05 May 2003

Decisions Decisions Decisions

Spring is um, springing and layers of clothes are peeling off. Cue surging hormones.

My best girl friend and I were trying to figure out exactly how long we've been in bianca (ie secondary virgins) the other day. She was around the 6 month mark. I outdid her by an additional 4 months.

10 months of no nookie. No wonder why my right forearm muscles are more developed than the left. Christ. I wonder how many batteries I've gone through since then. Enough to power a small city?

Meh. What's a picky monogamous nymphomaniac to do? Lower my standards? It's not as if I have this huge conscious list of "Requirements to Date Me", like "Must be earning 6 figures and drive a bitchin' car" or "Mensa IQ required" or "Those hung like cocktail weiners need not apply"

All right, maybe the last one is a definate conscious list item. Actually, upon reflection I do have a bit of a list.

1) J-O-B, motherfucker. Have one. I don't particularly care what it is, but sponging of off Mommy and Daddy when your in your late 20's is fucking pathetic. Speaking of....

2)Live with the parents? Buh-bye. If you are over the age of 25 and you have never lived away from home, you have yet to grow up and I sure as hell ain't wasting my time waiting for it to happen.

3)Hold my interest. Mensa IQ is not required, but you'll have more luck getting into my pants if you don't repeat the same tired crap I've heard a million times before. I am a natural misanthrope, I deal with idiots on a daily basis, and I sure as hell ain't interested in dealing with one outside of work hours.

4)The cocktail weiner thing. I'm not a size queen, and I well know that it's not the size of your pencil, it's the way you write your name. But if I wanted dick the size of my pinky, I'd become a paedophile.

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