> Boys don't cry and they seem to have a fairly good time not obsessing. Not wondering where stuff is going or whether they'll still be loved and respected and wanted in the morning. So, I have decided to be-the-boy. Well, not LITERALLY, of course. Still hanging on to the boobs. And the uterus. (Though what use THAT'S ever been, I don't really know. Still.)
Operation Be-The-Boy involves me (surprise!) basically thinking with my metaphorical penis. I will search and conquer. I will be bold. I will take what I want and screw the consequences. (Hee) I will be the first to roll over and light a cigarette. I will not offer emotional coddling. I will be this ice queen/sex kitten type person who will not do Relationships. Of course, if along the line someone fabulous enough DOES come along, who thinks I'm super etc, then that'll be excellent. But seeing as men like that are few and far between (if they exist at ALL, ie), I think I should not waste my youth, supposedly the one time in my life where I can eat all the chips I want and still retain a fairly flat stomach. Or go out all night and look not quite ready for my grave the next morning. Youth is to be SEIZED, my loves, seized with both hands and a knee grip. Anyway. I won't give you regular updates (for obvious reasons) but wish me luck anyhow at being able to separate sex from emotions. And then I'll write a book about it and EVERY SINGLE WOMAN IN THE WORLD will buy a copy and I'll be rich.
I only hope I have the balls (hee, again. Dude, I'm on fire!) to do this.
> So trauma in the Confessor household. Yet another flatmate has abdicated. I'm beginning to wonder whether it's us--Small and I--secretly torturing these women, being the worst flatmates ever, but really, we're not! We're neat (well, relatively) and clean, we're seldom grouchy, we're friendly, we make a genuine attempt to get our flatmate integrated with our friends. AND we're attractive. What's not to love? But Lily left us anyway, and after placing ads everywhere, this time the process was surprisingly short, and we have a new flatmate come this weekend.
She's Canadian and very nice and like an Amazon compared to the two of us, so, ta-dah, I'm going to call her Tall. I'm so glad she's tall, I've been wanting to do a Small and Tall thing for quite some time. And the best part is, her family's in Canada, right? Sooo, she can't just move back home. Living alone is HARD, dudes, and I know there have been several times when I've just wanted to pack up my stuff and go back to Mummy. (Especially since we don't have an A/C and the electricity kept going and I wanted to die.)
> After much resistance and deflecting several invitations and saying, 'Oh that's for losers', I've finally succumbed to peer pressure and *sigh* gotten myself an Orkut account. And it ROCKS. No, really. There's nothing like a social networking site to make you feel popular (or unpopular, but that's not my problem). Every day I get friend-adding thingies from men with names like love_me, or pictures of them bodybuilding and happily I say, "No, they AREN'T my friends." Almost every day, a blast from the past thing happens and I see people I haven't seen in YEARS, see how they turn out and where they live and then they can write in your scrapbook and it's all very addictive. Especially if you hop from friend to friend to friend and see how many people everyone knows and it just confirms the whole it's-a-small-world theory and the six-degrees-of-separation theory and so on. I guess it DOES make me a loser, but it's such fun. Wheee!
> And I have a cough. Which sucks. And I can't turn it into a funny story yet, but I will try later.
Muah muah dahlinks, be good and enjoy your weekend.
Oh, and don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which leaves you with QUITE a few options.