Hippie Hash from the Fleetwood Diner. The Tuesday Women's Club of Mascoutah, IL. The Coronado. Ms. Robin & The Ark. Tag (The hat guy.) Flying J. Wifi. Sweet Tea. Mission Pie. Minipirates. Earplugs. Strawberry Lemonade. Fritz. Tattoos. Living somewhere I don't have to shovel snow. Books. Rumo. Hotel size shampoo. Fluffy blankets. Cerebral conversations. Meese. Feminism. Awareness. Silliness. Diners. Coffee. Driving. My iPod. HTML. Summer. Gappers. The General Pomplemousse. Project: Estrogen. Anti-Clusterfuck Committee. Gig nights. Cesar. Road trips. Public transit. Cooking. Snuggling. Sleep texting. Fruit.
I miss my comfy bed.
You, if you don't happen to be an uptight, conservative ass. Or British. The accents drive me nuts, but we can still email. I'd also like to meet whoever at Verizon makes the decision to connect my calls (or not) to 311.
I write, listen, review, play and mix it on the stage, for the radio and in my head.Pandora Radio is just about the best thing ever.
I never get too attached.
Only if the episodes replay online.
The Dangerous Book for Bois. The Encyclopedia of Marvels, Life Forms and Other Phenomena of Zamonia and its Environs. Just Add Hormones. Anything Walter Moers wrote.
Poor Kurt.
Professor Abdullah Nightingale of the Nocturnal Academy. Edward Monkton.Calumet, you'll never cease to have astounded me.
Details, details.
Status:
Breathing.
Here for:
Procrastination, Networking, Stalking (not necessarily in that order.)
Orientation:
Queer.
Religion:
We're seeing other people.
Sign:
Active Driveway. No Parking.
Children:
I practice the 3 R's.
Educated:
In unlikely ways.
Occupation:
Superhero.
Income:
Sufficient.