Loosen up. Give up your despotic ways for a while. Try getting a few things wrong. Go off the rails a little bit. Fall off the grid. Experiment with drugs. Attempt to shoplift.
A swift transformation in how people regard you will undoubtedly take place. No longer will you just be liked, you will be well liked!
And if the worst comes to the worst, and you spin completely out of control ie you end up hanging out with Iva Majoli. Well, I'm sure one of us will be on hand to pull you back from the edge of the abyss.
Wait, are you trying to convert mmmm8 to Capriati?
and now I need to see out my days on TAT living in (more) shame and (more) utter disgrace. Or as they call it around these parts, 'to nelslus'.
Oh, my dear modest boy, fear not. Who needs the transitory thrills involved with mere drugs or shoplifting? Who needs even Sweaty Andy by Lacoste- when I can forever bathe in the sweet, sweet fragrance of Eau de Edmond.
Last edited by nelslus; 10-17-2011 at 09:38 PM.
Old News= Madison Brengle. New News- It's All About Amanda Fink Chichi Scholl, BABY!!!!!!!!
(Continuation of something I posted in the dating thread).
I am at work, in some boonies in Colombia. I am sitting with a group of people but I am not really there. My head is somewhere else. Mostly, my head is trying to avoid looking at the little mermaid that lately simply blocks every thought process in my brain. She is there, at the table, silent too. It is curious; I am not really listening to what the people are talking about, yet I am acutely aware that she is not saying anything.
Somebody asks a questions. And then I realize that they asked ME a question.
"Sorry. What was that?".
There is this other girl there. She is the total opposite of my dream-tinkerbell. Loud, voluptuous, she likes to command the scene by the sheer power of cleavage. She is asking the question.
"What do you like in a woman?"
I really have no answer. I want to say "I like it when they are silent and tranquil, like little fairy here" but that will not do.
And despite the verifiable short circuiting my brain is going through in the last days, from my past something pops up. An old movie, and I know exactly what to answer. I recite:
"I could not care less whether a woman has breasts like magnolias or like prunes, skin like a peach or like a sheet of sandpaper.
I don't give any relevance to whether they wake up with a morning breath that is an aphrodisiac or an insecticide.
I am perfectly able to stand a nose that would win first prize in a carrot show.
But alas, and in this I am unshakeable. I don't forgive them, under no circumstances, if they don't know how to fly.
If they don't know how to fly, they waste their time with me".
The second to last phrase I deliver to the girl that asked the question. But I dead pan the ending to my beloved Siren.
No one knows that I have blatantly committed the sin of plagiarism.
In my imagination, I have the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she can respond. Maybe, I am not nonexistent.
50 ways to leave your (non) lover: "I hope you understand me when I say it was torture having met you"