Sunday, June 06, 2004

I'm a Little Late But...

I am in the grips of Spring Madness right now. My brain is a cesspool of testosterone due to the fact that I am absolutely crazy about women right now. Now I understand what all these other males have been talkin' about for years. I think that my 6 year drought might be coming to an end pretty soon as I'm getting dangerously close to letting my dating criteria vanish in a cloud of endo smoke. It's gettin' crazy in the brain region these days as if my biological imperative to sew my seed has somehow hijacked my inner-monologue. Now days instead of thinking of what I want to smoke, all I can think about is how I want some lady to smoke the pole. Sheesh. I first noticed it on Friday walking home from work as I blew yet another opportunity to talk to some lady I'm interested in. Because no matter how sex-crazed I get it still doesn't matter because it is much easier to be shy than to put yourself out there. I think I need to work on my testicular fortitude or something. 'Cause all I can think about is girls. All this weekend I'm like trying to analyze each little movement, encounter, etc. etc.
*Sigh*I feel like a little girl cuz I got a crush. Man, what a fucking geek.
Awwww. Little Chiseven is growing up.

Yep. And it is hilarious to find myself at work thinkin about some proposal or draft or something and then I just find myself drifting into some school-boy crush on whatever lady is on my mind at the time. It even happens when mu'fuckhas be talkin' to me too and I'm usually a pretty attentive conversationalist. I feel like I'm 14 years old for the first time again. But the thing that cracks me up about all this shit is that I don't have like sexual fantasies or anything, they're all about just kickin' with a lady, walkin'around, having' nice conversations, etc.
What am I, a repressed housewife or what? I feel like Elmo from Sesame Street when he first discovered his erection (oh you didn't see that one? It was great, he thought it was a firehose). GAH! When I'm at work, though, I can't be lettin' these instinctual urges drive my behavior or I wouldn't be gettin anything done, so I have found my favorite remedy to the cold shower when unavailable: Let's get limp.
Oh god. Brrrrrrrr. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah...Reagan.

Reagan dies and I win $200 dollars from my death-pool because he was the first one on my list to die this year. And he's been on that list for quite sometime. You're next, Pope John Paul.
But seriously, I was chillin' at the crib yesterday thinkin' about the ladies when all of the sudden I heard a huge "WOO-HOO" simultaneously from the vincinity of Creve Coeur, MO and from most of South America. It was then I knew that the Gipper had turned out the lights. I agree with Byron Crawford that Reagan's death is a cause for celebration. I just wish it wasn't Sunday now because I can't get any booze to celebrate until Monday. Fuck Indiana! Get drunk and go to church. I know I won't.

Okay, I'm hungry. Gonna eat now. Until next post.


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