May 14th, 2003

loud fayoumis

Men. Pfa!

Poll #134767 Goddamn men.

Mr. Shallow, who will not sleep with me, is:

an asshat
a cockhobbit
something completely different, and I will elaborate in comments
  • Current Mood
    bitchy bitchy
horny, Divine Oscillations

Cockhobbits, angstwankers, and hand grenades: Mr. Shallow (the whole story)

Now, first keep in mind that Mr. Shallow has two identities. In ordinary life, he's someone I get along with very well. No more shall be said about that identity lest something be given away, and I don't want that to happen.

But, when Mr. Shallow is being Mr. Shallow, this is what has been happening. I have been exchanging very hot, very sparkful backrubs with him. And the Unresolved Sexual Tension has been rising.

Now, as Mr. Shallow is called Mr. Shallow for a reason, he will not date me. He is not looking for someone like me. He is looking for someone pretty (by his standards), who is also all the other things he's looking for in a casual relationship. Since he is not one for Doing Things outside the bonds of a relationship... doom. And since I'm Not His Type (read: too round)... doom. Furthermore, we both know that if we tried to date, we would either wind up in a screaming fight, or one of us would trample the other one without even trying. (Even odds as to who would be the trampler and who would be the tramplee, actually.) (If we tried to avoid trampling each other, there would be the screaming fight.) This might be fine if I could convince him that a casual, friends-who-fuck thing would work. However, he thinks of me too much as a sister.

So... we had that conversation last night. And then, instead of staying and hugging me until I stopped being grumpy about the entire situation, he had to leave. (Note: he did have a valid reason for leaving.) Nonetheless, we decided that the best way of working through things was letting Marah out and letting her get drunk with rainstorm13 over IM. The results were predictable, and amusing.

So, that's the backstory for the poll.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused
documentation, writing, quill

Ten years ago... (meme)

The point of this is to see how you're different than you were 10 years ago, I think...

So. Ten years ago was 1993.

1. LOCATION: Fairbanks, Alaska.

2. SEX: Masturbation. Which was rather difficult, considering that my bedroom was my corner of the upstairs, and my parents and Narcissa had their own corners, and anything I did would be clearly audible. I think this was when I became famous for two-hour baths. With a good book. When no one else was home, ideally.

3. RELATIONSHIPS: Oh gods. Um. ...93 would have been 7th grade, so... none. I was crushing on the Wrong Kind of Guy left & right. Ben turned out to be a dickwad; Ben turned out to be gay. (Two different Bens there.)

4. APPEARANCE: Short brown hair, just starting to be curly. Boobs. Wore skirts, never pants.

5. DRUGS: None. The Thou Shalt Not Do Drugs indoctrination had taken hold, and I didn't want to do anything that would make me stupid or forget stuff.

6. DRIVING: Mama and FatherSir did the driving: her 1984 Saab (lovely car!) and his tough old GMC suburban that was a good 4 years older than I was.

7. FOOD: Mama cooked. FatherSir was beginning to take over. This was about when Mama started to give up cooking for everybody. I was starting to fend for myself, kitchenwise.

8. CREATIVITY: I was starting to fragment. I was getting more into my journals. I had just discovered science fiction, thanks to Mr. Murphy leaving the first of the Harper's Hall trilogy in the reading rack.

9. SOCIAL: Michelle was my best friend; we'd just met Savil and her crowd; Galadriel and Gaia were still attached to the group at this point. I was the quiet one, often present, but not really a part of the goings-on of the whole group. Savil and I were becoming better friends than Michelle and I were.

10. MONEY: I had started working that one summer job, tablesitting at the Suzuki Institute. I think I also had started babysitting. Never had much, but never had any real expenses either.
running, bomb tech

Chicks' afternoon in

ralmathon came over, and we are soothing my upset affections with some very good wordplay: Much Ado About Nothing.


I shall really have to corner Darkside and have him watch this.
Little Fayoumis, Nephew

Happy Fayoumis events.

LIttle Fayoumis was talking about how he didn't want this to be a one-player game; how he wanted to have a two-kid game.

I told him that he could tell his friends at school that they could come over and play some time, and that he could tell his friends his phone number, and their moms could call and talk with us!

"Maybe my mom should talk with your mom" was a refrain in my childhood, on the phone.
running, bomb tech

*snicker* Bad database jokes.

Mr. Burns was discussing triggers with the class today, and I raised my hand and asked what I thought would be a very obvious snarky question.

"So, Dot Matrix's virgin alarm in Spaceballs would be a trigger that fires before an INSERT?"

Not as many people as I would have thought would laugh about it did. I was slightly hung-over, however, so it may not have come out as clearly as I had been thinking it should. After class, Burns and I discussed it, and it turns out that not only was I right, but he found it very funny.
trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats


Ro -- I sent him your e-mail addresses and number. With commentary.