"If you have to ask what jazz is, you'll never know."
--Louis Armstrong
.......
All right all right fine. I'll actually write something here. The thing is, who's to say you should get to know me, or ANYONE for that matter? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe I shouldn't get to know you, ever think about that, hot stuff?
But to be totally *cough* objective, here are 2 lists, one of 5 reasons to get to know me, and one with 5 reasons to NOT get to know me.
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1. I play accordion.
2. I'm fucking hilarious.
3. I have no roommates *nudge, wink*
4. I'm educated but not a pompous douchebag.
5. I'm girly in the 2 best ways: I always wear skirts/dresses and I love to cook and bake.
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1. Did I mention I play accordion?
2. I probably drink too much
3. I talk about bodily functions like an 8 year old boy does, i.e. alot, graphically, and without regard to present company.
4. I come from poor, uneducated, simple stock.
5. As a defense mechanism against answering seemingly simple questions, I make self-referencing lists of tangential minutiae.
Et tu?
My Ideal Person:
You know, I think it's HILARIOUS that I've returned "flirts" and actually hotlisted people for the first time EVER in the past week, and then that's the end of that. Sorry, but I will never pay for an account on here. If that KILLS YOUR SOUL, and it makes you feel better, I'll buy you a nice strong shot to numb the pain, should we ever meet in person. So quit yer bitchin and send an email! Take a tip from the guys I'm not interested in, they don't mind emailing me! Repeatedly!
The last great book I read
The last great book I finished was The Naked and the Dead,
by Norman Mailer...oh my god, it made it into my upper eschelon
of top 5 favorite books. I've never cared or known much
about war, politics, military shit, etc. I think it's
a good lithmus test of an author if he/she can make subjects
you never even wanted to learn about suddenly just as relevant
to you as topics you've always loved. Currently reading:
The Time of Our Time...Mailer, yet again. Next up: Fatherland,
as soon as I construct something to conceal the big gold
swastika on the front cover
My most humbling moment
The other day, on Broadway and Astor. I thought to myself,
"That's a very nice looking gent." Then,
said nice-looking gent proceeded to cross the street in
order to
dig through a garbage can for food.
Favorite on-screen sex scene
Most of Secretary.
The celebrity I resemble the most
EDIT!!! You know, I've had a profile on here off and
on for awhile now, and I never once gave any thought at all
to this question until just now. What the fuck does it matter
if I look like someone you've seen and/or heard before??
Are there actually people on here who will use the answers
culled in this box as criteria for starting a new relationship?
Are you going to make me wear an Angelina Jolie mask when
we have sex? Also, if you have to ask who I look like, then
I either a)don't look like them, or b)I do, but they
ain't famous. In the case of option B, it's a moot
point that we all look like SOMEBODY, so either way, this
question is mildly redundant, in that I'm sure the
only person involved in the equation who should be alerted
to the answer would be the celebrity in question, and I'm
sure they care. I saw this guy the other day who looked EXACTLY
like Trent Reznor in the face. But guess what, he had the
body of Jack Black, so what does his face matter? So what
if I look like Jennifer Connelly (with blue eyes). If you
think I'll do it "ass to ass" with some other
chick for your personal amusement and my junk money you
may as well skip over to the next profile. Or just pick up
a People magazine and some Vaseline. /weird 3 a.m. rant
:?
The best or worst lie I've ever told
"No, I don't think you're an asshole. You're
just still hurting on the inside."
If I could be anywhere right now
...I would probably just wish I were back here.
Five items I can't live without
1.Nothing
2.in
3.life
4.is
5.permanent.
Fill in the blank: _____ is sexy; _____ is sexier.
your mom is sexy; your mom jokes is sexier!
In my bedroom one will find...
accordion, ukelele, 5-stringed guitar (it's not
a modern instrument, I just wound the top E string too tight
and it broke and stabbed me in the eye), 3 or 4 harmonicas,
a clarinet, a rhythm egg, a hookah, books on everything
from Freud to Sitting Bull to Betty Friedan to John Steinbeck
to Buddha to Alice in Wonderland to Scrabble to Anne Frank,
too many boots, 2-foot tall Elvis statue, a million awesome
CDs, a few clunkers, rusty metal implements hanging on
the walls (or, RMIs, as I call 'em), lots of incense,
Mardi Gras beads galore, 3 random rusty old license plates,
LPs, no record player, Super Nintendo, old corset ads from
ladies' magazines from the turn of the century, a double-ball
mace, 30+ piece shot glass collection, Philip Glass memorabilia,
found objects d'art, a book some wacko wrote about
my hair, 3 different kinds of magnetic poetry, non-magnetic
poetry (i.e., on paper), a donkey pinata (I guess that would
be a burro, actually), whiskey, piano books, Galileo thermometer,
original Star Wars figures, religious icons without religious
meaning for me, space lamp, and my stuffed E.T. I've
had since I was 2 years old.
This being an East Village 2 room studio, you can see that
with all this stuff, there's not room for much else.
You should probably be very, very small. And possibly double-jointed.
See "What I'm Looking For."
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