Written in a Way that Future Employers Can't Fire Me Should They Find This
After the concurrent events of finding myself single and taking myself off of birth control (Hello libido! Nice to see you again. Where've you been for the past three months?}, I've had the opportunity to review more pornographic materials recently.
Because I pay (most) of my bills by editing others' writing, the grammarian in me could not overlook the following syntax oddities on sites where people post their favorite pornographic materials for others to review--people like me who enjoy the academics of it (the scholastic nature is mostly biological, but there is some anthropological value, as well).
Now, where's my red pen?:
"GIRL Lesbians!" Really? No way! Because the avalanche of boy lesbians was getting way overdone.
"slutty fat ass bitch girlfriend fucks my best friend" Aside from a dire need of commas and hyphens, the bigger concern here is "Dude, whhhhhhhhhyyy would you post this? Your fat, bitchy, slutty girlfriend cheats on you with your best friend, and your first thought is 'Hey guys, let me record this!' It don't look good for you, padre.
"fucking my MILK hard" Got MILF, bonehead?
"Huge Baabies" I guess with one hand on your wang and astigmatism, it'd be easy to mix up the "o" and "a" key. That's really not going to help his search engine optimization, though.
"2 hot girls in a 60" Even during sexual congress, a head for figures is an attractive quality.
I don't know--maybe not being able to overlook spelling and grammar mistakes on something as base as a porn site is illustrative of my whole problem.
My astrologer pointed out that everything has to get filtered through my head first. Said another way, I have a hard time just feeling things; I must interpret them and relate them and qualify them and explain them.
What causes the most problems is that I must somehow get 'rid' of these feelings, because they overwhelm me. When I feel balanced, I can expel the overflow of emotions with song-writing and journaling and poetry and even cooking. When I am not so balanced, Dr. Jim Beam is my therapist.
It's so exhausting.
"I'm sad," for me becomes, "I'm sad because the lady at the grocery store clearly is injuring her child's self-esteem when she calls him an 'idiot' and I feel helpless because I'm bound by the strictures of etiquette, which dictate that it's not appropriate for me to intervene, even though I KNOW that boy will likely grow up to harm himself and possibly others in a myriad of ways, thus ensuring that my tax dollars and emotional energy will be spent trying to 'fix' him, when all it really takes is a kind word of acknowledgement and validation. I bet his Mom is a Virgo with a Sagittarius rising who had issues with her grandfather--if she'd just try some self healing with a rose quartz and daily affirmations. I don't think I could ever have kids; I'd be so worried of messing them up. Geez, I hope I don't die alone. ... Gawd, I need a drink."
So, I'm practicing just feeling. "I'm sad ... well, how about that."
That's harder than it sounds, my pretties. It's my nature to fix things. Further, growing up in my house, you did not survive very long with your heart on your sleeve. Feelings and dissidence were not rewarded, but being happy, agreeable and productive were.
In later years, my family has become very touchy-feely, for which I am thankful, but old habits die hard.
Speaking of: "Blonde sucking my hard duck" Aflac. AFLAC!
In the Comments section, tell me what you think your problem is. C'mon--it's a sharing circle.