February 26, 2008

• Rawrgh!!  I find it so insanely frustrating when people don't simply allow their footprints to settle gently into my journal.  Why must you leave me only with the state you hail from, or worse yet only a tick on the counter as you disappear like thin smoke in a quick breeze?  Can't I see you, too?  Can't we share our silly, frivolous, pointless lives over a completely cold and unfeeling medium?  I suppose I shouldn't complain.  You're probably all little 15-year-olds hunting for porn and I wouldn't want your inane little comments anyway.  *narrows eyes*  You little bitches...

  I took about a billion pictures of myself a few days ago.  This one is my favorite:

  

  I like to dress up for work.  The fact that each male human being who sees me behind the counter talking about Warmachine or D&D thinks he's found the perfect female amuses me, especially since I am taken and will never cease to be so.  I love the way even the most courageous young man will look down before he looks me in the eye or even before he can bring himself to let his eyes linger for a second over my breasts.  I feel so powerful, like a great, winged succubus surveying her territory and subjugating her prey.

  My mother always said three things about me:
  1) You have the mane of a lion.
  2) You have the tongue of a serpent.
  3) You have the heart of a kitten.

  I think she meant with the first one that I am outwardly prideful and can easily dominate any room I walk into or any conversation I join.  I find no folly in saying what I think and it is hard to embarrass me.

  Perhaps the second refers to my ability to make anything cut like a knife.  Often with a simple three or four word statement I can crush the hopes and dreams of almost anyone after knowing them for only a short time.  I say what I want, when I want and however I want, regardless of the pain others may feel.

  The third I know suggests that deep down I don't mean any of it.  It's all a show that I put on to fool everyone...and myself...into thinking that I'm not to be messed with.  If you've ever seen a tiny kitten try to hiss and growl to scare you off, you'll know exactly what I mean.

  I went shopping with my mother (a woman who buys her bras at K-Mart) and my grandmother (one of the most paranoid, hard to deal with humans on the planet) and I found it actually rather amazing.  My grandmother had promised me a shopping trip for my birthday, but at the time I didn't need anything.  I don't shop to be aloof and free, I shop when all my underwear have holes in them and I just can't bare to wear them anymore.  This particular trip (being almost 4 months after my birthday, mind you) I needed socks and lots of them.  I also wanted to snag a wonderfully long jacket to cover my hips during next winter while they are all still on sale.  My grandmother gave me $90 and then insisted that I buy more than just socks and a jacket.  Then the strangest thing happened.  My mother chimed in and told me to buy whatever I wanted, especially if it was a good deal.  It caught me so off guard.  My mother, suggesting I buy more clothing?  As the day wore on I overheard my grandmother say, "...and you say she gets her clothing from the Goodwill?  We must make sure the little darling gets some nice things."  I realized my mother was worried about me.  I guess I have been a bit strapped for cash lately, but I certainly didn't think it was noticeable, and anyway it's my fault for playing miniature games (expensive!).  At the very end of the day when I had picked the perfect coat and was about to leave the mall, my mother grabs a professional jacket from a rack nearby and asks me to try it on.  By this point I had spent all the money on socks and things and had no money for this marvelously professional jacket, but my mother insisted.  I tried it on and she said it looks so nice on me that I had to find some bottoms for it (from a woman who has never in the history of my life wanted to stay longer in a mall).  We did and I tried them on and the whole outfit looked wonderful.  She bought it for me with the excuse that I would soon be interviewing for internships (true) and that I would need more clothing for said interviews (false).

  It makes me think that perhaps I worry my mother too much.

  I left a really awkward post on Ryan's personal (not like a xanga or a livejournal, but an actual domain) blog.  I wonder if he will delete it or if he will respond.  I love the game I play with him.  Much like a game of cat and mouse, only the cat has no interest in ever eating the mouse and just wants to bat him around for a while.

  • 1:27 am
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