View from a grassy knoll

11:15 p.m. dirty sheets (requiem for the descendants) 2002-02-01

Reaped so last night i went over to hot donuts' house.
a little revisionist history: hot donuts is the ex-ex (ex squared?) boyfriend to whom i was once engaged, back when i was too young to drink and before i understood that the fluttery feelings you get after sex weren't necessarily love but some type of bodily hormonal reaction. i'll explain why he's called hot donuts some other day...
anyway, after 3 or so years of a long distance relationship i broke up with him, because i was graduating college and wanted to sleep with my friend downstairs and not feel guilty about it. i know, i'm evil, get over it.
into the present: since i'm single again, i decided it would be a good time to realize all the 'what if?' fantasies i'd been having since our torrid break-up. conveniently for me, hot donuts had also recently broken up with his girlfriend (we'll call her "goiter girl" for now, since the one time i met her I was struck with the strange bulge of skin under her chin, whom one wise soul informed me was because she was probably once fat, but anyway, EVIL, get over it). hot donuts, however, made the unfortunate mistake of taking up residence with goiter girl, even though they'd only been together a couple months and their relationship was conceived on ectasy pills. (note to self, the feelings one gets for others while rolling also do not translate into love, but again, psychotropic reactions in your pleasure receptors.)
So, i get there, overnight bag in hand, and walking in the door i am struck with this awkward feeling. as if walking into the lair of the white worm. evidence of goiter girl litters the domicile: bras and sweaters strewn across the living room sofa, dirty thongs crumpled in the corner of hallway, and the bathroom, dear jesus, an explosion of gold accessories and frilly rose themed shower curtains and towels and bathmats, and angel decorations EVERYWHERE, not to mention the hair accessories, makeup and eyelash curlers (3 pairs? where's the third eye? okay, don't answer that...). I couldn't pee because this one huge plaster angel figurine was STARING at me in gay bliss. I stared back, wondering why it had a huge penis. then i realised, it was sitting on the back of a turtle (turtle?!), and the supposed penis was in fact the animal's head. thus the first feelings of flight occured, for i knew this hellish bathroom would provide no solace for this sister.
BUT OF COURSE, the fantastic horrors of the house of hot donuts did not stop there. why, i asked myself, was i so eager to enter this den of iniquity? (well, nookie, but anyway) FLEE, screamed my instincts. but run i did not. instead, i sat down and watched gladiator, and tried to not to think of what the bedroom could possibly hold in store. indeed, though gladiator is a good long movie, the time did come to slumber.
now, take the bathroom of beastiality and multiply it by twenty thousand. lace, dolls, roses, angels, antique jewelery dresser: ultimate feminity realized in material goods.
DEAR GOD! screamed my psyche PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS? in the corner, a 3 foot porcelain angel with gilded robes watches over the room. a vanity with a lace curtain stands between the closet and window. i raise my eyebrow at hot donuts. "don't look at me," he says, "it's her domain. i just sleep here." in the closet i spy artifacts of his past: a vintage lava lamp, old kiss action figures, a box of magic cards. i grasp the lacy rose bedspread between to fingers. i'm uncomfortable here, but one makes their own bed, so i lie down...
...and on the dresser, glimpse the framed Glamourshot of goiter girl. though her taste leaves something to be desired, she's not bad looking. however, she seems to be looking badly at me. i sigh. pull the lacy rosy comforter up so i can no longer catch her stare. wish i had drunk or smoked or swallowed something to make me go to sleep faster, and realize, though it's the same bed on which hot donuts and i once pledged our ever-lasting love, the covers have changed.
Sown

Fresh Cut
New digs - 2004-05-25
Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10
Grumble - 2004-05-07
Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05
Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05

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11:15 p.m.	dirty sheets (requiem for the descendants)	2002-02-01
Reaped	so last night i went over to hot donuts' house. a little revisionist history: hot donuts is the ex-ex (ex squared?) boyfriend to whom i was once engaged, back when i was too young to drink and before i understood that the fluttery feelings you get after sex weren't necessarily love but some type of bodily hormonal reaction. i'll explain why he's called hot donuts some other day... anyway, after 3 or so years of a long distance relationship i broke up with him, because i was graduating college and wanted to sleep with my friend downstairs and not feel guilty about it. i know, i'm evil, get over it. into the present: since i'm single again, i decided it would be a good time to realize all the 'what if?' fantasies i'd been having since our torrid break-up. conveniently for me, hot donuts had also recently broken up with his girlfriend (we'll call her "goiter girl" for now, since the one time i met her I was struck with the strange bulge of skin under her chin, whom one wise soul informed me was because she was probably once fat, but anyway, EVIL, get over it). hot donuts, however, made the unfortunate mistake of taking up residence with goiter girl, even though they'd only been together a couple months and their relationship was conceived on ectasy pills. (note to self, the feelings one gets for others while rolling also do not translate into love, but again, psychotropic reactions in your pleasure receptors.) So, i get there, overnight bag in hand, and walking in the door i am struck with this awkward feeling. as if walking into the lair of the white worm. evidence of goiter girl litters the domicile: bras and sweaters strewn across the living room sofa, dirty thongs crumpled in the corner of hallway, and the bathroom, dear jesus, an explosion of gold accessories and frilly rose themed shower curtains and towels and bathmats, and angel decorations EVERYWHERE, not to mention the hair accessories, makeup and eyelash curlers (3 pairs? where's the third eye? okay, don't answer that...). I couldn't pee because this one huge plaster angel figurine was STARING at me in gay bliss. I stared back, wondering why it had a huge penis. then i realised, it was sitting on the back of a turtle (turtle?!), and the supposed penis was in fact the animal's head. thus the first feelings of flight occured, for i knew this hellish bathroom would provide no solace for this sister. BUT OF COURSE, the fantastic horrors of the house of hot donuts did not stop there. why, i asked myself, was i so eager to enter this den of iniquity? (well, nookie, but anyway) FLEE, screamed my instincts. but run i did not. instead, i sat down and watched gladiator, and tried to not to think of what the bedroom could possibly hold in store. indeed, though gladiator is a good long movie, the time did come to slumber. now, take the bathroom of beastiality and multiply it by twenty thousand. lace, dolls, roses, angels, antique jewelery dresser: ultimate feminity realized in material goods. DEAR GOD! screamed my psyche PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS? in the corner, a 3 foot porcelain angel with gilded robes watches over the room. a vanity with a lace curtain stands between the closet and window. i raise my eyebrow at hot donuts. "don't look at me," he says, "it's her domain. i just sleep here." in the closet i spy artifacts of his past: a vintage lava lamp, old kiss action figures, a box of magic cards. i grasp the lacy rose bedspread between to fingers. i'm uncomfortable here, but one makes their own bed, so i lie down... ...and on the dresser, glimpse the framed Glamourshot of goiter girl. though her taste leaves something to be desired, she's not bad looking. however, she seems to be looking badly at me. i sigh. pull the lacy rosy comforter up so i can no longer catch her stare. wish i had drunk or smoked or swallowed something to make me go to sleep faster, and realize, though it's the same bed on which hot donuts and i once pledged our ever-lasting love, the covers have changed.	Sown
Fresh Cut New digs - 2004-05-25 Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10 Grumble - 2004-05-07 Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05 Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05 Random Shearings Rings		Profile Guestbook Mail D-land Older Home 26 Links Bandified Geek Philosopher /. Drudge Worst.Site.Ever.
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Bandified
Geek Philosopher
/.
Drudge
Worst.Site.Ever.