Uzis and Memes and Blog Proms, Oh My

I've been really tired for the last week. Between puzzling over how to switch this blog over to an MT format (and realizing for all my skills I seem to know fuck all and it's taking me FOREVER) and dealing with some personal life stuff I'll not get into here, the energy is just low. So I'm walking around a bit zombie-like, and yet I can't seem to fall asleep before 2 a.m. on any given night.

I need to find someone who's a night owl like me who'd be willing to talk to me late at night and help lull me into sleep. Volunteers?

Not speaking of which, I came across some lame article today (too tired to find it again) on Blogger about how to use your blog as a dating tool. Can this stuff really be used for that? I've seen no evidence. I mean, not ONE person who reads this blog has ever tried to woo me. I think I must come across as un-woo-able. Do I appear to be sans woo?

Hey, I've got woo. I've got lots and LOTS of woo. Come see for yourself. It's stored right here in this trunk at the foot of my bed, just under the Big, Fat Uzi I was issued by Gail when I moved here to be one of the Old Town girls.

Hm. You think maybe the Uzi's putting the guys off?

Hey, a girl needs her defenses. Doesn't mean she doesn't have some stellar woo tucked into her bustier that's just under her ammo belt.

Anyway.

I'd started a post I think is a great idea (though maybe it's just lack of sleep that makes me think that). But I'm too tired to actually have the creative energy to finish it right now. Still, though, I feel like writing something, just to keep my writing brain somewhat active. So instead of the "real" post, today you get the ramblings above, and a meme that I swiped from Karl Elvis's blog. You can go to his place to read who he swiped it from.

Read on, and comment at will.

1. If you could be doing what you really want to be doing for a living, what would it be?

I wouldn’t want to be “doing something for a living” at all—I’d want to be just living, with no regard to earning. Which for me would mean things like travel, music, reading, living in a really cool place (or places) in a house (or houses/flats) I love, having elaborate, excessive dinner parties and late night drinking and conversation with smart, interesting, creative, funny friends, film, art, dancing, writing all sorts of things—novels, screenplays, poetry, erotica, radio essays, children’s books, whatever I like, and having people read it and connect to it. It would be even more excellent if they paid me well for it. Being near water. Spending lots of time listening to and watching the ocean hit the beach. Never having to worry about money. And having time to volunteer for any cause I wanted to support. (And if this was attained via having lots of money, I would add “donate to” to the last sentence.)

If I have to "do something for a living," as in a JOB, I’d like to make a living with my writing as described above. If I can’t, the kind of writing work I do right now for a living isn’t too bad, really.

I’ve also always wanted to try voice over work. Lots of people have said I should, and I think I would like it, but I have no idea how to break into it. Anyone out there who has any tips for how to do it, or who wants to hire me, email me.


2. If you could slap the shit out of any famous person, alive or dead, who would it be?

W.


3. What’s the dumbest decision you’ve made in the past 5 years?

Um…I actually can’t think of any. I’m not big on regret. I just tend to absorb and move on.


4. Give up one for a year: (good) sex or (good) music.

Music, I guess. But really these two are the same to me, and inextricable. I can’t picture them as separate. Sex feels like music to me. And good music feels like sex. They need to be together.


5. Dudes, would you rather have a big dick or a great sense of humor?

I don’t respond comments that begin with “dude.” Ever.


6. So you’ve been invited to an all expense paid Blogger Prom in The Bahamas. You’re sitting at the bar on the beach. Which blogger do you want to join you for hours of good convo?

Why the hell would they have a Blogger Prom on the beach? Like, there’d be no wireless access, man. People would lose their minds.

If I have to be at a Blogger Prom Convention (and I’d ONLY be there due to the “all expense paid” thing), I would probably go someplace darker and more dive-bar like and hang out with Hiromi, exchanging snide comments about all of the people who actually paid to go to a “Blogger Prom.” Suckers.


7. Which blogger would you most like to cuddle with on the beach? (and don’t defer to your current signif other either. Infidelity won’t count against you. Duh.)

Grrr. I don’t cuddle. I own an Uzi, dammit!

IF there was a blogger who was powerful enough to be able to sweet talk me into lowering my very sexy and metaphorical submachine gun so that he could then disarm me in my moment of weakness, leaving me so overcome by with his quickness and skill that I'd suddenly feel compelled to purr and rub up against him like a little cuddly kitten (which would never, NEVER happen, EVER, I tell you), you’d never see it out on the beach. It’d be like a WMD in Iraq--there might be rumors of its existence, but you’d never have the evidence. No one would ever know what didn’t happen with the blogger whom I never cuddled with in that secret location that doesn’t exist. Because most likely this non-existant blogger would keep mum about it, too, if he knew what was good for him (and his future sexual happiness).

(But then again, I’ve never really found men who knew what was good for them to be particularly appealing.)

Of course, I’d also never let that blogger know if I thought he was powerful enough to disarm me. Either he’d know his own power or he wouldn’t. I’m not gonna surrender before the battle even begins. What’s the fun in that?

Wondering if I’m “not talking” about you, hm? As well you should.


8. You’re going on a 5 hour road trip: which 5 CDs do you bring?

This changes every single day. But today:
Two new CDs I’m listening to--Wig in a Box (a Hedwig covers compilation) and Giant Drag's Hearts and Unicorns. And three perfect driving CDs that I take on every road trip, regardless of what else I bring: The Best of Blur, Ramones Mania, and…wait for it…South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut (Best. Driving. Cd. Ever.)


9. Would you rather bury your children young or have your children bury you young?

Seeing as I don’t have kids, I’ll choose to bury the spawn. Then no one’s actually buried at all.


10. What’s your biggest insecurity?

That I’m not enough.

And also, letting people see that I’m insecure about that.


11.What’s the first blog you read every day, or however often you read them?

I don’t have a “first.” I kind of just go through the favorites on my blogroll. I usually start with all the Moronosphere folks first (Circe, Buck, Ray, Hiromi, Karl Elvis, in no particular order), then go through the others on my daily reads list, as well as those mentioned in my BILFs post (who should be on the daily reads list by now but I’ve just been too lazy to redo the code).


12. When’s the last time you peed your pants?

What the hell kind of question is this? Do most people pee their pants beyond early childhood?

Um, I think it was 2nd grade. Because some bitch friend of my mother’s who I was staying with while my parents were on vacation wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom before she made me walk to school.


13. Which was better, your first kiss or your first pay check?

Neither is particularly memorable to me. Both weren’t nearly enough.


14. Do you have kids? Want kids?

No. Define “want.”

15. You get dropped off at home after the office holiday party by your bitch azz boss that you can’t effing stand… you exit the car and he peels out, runs a red light at your corner and rolls up an unsuspecting midget. The next day the midget watch groups are on TV outraged at the heartless hit and run, and are calling for any witnesses to please come fwd: that half dead midget has a family at home waiting on C-mas presents. Would you take $1000 hush money? $500? $100? A six pack?

So this question is assuming after I witnessed my “bitch azz” (ugh) boss hit a human being in the street, I wouldn’t call an ambulance right away to report it, but would instead wait till the next morning and only think about whether I should report it after I listened to the news?

Please. I would be on the phone to an ambulance the moment I saw a person got hit. So the question is totally moot.

But IF I am going to entertain this “stupid azz” question, no, I wouldn’t take hush money of any amount.

For the record, and because I’m difficult like this: I also wonder why the example uses a midget. Why not just any person? And why is the midget “unsuspecting?” Isn’t that kind of redundant? How many people suspect they’re going to get hit by a car?


16. Live the rest of your life without your eyebrows or your fingernails?

No fingernails sounds painful, so eyebrows. And then I’d have them permanently tattooed on like this lady I know down the street.


17. What makes you angry?

Dishonesty. Deception. Lying, both blatantly and by omission. Fake people. Poseurs. People who won’t own up to their own mistakes and always blame someone else to cover their own asses. Lack of integrity and honor. Infidelity. Snobbishness. Xenophobia. Racism/bigotry/prejudice. Willful ignorance. Blatant stupidity. Narrow-mindedness. Judgmental pricks. Bullies. Crooked politicians. Zealots of any sort. Bullshit. Bullshit excuses. People who make up their mind about something without ever trying to experience that thing first.


18. What makes you horny?

Hearing the sounds a man makes when I’ve made him feel so good he’s gone non-verbal.

Reading really good erotica; especially erotica that someone I desire wrote specifically for me.

Writing good erotica (yes, I admit it, my own writing can get me very hot as it’s coming out of me); especially writing erotica aimed at someone I want to turn on and imagining his reaction when he first opens it, and as he reads it, and…

Dirty talk, moaning, and/or growling in my ear. During actual sex, AND over the phone. You can make me explode on the spot if you do this right.

Listening to the sound of hetero or male/male or male masturbatory porn. (I like this even better than watching porn—you get to imagine more).

Kissing my neck. Running the tips of your fingers lightly over my skin so I can only barely feel it (makes me want to scream for more).

Should I go on? A lot of things make me horny.


19. What makes you nervous?

Infants holding balloons (*shudder*). My 1984 torture would be me sitting in a room surrounded by toddlers squishing balloons.

Being aggressively flirted with by someone who I secretly want to flirt with me. I blush, lose the ability to speak or be clever, feel completely off balance, hide behind my hair, and in general have no idea what to do with myself. (But secretly I like it.)

Loud, sudden noises. The suspense of knowing a gun or cannon is going to go off (for instance, in a play or memorial service). Really loud thunder. Being woken up by gunshots outside my window in the middle of the night (hey, I told you I was an Old Town chick.

And Karl Elvis and I share the same one in this category. I HATE when people sneakily try to peek over my shoulder to see what I’m writing on paper or when I’m doing ANYTHING on the computer (unless I’ve invited them to look at something).

20. What makes you smile?

Being flirted with by someone I like (even though it also scares me). I try to keep a cool poker face and not to show they’re getting to me, but if you do it right I can’t keep hold of my cool and end up all pink and smiling like a total schoolgirl goofball.

Getting a cool present from a friend that shows they really “get” me.

Random absurdity.

My nephews, just being who they are.

Thinking about something he said to me the night before while I’m sitting in a meeting at work.

That moment after you’ve both just come and your bodies move from the stiff pulsing of orgasm into release and you’re both still feeling the waves as your bodies let go and come down though you’re still a little out of breath; and your bodies are separating, coming down, but you’re both still wanting to hold onto it a little bit longer, so you reach out to touch in some way…and when you feel that touch and you look right in that person’s face for the first time since your orgasm and see that person looking back at you…yeah. That’s when you’ll see the biggest ass smile you’ll ever see on my face.

And

This song

This song

This song

This song

And

This song

Okay, there's that done. Now I really must be off to bed. I don't know how I'm making it through this week at work, given the hours I'm keeping lately.

Somebody tell me sumthin'.