Oh my.

Has anyone seen this video? It's of a yummy young guy getting his balls waxed for the first time.

I've mentioned in the past how contorted faces are my favorite part of watching porn. And, even though that the camera angles don't let you see the goods, this is still a fucking hot video.

Republican Quiz

I am: -3% Republican.

"You're a damn Commie!  Where's Tailgunner Joe when we need him?"

Are You A Republican?

I don't know how I can be -3% Republican, but then again, I'm not a math major.

what I'm like in the sack

I few days ago, I posted about one of Heart's friends from California who is big into astrology. Lately, in my off time, I've been futzing around, finding out what the stars have to say about me. Amazingly, it's usually accurate.

I'm posting what Astro.com says about my love, flirtation, and relationships. It's pretty dead on. I edited the parts about the moons and suns in various houses, but the info is still there. I figured this would gives better information than those questions from that meme (which I will answer, I will). Besides, it talks about what I'm like in the sack. You sickos'll love that.

You have an affable, affectionate nature, emphasizing physical expression. The physical love you seek is rather playful and childlike, and others see you as outgoing and friendly.

You seem to have an open, straightforward nature without too much complexity: self- confident and charming, with an honest natural social grace. This may reflect your inner nature, but as often as not, your cheerful, outgoing appearance hides a much more complex and inward-turned personality.

However, the disadvantage of this duality is that you may feel pressured to sustain an image that you don't truly feel within. However, for true and lasting communication, you must establish inner rapport with your partners; that will determine the success of the relationship.

Leo is the sign of the lover, and the Sun here gives your personality grace, generosity and charm. You give and receive love freely, and you surround your partner with tenderness and affection.

Your innate tendency is to lavish affection on your partner, which may startle or overwhelm someone who is not accustomed to it. You can give out too much of good thing.

Do not expect your lover to return your affections in the same style. Even the deepest love can be expressed in many different ways, which you may have to search for.

You are a very loyal partner, as long as you are given freedom to be. You must also grant that same right to your lover and avoid possessiveness or jealousy. Loyalty comes from the heart, and you will know through feelings rather than actions if a partner is right for you.

Whenever you have problems in a relationship, analyze them with your feelings, not your mind.

You have a strong sense of privacy and individuality. You disclose your inner feelings only in the most intimate circumstances and only to those whom you feel are your closest friends. Such openness is, in fact, the highest honor and token of love that you can bestow upon a friend or lover.

Because of your natural reticence, you don't actively seek new relationships, but rather tend to wait for others to seek you out.

Others may see your personal life as quite mysterious, attracting speculation about behind- closed-doors affairs. They will seldom be able to assess your private life accurately, but the very mystery will make you seem more attractive and desirable.

Since you were born at sunrise, you are indeed the early bird and usually have your choice of desirable partners when there is competition.

You tend to dominate a relationship simply through the strength of your presence. Your talent for selling yourself will allow you to get your way, but you should use this talent with respect, not abuse it. You have the potential to be either a vibrant, glowing personality or a crashing bore, depending on how wisely you use this gift.

Thus, in seeking a partner, do not make conquests gratuitously; instead, pursue only someone who presents real potential for a creative relationship.

Even in scenes that would cause others to be downhearted or discouraged, you can find a spark of laughter and mirth that brightens the situation and makes it more enjoyable.

You should find a lover who shares your easygoing and broad approach to life.

In the long run, your style of loving is more in the spirit of a warm, friendly fireplace on a late fall night: merry, comforting, the essence of happy comradeship.

For you, the ideal relationship is one that provides an emotional bulwark for time of trouble or distress. You are happiest with a partner who is absolutely true to you, who is always there when needed.

Partly for that reason, you will probably fall into a live-in relationship, because it provides the greatest opportunities for warmth and expression of your love. You are not able to give all you have in a single night, and both you and your lover will find it far more satisfying to live together twenty-four hours a day.

Ideally your partner should cherish the wealth of care and thoughtfulness that you can provide.

This position indicates that you have a generous helping of desire and a healthy sexual appetite.

Your taste runs to all-over-the-body sensuality rather than to localized tastes.

You aren't concerned with impressive accouterments; you just want pleasure to be readily available.

If there is any drawback to this position, it is that you demand high standards and will not stand for stinginess or boredom.

This position lends a good deal of social charm and grace as well as physical attractiveness.

You are naturally responsive to other people's needs, and many will look to you for sympathy and understanding. Don't let anyone mistake your empathy and diplomacy for weakness, or people will try to manipulate you and take advantage of your willingness to listen.

Anyone with such a great natural advantage should use it to seduce and enfold a desired lover rather than take him or her by storm.

You harbor a desire for a long time before allowing it to break out, and then it is very intense. For this reason, your lover may not be truly aware of the nature or extent of your needs. It is wise to express yourself verbally beforehand so there will be no imbalance on your partner's part.

Because of this rather dominating high energy, you often rule a relationship, directly or indirectly, particularly in its physical aspects. You need a partner who is open to sexual adventure and self-abandonment, someone who can experience your kind of sexuality.

True communication takes a while for you to develop, but once established, the ties are very deep and not easily broken.

You tend to be a careful and thoughtful lover who creates an all-encompassing sexual experience for your partner. You are able to transmit a certain intimacy and security through lovemaking that few others can achieve.

To enhance this quality, you should express your love in somewhat protected, familiar circumstances that complement your style.

Although your sexual technique is pretty fundamental, your manner of loving has considerable strength, and your partner can always depend on you in a pinch.

Admit it. You all want me.

Cinderella's Big Score

And so Cinderella, with a knife in her hand, slowly climbed the staircase.

Oh I hate them I hate them I hate them. I’ll show them. There’s no reason for them to be treating me like this. Those little bitches, always bossing me around, making me their slave. I’ll show them. We’ll see how they like it when they wake up tomorrow morning and try to slip their warty stinky feet in my glass slipper and find that their toes have been cut off! Ha! Then the prince will have to choose me and once I’m a princess I’ll throw those tramps in the dungeon faster than you can say “CIN-DER-ELLA!” God I hate them. Their stupid voices and their stupid faces and their stupid… fatness. They can’t do anything right. It’s always “Cinderella, I have an itch on my nose—Scratch It” or “Cinderella, this food is too salty.” Well you stupid bitch that’s because the saltshaker’s in your chubby little hand. Ugh. Those goddamned cows, always ruining things. They’ll never call me “Cinder-slut” again. If they hadn’t driven my father to suicide, with their nitpicking and harping and their disapproving snootiness, this never would have happened. Oh Daddy I’m going to make you so proud of me. I’ll be a Princess in the morning, just you see. SHIT! The floorboard creaked and I don’t know if I added enough valerian root in their tea to knock them out completely. All right Cinderella, you can do this. Just breathe Cinderella. You have to do this. The little bitches deserve all this and more—I wonder if I should stop off at the linen closet and pick up something to mop up the blood with… Oh I know! Stepmother’s wedding dress! She ruined my life with that dress, and now I’ll ruin her daughters! I can’t wait until they wake up tomorrow morning and find that they’re missing their toes! The pigs will feast in the morning! HA! The prince will be so disgusted he won’t even look at them—those bitches are toast!

Let's all go to the library

There are something like 22 libraries on campus, and there's a lot of books. Still, imagine my surprise to find a how-to manual on tearooms on the shelves.

And no, I didn't check it out. But I thought about it.

(I'll be answering your questions sometime this week)

So....

According to my calculations, less than .5% of the people who read this blog yesterday left questions for me to answer. I'm no math major, but that's a miniscule amount.

Is this because I am an open book, or are you sick of the meme already, or is it because you guys all hate me and only check this blog out of habit? I mean, c'mon people.

I better have a healthy amount of questions by Monday, that's all I've got to say.

Eh.

Yeah, I've got nothing. I guess I'll do that 20 questions meme thing that's going around. Whatshisface sort of passive-aggressively tagged me with it the other day.

You've seen the drill-- leave a comment and ask me a question or two or three or four, and I'll answer the ones I feel like answering later this week. Whatevah. I'll come up with some interesting posts again soon, I hope.

Music Meme

I got stuck with one of those damn music memes over at my livejournal. I'm not posting the entire meme here, just the part where it asks you to list the 5 songs that you've been listening to a lot lately, or the songs that mean the most to you. Since I'm posting links to the songs, I figured someone might enjoy this selection. They're all yousendit.com links, so they'll expire in a week or so. Happy downloading!


Patti Smith--Land (lyrics) This song is probably the greatest single influence on the person I grew up to be.

Nina Simone-- Funkier Than a Mosquito's Tweeter (lyrics) I think I've posted this song before, but it's awesome enough to merit a second chance for downloading.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs--Maps (lyrics) The ex's (Peter) and my song. Heart and I don't have a song yet, but when we do, I'll be sure to post it. It'll probably be something by David Bowie, though.

Hawksley Workman--Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off (lyrics) The bridge is him saying "Cacophony? Caca phony", which I find hilarious. Plus, the ending is pretty sweet.

Le Tigre--Keep On Livin (lyrics) This song, on repeat, got me through a lot of rough times.

Question!

Heart went to California to go to college, way back when before he needed the surgery. As a result, he's got some pseudo-hippie friends with whom he occasionally keeps in contact. He mentioned to one friend, who is way into psychology and astrology, our recent habit for going for ice cream pretty much every time we go out.

She responded that eating ice cream and sweets together is a manifestation of a couple's repressed erotic desires, and the fact that we get ice cream together so often indicated that we're rather kinky in the bedroom.

She later said, in her matter-of-fact way, that instead of repressing our desire for each other by eating ice cream, he should shove me in a bush and strip me naked. That way, we'll both be satisfied and we'll save money on ice cream and on gym memberships.

Hmm...

So, gentle readers of the blog, which should we chose? Kinky ice cream debauchery or healthy outdoor shrubbery sex? Keep in mind that it still gets cold at night; this is Wisconsin.

This post has nothing to do with Jake Gyllenhaal

A slightly better story from the hospital: I thought of the artwork of Steve Walker when retelling this story, and I love his paintings.


In addition to heart problems, Heart (the boyfriend) has an awkward curving of the spine. It's nothing serious or anything. It just means that lying on his back on an operating table for 8+ hours caused a pressure sore on his lower back. The doctors suggested that he sit up and apply some ice.

"I wonder what the nurses would think if they walked in right now. My ass is hanging out of my gown, I'm sitting on an icepack, I'm holding hands with you, and you're crossing your legs at the knees, and I'm resting my head on your shoulder. It's a shame you're not a photography major, Bob. This would make an awesome Kodak moment."


A picture is worth a thousand words, and really long poems are boring, and so you're stuck with that mental picture. Maybe you had to be there.


It was fucking gay.

Flutter

I'd like to think that I was the one who was making my boyfriend's heart to flutter, but since I'm not a superfluous AV node in the left ventricle, that's not the case.

I stepped off the bus at 6:45, and made my way to his room. By 7:15, I had made my way up the fifth floor, west wing. Seeing that the sign on the door said "Family Only," I got worried. I also got sent to the waiting room. Fortunately there was a Katherine Hepburn documentary sort of a thing on. Not that I was about to pay much attention, but it was nice that it was there. The sofas were comfortable, too.

Around 7:45, I got a phone call on my cell from my boyfriend, who will from here on out have the moniker of Heart, for obvious reasons. It turns out that he asked for no visitors except for me (his family had come and were long gone), but the nurse put up the wrong sign. The ugly bulldyke lesbian. I had been waiting for in the waiting room for a half hour for nothing.

Because no one will understand (hell, I'm not completely sure I understand, either), I won't go into specifics. I will say that he is partially better---maybe. They weren't able to fix the thing that was wrong with him, but they were able to fix some smaller things which could counteract the effects. Those smaller things could also be what had kept him from dying for the past five years. They can't really tell if that was a good thing or not until he, you know, has a heart attack or something. He can't even be put on medicine, because if the operation was a success, the medicine would do things that are bad and complicated-sounding.

Three different doctors and two nurses stopped by while I was visiting, and all of them asked if we were brothers. We shrugged and said no. "Oh. You guys sort of have a family resemblance. I would have guessed that you were brothers." We didn't realize what they were getting at.

When visiting hours ended two hours later, we got it.

I asked if I could get a pass to stay for a bit longer, the bulldyke lesbian nurse replied "Oh yeah--family (wink wink) is allowed to stay overnight, if they feel it's necessary. Just take this note down to security, and they'll give you an overnight pass and you can stay as long as you'd like."

Well, what do you know? For the first time in my life, I met a bulldyke lesbian I DIDN'T want to punch in the face.

And so, until midnight or so, I got to do the sickeningly sweet thing of getting into his hospital bed with him and cuddle while watching Comedy Central. All the tests and checkups that had happened until 9 curiously immediately stopped, and I came back from getting my overnight security pass to find that the shades had been drawn. That could either be a time thing, or it could be the meaning of the bulldyke lesbian's second wink, I'm not sure. But I do know that my visit was the best thing that had happened to him that day.

At least, that's what he told me.

Putting 2 and 2 together

Long story short, and trust me, this is a long story that I am making short, but basically, the boyfriend had heart surgery (rather, an 'invasive procedure') for eight hours yesterday. Not in an emergency sort of way; he's been preparing for this for the better part of the past two years. He told me about his illness and this operation when we first met, so it wasn't a surprise for me either (though I still don't fully understand what actually happened). This is actually the second time he's had the operation, and, like last time, the surgery only exacerbated the problem, and he's much worse off than he was before the operation.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Bah.

It's National Poetry Month or something stupid like that, so imagine that I actually spent the time to find a poem about keeping fingers crossed and hoping that a certain operation goes okay, and then posted it for today.

No, not mine.

I always hate it when people say things like "Can't talk about it now, but man it's good" or "Details later, but I can't talk about it right now" but I'm doing it anyway. Bite me.

FAVOR!

If there is a doctor who reads this, specifically an electrophysiologist or someone familiar with catheter ablation, could you please email me ASAP? It's really important.

It's serious like a heart attack--pun intended only if it makes someone email me faster.

Giggle Giggle

I had a mythology test the other day, and finally cracked open the textbook. He teaches directly out of the textbook, so I usually just pay attention in class and use the notes he puts online, but I was reviewing. Man, this book has it's moments of funny--here's a quote about the birth of Perseus.

But Zeus fell in love with her and came in the shower of gold that fell into her womb.

The textbook also accompanies that phrase with a picture, which I would post here, but it's got a naked chick on it, and I don't want naked chicks messing up my front page. Here's a link to it though--it looks much dirtier in black and white, trust me.

I highlighted that line in the textbook, and now giggle whenever I flip through the book. I'm so immature.

It was his turn.

Steps to make your roommate take out the garbage.

1. Find roommate.
2. Make fist.
3. Say "If you don't take out the garbage
by the time I get back from class, I'm lubing
up my fist and grabbing your colon.... from
the inside!"
4. Go to class.
5. Return to find garbage emptied.

I need to remember this for next time.

A post where I don't mention the boyfriend, not even once.

Most people hate the dentist. I'm sure I could search the internet and find some statistic, but I'd much rather make one up. 78% of people express some sort of dread about visiting the dentist. These are normally rational human beings, often with a proper sense of duty and self-preservation, but even the most steadfast hypochondriac won't set foot into a dentist's office without spurting blood and ultimatums. Somehow that scene from Little Shop of Horrors manifested itself into the collective psyche, and caused everyone to hatehatehatehatehate going to the dentist.

In this vein, I'd like to tell you about my recent trip to the dentist, and why I'm a member of that 78%.

My dentist is this short little balding man with a habit of asking really personal questions. He's also a master of turning the questions to himself, which makes it somewhat easier.

"Oh, you go to Madison? I thought about going there, but I decided against it. I went to Minnesota--have you been there? It's a much prettier campus that Madison, at least in my opinion. I had friends who went to Madison, way back in the dinosaur ages, ha ha, and they didn't like it there. They said that it was too big and that everyone got drunk all the time--that's not why you chose to go to Madison, right? You don't seem to have a beer belly, so that can't be it. Maybe it's to score with all the drunk chicks, I don't know. Anyways, I'm going to have to ask you to open your mouth so I can stick this inbetween your teeth and take some X-rays."

All right. Fine. Whatever. It's my spring break, I'd really much rather be doing anything else other than letting this creepy guy, whom I could squash like a bug if I were to stand up and lift my right leg, probe my mouth with various kinky instruments.

It was the standard dentist visit, until he started needling away at my molars, and he finally clammed up and got to work. He reached over to a little radio on the counter and turned it up. 4 o'clock. It must be time for Dr. Laura.

And so, while everyone else's dentist stories are filled with blood and gum destruction, mine was coupled with fire and brimstone! Lovely me. The first story, of which she spent most of her time ranting about, was about a young man who wasn't sure if his new wife was a true American citizen. Not in a "She doesn't have a yellow bumper sticker on her car and yesterday she said something that sounded like criticism of the president" sort of way, but in a "She's Mexican and I find it hard to believe that the entire family got green cards all at the same time" sort of way.
Immediately, Dr. Laura's human face was ripped off and you could hear the voice of Satan booming throughout the studio.

"You need to call your local INS and report your entire family. I can't believe that you would even hesitate. There are some duties that come before marriage, and you're duty as an American citizen outweighs whatever marital feelings you may hold for this wetb-- (you could tell she wanted to use an ethnic slur, but stopped herself) In fact, I'm tempted to trace the call and turn you in to your local police myself. Aiding and abetting an illegal immigrant is a felony. A felony. These people are ruining America. They're clogging the hospitals. They're slowing down the highways. They're stealing jobs from honest American citizens. They're making it harder to ensure the safety of American citizens. They're the reasons why your taxes are so high. You have to promise me right now that you are going to hang up the phone and report your wife to the INS. You have to promise me right now."

Hearing that I had no cavities was a welcome change from the hatred spewing forth from her mouth. Her next caller was a mother who suspected her son of 'the sin that must not speak it's name.' Yes, she did actually call it that, and I'm tempted to steal that line. Fortunately, I was done, and so I only got to hear Dr. Laura's first few sentences--

"This is not your son's fault. This is your fault as a mother and a provider."

On that note I left the office.



And that is why I hate the dentist.

When My Boy Walks Down the Street

When My Boy Walks Down the Street.


Let me know if you have trouble downloading this song. It's a .wma file, and so sometimes I had trouble downloading it from the server. But I asked someone else, and she had no troubles whatsoever, so whatevah.

I posted some lyrics to this song as an away message, and the boyfriend was wondering who wrote them. And so I'm posting them. Such an easy post.

Grand pianos crash together
when my boy walks down the street.
There are whole new kinds of weather
when he walks with his new beat.
Everyone sings hallelujah
when my boy walks down the street.
Life just kind of dances through ya
from your smile down to your feet.

Amazing.
He's a whole new form of life,
blue eyes blazing,
and he's going to be my wife.

The world does the hula-hula
when my boy walks down the street.
Everyone thinks he's Petula,
so big and yet so petite.
Butterflies turn into people
when my boy walks down the street.
Maybe he should be illegal.
He just makes life too complete.

Oh, shadows of echoes of memories.
Oh, things that he brings that he found in the sea.
Oh, shadows of echoes of memories of songs.
Oh, how could he know that it won't be long.

Grand pianos crash together
when my boy walks down the street.
There are whole new kinds of weather
when he walks with his new beat.
Everyone sings hallelujah
when my boy walks down the street.
Life just kind of dances through ya
from your smile down to your feet.

less than sign three

For poetry class this week, the assignment was to create a 'found' poem; to take prose in an unexpected place and form a poem out of it. I used a quote from my favorite book, Martin Bauman, which had a special parellel to my last relationhip. Little did I think that I would be able to post that poem, and have it be topical and more relevant to this past week.

No, his name isn't Eli. Eli's the guy in the book. My guy's got a generic common guy name, like Bob or Peter or Matt, but you don't get to know that. He'll probably be referred to as 'the boy' or 'the boyfriend.' I haven't decided how much of this is going to be for me, and how much I'm willing to share, at least at the moment.

I don't want to start overanalyzing anything. It's been so long, and I just want to hang out and enjoy myself.

And I'm enjoying myself. I'm totally smitten, even though today only marks the one week anniversary of our meeting.

I have no idea what effect this relationship will have on my posting schedule. We're spending a fair about of time together, which, if this schedule continues, leaves little time for me to come home and write some posts. I'll do my best, I promise.

Also, in a fit of weakness, he now knows about this blog, so I'll have to say nice things about him.

Which means that it's a good thing that I only have glowing things to say about him.

HE'S MINE!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!one!!!juan!!


I suppose that now that I have a boyfriend, I shouldn't care so much, but goddamnit, he's supposed to marry me and not that hussy.

It's funny because it's true!

A recent comment by Jay:

I noticed your post includes the word "huge" followed 42 words later by "Jonson." Considering the impact of 42 (in life, the universe and everything) and then your choice to end with a reference to your boyfriend (yay! - by the way). Are we to read in-between the lines?

.

*giggles, nods head up and down*

Pumpkin-eater

I had such a scary 50 minutes.

The professor walks into class, timed exactly as the bell was ringing. At first I was impressed at how well-timed his entrances were, until once before break I found out that he waits in a side hallway until one minute before the bell was to ring. He holds a large pile of papers in his left hand, the 6-8 page paper on comedic drama which we turned in, like, a million years ago.

"I have good news and I have bad news."

That's never a good thing to hear when discussing midterms.

"The bad news is is that 8 students will open their papers and find an F, and will likely find an F for their semester grades as well. These unfortunate souls were all caught plagiarizing. One particularly daft student even plagiarized from an article I recently wrote on Behn's reliance on Hobbesian values in The Rover.

"The good news is that I'm only allowed to give out so many F's per semester, and these 8 students have put me at my quota. The rest of you have a pretty poor likelihood of failing this class. I'm willing to be that more of you have plagiarized, but I don't have the patience to be typing snippets into google and amazon and whatever else."

I gulped, and probably looked really guilty. My emotions are as prominent on my sleeve as a big Calvin Klien logo on those tshirts that were popular in the nineties. There's only about 45 people in the class, so eight is a huge percentage.

Now don't get me wrong. It's not like I went to cheatnotes.com or anything that actually qualifies as plagarism. Well, maybe.

See, sometimes if I'm having problems on a paper (and I had had problems on the inherent metatheatricality of Jonson) I'll go online and steal a topic sentence, and then write the paper. I type the stolen sentence in capital letters, so I can remember to delete it and replace it with something else. Once or twice I've forgotten to do that, and my teachers left question marks in the margins. I was hoping I didn't do that again.

I've never been more pleased with a C+ in my life. Then again, I've never seen a C+ in my life, so it's a new feeling. I'm not pleased enough to get used to it.



Besides, my boyfriend(!!!) said he'd kick my ass if I don't start studying more. No foolin.