This stank face brought to you by random snow in fall and then none around the holidays. Not that I want some major blizzard, but some flurries could be cute. Sheesh.
cartoon
The Holiday Party, Part 6
“Wait, you’re smoking with my neighbor?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry…”
“No, no,” Ren said, “it’s awesome. I’ll be up in a few!”
Of course, who came busting through the door instead but Noodlegirl’s boyfriend. According to Ren later on that night, he had freaked out and claimed that I might be off performing some “crazy lesbian ritual” with her. What. The. Hell.
Seriously? One, she’s not his girlfriend. Two, she barely likes him. And, three, lesbian rituals? Really? Because every lesbian is a witch suddenly. It just sucks that there’s two ways to handle a bisexual girl at a party, she’s either trying to steal your girl or she’s there for you to watch and drool over. Ugh.
Yep.
Dacry and I made a bet. I won.
You see, I have a terrible habit of putting posts I see into my drafts. I think I’ll have a use for them later and I like them too much to let them pass by. As a result, my draft folder just about overflows.
So, my tumblr girlfriend and I made a little wager that I couldn’t clear the folder down to below a hundred images by the end of the month. I began at the start of August, going through and either deleting or posting images. Some were from tumblrs that didn’t exist anymore. Some provided inspiration for a ton of fun posts I made. Some were simply there to support an idea I had.
Thus, I do believe I’m owed something besides bragging rights. I’m waiting, darling.
Currently sitting around in my panties and ravenously devouring a slice of pizza after a hot shower following a trip to the gym.
Good Lord I just can’t even. It’s just the simple things like this that make me happy as a pig in shit.
I am so not cut out for the real world if it isn’t.
Don’t forget kids… Friday is Casual Sex Day…
You’ve made me proud, New York.
Hey, followers. I’m just checking in from my remote, rainy location to let you know that things are going quite well. While I do have internet here, I do not foresee myself going on tumblr a whole lot. Once again, the queue is clearly working.
But, yes, it rains like crazy here. And I keep getting caught in it at really inopportune times.
This movie itself was indication enough as to what was to come. And I’m sure if everyone had paid better attention to how I was reacting, they would be able to guess right off the bat how I would turn out. It’s probably why my mother wasn’t surprised at all when I came out to her. She almost seemed relieved that I had finally gotten up the gumption to get it over-with.
Who Framed Roger Rabbit? was my favorite movie as a child. I remember spending hours parked in front of the television, just watching it over and over. I was so taken with it. There was the animation, of course. There was the humor, most of which was over my head and, when I went back and watched it recently, found sometimes hilariously brilliant (the 50 year old baby’s comment about having a three year old “dinky”? How was that allowed to creep into a “family” movie?).
But, most of all, it was her. Jessica Rabbit. She started just about everything. I can’t remember the first time I saw the movie, but I do remember how I would feel when she first came out on the nightclub stage to sing. There was something inside of me that got tugged so hard I thought I would snap in two. The narrowness of that waist, unnaturally balanced with that round rear and her breasts. It was the epitome of everything sexual, everything that could make a woman so desirable and awake something so primal within me. And, for God’s sake, she was a cartoon.
And then there was the scene where she was tied up. By the coils around her neck, the guy who drew her was clearly a fetishist (or at least trying to appeal to them). I used to sit in front of the VCR and rewind and replay that scene over and over. In first grade, we had to pick a book and learn to read it. I found the Who Framed Roger Rabbit? picture book buried in the shelves.
During reading time, I would just retreat to the back of the classroom and stare at the page that showed Jessica Rabbit tied up for the entire time. I wouldn’t do anything but stare. Just take her in and wish I were there with her. Tied next to her. Sometimes I even wished I was just her. I didn’t know what was pulling at me do be this way, to obsess over her image.
But, I guess, in a very quiet way, I always did sort of know.