pass the grey poupon, please
yesterday, saturday of football.
there were a fair amount of girls at the field, but they were all girlfriends, you know? all of them were like hi, nice to meet you, which of the boys is yours?
and we answer, oh, none of them is ours, we're just here for the sport.
because definetely, for what other reason would we want to see 22 very white englishmen cavorting in shorts around a field? although, beers are another good addition.
I was just happy to be outside on such a fine day. the weather lately has been almost as shitty as my health, and yesterday was the first day I went out since I got sick more than a week ago. so sitting barefoot on the grass under a fine sun and a cool breeze, drinking my sixth drink and smoking my second bowl, I was a happy cat and I gladly cheered the guys on. and there was a small part of me that wouldn't stop pretending we were at a polo game in the early twentieth century, because that's how it felt like. only except of mimosas we were drinking beer. ohwell, details.
I was severely scolded for accepting the sunshades from a guy of the opposite team --that, I learn now, is a breach of accepted loyalty. there was a small weiner dog named lolita running around, that looked tastier and tastier to the hungry and ever-so-slightly-drunk concurrence; an angelical four year old tried very seriously to enucleate one of the Luxury Accesory's droopy olive eyes; beer flew gently from the taps; I lay on the grass and looked at the treetops and marveled at how irritatingly daft men seem to me lately.
so I'm thinking perhaps that's my problem. guys don't even bother with hitting on me anymore, because they'd had to be blind and deaf not to notice that I can't possibly take them seriously, not even when in the depths of toxicity. a man loves feeling that his girls think he's The Shit, so I concede it might be a turnoff to sense that the girl in case --that is, Gorgeous Me-- might be smiling but deep down, she thinks you're a total spazzo.
but they are! argh.
top 5 sunday morning (ahem)
1. ellegantly wasted -- inxs
2. honky tonk women -- rolling stones
3. history repeating -- propeller heads
there were a fair amount of girls at the field, but they were all girlfriends, you know? all of them were like hi, nice to meet you, which of the boys is yours?
and we answer, oh, none of them is ours, we're just here for the sport.
because definetely, for what other reason would we want to see 22 very white englishmen cavorting in shorts around a field? although, beers are another good addition.
I was just happy to be outside on such a fine day. the weather lately has been almost as shitty as my health, and yesterday was the first day I went out since I got sick more than a week ago. so sitting barefoot on the grass under a fine sun and a cool breeze, drinking my sixth drink and smoking my second bowl, I was a happy cat and I gladly cheered the guys on. and there was a small part of me that wouldn't stop pretending we were at a polo game in the early twentieth century, because that's how it felt like. only except of mimosas we were drinking beer. ohwell, details.
I was severely scolded for accepting the sunshades from a guy of the opposite team --that, I learn now, is a breach of accepted loyalty. there was a small weiner dog named lolita running around, that looked tastier and tastier to the hungry and ever-so-slightly-drunk concurrence; an angelical four year old tried very seriously to enucleate one of the Luxury Accesory's droopy olive eyes; beer flew gently from the taps; I lay on the grass and looked at the treetops and marveled at how irritatingly daft men seem to me lately.
so I'm thinking perhaps that's my problem. guys don't even bother with hitting on me anymore, because they'd had to be blind and deaf not to notice that I can't possibly take them seriously, not even when in the depths of toxicity. a man loves feeling that his girls think he's The Shit, so I concede it might be a turnoff to sense that the girl in case --that is, Gorgeous Me-- might be smiling but deep down, she thinks you're a total spazzo.
but they are! argh.
top 5 sunday morning (ahem)
1. ellegantly wasted -- inxs
2. honky tonk women -- rolling stones
3. history repeating -- propeller heads
posted by gaby san at
2/19/2006 01:40:00 PM
3 Comments:
comments work now? yeah.
how about annonymous?
Squee! It works!
You've probably got a real point there. Men probably sense my intense loathing of them, even from afar. It's hard to hide that I find them all stupid, childish, and inept at even the most basic social graces. Hence the not being even LOOKED at by the opposite sex. Or at least, I'd rather blame that than the fat.
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