May 31st, 2003

running, bomb tech


metaphorge is now one year older, approximately. It behooves you to go do that, you know, celebrationy thing, and the wishing of birthday happiness wouldn't be a bad plan either.
horny, Divine Oscillations

Things I Believe (for whatever reason) (blame minakochan)


Either party may be the one to ask the other out.
I am happy if you are friendly-flirting with me, but I am unhappy when your flirtatious behaviour sets of my danger signals.
Clear skin, pretty hair, pretty clothes, a good body, and a classically handsome face do not make you attractive to me. If you turn out to be an asshole after I get to know you, I'll think you're butt-ugly. *cough*Isaiah*cough*
A man should be as tall as or taller than me, and definitely strong enough to dance properly with me.
A man should open doors for me.
A man should not get pissed off when I open doors for him.
A man should not embarrass me with gifts that are too expensive when I am not in a position to reciprocate.
A man should not shower gifts upon me in an attempt to win my affections. He should give me things because he knows they will delight me, or not at all.
A man should not tell me that I am cute, pretty, beautiful, et cetera, if he doesn't believe it. A man's social lie about appearance should be limited to "You look OK" if he thinks I am not lovely.
I am apt to believe that any man who tells me how lovely I am just wants to get laid.
I get frustrated when your body says that yes, you want to take me right here right now, and you deny that you're thinking anything of the sort. I understand when you admit that your body desperately wants me, but you have mental problems with this issue.
  • Current Mood
    contemplative contemplative
running, bomb tech

Oh -- yes--


votania came home, and we cooked at each other, while gossipping. Fun. Happy.
  • Current Mood
    happy happy
running, bomb tech

Things I need to tell him:

Dearest --

...I'm afraid of hurting you, you know. I know you enough so that things I say wrong will hurt, and I don't know you well enough to avoid saying those things that will hurt.
  • Current Mood
wild rose

Some disturbing ones...

I am a slut if I go past holding hands or hugging on the first date. No matter if we do wind up in what passes as a serious relationship following that.

Guys who are not stronger than I am are too weak to date me.

A guy who I cannot defeat in a fair fight is too dangerous for me to be alone with.

A guy who I cannot defeat in a dirty fight is way too dangerous for me to be alone with.

When other women go all ga-ga over a guy and lose their tough edge, they are being weak and the guy is possibly hazardous for their health. When I go all ga-ga over a guy and lose my tough edge, I'm doing what comes naturally... and I'm weak.

(Darkside is an exception to some rules.)
horny, Divine Oscillations


votania and I headed out "to get hairdye!" at around 2:00 pm.

We are now, at 7:00 pm, home.

First we went and got the hairdye, debating over the merits of all of them. We then hit the dollar store, there getting various small items, including room spray (her car needs some freshening up) and a shower curtain liner for me (my old one was thrashed) and a scrubby thing for her (eris_raven thrashed hers).

Then we hit Sam's Club, and there was much debate over STUFF. A guy was giving out free samples of sushi. Mmmmmmmmmm.

On our way back, we found a Goodwill. Three pairs of good black pants for me, thanks be!! I am not an easy body type to shop for cheaply, and I like pants. We visited Fascinations after that, and had much debate over various items. Mr. Wiggles has gone missing!! This is a small crisis. They, sadly, had no replacements. Mr. Wiggles is jelly, about 8" long, and has about 5 progressively larger bloops, from maybe 3/4 inch at the tip to 2" at the bottom, all together on each other like that kids' ring stacking toy, rather than separated like other, more common toys.

We came home, quite happy and giggling. Yay, us!!
  • Current Mood
    happy happy

Attack of the Leeks

Nope, nothing explosive and burning to sweep down from the ceiling. Just... more soup.

The Viking's over, and we're going to be making short work of the pot of turkey chowder.

I smell of cold cream. I must shower, and then smell of sour cream, which is much better.