Venial Sin

It’s official. Viggo Mortenson is one hot man. I’ve never really thought he was particularly attractive, but post-LotR…oh my. The heartstrings are fluttering, the libido is…well, the less said about that, the better. I mean, check this out, people. I’m sick of being shallow, but those are cheekbones to kill for.

I find myself at a loss for words today. Perhaps because all of my available cerebral capacity has been diverted towards temporary insanity. Ponder upon this: how accurate a representation of “reality” is someone’s online persona? Can you really judge or evaluate or even understand someone if you’ve only met them online? Because personally, I think I’m quite abrasively honest about who I am online as well as offline. I don’t think I change a great deal between the two. [...]

From The Guardian, by John O’Farrell. First the enemy was the mighty Soviet Union, the “evil empire” with its massive nuclear arsenal and plans for world domination. Then came crazed fundamentalist terrorists backed by rogue dictators hiding weapons of mass destruction. But now America faces an even greater threat to its very survival – yes, it’s Simon and Julian, the couple who run Shampoodle, the Pet Pamper Parlor.

Although my foul mood for the last day and a half has prevented me from doing any real blogging/journaling, I received these two e-mails in the last few days, both of which have made me incredibly happy as well as incredibly sad. The first came from the Erudite One, and the second from the Redheaded Wench. The missive from the latter will require some explaining, which I shall provide in one of my upcoming-soon postings.

This got me teary-eyed. If you can’t access the link for some odd reason, I’ve posted the full text of the article below (with my apologies and love to Salon).

It’s official. I’ve been cursed. In the last 13 years, I’ve almost never hit on a straight man or had a crush on one (that I can remember at any rate); they’ve all been—at the very least—heteroflexible. And in the last 13 weeks, I’ve been tripping all over myself like a newborn puppy (you know, big paws, no motor control), and falling down the emotional and mental equivalent of the Eiffel Tower’s stairs, all for straight men. This is very [...]

From my friend, the North-Easterner: “Ahem.” *steps onto the makeshift stage (lots of beer kegs strung together), and takes deep breath.* “Happpppy BiRTH-dayyyy to youuuuuu” “Hap-py BIRTH-dayyyy to youuuuuu” *Window slams open. Irate voice shouts “What’s that caterwauling going on down there?”* “Happy BIRTH-dayyyy, de-aaaarrrr Siii-iiin!” *Shoe comes flying onto the scene. Ducks and continues singing.* “Happybirthdaytoyouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu” *warbles alarmingly, and turns various interseting hues of purple and blue* “Ahem.” “Thank you. Thank you.” *polite applause*

The Muna Lisa wrote quite a lovely piece on the US and its behaviour re: the whole Guantanamo Bay thing. Since it’s been taken offline (only around for a week), I finally managed to badger her into giving me the text of the actual article, and have got around to reprinting it. Check it out. It’s worth a read, and is definitely making me reconsider how badly I want to come back to the US. I hear Germany’s quite nice…

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear self, happy birthday to me. Now I need mid-20s therapy. And a drink. Lots of drinks, actually.

This is rather humiliating, but cathartic. I wrote this letter a long time ago to someone for whom I thought I cared a great deal. He was–and still is, I suspect–a good person for me to have dated, but as the Kindly Ones would have it, things simply didn’t work out. One day, out of sheer boredom (and frustration with how things weren’t working out), I sat and wrote a generic letter to the nebulous males in my life with [...]