Still 1.5 years ago.
I dont like Astrology. What the hell is a Capricorn, and how does that describe the real estate transaction Im going to have today? This is even more confusing since I dont own a house.
What about the 6 people who were killed in the Maryland/DC area this weekend? There is a 4.167% chance that the shooter and one of their victims are both Tauri.
In television, movies, books, and in general conversation, no one ever answers the sign question with Libra. To the astute astrological student, they would immediately know this person desires balance and karmatic even-ness. For the non-astute, this roughly translates into an obsessive-compulsive psyche with possible long-term revenge tendencies. A stalker who likes matching candlesticks positioned equilaterally across a fireplace mantle, framing a post-modern, colourful, but not too busy, abstract painting is the immediate characterization. Apparently, Libra is an air sign, whatever that means.
I am a Libra. Whatever that means.
While Jamie Hanselman promptly dumped me in the seventh grade, and Kelly Anderson led me on and stomped on my heart in the tenth, I really wish them no ill will today. I am not a stalker, but I do obsess about lots of things. My obsessions now include bees, frogs, Ed Norton and writing the ultimate JDBC connection pool. It is really quite smashing; PreparedStatements can be registered and stored across all Connections. Very intense.
One of my many compulsions is glancing, often staring, at womens breasts. This is a bit of an apology, and an explanation to the females of the world. In editing this, my waitress just walked by, and I shot a glance directly at her fabulous buttocks. I even thought about how I would like to touch it. So I wish to apologize for that too.
Men look at womens breasts because we are sexually programmed to do so. It is one of the first things on which we base our breeding compatability meter. From a distance, breasts are usually the most prominent part of a woman. Expansive advertisement stating Rotund and supple: come make babies with me.
Like the Haswak Keroak, I have attempted to conquer my animal background, pushing away fear, instinct and boobie lust. However, I have failed miserably. Sports bras are the mind killer. If I had my hand in the breast enticer with a Gom Jabbar at my neck, I would be soooo dead. Not trying to look is like telling yourself not to blink or flinch at flies. You know they are there, and the anticipation locks your brain from all other things. Ceasing mental functions, biological functions also lax, and breathing stops. We stare of into space, reaching for that point of titless existence, the biological Zen state of pre-genetic coupling. Seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, we yank our mind back to mammary present, just before soiling ourselves and passing out from lack of oxygen. The Sexual Nullification State is too far in our collective past, unreachable, and we stare solemnly at that which makes us pigs. The glory, the burning desire, the fulfillment of our truest state. When you catch us staring intently at your chest, we have probably just come full circle from attempting to bond with a Universal Nothingness, to a submissive state of carnal appreciation, all in the quest of protecting your sexual equality.
Jamie Hanselman cultivated an incredible rack in the ninth grade when she started dating seniors, and Kelly still has a five foot six, silicon-free, size 2 stripper body even after having a mulatto child out of wedlock. Mullatos are some of the most beautiful people on earth. As are Nubians. Except for the ones who like to blow up and/or snipe random people.
(I fully recognize the possibility the happenings in DC are not the act of Nubians. I preemptively apologize to the Nubian nations, and hope someone thought it was funny. I will not apologize to Mullatos, because David Justice and Hallie Berry are much prettier than I am.)
What is the male equivalent of the mammary advertisement? It certainly cant be this flip-flop and sandal phase we are in right now. Man feet are never attractive. Never. And if a male is walking around exposing his hairy Hobbit toes to the elements, they are not going to become more attractive. There may be some angelic transsexual drag queen feet out there, but that does not justify the calloused, grunge peds I have to look at while eating my pizza. More than this, the guy is wearing a red, collared golf shirt, khaki pants and rubber Georgia Bulldog sandals. Dickhead.
For the past few months, I have been concentrating on being sexually ambivalent.
One of my current sensual obsessions is Charlie.
I dont like Astrology. What the hell is a Capricorn, and how does that describe the real estate transaction Im going to have today? This is even more confusing since I dont own a house.
What about the 6 people who were killed in the Maryland/DC area this weekend? There is a 4.167% chance that the shooter and one of their victims are both Tauri.
In television, movies, books, and in general conversation, no one ever answers the sign question with Libra. To the astute astrological student, they would immediately know this person desires balance and karmatic even-ness. For the non-astute, this roughly translates into an obsessive-compulsive psyche with possible long-term revenge tendencies. A stalker who likes matching candlesticks positioned equilaterally across a fireplace mantle, framing a post-modern, colourful, but not too busy, abstract painting is the immediate characterization. Apparently, Libra is an air sign, whatever that means.
I am a Libra. Whatever that means.
While Jamie Hanselman promptly dumped me in the seventh grade, and Kelly Anderson led me on and stomped on my heart in the tenth, I really wish them no ill will today. I am not a stalker, but I do obsess about lots of things. My obsessions now include bees, frogs, Ed Norton and writing the ultimate JDBC connection pool. It is really quite smashing; PreparedStatements can be registered and stored across all Connections. Very intense.
One of my many compulsions is glancing, often staring, at womens breasts. This is a bit of an apology, and an explanation to the females of the world. In editing this, my waitress just walked by, and I shot a glance directly at her fabulous buttocks. I even thought about how I would like to touch it. So I wish to apologize for that too.
Men look at womens breasts because we are sexually programmed to do so. It is one of the first things on which we base our breeding compatability meter. From a distance, breasts are usually the most prominent part of a woman. Expansive advertisement stating Rotund and supple: come make babies with me.
Like the Haswak Keroak, I have attempted to conquer my animal background, pushing away fear, instinct and boobie lust. However, I have failed miserably. Sports bras are the mind killer. If I had my hand in the breast enticer with a Gom Jabbar at my neck, I would be soooo dead. Not trying to look is like telling yourself not to blink or flinch at flies. You know they are there, and the anticipation locks your brain from all other things. Ceasing mental functions, biological functions also lax, and breathing stops. We stare of into space, reaching for that point of titless existence, the biological Zen state of pre-genetic coupling. Seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, we yank our mind back to mammary present, just before soiling ourselves and passing out from lack of oxygen. The Sexual Nullification State is too far in our collective past, unreachable, and we stare solemnly at that which makes us pigs. The glory, the burning desire, the fulfillment of our truest state. When you catch us staring intently at your chest, we have probably just come full circle from attempting to bond with a Universal Nothingness, to a submissive state of carnal appreciation, all in the quest of protecting your sexual equality.
Jamie Hanselman cultivated an incredible rack in the ninth grade when she started dating seniors, and Kelly still has a five foot six, silicon-free, size 2 stripper body even after having a mulatto child out of wedlock. Mullatos are some of the most beautiful people on earth. As are Nubians. Except for the ones who like to blow up and/or snipe random people.
(I fully recognize the possibility the happenings in DC are not the act of Nubians. I preemptively apologize to the Nubian nations, and hope someone thought it was funny. I will not apologize to Mullatos, because David Justice and Hallie Berry are much prettier than I am.)
What is the male equivalent of the mammary advertisement? It certainly cant be this flip-flop and sandal phase we are in right now. Man feet are never attractive. Never. And if a male is walking around exposing his hairy Hobbit toes to the elements, they are not going to become more attractive. There may be some angelic transsexual drag queen feet out there, but that does not justify the calloused, grunge peds I have to look at while eating my pizza. More than this, the guy is wearing a red, collared golf shirt, khaki pants and rubber Georgia Bulldog sandals. Dickhead.
For the past few months, I have been concentrating on being sexually ambivalent.
One of my current sensual obsessions is Charlie.
Guys stare at tits and ass. Its normal. Don't need to feel like you have to apologize.
Capricorn is a goat. I guess it means don't let a goat in your place today.
you are right, man feet are ugly. Those thick toenails don't do it for me.
Charlie is one of my favs, too.