My sister is supposed to be visiting soon. Last I heard she was bringing her hot friend,
the hot friend’s daughter, and the hot friend’s dog. Yeah, this should be interesting. My mom has a list of shit she wants my sister to bring from Michigan. My only request is a specific brand of barbecue potato chips. I can’t really think of anything else at the moment. Not true but the other stuff I want would be very cold by the time it got here assuming it even got here.
I checked out an animal adoption fair at a local pet store. Seems like every animal adoption fair I go to seems to showcase the most sad and pathetic looking dogs. The first one was a bunch of ankle biters. I think the smallest dog I want is probably about 50 lbs. I think I want something in the 80-100 lb range or even bigger. The most recent one seemed loaded up on pit bull and pit bull mixes, which my apartment doesn’t allow. Almost all of the females looked like they were recently pregnant as well. I’ve been avoiding going to the shelter because I’m not sure I’m ready to fall in love with a new furbaby yet. That and I don’t want to pay the damn pet deposit here and the adoption fee. Cheapness can be a curse. LOL.
I went to see The Wolverine Friday night. I haven’t been to a late night movie in awhile. I usually go to free screenings or matinees. The ticket was $13.50, including the 3D upcharge. One thing I miss about Michigan is that ticket prices are cheaper and the concessions are too. Sometimes I’m glad that I’m single because I’d be disgusted taking a chick to the movies, getting popcorn, drinks, and candy and she thinks she’s going home without at least slobbing me and guzzling some milk of dicknesia. Even if it’s the weekend or the have the day off, if you’re paying they never want to hit up the matinee. Ass, gas, or cash nobody rides (or goes to the movies on me) for free. I’m all about that quid pro quo.
Oh the movie was good, by the way. Stay for the stinger as it sets up the next X-Men movie and sequel to X-Men: First Class, X-Men: Days of Future Past. I kind of wish comic book movies would move away from origin stories or tales based on famous story arcs. As a fanboy I already know the origin and unless it’s from the more recent years of books I also know the major story arcs. There’s a part of me that just wants to go in and not know what’s going to happen so often and how it ends. Eventually someone, will understand this.
I paid $25 for an ice cream cake for a friend’s birthday. The messed up thing about it that while it was shaped as a cake there wasn’t actually any cake. I’ve never heard of that. I won’t seriously complain about the cake because it was my idea to get it. If you get nothing else I don’t think anyone should have to buy their own birthday cake, unless you want some specialized work of art cake. Considering how my last several birthday cakes have been sucktastically crappy I may go that route this year. All I know is I don’t want an ice cream cake or a homemade cake. I’m also somewhat sure I don’t want the typical off the shelf store bought cake either unless I can tinker with the flavor, color, etc. If nothing else, then I want everyone to know that they’re cake is my cake’s bitch because my cake is > their cakes.
I kind of want to do something out of the ordinary since this year is a milestone birthday but I don’t know. I still have a couple of months to try to make something happen but, honestly, I don’t see it happening.
You ever get on Facebook and see someone you used to mess with has started dating someone new? You try not to be that person but you look at their pictures, read some of their comments and just think, really? Dude seems so simple and basic, not just that either. I’m better looking. LOL. It’s just that knowing her he seems like Nemo accidentally jumped into a tank of piranhas. She’s going to eat dude up and spit him out to rock in a corner, butt ass naked while listening to break up songs. Just my two cents. Whatever!
Val told me she was talking to one of her friends about us. I can’t really tell you what our thing is because I’m not sure. The gist of what she said was that she felt comfortable and safe with me. Comfortable and safe? So I’m what, Bill Cosby’s sweater, period panties, or a baggy pair of sweats? I don’t know why but being “comfortable” rubs part of me wrong. I don’t want to be safe. I want to be that bastard who can disappear, come back into your life, call you up while you’re with your man and still have you come over and break me off. I want to be the dude that creepy old lady with the gravelly runaway slave voice in Tyler Perry’s Temptation who warns you to leave alone because, “He gone take you straight to hell!” I want that Brokeback Mountain type of love. No, I don’t want to meet up once a year with some dude and get my ass drilled. I want to infect someone’s mind, heart, soul, and pussy to the point she’s saying, “You have no idea how bad it gets, Freaky, I wish I knew how to quit you!” I want to overwhelm and addict. I want to be bad and to do bad things with you.
Maybe she means something deeper or special and I could be wrong but on the surface comfortable just doesn’t give me that type of vibe. There’s also a part of me that wants… something real as opposed to pseudo. Part of me wants someone I can have a title with and all the rights, privileges, and benefits that comes with said title.
A safe word can be
a good thing necessity especially when you don’t know how strong you are and/or are heavy handed. Didn’t know one could cause welts just using hands.