Well, you know, I can't say I'm going to just ignore tennis, 'cause that's not happening, but, just, you know, expanding our choice of topics so we have a backup in the case of, erm, an emergency. :/
1)Mwahahahaha, I am so gonna cheat on this one. :-PP
Mmmmkay, after giving it some thought I reached the conclusion that I would choose Guga (duh) and Yannick Noah. They would look all pretty and curly and dreadlocky and be laid back and smiley and funny, they would have a blast on court and laugh at each other and play awesome, awesome clay court tennis, and there would be some reggae playing in the backround and they might share a joint after the match and then go surfing together and...who knows where that would lead. :-PP Haha, omg *dreams* *gets totally carried away* Such a wonderful image.
My number 2 pair would be, ahem, two pairs. The doubles match of doom: Sasha/Marat vs. Goran/Mario. Followed by foursome in the showers. Eeeeeeeeeeee!!
Damnit, I can never just stick to the tennis. :-PP
2) Oh, all of it, all the crazy, the fact that I need four different psych meds just to be barely functional, it's all their fault. I'm lucky that I turned out a more sensible person than they were, and that I have this fierce survival instinct, but...Well, it's such an absurd story that if I read it I would think it was a poorly written novel, but I can tell you that it involves neglect and emotional abuse of psycho proportions. What my last therapist told me is that I can't get over the fact that I can't rub all my resentment in their face (since they both died before I could figure all this out) and that I keep wasting energy arguing with ghosts. Which makes sense, of course, but, eh...ok, I'm still working on it, who knows, I might learn to let it go.
3) Hmmmm, back to pleasant things. :-PP Ok, let's see...I dunno, I kind of lost track of what would squick people, or maybe I'm more tame than I would like to believe, but I guess my most hardcore slash fantasies involve total submission and some degree of humiliation. And Marat in drag. :-PP I think that maybe a tight red corset thingie to highlight his manboobs, and I've changed my mind about the knee-high boots, I think I'd prefer him in those thigh-high stockings and stilleto heels. And why not go all out and throw in some shiny earrings and bright red lipstick and some nice eyeliner.
Orrr, omg, I have a better one: all this but in romantic white lace instead of red, and then (fill in the blank) would treat him to a candlelit dinner and dancing cheek-to-cheek before fucking his brains out. OMGYESSS. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Ahem.
Lol, ok, are you squicked or am I totally tame? :-PP
4) Sanity. Just enough to be properly functional.
5) You know, I'm so structurally atheistic that I don't even get a kick out of mythology. The closest I come to having a favorite god is...ok, there's this description of the god of the Old Testament that I think is really great:
"The god of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction. Jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, blood-thirsty ethnic cleaser; a mysoginistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sado-masochistic, capriciously malevolent bully."
Anyway, the reason I mentioned this is because this is such an evil character, and this point can be so easily made, that it makes it kind of depressingly funny to hear people say things like "god is good" and realize that they may as well be worshipping the devil. So it's more like...I take a twisted aesthetic pleasure in this irony. Which is one of my biggest problems, I think, having this aesthetic enjoyment of things - even bad things - just because they would be an artistically interesting plot. That is one of the things that makes me more of a spectator than a participant. :/
Haha, ok, this is better than just saying "I don't have a favorite god", I hope.
1)Mwahahahaha, I am so gonna cheat on this one. :-PP
Mmmmkay, after giving it some thought I reached the conclusion that I would choose Guga (duh) and Yannick Noah. They would look all pretty and curly and dreadlocky and be laid back and smiley and funny, they would have a blast on court and laugh at each other and play awesome, awesome clay court tennis, and there would be some reggae playing in the backround and they might share a joint after the match and then go surfing together and...who knows where that would lead. :-PP Haha, omg *dreams* *gets totally carried away*
Such a wonderful image.
My number 2 pair would be, ahem, two pairs. The doubles match of doom: Sasha/Marat vs. Goran/Mario. Followed by foursome in the showers. Eeeeeeeeeeee!!
Damnit, I can never just stick to the tennis. :-PP
2) Oh, all of it, all the crazy, the fact that I need four different psych meds just to be barely functional, it's all their fault. I'm lucky that I turned out a more sensible person than they were, and that I have this fierce survival instinct, but...Well, it's such an absurd story that if I read it I would think it was a poorly written novel, but I can tell you that it involves neglect and emotional abuse of psycho proportions. What my last therapist told me is that I can't get over the fact that I can't rub all my resentment in their face (since they both died before I could figure all this out) and that I keep wasting energy arguing with ghosts. Which makes sense, of course, but, eh...ok, I'm still working on it, who knows, I might learn to let it go.
3) Hmmmm, back to pleasant things. :-PP Ok, let's see...I dunno, I kind of lost track of what would squick people, or maybe I'm more tame than I would like to believe, but I guess my most hardcore slash fantasies involve total submission and some degree of humiliation. And Marat in drag. :-PP I think that maybe a tight red corset thingie to highlight his manboobs, and I've changed my mind about the knee-high boots, I think I'd prefer him in those thigh-high stockings and stilleto heels. And why not go all out and throw in some shiny earrings and bright red lipstick and some nice eyeliner.
Orrr, omg, I have a better one: all this but in romantic white lace instead of red, and then (fill in the blank) would treat him to a candlelit dinner and dancing cheek-to-cheek before fucking his brains out. OMGYESSS. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Ahem.
Lol, ok, are you squicked or am I totally tame? :-PP
4) Sanity. Just enough to be properly functional.
5) You know, I'm so structurally atheistic that I don't even get a kick out of mythology. The closest I come to having a favorite god is...ok, there's this description of the god of the Old Testament that I think is really great:
"The god of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction. Jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, blood-thirsty ethnic cleaser; a mysoginistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sado-masochistic, capriciously malevolent bully."
Haha, Richard Dawkins ftw. You can watch the whole things here if you want:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xe7yf9GJUfU
Anyway, the reason I mentioned this is because this is such an evil character, and this point can be so easily made, that it makes it kind of depressingly funny to hear people say things like "god is good" and realize that they may as well be worshipping the devil. So it's more like...I take a twisted aesthetic pleasure in this irony. Which is one of my biggest problems, I think, having this aesthetic enjoyment of things - even bad things - just because they would be an artistically interesting plot. That is one of the things that makes me more of a spectator than a participant. :/
Haha, ok, this is better than just saying "I don't have a favorite god", I hope.
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