Cocktease

Because I can. Neener Neener.

If you bore me, I will play with you for my own enjoyment. If you didn't get the hint the first few times around and you continue to drool in my near vicinity, I will pick up the puppet strings and make you dance. My pants are tight, the belly is bared, the cleavage is in full effect, and I grow bored. I smile - you twitch. I dance - you twitch. I look up at you from underneath my eyelashes - you twitch. I insult you then laugh - you twitch. I walk towards the bathrooms - twitch twitch twitch. It's a tango of body language and you don't know the rhythm. I've got 17 years of training my body to speak in millions of voices without ever saying a word. I know exactly what you want and I can make you think the carrot is in your reach, sometimes nearer, sometimes farther, but you'll always go forward. I don't even have to touch you. But this game I play grows easier as it continues and I am bored once again.

Game over. You lose.

Random Drubknen Ennui

Or: Gee, that ammarro I had as a digestif after dinner was stronger than I thought.

Am not going to comment on war, as a coherent argument/rant/rambling right now is not possible. Am tired as weird work hours for the past month are kicking my ass. (Read: 6pm - 7am, because the office is quieter during those hours). Long work project almost launched. Go me. Must stop this quasi-channelling of The Diary of Bridget Jones...

Never ever leave your depilation duties by the wayside for three months. I had (just about) everything below the belly button waxed yesterday and *that* was fucking painful. On the plus side, I no longer look like Sasquatch.

Anyway, must prepare to go out dancing. I need a break from this chirping glowing box. Rest assured, my faithful 10 (ten) readers, soon i will resume ranting about my government, sharing random details of life in Roma, and spouting off sexually frustrated musings on my tits/vibrator/altar boys/etc.