I’m not giving it the most astringent effort, so my results surprise me a little. My goal is eventually to fit back into my “hot” pants purchased in late 2006 when I was 25ish pounds lighter than I currently am. My hag forced me to buy them from the Guess! store for the high, high price of $85 because she said they looked so… “hot.” Also so that, for the rest of my life, she can make fun of me for spending $85 on a pair of jeans. I will wear them until every last thread is rotten. I know, the gayer among you are scoffing, “only $85?! what kind of cheap white trash faggot are you?!” I am the kind who couldn’t shop in the Guess! store until 2006. I think I only wore them a handful of times, so they have miles and miles to go. Until then, they’re mothsmeat, so I need to hurry.

I’m going to post some measurements here mostly because I’m too lazy to start some kind of workout diary when all of 5 of you read this anyway. Apparently, according to the Greeks, who were quite familiar with the hotness, these are my ideal measurements, slightly rounded (they are bold, my current measurements are in italics):

chest: 48.75, 48
hip: 41, 43
bicep: 17.5, 14.25
forearm: 14, 12
thigh: 26, 25.5
calf: 16, 17.5
neck: 18, 18

Keep in mind that there is a muscle-versus-fat level involved in these measurements, or more specifically, their ideal guy is muscular at these measurements and I am really not at mine. Except my calves, they are meaty. Either way, I feel a little more optimistic after having taken these and compared. Maybe I don’t have such a long way to go.

Yargh.

Anxiety. Sexually charged post. The gangster stalker finally came out and asked me for my number and I gave it to him. I told him I was busy tonight - I’m not - but he called anyway and I didn’t answer.  I’m just not sure how this first conversation is supposed to go; doesn’t he know that sexual innuendo is best left to texting? It should go like this.

” do u like the cock?”
“yes, luv the cock, very homo, read my blog”
“want sck ur cock?”
“sure, sck it is good”
“u sck mine 2″
“duh”
“fck u n ass? hard?”
“i dunno bout all that. if 2 big, sck is all, sry kthx”

I prefer that. Then I can stop being coy and staying naked for a long period of time while I change so he can stare at my junk. And he does - every single time. I found out today that he’s 23. I’m not sure if I revealed this in the earlier post and I’m too lazy to look, but he has a girlfriend and a kid, too. And if he wasn’t outrageously cute, I wouldn’t even be discussing this. But who am I to deny myself of him, or better yet, him of me? This is so DARKsided.

Hit me with your moral judgments, though I’m not sure they’ll have any effect.