u s e y o u r h a n d s

Dear Owen Wilson,

You are the object of desire for a many a female member of the hipster intellegentsia. This devoted group quotes your lines from Bottle Rocket, Royal Tenenbaums, and yes, even Zoolander. They wonder why you don’t do more nuanced thrillers like Minus Man.

Oh, Owen, these women don’t care about your nose, disturbing in its imperfection, yet so sexily compelling. They care about your wit, your talent, your Oscar nomination.

And so why, I ask, do you do those horrible Michelob Light ads? Suddently, you are the Yoda of frat boys, dispensing advice about how to get into this one or that one’s pants. Thank you for breaking the hearts of many girls who thought you an acceptable adult celebrity crush.

Feh!

Kate let it drip. The fluid ran across the counter, skiied over the lip, and coursed down the cabinet face. She paused and listened to the drops form a small pool. It sounds like a cat walking in snow, these drops falling together.

She put the knife down.

She put her lips to the fluid and lapped at it like a cat. The first taste of the coconut milk on her tongue made up for all the sticky cleaning ahead.

The name shall be Lavender Sweet.

Platonic: Transcending physical desire and tending toward the purely spiritual or ideal: platonic love.

So, really, platonic has, or should have, nothing to do with fucking. But don’t tell that to those Craig’s Listers in the Strictly Platonic section! To many posters, platonic merely indicates that the road to sex might be long, but it will indeed by traveled.

wanna watch LOTR with me? - m4w - 32

Looking for a cool hippie girl that’s a huge Lord of the Rings fan to watch the movie with. I enjoyed all three movies and think it would be fun to watch it with a gal that reeeeally loves those movies. Not saying this will lead to anything, but I’ll leave the door open.

Yes, hippie girls! Let your patchouli stank waft around this LOTR fan’s home while you play footsie with your Birkenstocks. And, you know, if you want to do it, that’s cool. But who shall bring the weed?

do not read, no matter how tempted!!!!!! - m4w - 27

Hi, I’m very glad your reading this, the mere fact that you don’t always follow directions already entices me anyways, i’m not too new to the internet, nor new to communicating on the…”net”. BUT, i am new to this meeting people on the “net” thing. SO, if your interested in biking, feel free to send me an e-mail, or something. I like theatre (haven’t had time, but am interested in seeing the comedy on shakespeare at navy pier soon), bars/grills/clubs/ salsa , and trying to learn the tango thing (and learning be the key word here). Tangent: Tango is alot harder than the scent of a women scene, but thats just my opinion.
Anyways, i’m somewhere between 6′ - 6′1″, and i love wit (i’m working on some as of this writing :). Again, i enjoy a wide variety of things, and am always up for something new (but it doesn’t necessarily have to be new, as long as its new to me, that will more than suffice :). I’m also in grad school, -this is getting long-

Yes, it is long, so I will truncate your rambling inane post. Why? Oh, my God. Do you not know how stupid you sound? The “net,” sir? And please tell me where you go to graduate school. I want to know what institution of higher learning accepted your complete lack of punctuation.

I’ve wanted a pink Kitchenaid mixer for some time now. And now, it sits on the brand-new countertop. It is a handsome machine, a creamy pink, like a milkshake.

But more than the mixer, we’ve wanted to get engaged for a while now. It’s something we’ve been talking about for ten of the eleven months we have been together.

I had the mixer, but the ring hadn’t shown up yet. We went to the Sofitel’s Cafe des Architectes and enjoyed a cheese, wine, and fruit sampler. And a nummy dessert. And then I got my ice-pink ring. I picked it out, this J. Lo knockoff ring. It was $15, but it’s lovely and shiny.

But it doesn’t glitter as much as his eyes do when he smiles at me.

See you all next April. This will be some party.

Holy shit! I’m totally getting married.

Remember when I auditioned for that burlesque show? well, I’m in.

So, what should my stage name be?

1. Defecation of Character!
2. Corrupt Dog Eats Baby!
3. 35 Killed By Gin-Soaked Carnie!
4. Killer, 7, Rewarded with Candy
5. Bush, Cheney Caught Inflagrante at Cacti Ranch
6. Batavia Levelled By Satan’s Own Bulldozer
7. Bees Form Union; Demand Reparations
8. Beats No Longer “Phat,” Says Diddy
9. Isaac Mizrahi to Wed Liza
10. Potty the Bong Favorite Children’s Character

If Destiny’s Child were kittens in England ….

So, on Monday I tried out for the Sissy Butch Brothers burlesque show. I spent a month putting my act together, first deciding on “I’m Just a Girl Who Cain’t Say No” from Oklahoma!. If anyone wants to buy a (slightly) used hoopskirt, let me know.

I ended up performing to “Big Spender” from Sweet Charity. Lots of horns and shit. It’s very bombastic. I stripped down from a men’s oxford to a corset, to a bra, then pasties. No twirling, though. That shit hurts, if you know what I mean.

Everyone was very kind, although I was extremely, crazily nervous. Anyway, don’t know if I got in yet. But let’s hope, hrm?

Did you know? If not, let me share:

I, for one, am relieved to know at last.

Does nobody else think of Kashi GoLean cereal as Kashi Golem? Kind of a mind-fuck, yes? While many dieters will extol the virtues of Kashi cereal with its bits of “fiber twigs,” soy granules, and honey puffs, it’s not really supernatural in nature.

However, maybe if you wet it a bit and mold it … into the form of a man … oh, shit. Oh, shit!

Um, anyone know how to kill a cereal-man with supernatural powers? Anyone, anyone? Bueller?

Because that guy is getting twig everywhere. And booming Hebrew isn’t work-friendly.

15 minutes passed before she snapped out of it. It’s hard to ignore freezing cold water lapping at your most intimate of areas. Carole backed up to higher ground after pulling her legs out of the lake’s muck. She squished the gritty bottom between her toes, unearthing pebbles. The horizon seemed, the longer Carole looked at it, to flicker and waver, breaking under her stare.

And then she felt it under her right big toe. A marble? It was peculiarly smooth and round. She grasped it with her toes and slowly drew her foot up. Carole stood poised like a bird with one foot in and one foot out of the lake. With her gaze blurred orange from the sun, she grabbed the item out of her foot’s grasp and rolled it around in her hand.

Upon closer examination, she could detect a texture to the ball, but no seam. Carole’s curiosity broke her lock on the sunset. She looked at the item, rolling it around. Did it wash up and get buried in the sand? Or had someone decided to make guacamole at the beach? Regardless, Carole tossed the pit far from shore and spat into the waves, her mouth full of the nasty taste of avocado.

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