I do my best to keep the vibe around here intimate.
It's what I need, impossible though it may be. The web is world wide and I am but a spider, spinning away in my little corner. See how I am? Don't make me go all Charlotte on your ass... Help may very well be on its way, from above or beyond or wherever, but I certainly can't wait for inspiration to strike. I've got a billion things to do this week and I can pretty much say that I wasted the whole weekend on Being Bobby Brown. Jesus Christ! No wonder Whitney lost her fucking mind. That dude drove her crazy....
But I digress... Intimacy is the goal, and yet, my aspirations to have a bowel so clean you can eat off it seem unseemly and, for all intents and purposes, quite the opposite of intimate. What do you want? My head on a plate? A ruffie laced Jello pop? To be bound and gagged? What? I know, I know... Too many questions and not enough answers. I can't help you, darling, until you help yourself.
I'm not great with flirting. I'm clumsy and obvious. As I thumbed the pages of a magazine recently, I noted a bizarre behaviour that truly appeared to be involuntary. When I would gaze upon certain photos, my jaw would tense and from deep within me, a growl would begin and escalate quickly into a series of short, loud barks. Now, the photos that elicited this reaction were mostly of male models, I read a lot of fashion magazines, and I don't exactly identify that "type" as attractive, yet I barked. Crazy, like a dog being teased with a steak, I barked. Ruff! Grrrruff! Arfff! And so it is.
Like Rupert Everett said in Hello Darling, Are You Working?: "You get what you want in the form you deserve." My problem has always been not knowing what I want, or feeling that I don't deserve it. So, don't flirt with me unless you fucking mean it. I'm a pit bull and you're steak tartare! If, in fact, I do decide that I both want and deserve your attentions, be prepared that you, too will "get what you want in the form you deserve." And if you deserve me, then so be it.
I have to keep reminding myself to be bold, but it isn't natural to me. I'm not a great hunter like Steve Irwin, who died as he lived: bold. I was saddened by the news, but not really surprised. I found myself saying out loud: "Everybody dies." That guy had a great spirit and he inspired and entertained a lot of people. No, I don't do that. I practice passive aggression. I spin my web and wait. Though it's not obvious, if you look close enough, you can make out what it says...
Fuck the piggy!
Mama's tits are sore now, so you'll have to stop sucking for a while. That's right. Just stop. Let go. Oh, now why are you crying? I know, I know, everybody dies... Life sucks and then you get the bill.