Xtraneous Flight

Xtra! Xtra!

I’m sitting here with chin in hand and fingers drumming on the table, trying to decide what to write about. I’m having a flighty day. A blonde day; no disrespect intended. Okay– disrespect intended to those blondes who deserve it. Those blondes I don’t care for. Those blondes I think are worthless, empty-headed cows that take up space that could be put to good use for better things… like porta-potties or condom dispensers. I do know a few brunettes and redheads that would fall in that category. Well, 8 brunettes and 1 redhead. And one of the brunettes is a family member so I have to fake that they are smarter than a condom dispenser which is really hard to do. It’s a wonder that I haven’t suffered multiple skull fractures at this point in my life considering how often I beat my head against walls, tables and other hard surfaces. Ah, the stupidity!

See what I mean– flighty.

I have friends who read their horoscope religiously. I don’t get it. I guess you could construe minor happenings of the day with a vague two-three sentence prediction but to live your life accordingly? One of my friends plays the lottery, coordinates her wardrobe and dates men all according to the stars. It’s scary. The men she dates are scary. The color yellow scares the hell out of me! Her reasoning: “You never know, I could meet Mr. Right, I could get rich, and I look cute in yellow ~giggle~”. In case you are wondering, she is a brunette. The one concession I will make in the realm of Astrology would be the zodiac signs. For instance, I am a Scorpio. I.AM.A.SCORPIO. Give me two pincers and a stinger already. Just about every stupid personality trait that friggin’ zodiac sign is supposed to have pretty much sums me up. I got the triple hoodoo too. Rising, falling and taking a nap… all Scorpio. Not the least bit fair. When I think about it, I probably give scorpions a bad rap on those days when I’m not what some would consider– pleasant. The scorpions with large pincers are usually pretty harmless. Unless you are allergic to them of course. Then you shouldn’t handle them. Also if you are frightened or intimidated by their large stinger. Some people think it hurts when they are stung. I guess the same could be said about me. You shouldn’t handle me if you are allergic to, frightened or intimidated by my stinger.



Suits ~sigh~. There is nothing like a man in a fine-fitting suit. Frankly, I don’t get past the shoulders if the suit and what’s in it looks good. Suit Porn– nice. If what’s above the shoulders is above average than I feel like I’ve hit the lottery. And let’s not forget the accessories! C’mon fellas; when all else fails shoe polish can be purchased at your nearest 24hr Wally World for under $5. It isn’t that difficult to learn how to tie a proper tie and YES, that hand-tooled leather belt with the hub-cap buckle is inappropriate, tacky and makes you look like a wanker. Seriously though, a gorgeous tailored suit is a sight to behold. It doesn’t have to be designer label  but quality fabric and stitching are a must. I notice those things. I’m not shy about turning a cuff or running my fingers along a– well, you know what I mean. I can’t leave out color, pattern or texture either. Texture is important. I’m really hung up on texture. Texture is a sighable (I know it’s not a word!) offence. It’s actually something else but I’m trying to behave. Suits are  NOT a fetish; I’m too voyeuristic for that but I do like to cop a feel once in a while. Custom + Tailored + Charcoal Grey + Thin Pinstripe = mmmhmm.

Flap- flap.

I started out this paragraph writing about movies, blood and guts, Sam Peckinpah and masculinity but my mind started wandering and I just wasn’t feeling it half-way in. I’m not clear though which part of all that I wasn’t feeling any longer though. There was an underlying theme (movies) but it obviously wasn’t enough to carry through to any conclusion. Sam Peckinpah could be more of the same or just a stand alone subject but, meh. Blood and guts I’m into. I like heavy-duty action, explosions, shoot-’em up stuff but not in a psychopathic-nutjob-mutant-alien-zombie freak kinda way. And yeah, I way dig masculinity. A lot. If I had known I was going to like it this much I might have done things differently when I was younger but you know what they say, hindsight is 20-20. Or $300 plus twice-yearly visits to the optometrist.

I’m thinking I shouldn’t have eaten the whole box of Whoppers. Was that a feather?


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