10. I can, from memory, recite the dictionary definition of smegma.
9. I believed in Santa until the fifth grade.
8. I was baptized Catholic when I was 12, took my first Communion, was never confirmed, and was briefly an altar boy.
7. My ex-girlfriend brought me to a sadomasochist/kink masquerade a couple of years ago. I thought having a masquerade for people who regularly dress up in costumes and give themselves funny names was more than a little redundant. During our relationship, I had come up with a name for myself to represent how I thought her and her kinky friends thought of me - "Captain Vanilla". So, I bought a white mask, white sneakers, white basketball shorts, tied a white tablecloth around my neck as a cape, painted a bright and glittery purple "V" on my shirt, and for the first and only time became the superhero Captain Vanilla. The responses came in three categories - most people thought it was funny, some people upon hearing my superhero name retorted with "we'll change that by the end of the night" (guess what, they didn't), and some looked like they wanted to punch me. Which they would've, if they weren't a bunch of wimpy trekkie pricks who regularly gathered to pretend there were other people who wanted to have sex with them. I think mainly people were just surprised that someone at the shindig had come up with an idea for a costume that didn't necessitate lots and lots of black leather (the Kinksters are wild and rebellious INDIVIDUALS...in a very regimented, uniform and fascist rule-oriented kind of way - no, no, BITTER? ME?).
6. Because of the relationship that led to reason #7, I have met more women who call themselves "Blue" than I can actually remember.
5. I once stayed home from school - back at the University of Tampa - for two days because I really, really wanted to finish Final Fantasy VII.
4. I once rented a cabin in the woods for a week to be all emo and write poetry. At one point, I smelled something and wasn't able to put my finger on what it was. I ignored it for hours. Eventually, I realized it was gas from the stove. I hadn't used the stove the entire time, but must have accidentally hit one of the knobs. I opened all the windows and doors and sat outside until the place aired out. I had been lighting cigarettes the entire time, without knowing the danger. And it was my only night there that I hadn't made a fire in the fireplace. So I sat outside and smoked and thought about that for a long time.
3. I once had my friend Susan put her hand on top of my head and shave around it, so I had a big handprint on my head. Shortly afterwards, my brother brought me with his college's theater department to Greenwich Village to see Blue Man Group. I was pulled on stage and, according to the other students, the Blue Men were having a lot of fun making fun of my hair behind my back.
2. My first crush was named Kelly. I wrote her poems and sent them to her, unsigned, for a week. She wasn't interested. We were both in Public Speaking - me in my horrible military, Christian, all-boys school, and her in her Christian, all-girls school. I took vengeance upon her the only way I could. I had already qualified for the State Finals for Oral Interpretation of Literature. She was in the same category, and my coach told me if I went up for it again before the finals and managed to place higher than her - which I knew I would because I was damn good at it and Kelly and all the girls from her school in that category only read what their coaches let them read, which was always either Robert Frost or shit about cats - I would knock her out of qualification for no good reason. So I did. It was one of the most mean-spirited, petty-minded things I've ever done. All my trophies from that time are gone. All that's left are a few people my age who may or may not remember the look on the judges' faces when I read a poem that mentioned handprints of shit left on toilets. I smashed all the trophies during the retreat mentioned in reason #4, and burned all my high school yearbooks and pictures. It's better that way.
1. I'm right-handed. I'm not ambidextrous. Regardless, I masturbate with my left.
2 comments:
I believed in Santa until I was 12. But that's because my mother went out of her way to lie to me. She really deserves a medal for the charade she put on. I mean, total gorilla style warfare. It really fucked with me- because everyone I knew told me Santa wasn't real, but my mom kept INSISTING he was and "proving" it to be so. And a child wants to trust their parents, right? So, when she finally told me the truth, I became very depressed and ended up having some serious trust issues. As a result of this trauma, I don't know if we're going to do the whole Santa thing with Elijah. True story!
Oh, and I wrote secret admirer letters to a boy named Julian in 3rd grade. When I finally revealed myself, he screamed "oh no! not YOU!"
I told you my War of the Worlds story, right? My Mom played me a tape of the old Orson Welles War of the Worlds radio broadcast and afterwards convinced me it had really happened. Scared the piss out of me.
She also tried to convince me it was biologically impossible for women to fart, and so whenever she farted she blamed it on me.
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