Who am I, Charlie Brown?/Torture

Sometimes, I feel like the smartest person in the world. I have it all figured out. I know the answer to everything.

But usually, I feel stupid. I feel uneducated, unitelligent...unsmart. I don't have good ideas, and when I do, I can't express them right. or well. or at all.

I can't write. My sentence pulling together skills are crap. I'm not clever. I'm not witty. I'm not unique or original.

I don't get politics or world issues or science or math or evolution or why the sky is blue or how to budjet or big words...

After reading my circle of blogs, I kind of felt like the dumbest among them. (They're quoting Sartre and referring to Simone de Bauvoir...who by the way I knew were lovahs!)

Okay, I know I'm not stupid. But I feel very inadequate in many areas of my life. The smartest thing I've done, though, is made friends with smart people! I love my intelligent, witty, clever, funny, punny, educated friends. And I live with the smartest person I know!

***

I have a very different idea to post.

I am sexually charged. Unfortunately, it wasn't because of my lovah!

I have a gig in Pennsylvania on the weekends with a group of people who are...well, actors. Naturally, a big group of rennies (Renaissance Faire people) stuck in a hotel on a rainy weekend is bound to end up in some form of an orgy. Ours was a massage orgy (not the best kind, but a good kind nonetheless).

Now, one of this group is a baseball player.

Mmmm.

Sorry, drooling.

His arms are beeeutiful. His abs are fantastic. His lips are adorable. His legs are delicious.
This guy's ass is dreamy. It's hot. It's hmmmm...drooling again.... it's perfect.

He gave me a massage from head to toe. Well, from toe to head. He cuddled me to "sleep." (sleep is in quotes because I couldn't sleep at all, not when I was that excited!) He breathed into my ear. I told him he was teasing me. In all fairness I was teasing him...a lot. And he told me so. So I said I'd stop. And he said no. Why couldn't we stop? Teasing is AWESOME. He told me it was my fault for having a boyfriend, that's why we couldn't go any further. I told him my boyfriend doesn't care about stuff like that. He still respected my relationship. Asshole.

It was the first out of SEVEN weekends. I'm fucked! Well, not literally...hopefully not literally! Unless it's by my lovah. Who couldn't come home until 4 am last night, so I had to make do with the internet. ARGH!

Now that I'm home, I asked my lovah if he really didn't mind about stuff like making out. He already asked me this before and I said: "no you retard, what the hell do I care, just don't love anyone more than me." Which would be impossible because I'm the awesomest and no one else would put up with him. So I figured his answer would be the same. And I won't love anyone better than him because he's the awesomest and no one else would put up with me. His answer was the same. He said he was surprised we already didn't make out. So it's settled...

For some lucky reason, there was no alcohol. A whole motherfucking weekend of foreplay and no alcohol makes Alathariel a dull boy...what? Whatever.

Next weekend I'm going Bedroom Prince style--that's a bottle half full of orange juice and half full of vodka.

Seriously, though, I need another image in my head than his ass. I can't stop thinking about it!

Oh! And a tight knit group like us obviously give each other ass slaps in stead of high fives, right? Well, this dude gives the best fucking ass slaps in the world! plush on the middle of the cheek. And those who know me know I love my ass. A lot....meh, I'm gonna pass out...

That's it! Lovah, wake up! I need some booty NOW!