I’m the kind of girl who sits on a broken cd rom drive from 6 months – 1 year because it would take 2 weeks away from my special time with my computer in order to send it to Apple through Best Buy and fix it. I like the information stored on my hard drive, I like the chip on the shell near where I always open it, I like the extra memory I put in myself in order to play Sims and then the reality of not being able to play Sims on it anyway because it’s just not a hardcore enough computer, because it is Sebastian, and Sebastian does what Sebastian will, and who am I to say anything different?
It’s technology after all. But that made me think – how often to I ignore things that are in front of me that need fixing? Do I ignore problems in the hope of ignoring them into non-existence? or to the state where I can live comfortably ignoring them? I still don’t know how to spell existance. Like, “Stance” my stance, the way I stand. Not stence. What is stence? Stence means nothing. English is stupid sometimes.
Summer engulfs you, especially if you are my money. It is like the Gulf, and my money is the “of” before “Mexico”, post-Gulf (war)… making the “of” completely insufficient to warrant any attention, and being swallowed by the two nouns squeezing in from both sides. And a proper noun at that! A country! Simply no competition possible here.
Russell Crowe and Gerard Butler look awfully similar, don’t you all think?
Blue eyes, scruffy beards, deliciousness? I’m obsessed with them lately. I just saw Crowe tonight in Robin Hood, which was alright, but is clearly the indisputable Hollywood beginning of an entire series of movies meant to draw out hundreds of millions of dollars from the worlds citizens instead of a legitimate movie made for the sake of telling an incredibly inspiring story. I find them both delicious regardless.
Nom. Nom. Nom. If I think about it really hard in my brain (where I do my best thinkin’!), with my eyes closed, and apart from all the original Handsome-ness of my boyfriend….. he could actually look like these guys. If he had grown out his beard this week (yes, white boys, it only takes him a week! So manly, I just swoon) and possibly lightened his skin several shades a la M.J… then we’re talking! But the Persian-ness kind of adds to the appeal – 1001 nights and all that; swords, those funny curled up magician slippers (he wears them Tuesdays)…. speaking of slippers, why is Jake Gyllenhal the Prince of Persia? Firstly, No. And secondly, No.
Here’s a sexy Persian man. He should be “Prince of Puuuuuuurr-sia”. Rowr.
Plus, Walt Disney making the Prince of Persia movie? I realize it’s all sexed up now, but I mean, it’s still a kids company, and the PRINCE of PERSIA is serious business(1:40), it’s not dragon-ass shit… plus freaking Bruckheimer produced National Treasure……*crickets doing face-palm*…… Doing this movie would be such a serious disservice to everything Persian.
Ah well, Hollywood will destroy American’s perspectives of many countries to come.
In other news, I did some serious work today in the morning (for my wicked cool internship @blogTO!), and last night I went to see my first ever soccer game in real-time! Juventus vs. Fiorentina – my friend would have died at the amount of Italian boys at the Rogers Centre last night. Died and taken some of them with her. I actually really liked it – would it not have been for the annoying ushers that kept moving people around to their “real” seats. Whatever, lady. We all paid the same price, just let us sit in the goddamn chair and watch the futbol, instead of moving people around and making others miss the ONLY GOAL OF THE GAME.
Surprisingly, soccer is one of those sports that I find is fun to watch. I like hockey, sometimes. Baseball is boring as watching flies on a pile of turds. Basketball is okay, but most of the time I find myself wondering how I would feel if my son or daughter looked like they were normal little kids and then God just took them by the head like they were that unlucky piece of gum you catch with your finger on the underside of the tabletop and stretched them out. Probably weird. They’re all so tall! Did you know that women’s vaginas are only so big? Not infinite like some porn vids would have you believe. NOT INFINITELY STRETCHY. Not Hubba Bubba for basketball players.
You can’t fit a person like that out of a vagina that’s normal female-size. It doesn’t work unless the kid is like folded in half or the vagina accommodates – by spontaneously combusting (Hah! That might be better than what actually happens)! Did all women know this? I found this out in the past week. Well, not really, I mean, I found it out when my mother told me the story of my birth but 20 years have gone by that I did not ever think about what that woman actually told me. I was probably compartmentalizing for the protection of my psyche and my pretty solid belief in the laws of nature. Ripping of the VA -JAY -JAY is what happens. Seriously. What kind of asshole made this the “natural birth”?
When my friend mentioned it to me this past Friday my mind just went from “tra-la-la my sandwich is delicious” into Trauma and World Collapse (capital letters intentional). Also – if you are not shitting yourself while you’re pushing out a CHILD from your WOMB, you’re not pushing hard enough. Hard enough!? Shitting?! I don’t want to shit. Ever. I don’t want to push bowling balls out of my genitals. I like them intact. I like them squishy and not ripped or torn but as is the rest of my skin – undisturbed and NOT fucking bleeding.
Apparently, though, if I want to continue on the little tradition of the world’s society, I need to go through this.
Doesn’t this bring on a whole new subtext to sexy, built men? Think about the sort of babies they’d impregnate you with. Big. Giant super babies, that you would have to push out. Of your vagina.
Fricken… everything I ever loved about men has crumbled. In one blog post.
I think I need to stop writing by train of thought. I think that would be best, unless I want to shatter the rest of my illusions about life and the proper way to go about it. God, I mean.
Puppies. I am thinking about puppies. Except that kind of goes like this right now,
cootchy cootchie coo!
what’s.. what’s going on?
Your tummy hurts? Awww, baby….. it’s okay.
It’s alright.. You’ll be okay, let me rub it..
yeah, you like it when I rub your belly, don’t you? Yes you do!
OH GOD YOU’RE GIVING BIRTH TO MORE PUPPIES.
THEY’RE EVERYWHERE AND YOU DON’T GET ETERNAL REWARDS AND THANKFULLNESS
PS – Lesson learned: Contraception is KEY. The skinnier the man, the better.