And Some Odd Proclivities.
I’m not sure what it is, and it may just be because I’m a huge DC comic and Joker fan, but there is SOMETHING about a man in a zoot suit that really just does it for me…hnnnnnngggg.
I'm the book that beat the speed-reader, and I'm the card the dealers won't touch. And it's just not true I'm a man-eater; all the same, we should probably go dutch.
The things you pick up as you go.
The guy I’m seeing is a massive Stargate fan. As a treat, I am seriously considering the application or shaving of the Stargate Earth symbol somewhere on my body (temporarily, of course).
Does this make me the coolest girl ever? I think so.
Have I yet mentioned that while I was shopping (read: fulfilling my addiction) in Victoria’s Secret one day, the S.O walked out of Williams-Sonoma carrying a bag, handed it to me, and said, “It’s for you.”
It was a Darth Vader spatula.
Tell me this is not love.
Kevin Bacon’s wardrobe in this movie: Bacon, by Armani. Not your average lunchmeat. Or outerwear.
Why you can’t take me into public to see a movie.
For the last umpteen years of my life that I’ve spent co-existing at home with my parents (barring the last 4 years I’ve lived away from them, but most definitely including the times I’ve come home,) my mother’s always had this habit of popping over the top of the couch while I’m reclining in supreme relaxation, and either chatting away with me while (from my point of view, upside down,) or conversely, pecking me on the forehead in maternal affection.
Someone popped over the top of me this afternoon and promptly started kissing me, a la Spiderman. I had the briefest moment, mid-snog, when I found myself thinking, “You know, I didn’t get a really good look at who this was before they attacked me, and as I’m being quite passionate, I SINCERELY hope this is the S.O and not my mother, like it very well could mistakenly be.”
Luckily, I was correct in my assumption and there was nothing Oedipus-esque going on in the fair kingdom of Denmark.