Step Off Bitch
It has come to my attention that certain person’s, whose names recycling shall be withheld, have once again spread rumors and half-truths about my happy place. And, I being one to not get caught in that torrent of masculine mediocrity and peacock strutting, believe that envious banter of another’s manhood or the discussion of ones own, add in no way to the virility or importance of personal genitalia.
That being said, I suppose Mr. Ouderkirk, version X.whatever, has forced me into a box of social expectation. Normally, I would shrug off such fancy as the flotsam it is, but the little bastard wrote such purddy wurds that I’m now compelled to fill this LJ with at least something. The time and place that I now reside, unfortunately, won’t allow me to rise up to that challenge of expression and *shudder* dare I say it “depth of openness and character.” So I’ll just fill the space and pray that my comments aren’t filled with images of gay midget porn. You know who you are!
****
I’m sitting on the floor of a borrowed room, on a borrowed Internet connection, rolling borrowed tobacco. If it wasn’t for my “res-mobile” of a van being unable to back itself out of the frozen borrowed drive way, I’d be currently enjoying my normal pre-rolled blend of Turkish and Domestic vice, purchased with borrowed money.
I threw that resolution out to the curb at the very first gritty, agitated craving New Year’s Day. I could make excuses aplenty. Shit I’m famous for that little “gift”. “I’m out of St. John’s Wart.” “I forgot to pack my Nicotine patches on the move down.” “I’m coming to terms with my self-imposed cutting off of contact from my now faded guiding star.” All being valid, they’re still just an avoidance of the truth of my addiction.
Addiction aside, smoking makes me look much cooler and more sophisticated than I actually am, and I don’t see myself gaining those attributes any time in the near future on my own, so I will continue to cherish that crutch of pseudo-maturity.
Borrowing a friend’s penchant for self-confidence, I didn’t get home until 7am this morning. No moves were made. No innuendos were spoken. I just was able to spend an amazing long evening in the company of a physically beautiful and mentally stimulating young lady, and out of it, possibly broadened my network of friends. Happy me! :)
All in all, borrowing, while a bitch on the self-esteem, can be quite comforting.
peg2
That being said, I suppose Mr. Ouderkirk, version X.whatever, has forced me into a box of social expectation. Normally, I would shrug off such fancy as the flotsam it is, but the little bastard wrote such purddy wurds that I’m now compelled to fill this LJ with at least something. The time and place that I now reside, unfortunately, won’t allow me to rise up to that challenge of expression and *shudder* dare I say it “depth of openness and character.” So I’ll just fill the space and pray that my comments aren’t filled with images of gay midget porn. You know who you are!
****
I’m sitting on the floor of a borrowed room, on a borrowed Internet connection, rolling borrowed tobacco. If it wasn’t for my “res-mobile” of a van being unable to back itself out of the frozen borrowed drive way, I’d be currently enjoying my normal pre-rolled blend of Turkish and Domestic vice, purchased with borrowed money.
I threw that resolution out to the curb at the very first gritty, agitated craving New Year’s Day. I could make excuses aplenty. Shit I’m famous for that little “gift”. “I’m out of St. John’s Wart.” “I forgot to pack my Nicotine patches on the move down.” “I’m coming to terms with my self-imposed cutting off of contact from my now faded guiding star.” All being valid, they’re still just an avoidance of the truth of my addiction.
Addiction aside, smoking makes me look much cooler and more sophisticated than I actually am, and I don’t see myself gaining those attributes any time in the near future on my own, so I will continue to cherish that crutch of pseudo-maturity.
Borrowing a friend’s penchant for self-confidence, I didn’t get home until 7am this morning. No moves were made. No innuendos were spoken. I just was able to spend an amazing long evening in the company of a physically beautiful and mentally stimulating young lady, and out of it, possibly broadened my network of friends. Happy me! :)
All in all, borrowing, while a bitch on the self-esteem, can be quite comforting.
peg2