I wish I could find a mountain to hike on that had a dive bar on top, full of Sherpas playing shuffle-board.

If you want to know me, your best shot (aside from actually meeting) is reading my journal entries. I find these boxed lists representing ourselves to be goofy and misleading.

I must add: "If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!" That means that if we don't meet in real life at some point - why are you on here, silly person? (That's sorta what that means, anyway.)

I sometimes tend bar (a tad underemployed at the moment.)
I sometimes tend to ramble.
I am the sole officer of a legally shaky trust fund supporting a hostel for transient academics, salesfolk, and occasional opera singers managed by a man who sings Teddy Bear's Picnic at jazz clubs.
I do the techwriting despite not knowing much about these modern gizmos everyone's dependent on nowadays.
I'm debating between grad school for evolutionary psychology, becoming a sommelier, and joining the Peace Corp.
The more I try to sell myself here, the more I feel my soul getting a nasty tummy ache.

Commanding forest creatures to do my bidding of collecting nuts and storing them for the winter.

Folks that have the moxie to make eye-contact with me usually think I'm a gay klingon with pretty eyelashes. After getting to know me, people learn that I'm really just a frightened little girl trapped inside a gay klingon with pretty eyelashes.

Alright...fine. The section we all snap-judge each other with. I'll fill it in sincerely. Snap-judge away, my pretties (I do it too. Sigh.) I must mention, one of the things I dig about this site a lot is that I'm matched up with women that read a lot of books, and none of those books are Twilight, which is rockin'.

Tomes: Master & Margarita, Henry Miller, Richard Dawkins (when he's not being a dick), Pynchon, Dashiell Hammett, Phil K Dick, certain Vonnegut, David Hume, and whatever I'm reading at the moment, really.

Flicks 'n The Tube: Network, Eternal Sunshine (all Kaufman and Gondry), 60's Trek, Home Movies, The Boyfriend (all Ken Russell, 'specially the musicals), Punch Drunk Love, certain Hepburn (both of em), certain O. Wells, Cary Grant anything, and the Coens before Fargo (yes, I know what I'm saying). I like a lot of horror movies too, but not when they're mean-spirited; I hate modern horror - 'tis all misogynistic torture fantasy which offends me while being uninteresting.

Music: Talking Heads, David Bowie, Tom Waits, Ethel Waters, Dresden Dolls, more David Bowie, Phenomenauts, Philip Glass, Joan Jett, The Who, DEVO, The Steel Tips (if you know them, I'll be impressed), Dean Martin, Lisa Hannigan, The New York Dolls, Vampire Weekend, and when I was in high school I liked Jewel (Her hands are small, I know. Jimminy, what was wrong with me?)

Nosh: I try new stuff constantly, and I want it extra spicy. I'm not kidding, make mine spicy - no, not California spicy. Actual spicy! Also eating with chop sticks is always more satisfying.

...are my fingers. I also need a safety-guard on that wood chipper.

Farting lolly-pops really sounds awesome, and I want to take the course, but I think there's a downside they're not telling me.

There's nothing typical about my Friday nights! Unless you consider being fetally curled up in a linen closet while crying and masturbating to Redbook to be typical...then, yeah, I guess they're pretty typical.

I once had a dream that I was eating my pillow, and when I woke up the giant marshmallow that I sleep on was gone.

Your idea of a wicked sweet, enriching, moving experience is answering my message to you.

Message me if you slapped Jack Dempsey in the face
And you make barbed wire look like lace
Then you throw yourself right out of place
If, bullets, they bounce right off your chest
And you snuggle up on a hornet's nest
If you's the gal sends show men west
And you pull a train right off the tracks
And for perfume, you use shellac
If when mad dogs bite, you bite 'em back
Boop-oop-a-doop.