Tuesday, July 27, 2010
A Portrait of the Asshole as a Young Man 16
I like women with skill sets.
Really. I'm talking about things most other girls can't do -- the fact that you're working on your umpteenth degree does nothing for my penis -- like contorting or being able to handle things with your feet.
I'd like to get with an expert marksman, a female who can shoot the eye out of a hawk. Then again ... I'd soon be her likeliest target. I plan on being cremated but I still don't want a giant hole through my head.
Ballerinas = hotness. (Except for those jacked-up feet; keep the shoes on.)
Maybe a lion tamer or some shit. Maybe Adam just needs a backstage pass at the circus this autumn.
I like peculiarity in women. Something out of the ordinary. It could be debated until the end of the age, but I consider myself extraordinary. I make mention of this not to boast but to say that my interest can't be sustained by anything common; as a creative -- and an only child -- I'm easily bored and not so easily dazzled.
Give me a chick who might be a secret agent! Fantastical, I know, but the thought that she just snapped someone's neck, detonated an explosive device, and outraced the enemy in a Toyota Prius before knocking on my door would completely knock me down. Plus, when the sex is over it's more likely she'll have to leave for "an important debriefing" back at headquarters.
I get my whole bed back. SCORE!!!