Friday, April 22, 2005
kinky self-deprecation
Since I wasn't feeling creative enough to actually do anything original, I took another dumb quiz. Uhhhh.....NO! It's not like I don't realise people do that, but it's not something I'd be into, not in a million years. I'm of the opinion that sex and violence ought not to be confused with each other. Your Hotlanta Kink Test score was 373! Here is the chart so that you can see how you are rated: The maximum score for this test is 700.
I was actually surprised with the results of this one, the so-called 'Kink Test.' I don't think of myself as being particularly kinky, and I totally balked at questions like "Have you ever played in a public dungeon with your partner?"
Anyway, here are the results, provided they show up:
Congratulations!
100 or less You need to lighten up and live a little! 101 to 200 You have an average sex life in need of kink. 201 to 300 You have sweet hints of a kinky nature. 301 to 400 You are definitely a kinky player. 401 to 500 You are a major league kinkster! 501 to 600 Wow! You're too kinky for most!!! 601 or more SUPER FREAK ALERT! You da BOMB!
This test, as with the others, was taken from JaG's site. You too can take it by going here. It is only one of many such tests on our grand sex-obsessed internet.
In other news, I beat the crap out of myself at the gyme yesterday and now I'm too sleepy to go out and take advantage of the insanely nice weather. I'm actually surprised that my abs don't hurt more today, because there was a lot of burning. Burning as in rolling around on the floor after 100 crunches whining "ow......why did I do that?" I think I was being mean to myself because I had decided to wear a shirt that ends just above my ribs, and there is no way in hell I can continue to get away with that and not feel icky if my abs don't look pretty fucking awesome. They did at least feel pretty fucking awesome yesterday. I actually like my body a lot if I'm actually using it and gaining muscle and not just sitting around all the time. If all goes according to plan, this will be the first summer since I was 12 years old that I actually feel GOOD in a bathing suit and not like hiding under a rock.
Anyway, the gyme is always pretty fun. Pain is just fine as long as it's not injury-related. And one of the girls from my play told me that she likes my abs. She said this completely out of the blue, while I was walking around the costume area changing my shirt a million times and doing push-ups just for fun. I thought that was kind of neat. People don't usually give me random compliments like that.
My mom wanted to go pick up some chairs she bought from some horrible junk store on Main Street today. My mom is into antiques, and she's generally pretty good at picking out the treasures from the trash, but this place had so much trash that I couldn't even stand to stay there for more than five minutes to try to find anything good. There were piles and piles of broken furniture, plastic dolls, dusty paperback novels, broken kids' toys, pieces of stereo equipment, old and non-functioning electronics, broken TVs, crusty microwave ovens, filing cabinets, water-damaged paintings, and just about every other imaginable piece of crap on the planet. The owner was a seedy, skinny little brown-haired fellow who closely resembled a rat and walked around the store chewing his lunch and yelling out his series of five or six stock phrases, including:
"Would I cheat you?"
"That price is a joke! Right, a joke?"
"Normally 100 dollars. But for you I make a deal! What a great deal, right?"
"My prices are always flexible, see?"
"This is solid wood, see? Solid oak!" (this was said regardless of the actual type of wood involved)
"You know me! Would I lie to you?"
All his questions were, of course, rhetorical. The guy reminded me of a Romanian swindler, and I have known too many in my time to be capable of listening to them for very long. He reminded me of a lot of false promises and empty charm. I doubt I would have allowed him to sell me a bottle of water in the desert. His store also smelled like death, and since he buys all his stuff from estate sales, the comparison is probably not too far off the mark.
I walked up the street, looked in a few stores, got some bubble tea (strawberry-coconut with cocunut jelly), read a magazine in the cafe, and headed back in time to help the guy's errand boy load the chairs into the trunk of the car. He was a tall and substantial-looking guy, about my age, wearing jeans and a striped blue shirt, and he didn't look like he needed my help in picking up ANY heavy objects. He turned around and started talking to me, and I noticed he had the most incredible bright blue eyes. It's rare to see those on an actual human being and not in a photograph.
The first thing he said to me was "why aren't you in school?" I wondered if he was trying to be smart and find out whether I was indeed as young as I looked, but I cut him a break and replied more or less neutrally that I had just graduated from university. We talked for a while about school (he said he wants to teach physics in high schools eventually), and I suddenly realised, "DAMN! This guy is flirting with me!" I guess it's been a while since a good-looking guy who actually does not repulse me tried to do that.
So, I was nice to him, as I more or less always am with guys who seem honest and aren't terribly forward. I thanked him for the help and I watched him do that "shit...she's leaving, and I don't have her number" kind of double-take. I just smiled. I was pretty coy about it, not letting him know too much about me, and making sure I only told him what was most interesting. It was really an accidental flirtation that I neither initiated nor really pursued, and I made sure I left it at a harmless level. I felt desirable but utterly unattainable, and probably gave him a couple of minutes of levity in a boring day filled with lifting crappy furniture. There were also no awkward..."uh...I have a boyfriend moments," which is good. I hate to spoil the interaction with something that sounds so suggestive. After all, what do I know? He could be gay and just looking for a girl-space-friend to hang out with. Not bloody likely with the way he was looking at me, but nonetheless possible.
Besides, it's not like I haven't befriended someone unattainable before. Hell, I do it all the time! It's not as though I'd dismiss a perfectly decent human being who happened to be of the opposite gender just because I don't intend to have sex with them. I have made some of my best friends in the world this way.
By the way...do any guys reading think that that's a really bad idea? Am I a tease because I befriend guys I can't go out with, when I know that if I was available they would probably want to go out with me? One of my guy friends once told me that every straight guy will want to sleep with every straight girl he knows at some point, provided she's not repulsive to him. After he said that, there followed a rather awkward silence. I replied by stammering something like: "So that means that you....with me?" We were interrupted, and he never answered my awkward question. I always wonder what he would have said, and if it would have ruined everything between us.
I actually have zero plans for the rest of the day and the evening. The Boy is studying, the bro's is at work, my mom's going to a cocktail party, and just about everyone else is out of town or writing exams. I thought about taking a nap, but then I won't sleep at all tonight. It's weird not having anything to do. I could actually sit down and read a book if I wanted to, or chill with the cats, or watch bad TV, or do whatever I like, really. This is a good thing, though I may get rather lonely.
I've decided that I need someone relatively hard-core who I can go to the gyme with. Girl or guy, although a guy is probably preferred because guys actually lift weights and don't just try to work off a single piece of cake on the cardio machines for hours at a time. I'm stereotyping, I know. So give me a girl who is serious about lifting weights and I'll hang out with her! The Boy will be leaving for the summer in a few weeks (which I don't even want to think about yet!), and I will have no one except my mom to go to the gyme with. And she can't lift weights because of tendonitis in her arm. So...any takers???
Actually, I think one of the girls from my film class was into lifting weights...perhaps I should call her. She's also a painter and seems pretty interesting. I like artists -- they can be challenging and frustratingly insane, but they're never boring. I never keep in touch with people from school, but I really should.
The greatest present that anyone could get me right now is this. I would be really rather chuffed, as those clever Brits would say.
If you're even a little bit bored, have a blog, are interested in blogging, read my blog, or are on this page right now, go read this, and tell me what you think. Is he full of shit, bang-on, a bit confused, right on some points, or totally insane? Also check out Raymi. She's one gutsy chick.
It's funny. There are so many good blogs on the net that I don't even understand how anyone who doesn't know me in real life wants to read mine. Many other people are far less self-deprecating than I am. And they have crazier sex, and write about it. And they're insanely photogenic and they take all kinds of pictures of themselves. AND they're brilliant and creative and witty and urbane and all those lovely things.
I'm really just a funny-looking kid with not a lot of life under my belt. So what gives, really?
I'm also crap at creative writing. From the ages of 12-17, I wrote poetry every single day. I also wrote little stories and vignettes and things. Most of it was horrible, trite nonsense. In fact, it was so bad that I am too embarrassed to publish any of it on here. I am almost too embarrassed to even read it, on my own, alone in my room. So I made some kind of unspoken vow to myself to never again release self-indulgent, irritating nonsense out into the world again. Will someone please, please, PLEASE SMACK ME if I start doing that again?! Perhaps I am doing it already. If so, sorry.
I promise to be wittier and more urbane.
But I think I'll be keeping my clothes on for now. I'm warmer that way.
Thank you all for reading and for not informing me that I am a fucking jackass.
The Boy and I were walking through the residences at school yesterday and we saw a guy walk up to a girl and bet her that she couldn't go eight seconds without saying 'fucking jackass.' We both counted for her, out loud, as we walked away.
She made it. I was proud of her.
-N
