"I know I'm home when the computer's history makes me wonder if Myspace and Spermshack are related all thanks to having a little brother that spends his evenings there."
-Me
-Me
Yes, I am back and still quite busy with unpacking and trying to explain to my dog that it was nothing personal. She gets overjoyed as I come home but worries that I'll be gone for a period of time as I set foot out the door. Over and over, I have to explain to 5-Pound Phooey that I'm in desperate need of a long hot bath and some me time spent reading. Oh, but it's cute how her little butt wiggles once she sees me come up the stairs after almost a week away.
There's lots to tell, seeing as it was a very warm/hot weekend. The downtown area of Indiana was busy with all sorts of kids/adults running around after being couped up indoors for so long. It's only now that we don't have to worry whether we need some sort of coat or light jacket. Yo, your nose literally feels like it's burning once the sunglasses go on. At least, that's how I feel.
But it's alway the same thing when Sara and I go out together. I get stared at or whispered about. Sara finds it oddly amusing to the point that she has to tell me which frat boy passing us by mentioned something about my arms or chest. There was a large amount of them along with sorority girls celebrating the near end of school. As this large set, all smelling alike, passed Sara and I, one of the guys told the other guys to look at my upper body. Someone's not afraid of lookin' a little gay after living with guys for 2 semesters, eh?
My personal favorite was when Sara and I walked into a very nice pizza place located close to the movie theater. One of the girls working there as a waitress literally stopped, stared, and allowed her jaw to drop all while staring at my chest thanks to the thinness of my white Calvin Klein top that was a little too tight. Since Sara liked it, I wore it even if the bottom portion didn't reach all the way down to my shorts' button. You could say that I was carried by my D-cup.
I get used to people looking at me. Whether it's my blue eyes, chest, arms, or manic need to be very animated over a point I must get across, I am freaky. So, this is what it's like for beautiful women to have to point out that they can actually read. Just about everyone is surprised that I read comics, enjoy sci-fi movies, and am more goofy than your average weight-lifter. Either that or you just take Sara's opinion said in the pizza place:
There's lots to tell, seeing as it was a very warm/hot weekend. The downtown area of Indiana was busy with all sorts of kids/adults running around after being couped up indoors for so long. It's only now that we don't have to worry whether we need some sort of coat or light jacket. Yo, your nose literally feels like it's burning once the sunglasses go on. At least, that's how I feel.
But it's alway the same thing when Sara and I go out together. I get stared at or whispered about. Sara finds it oddly amusing to the point that she has to tell me which frat boy passing us by mentioned something about my arms or chest. There was a large amount of them along with sorority girls celebrating the near end of school. As this large set, all smelling alike, passed Sara and I, one of the guys told the other guys to look at my upper body. Someone's not afraid of lookin' a little gay after living with guys for 2 semesters, eh?
My personal favorite was when Sara and I walked into a very nice pizza place located close to the movie theater. One of the girls working there as a waitress literally stopped, stared, and allowed her jaw to drop all while staring at my chest thanks to the thinness of my white Calvin Klein top that was a little too tight. Since Sara liked it, I wore it even if the bottom portion didn't reach all the way down to my shorts' button. You could say that I was carried by my D-cup.
I get used to people looking at me. Whether it's my blue eyes, chest, arms, or manic need to be very animated over a point I must get across, I am freaky. So, this is what it's like for beautiful women to have to point out that they can actually read. Just about everyone is surprised that I read comics, enjoy sci-fi movies, and am more goofy than your average weight-lifter. Either that or you just take Sara's opinion said in the pizza place:
"You're fucking hot!"
I learn something new on each visit to Indiana. Cops can hide pretty damn good underneath a bridge. Very close to getting caught speeding home on the interstate. To think my first worry is not over insurance rates rising but that damn class you have to take to get the ticket off your record. Did anyone else have a woman that talked baby-talk upon teaching traffic class?
Somehow, I will set foot in the gym within the next 2 hours, run with 5-Pound Phooey (insisting and very DAMN assertive on this), chill out with a catch-up on the Sopranos/Tudors/or Bill Maher. It's another busy time to keep up with my life in Illinois.
I leave you with this. Please, visit your town's old bookstores. Indiana has one that is haunted by me upon each visit. While I love knowing that people read Berke Breathed and various other authors of complicated political humor, I hate to see such amazingly creative work sit there on a shelf. I've found myself lost in wit as I sit there on the store's floor reading about Bill the Cat, Opus, and the Bloom County gang that knew how to criticize Reagan (Horrible president). I hate to see good bookstores that hold such treasure being torn down for another Starbucks or that people would rather visit Barnes N Noble. Genius is not dated.
So, I'm outta here. I know I have plenty to catch up, emails to send, and comments to bring about. Zu, you can play around with this blog if you wish or tell me how to add various tricks/doo-dads for more enjoyment. My mind will not be back til late tonight seeing as I've got some running to catch up on. Lots more to tell ya. Happy twats all around.
Somehow, I will set foot in the gym within the next 2 hours, run with 5-Pound Phooey (insisting and very DAMN assertive on this), chill out with a catch-up on the Sopranos/Tudors/or Bill Maher. It's another busy time to keep up with my life in Illinois.
I leave you with this. Please, visit your town's old bookstores. Indiana has one that is haunted by me upon each visit. While I love knowing that people read Berke Breathed and various other authors of complicated political humor, I hate to see such amazingly creative work sit there on a shelf. I've found myself lost in wit as I sit there on the store's floor reading about Bill the Cat, Opus, and the Bloom County gang that knew how to criticize Reagan (Horrible president). I hate to see good bookstores that hold such treasure being torn down for another Starbucks or that people would rather visit Barnes N Noble. Genius is not dated.
So, I'm outta here. I know I have plenty to catch up, emails to send, and comments to bring about. Zu, you can play around with this blog if you wish or tell me how to add various tricks/doo-dads for more enjoyment. My mind will not be back til late tonight seeing as I've got some running to catch up on. Lots more to tell ya. Happy twats all around.
1 comment:
I prolly won't today... but I'll check to see if I still have your password, etc., and add the little thing my cousin sent me that shows recent comments on the right hand side. If you see a feature on my blog that you like, just tell me and I'll add it here for you.. no problemo. - Zuzu
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