The title of this entry goes to the famous Mozart for one of the best examples of extreme pervertedness that everyone knows about. In most instances, I'm highly aware that basically everyone in existence is a pervert. The guy down the street may like to make things kinky with food while the girl who sits next to me in Film History Pre-1945 might like it rough in bed. Either way, these two characteristics of these fetishes are rather normal and are just that: fetishes. Nothing too perverted unless you're a monk. Or a nun. Nah, who's kidding - they're perverted too.
In fact, this makes me wonder whether or not Jesus was into anything. Perfume-massaged-onto-the-feet-with-long-dirty-hair-of-a-whore just doesn't seem enough. Definitely going to hell for that comment.
My point is - clearly, if Mozart, being the genius he is, and I don't know, like every other genius that's famously taken part in the world's affairs and/or art - has a thing for poop and just being generally perverted then hunky-dory. I'm not kidding; check out this article:
http://www.cracked.com/article_18559_6-famous-geniuses-you-didnt-know-were-perverts.html
I told Bestie I would write about poop fetishes so here we go. My take on the fact that if you want anything to do with intellectual merits, you got to at least look at pictures of poop. And as everyone knows (except maybe you, dear reader) apparently, I have said poop fetish.
(Not really but it make me feel like a genius. Besides, according to the men in my life, it's weird that a girl doesn't mind tossing the words "poop" and "fart" around not mention telling everyone in the vicinity when pooping will commence like I do. Don't completely understand why this is such a big deal. Has no one read the book Everybody Poops? Geez.)
In any case, this kind of carries into what's going on in my life at the moment. I can't really talk much about it since its still "up in the air" but basically, someone I know is now in jail.
I've never really known anyone who's gone to jail.
Maybe like overnight for a warrant from not paying a ticket or because they were in possession of weed or something but nothing serious before.
And, seriously, I have to stop there but I'm kind of on auto drive as of late. I've been feeling happy/grateful but at the same time, just going through the motions. Introverted. Chill. Some moodswings now and then. More often than not, you can find me in deep thought in class, at coffee shops (okay, just once did I do that recently) or in my closet of an office at the radio station.
Yep, I believe I'm becoming a genius. Geniuses do that all the time, right? Besides fantasizing about their poop fetish and getting lost somewhere in the deep recesses of their mind, they must also write blogs about how shit's going down and life is nothing more than a dream within a dream...within a dream.
Plus, my fervent love for all things Sherlock Holmes at the moment has a distinct eau de genius about it, wouldn't you say?
Alright, enough of my egotistical bullshit - let's talk about Friday night. The night I had a sort of date with the guy I currently have a crush on. Let's give him the name Man-Jacks because he's basically me only in man form.
We went to a concert Friday night in a pretty sweet venue that's the basement of a pizza place. The bands were mostly funk and reggae and because of my swanky new radio job, I got a free CD and sticker from the band and felt cool being recognized by all the members (even though I'd partied with them freshman year of college but...its been awhile, okay!) Man-Jacks & I were hitting it off well and were having a great time but the part that I left out was the fact that the ex (Terry) happened to be there as well.
It was like having my brother come on a date with me.
I mean, he was fun and in good spirits which was good since I was thinking he'd be trying to steal me away every 5 seconds or tell Man-Jacks to fuck off but no, no, nothing like that. He ended up cockblocking me but I didn't really want to have sex or anything. I kind of just wanted to get to know Man-Jacks some more. Maybe we would've gotten coffee somewhere. The part that sucks most is that we didn't party afterward either, not even all together which would've been a great situation because it would've made more sense to ditch that scene than in a parking lot at midnight. Even worse, Terry called the whole thing and then, lying in my bed an hour later, made sure I knew he was hoping I wasn't expecting sex from him.
Yeah, cool, thanks for checking.
NOT.
Although I thought about it and now I'm sad he'll be away and there may not be someone for me to actually have sex with anytime soon, I'm not completely sure he's learned anything since last we tried.
Emphasis on the word "tried".
I actually went through with the whole thing and ended up having a pretty good experience except that we actually didn't really do anything. Just as well since I'm still not back on birth control.
Either way, slightly disappointing turn of events and now, after trying to chat with Man-Jacks in text last night, I'm sort of worried that he has a different opinion of me and is possibly turned off because of my douchebaggery the other night.
Ah well. I am the best at fucking up any good relationship that comes my way.
In fact, it's a bit of a science.
XOXO
Jacks
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