Is it wrong to find shaven marsupials in miniature tuxedos feeding Bea Arthur in a gladiator outfit the sexiest thing around?
Oh. Ok. It is?
Just checking.
It's for a friend, I swear.
Anyway, enough about him, lets talk about me. No, I don't find Bea Arthur all that attractive, but then again, I'm basing this strictly on a 1980's review of "The Golden Girls" television show, so I'm not completely discounting that possibly in her heyday (early 1950's?) she was quite attractive, in a large cro-magnon WNBA player kind of way. Actually, that's very mean.
Let me start over.
To anyone who is a major Bea Arthur fan, allow me to apologize. Your idol is freakishly large, and I'm sorry you are obsessed with her. I even know of some misguided but exceptionally attractive individuals that fantasize about her in a gladiator outfit and some weird hairless monkies. But I digress...
Lets talk about me some more, we kinda got off track.
I'm a guy, and that much I can completely vouch for. I'm also now 32 years old, born completely naked, crying, and a complete mess. I'm still kinda traumatized by it after seeing the action side of my mom's genitals. You would be too, but I was young and impressionable, and really, that wasn't the first sight I was aiming for in this world. Wow, this thing is a train wreck. Do over!
Hi.
I'm Jay.
Nice to meet you.
How YOU doin?
I live in St. Petersburg, which is a happening little burg, if you like bingo and trailer parks. I'm not saying we're back woods or anything, but the pace is a little slow. Like, really slow. We're talking old people having sex kind of slow. Forced, painful, somewhat tragically satisfying and horrific to bear witness to, but overall, not something you'd want to discuss in polite company.
Take some time to visualize that. Just let it seep in to the recesses of your mind. Oooh grandma. Yeah grandpa. Spank that baby powder up in a cloud. Work it like a walker with tennis balls on the feet.
Disturbing, no?
And that's just the town. As for me, well, I don't belong here.
Unfortunately, I haven't really found where I belong, but I'm pretty sure I'd get bored once I got there. So, I'm sticking it out over here. I have several interests, some of which do not revolve around sex involving me. I believe some people find them important, so we'll talk more about that, rather than the other stuff. I enjoy movies a great deal, and discussing them with friends and or companions. Mostly comedies, some action films, and the occasional romantic comedy. I'm a victim of Rob Reiner's Disease, after having been exposed to so many late 80's teen dramas in which the quirky misunderstood protagonist wins the girl of his dreams by just being himself and romancing the living crap out of her. Today, they call that stalking. So, I have to maintain a healthy balance of yesterday and today. I won't be the guy standing in the rain blasting Peter Gabriel songs from an over sized jukebox, but I would settle for a slow drive by of Reel Big Fish's - I'm Drunk Again when I go by your apartment. Hey, we've all gotta have our standards.
I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, or at least that's what all my friends who never call me say. I'm relatively outgoing, but I have my moments of awkwardness and shyness, mostly do the embarrassment of not being as confident with women as I may appear. I value personality and communication as a key asset to a friend or prospective date, but I'm not so damn deep that I don't prefer attractive people to hang around with. Also, no carnival folk. Sorry, it's just a rule. Plus, HBO is seriously freaking me out lately. Of course, as soon as I start getting into the show, they cancel it. My artistic tastes are a kiss of death as far as mainstream media goes. I am the anti-Nealson family.
I'm exceptionally computer literate (would that make me fluent?), but I also enjoy physical things such as walking, breathing, and going to the refrigerator and the bathroom. Just kidding. I play tennis, roller blade, and go to the gym when time permits, but mostly after catching a view of myself naked on the way to the shower, and swearing to do something to try to recapture my old physique. I'm a former Marine, but you'd never know it, because I don't brag about it, despite having a whole bunch of fun and potentially legally liable stories to tell. I have a serious job, that I use to pay the majority of my bills with on or around the relative date of being late and or delinquent. I also have a car that is worth much less than I owe the bank, gets worse gas mileage than it should, and is slowly causing me to lose my hearing. I blame society's desire to make me want to stick it to the man by playing loud music.
I'm hopelessly romantic and optimistic, but I'm a sucker for punishment when it comes to relationships. I treat each one like it's the very first, and even get butterflies on a first date, despite being old enough to remember when Michael Jackson and David Hasslehoff was cool. But lets be honest, David Hasslehoff is still pretty damn cool. He doesn't give me butterflies though. Unless he's singing in German. Then, it's hot.
I wish I knew what I was looking for, but I have no clue. All I know is that I don't have it. I'll figure it out as I go. It may hurt, it may make me smile, but it'll be fun either way. Unless there's clowns involved. Then it's kinda tragic and sad, even if there's nudity involved (and there always is, in the end).
Much love. As always, stay black, and don't forget to kill whitey.[LOVEMYFLASH][/LOVEMYFLASH]
