t dances in
I went on the best. date. ever. last night. He's amazing. As soon as we sat down at the coffeeshop, it was like talking to someone I've known for years. And we talked for hours. It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Whee!
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
t dances in
I went on the best. date. ever. last night. He's amazing. As soon as we sat down at the coffeeshop, it was like talking to someone I've known for years. And we talked for hours. It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Whee!
That proved to be about the least helpful helpful thing I've ever attempted to do. I'm about to fall apart. Trying to keep it together long enough to make a pizza to see if some food in my system would help.
If not, I'm off to the ER myself. God damn it.
Ok,so, my second instinct was right.(I promise I'll sort out my life and find a happier tag. The Otis Redding ones were nice, if you don't think about plane crashes, which I wasn't.) Now I am, though, naturally. Hm... maybe after this book I should have a Gospel Period or something. I think I've just painted my soft underbelly black, Tep. A lot of it is a pose, but I'm not telling how much. Some of it is very real, but I'm not quite Emma Zoole yet.
VW, *buy* the pizza. Don't try to make it.
{{vw}} trying to help should not be traumatic!
vw, if you need to, call. Please.
{{vw}} I hope food helps.
((vw}} Have ice cream, too. Unless it makes you sick, of course.
I promise I'll sort out my life and find a happier tag.
You don't need to have a happier tag just to placate me; in fact, your tag can be misanthropic as hell, as long as you aren't mired in gloom and broken glass, is all.
Yahoo has got to stop playing to my porny brain. They've got these continual mortgage ads that have buttons for each of the states. NOrmally it's some hyper-elongated pig or deer or something. But occasionally there's a sidebar of a very tall glass of milk--at least, it's something white--and at the very top is a gingerbread man who's hip deep in the white stuff. He's got his hands on either side of the "glass" and he's rocking back and forth. Slowly. He closes his eyes on the--well, we'll cut to the chase--thrust, then he leans back and opens his eyes. His mouth is open in what's suppose to be a grimace of terror, I think. The white stuff piled on top of his head does not help the image. He just keeps rocking and grimacing.
I get it off my screen as soon as I can, just out of pity for the poor guy.