So if you're just kinda smellin' what I'm cookin' and idly voting yea, that's cool, but don't expect me to find you; whereas if you're really feelin' me, by all means grow a pair and say hi. Then maybe you could *really* be feelin' me, which is what all this song and dance is for, n'est–ce pas? Anyway, on with the show... Da da da dada *DA*!! *drumroll*...]
I could be described as an Omega Mu. If you know what I mean by that, we might share a pop culture frame of reference. If it amuses and delights you that I would say that about myself, we might share a common sense of humor and schadenfreude. (That's German for Nelson's "HA ha...") If it arouses you, you might be my true love. Write me.
More specifically, I am what's sometimes known as an SSBBW. For those of you not familiar with chub chaser lingo, that means that not only can you be 99% certain I'm heavier than you, I may even be 99% heavier than you. If you are some sort of statistical anomaly who isn't horrified by that fact, read on, my intrepid friend. Let's see if I can lose you in the first section so we can waste no more of each other's valuable time.
I am politically left of left. The politics test placed me squarely on top of Gandhi, which is funny, because the Presidential-Administration-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named brought out my previously mostly buried inner rage and fantasy violence. ("Okay, but... I'm gonna hafta burn down the building...") Hey, turns out I didn't hafta afta all! Hosanna!! :D Srsly, in a parallel universe where things didn't go so well in November, I'm wielding a pitchfork and screaming anachronistic French swears behind a barricade right now... Or maybe something along the lines of "I gotchyer democracy *right* here!!"
But OMG, how relieved are we in *this* reality? Am I the only one to whom this moment in history feels like that moment when you first begin to recover from food poisoning and realize that you just might live? Weak, clammy, depleted, and objectively thoroughly wretched, you're still somehow able to feel a near-giddy gratitude for the fact that at least your innards are no longer exploding out of you every which way in a convulsive traumarama that seemed like it would never end? Like that. Let's get some electrolytes up in this bitch and rally, America. We can do it. :)
Speaking of Rosie, I am not afraid of the word "feminist," and we'd get along best if you not only felt the same way, but would consider yourself one, as well. Seems like by now that should be as obvious and near-quaint as saying we support civil rights fuh the Negroes, but it seems to remain a borderline controversial and buttony word, and I sometimes find that otherwise reasonably progressive dudes react to it with a hostile and adversarial attitude. Settle down, fellas; nobody's tryin' to steal y'stanky ol' bawlls. (Seriously, though, they're *awesome*, but you wear 'em; I'll just jiggle 'em. Maybe a little sack lunch. You bring the tea bag. We're all on the same page, here...) To me, the f-word still means pro- equal rights, equal opportunities, and equal pay for equal work for us ladies; not whatever ugly man-hating connotation the righties have largely succeeded in smearing it with. Goddamn righties...
Incidentally, I occasionally say "goddamn" because it has a nice salty Texas ring to it, but I don't believe in God. Not in the disapproving patriarch or schizo Santa in the sky sense, anyway. Just recently I've been struck joyful with some personal spiritual revelations, and I'm realizing that I might have chucked a very big Baby out with the distasteful Southern Baptist bathwater in my disillusioned youth. To my chagrin, I've begun to open up to some as-yet-unscopable and invisible concepts, and I'm beginning to understand with my mind what my spirit (OMG I have a spirit, y'all! Holla'!) has always known – that we are all connected by and to One Big Love. I'm gonna sit at the Welcome Table. Stop making fun of me. :p
(In case you weren't aware, the Welcome Table thing is a reference to the episode of Strangers with Candy wherein Jerri joins a cult, and it's self-mockery, which is tough to resist these days. :| My inner skeptic keeps pantsing my inner seeker, who keeps turning the other cheek... For the record, a Jerri Blank fan club is the closest thing to a religious group you'd ever find me joining. My nifty new spiritual outlook (inlook?) is homegrown and very freeform -- mostly just a sense of life itself as divine in its way, a curiosity about my own inner light, and a realization that I feel most connected with it when I'm loving myself and others. Not like that, y'perv... :p But then too. :| )
I've thought about editing the spirituality crazy talk out of here because I'm not sure how well I'm expressing my strange new thoughts and feelings, which themselves are very nebulous and nothing like the kind of certainty that I've always found so unattractively arrogant in believers (and that I'm now recognizing also characterized my own brand of atheism); and I'm concerned that my muddled attempt to explain something that isn't even clear to me may be off-putting to the atheist and agnostic dudes with whom I'd actually be most compatible. Rest assured, godless hordes – I am *not* a believer in any of the ways you might be thinking; I've just gone from denying to wondering, from being sure there's nothing in the universe beyond our current understanding to having a happy little hunch that there is, and it's only a big deal in contrast to my previously hermetically-sealed mind.
Because my inner 8-ball has been tending toward "outlook good" and "signs point to yes", rather than just "reply hazy" or "cannot predict now", I had declared myself "other"; but I've changed it to "agnostic" both because I think it's a bit more accurate and also because "other" apparently gives the impression that I've changed my name to Mother Shabubu and I'm out in the woods every full moon doing magicks and having lesbian daisy-chain navel sex. :| I swear I'm really not a corn flake or a fruit loop – just a little granola. :) The ideas I'm beginning to explore may not be verifiable or quantifiable by existing scientific means, but they're not at *odds* with science, either – my willingness to entertain the possibility of the spiritual doesn't mean I've forsaken the factual, if that makes sense. And I definitely do not believe in any kind of eye in the sky who sees you when you're sleeping. Except maybe Ceiling Cat. Sinner. :p
Some of Christianity's Cliffs Notes that I've always considered valid, even at my most cynical and skeptical, include the stuff about "Love one another," "Judge not," "Do unto others..." and "Vengeance is Big Papa's, not yours, asshole." Or however it goes. :| It's really disturbing and tragic to me how the loudest religious peeps in this country have gotten so hung up on just a cherry-picked few of the ridiculous, archaic bylaws in their dusty old book of mythology that they've completely abandoned the truly awesome main ideas about love, compassion, and mindin' your own damn beeswax; and have thus begun to so strongly resemble the dogmatic wackjobs on the other God Squads that everyone's so afraid of these days. Y.U.B. hatin', y'all?? I have a hunch that if Jebus were around, he'd be knockin' your shit over and kickin' your hateful asses. Just puttin' it out there...
So it would seem that I've discovered some faith after all, after my own fashion and in my own sweet time, and maybe the best part is that it's making my time so frickin' sweet now! It seems like my lifelong struggle with depression has vanished overnight, taking most of my dysfunctional and self-destructive behaviors with it, and I thought those douchebags would *never* leave! Shout hallelujah and load up the bong! But not really... In fact, one of my aims for this section was to dispel Cupid's notion of me as an amoral wastrel druggie, but this is already unmanageably long, so I dumped my indignation into a journal entry, which you may want to check out if you find me interesting or diggable and would like to see how the chubby kid missed the mark.
The bullet points are that I consider myself more spiritual (albeit suddenly and recently), more moral (if perhaps somewhat morally flexible), more frugal (although just a wee bit self-indulgent), and WAY more sober than my stats make me out to be. I partied down in my day, and I believe in legalization n' shit, so enjoy y'selves, bitches; but I almost never *do* anything, including alcohol and tobacco. And firearms. :| (Although some target practice sounds cathartic, so if you're into that, that would make a fun date. :) Gotta be prepared for the zombie scenario, after all... Update! Went to the firing range with m'bro recently, and while I may not be much faster than a zombie, it turns out I can empty a clip right between their milky undead eyes from 20 feet away. *Groovy*. B) ) I also feel more dorky, less cocky, and more horny than it says. So I guess I *want* to feel more cocky. Cocky me likey. Like man with hole in pocket, I would feel cocky all day. See? Dorky. :|
Still with me? Alrighty then, how 'bout this? I don't shave. Anything. Unless it's yours, and you ask me nicely. (Oh, and once I helped give a long-haired kitty a buzz cut. Was that ever funny.) You deductive dudes may have gathered this from the fur and feminism, but as far as personal style goes, I land somewhere along the continuum between low-maintenance and no-nonsense. I'm fairly practical by nature, in addition to which I think I'm beautiful just the way the good Universe made me; and I don't spend much time, energy, or money on gilding the O'Keeffe. I will invest a bit of all of the above on finding clothes that I like and that suit me (easier said than done at my size), but I have a small wardrobe of unusual items that make me happy instead of a big pile o' passe-tomorrow trendy b.s., and the intervals between my shopping forays are best gauged in years.
I own four pairs of shoes, which I think is a trifle extravagant because two of them are the same model of Birkenstock sandals in different materials. (The other two are a pair of closed-toed Birks for uptight workplaces and some boring white sneaks that I bought on super sale and tricked out with OTC orthotics, which is *hotttness*.) I think high heels are a ricockulous instrument of torture (I mean -- would *you* attempt to support three bucks and change worth of sexy plus a bad back on a couple of chopsticks??), although if you'd like me to point some at the ceiling, fetishists, I'm game. I'd just be about as adept at walking in them as a 5-year-old boy (unless that boy were RuPaul circa '65, in which case I'd get my taint handed to me :| ), and my hobbity Jebus feet would probably disappoint you anyway.
I choose my undies for comfort (with the exception of one or two underwire date bras – gotta serve up the whors d'oeuvres now and then, am I right, ladies?), dye my grey streaks crayon colors every once in a Manic Panic Shocking Blue moon (word to Tish and Snooky), wear minimal make-up and/or fragrance when and if I damn well please, and might indulge the occasional silly get-up request as a favor to my lovah; but if you think a woman's body has to be violently rendered hairless as a prepubescent dolphin, gift-wrapped in synthetic sex clown fuckwear, hosed down with Lysol and food coloring (to paraphrase a friend), and/or teetering around on stilts in order to be attractive, then we're probably a pretty dire mismatch. (Maybe RuPaul is more your type, actually...) And if your idea of beauty is so superficial/artificial that it doesn't even make it all the way *down* to skin deep, you're probably a tool. Of the fashion and cosmetic industries, that is. What did you think I meant? ;;) heheh suck it. :p
Don't get me wrong; I might be a hairy hippie chick, but I'm not a *stinking* hippie chick... Essentially I have the same grooming standards for myself as I do for you; when we get together (/naked) I will be clean and minty fresh, wearing deodorant (the hard stuff -- no hippie voodoo crystals or anything; I'm a realist, y'all :| ), and nicely dressed and kempt, and will probably have thrown in some of those grace notes as *desired* (I'm actually kind of girly for a furry, earthy, organic lady, and some of that stuff can be fun as long as it's optional; I just don't like being told who, what, and how I'm supposed to be); but I will never feel *required* to do any of it just because my crotch is an innie. :| That's just dumb. And if you don't think so, maybe *you* are. And so's your *face*. :p (Besides, aren't we supposed to be the fairer sex anyway? Why would we need so much enhancement? I don't know about y'all, but I'm already purty. ;) )
So yeah, I'm fat, hairy, nonconformist and contrary, and I don't care(y) if you think that's scary. But I am not, in fact, a lezbo. :| (See above re: "cocky".) Not that there's anything wrong with that, sapphic sistas – y'all fuckin' rock and you should continue to jam out witchyer your clams out. I just prefer to stripdacockus, myself. Kinda too bad for me, actually... I'd probably land a lot more loin as a ladylover, but I was just cursed from birth with this craving for cockus. You know how it is, straighty ladies and homo hombres... Mmmmmm... cockus... :p~
Oh – one more potential hurdle for you "must love dogs" types: I don't. :|
I do dig pets; I *love* cats, and tolerate other people's dogs when necessary, but I doubt very much I'll ever want to live with one. Please don't flame me, dog lovers... I understand they have their appeal – they're cute, funny, ridiculously entertaining little beasties who are lovable, loving, and loyal; and I'm sure their company is rewarding in its way. However, they're also messy, smelly, noisy, destructive, sometimes hyperactive, always needy, and generally high maintenance. Kind of like children. :| And much like children, while I can see their charm, I don't want any, and prefer watching their antics on YouTube over sharing a home with them. Sorry, dog dudes; I constitute the entire bitch-in-heat population of my ideal household. :p
Reading over this section, I think I sound like a more serious individual than I actually consider myself to be, but I suppose that's the hazard of whipping potential deal-breakers out right up front like that. *Whammy!* In reality, on those rare occasions when I do venture out of my hermit crab shell (oh, did I forget to mention the social anxiety disorder? because... yeah... although I've been working on it lately with a fair amount of success :) ), I am fun, and funny. People almost always like me a lot. Which is not to say that they want to have all the sex with me, but you might be surprised at how often they do. I always am. :D
I am terrific, radiant, and humble
I'm increasingly feeling like my bliss lies more along the lines of spreading joy by baking perfect cupcakes, but I suppose making some dough is a good start. *rimshot* Update! The steno has been on hold lately because I'm baking professionally and bounding after m'buttery bliss, bitchez! I'm a ball-haulin' badass baker babe! :D BOOYAH! B words! Bite me! :p No, really -- I like that. :| (Incidentally, this means I work nights, so that all the delectable treats are mornin' fresh for you coffee achievers. This makes my commute frickin' *CAKE* (get it??), but also makes socializing with daywalkers a trifle difficult, so super mega bonus points if you also work the graveyard shift. prrrrrsleepovers... <3 )
I'm also learning to take better care of my body. It's finally getting through to me what a huge difference it makes in my emotional and mental health, and in my enjoyment of life. Duh, I know; for a smartypants, I have been thoroughly and stubbornly pantstarded on this subject. After nearly a lifetime of body image b.s. and self-loathing, I have in the last few years learned to love and accept my body as it exists in the present, rather than at some unspecified point in the future when it conforms to some arbitrary standard, and that alone has improved my life dramatically. Now I'm learning to love it actively: moving and stretching it, feeding and watering it right, placing it in a patch of sunlight for a few minutes a day like a little dying plant... It's a process and requires patience, but my succulent is starting to perk up, y'all! I'm feeling better every day! w00t!1!
[As a side effect of my new wellness (not to mention my sweaty, strenuous new gig in the muffin mines), I've begun rapidly changing shape, but don't get too excited, guys; that just means I'm on the express train from Botero to Dali, probably to blow past anything resembling a nice firm Rubens, and it may take me a while to snap back. From an aesthetic standpoint, I actually prefer the roundnesses, myself; but hey, if the flying squirrel look works for you... (If it doesn't, you might want to get on this *today*. :| I've been thinking maybe I should throw my breasts some kind of going-out-of-business event... Sort of a Feelapalooza... or Feel-Up-a-Loser, as the case may be... :p ) The roofie selfies are my most recent pics, and I'm wearing a smidge more make-up in them than I usually do – I was just playing Barbie Make-Me-Pretty that day for fun. Jealous, boys? Yes. :| Yes you are. Wanna play? :D (Gender stereotypes are so 20th century...) I think I'm a little bit slimmer and my hair's a lot greyer lately -- I got m'heart broke recently before it suddenly broke Open, and I'm a sensitive little chinchilla and kinda have mood hair -- but that'll just make it even more fun when I dye it Wonder Woman turquoise. :) ]
I'm beginning to glimpse the edges of a revelation about how to create the life of my dreams, and I don't have it all figured out yet, but I know it involves less whining and more dreaming. Unleashing my most abundant, fearless, radiant heart. Inspiration, perspiration, respiration, meditation, good nutrition, repetition... Investing in long-term joy instead of short-term pleasure. Little less conversation, little more action. You get the idea. Since I drowned my social life to sleep in the midst of my depression, my daily life has a monastic quality lately. I learn, exercise, eat, sleep, reflect. I'm finding a quiet happiness in it, and something resembling peace. I'm healing my way out of a darkness that has crippled me my whole life, and I'm so grateful I want to weep and leap and fart for joy. Or something. Like I said, I don't really have it all figured out yet...
Some activities I enjoy but make no claim to have done lately, ever exhibited any particular talent at, or necessarily actually learned to do include: playing various musical instruments, such as (in descending order of skill) guitar, violin, ukulele, slide whistle, banjo, piano, and musical saw; the occasional tragisterical karaoke kamikaze mission; graphic arts – my favorite media being soft, high-quality colored pencils and oil pastels (I have a keenly accurate and detailed, if less-than-inspired style, and am also interested in drawing portraits for a living if there's anyone you'd like immortalized); jewelry fabrication, especially beading and knotwork; quilting, knitting, needlework, tatting -- any olde textile/fibre arte, really, with the decidedly impractical omission of sewing clothes, which would benefit me a lot as a superfatty, but whatevs; and origami.
I know absolutely nothing about stained glass (besides that I want to live in an igloo made of it), but would love to learn. I'm developing an interest in yoga and I'm curious about salsa and belly dancing. I've also been thinking about joining a women's chorus. I recently started learning Portuguese, French, and German, just for funzies, but shelved them temporarily in favor of the whole marketable skill thing. I love reading, and feel really deprived if I don't have an awesome book in the bathroom at all times. Right now it's "A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose" by Eckhart Tolle, and homeboy is speaking my language and *freaking* my *shit*. I've gotta start paying more attention to Oprah... Who knew there was Enlightenment going down on daytime TV?? Kinda like your mom... Only that was on "Cheaters", wasn't it? :p
B) I *love* movies, and enjoy all kinds with anything from kindergarten to grad school aesthetics, but in general prefer escapism, and like comedy best. I mean... life is heavy enough, don't you think? Movies are for fun, to me. The following list doesn't reflect this much, but I *can* revel in smartypants/artypants/foreign/indie cinemahh, and am not averse to movies that make me think or weep more than they make me bite my nails or piss myself laughing; but I usually find that one viewing of those is enough for me, and I thought that a list of the ones I've chosen to enjoy again says more about what my *favorites* are, even if they might not make me look as S-M-R-T as I am. :| Just keepin' it real, y'all... That's how I roll.
So some movies I have seen repeatedly and still enjoy include: The Full Monty, Wet Hot American Summer, Tommy Boy, Forrest Gump, Pulp Fiction, Natural Born Killers, True Romance, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, ye olde Star Wars trilogy, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Godfather (1 & 2), GoodFellas, As Good As It Gets, Best in Show/A Mighty Wind/This Is Spinal Tap, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Amelie, Harold and Maude, The Princess Bride, Spanglish, Big, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Arthur, Airplane, Groundhog Day, Home for the Holidays, Scrooged, The Jerk, Johnny Stecchino, Cinema Paradiso, The Breakfast Club, Fight Club, Run Lola Run, Silence of the Lambs, Seven, Shaun of the Dead, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, the O.G. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and mostly pre-eighties plus a few more recent animated Disney films. Jackie Chan is my boyfriend.
C) When I scrolled through my mp3s, these names appealed to me most today: Beck, Billy Joel, Blink 182, Blue October, Bob Marley, Bob Schneider, Brandi Carlile, Buena Vista Social Club, Cake, Carlos Vives, Cypress Hill, Dixie Chicks (disclaimer: I'm VERY selective about country. I like them because the honky-tonk fonk is diluted with both a pop/rock flavor and a bluegrass virtuosity. I can hang with bluegrass; Southern-fried rock like Skynyrd and The Eagles; the *occasional* tuneful and poppy country crossover (I can furtively sing along with a *little* Faith Hill or Shania Twain, say); the undeniable greats like Johnny Cash; a little swingy country like Lyle Lovett; and old-school swingy country ala Patsy Cline. I LOVE Patsy and will do some karaoke if you get me liquored up enough, and I will harmonize with you on "Margaritaville" on the first margarita; but twangy-ass, shit-kickin', defiantly red-state country & western lahk Brooks'n'Dunn? Emphatically, violently NO.
Roger Miller cracks me up, and so do Tim Wilson and Rodney Carrington, who both sound JUST LIKE those cow-flop assholes, but I have a much higher tolerance if you're mocking the genre. In general, I like country MUCH better as a seasoning in other types of music. I feel the same way about punk, and pop. Only pop is like the butter of music to me. Everything else is more palatable with a little of it, but you wouldn't want to eat a whole stick. Of pop. I did once eat a whole stick of butter, as a two-year-old, and Mom says I was perfectly fine and happy as a clam. Helps explain the physique.) Where were we? Ah, yes – today I also liked Elliott Smith, Fountains of Wayne, Indigo Girls, Iron and Wine, Joshua Radin, Keane, Mana, Nick Drake, Patty Griffin, Sublime, The Cars, The Ramones, and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I think that conveys the idea that I like a lot of different kinds of music, but the catch of the day didn't include much of my large collection of cheesy 80s rock (particularly ballads) of which I am so incurably fond.
There are a few artists for whom I have a deep and abiding love, but who I overplayed so drastically in my youth that they became like white noise, and I haven't needed to hear them for a long time, among them The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Cat Stevens, Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, Jim Croce, Don McLean, Bread and others of that whole 60s/70s singer/songwriter vibe. When I hear them on the radio or at the grocery store or wherever, I still know every word and inflection, and it's like getting a surprise phone call from a childhood friend; so if you love them I'm in, but I haven't felt the urge to seek them out lately.
I think the common denominator among the artists I enjoy most is a tendency toward catchy tunes (which doesn't really explain the Cypress Hill, but maybe that's just nostalgia for my pot-smokin' days...) I like music with a strong melodic structure I can sing along with, particularly when it's accompanied by rich harmonies (the part I usually sing, as a born alto – I entered this world with a deep, plaintive quacking, so I'm told), and I'm on board with tuneful classical music and catchy arias, too -- think Mozart, Vivaldi, Verdi, Strauss... (Kinda poppy and "Hooked on Classics", I know, classical snobs, but whatev... I can sing along in Italian -- can you? :p ) I give extra credit for phenomenal lyrics, but don't actually require them, as I'm willing to read poetry for my heart-juicing word fix; in my worldview, music should first and foremost be musical.
I like a block-rockin' beat as much as the next gal, but have strong leanings toward folk/acoustic stuff, and in general prefer that the music I listen to be soothing, rather than energetic. I tend to gravitate toward melodies with a wistful, yearning quality (which might explain the embarrassing power ballads, actually...) – Elliott Smith, Iron and Wine, and Joshua Radin bring it, and also do that whispery, intimate vocal style, so they're my special lullaboyfriends – but lately I'm on a more easygoing, sunny wavelength, and Bob Schneider keeps poppin' up on the playlist. I've been getting into Belle and Sebastian, Death Cab for Cutie, and The Shins; but so far I've been obsessing over a few fave songs rather than exploring their entire bodies of work, so don't doubt my veracity if I don't know your faves, superfans. (But do feel free to recommend. :) )
D) Oh my gosh, foods! Cuisine-wise, I dig Tex-Mex, Chinese, Thai, sushi, Indian, Italian, Greek/Mediterranean, and good ol' Southern home cookin'. (Is buffet a cuisine?) More specifically, I love a really good burger; gourmet pizza; anything with cream gravy; potatoes any which way but loose; chiles rellenos (breaded poblanos with white cheese and ranchero sauce – I don't know what the deal is with the bell peppers with rice and raisins, but no thanks); the holy trinity of salsa, queso, and guacamole; see also: homemade cookies, pies, and cakes (frozen desserts not so much.) I require quality dark chocolate desperately, but not often. Fresh bread gives me wood.
I was a vegetarian from age 15-25 or so, and I've been thinking about going back to it lately. I currently have an internal struggle going on between the selfish part of me that *loves* to eat meat and feels lazy and whiny about the prospect of having to think more carefully about maintaining a healthful protein-to-carb ratio without it (I gained most of my weight during those veggie years) and the kinder, gentler part that knows it's a more loving way to live. In the midst of my newfound inner sparkliness, I caught myself calling my sister's cat "little brother" (and meaning it), and then immediately thought "aww, crap... there goes m'bacon..." so I guess I'll probably cowboy up eventually. *sigh*...
E) Gad. :| I've noticed how some of y'all have started volunteering your tastes in television shows, and I ain't too proud to join ya, but sheeeyit... I have squandered *years* watching television ('member that Simpsons episode where the comic book guy is about to be hit by the missile and he has a moment of clarity and goes "Oh, I've... wastedmylife"? Like that. :| So I'm increasingly feeling like TV is kind of evil, at least the way I've abused it; and I also can't legitimately claim that much of it has been educational or edifying in any way – I tend toward frivolous and fun fare nearly exclusively. I'm not watching so much tube these days, but to give you an idea if we'd be compatible in terms of how we like to be entertained (which is what all this is for, after all), here are some things that I have enjoyed, from the brilliant to the banal (you'll have to excuse me for dumping the caviar in with the Cheez Whiz, but I'm 'fessing up, here, and ass meets couch for all of this crap), with exceptions made for shark jumps and certain sucky seasons (or even series – CSI *Miami*, I'm looking at you. :| )
Drama: Angels in America, Carnivale, CSIs, Dexter, ER, Heroes, In Treatment, Law & Orders, Lost, Oz, The Practice, Six Feet Under, The Sopranos, Tell Me You Love Me
Dramedy/Soap: Boston Legal, Dead Like Me, House, The L Word, Nip/Tuck, Queer as Folk, Weeds
Sitcoms: 3rd Rock from the Sun, 30 Rock, Arrested Development, Cheers, Community, The Critic, Dharma & Greg, Family Guy, Frasier, Friends, Futurama, King of the Hill, King of Queens, Mad About You, NewsRadio, The Office, Roseanne, The Sarah Silverman Program, Scrubs, The Simpsons, Strangers With Candy, Seinfeld, Sports Night, That 70s Show, Will & Grace (I'm not oblivious to the offensive stereotyping, m'queers, but I think that it was a groundbreaking and necessary step toward mainstream acceptance of y'all, and more importantly, it was *funny*, which is always my primary requirement of a comedy... Besides, we all have to watch the satan box with a grain of salt; if I rejected every show that perpetuated offensive stereotypes of *women*, for instance, I'd probably have to scrap 80% of this list...)
Britcoms: Absolutely Fabulous (see?), The Black Adder, Coupling, Creature Comforts, Extras, Fawlty Towers, The Office, Spaced, The Young Ones
Sketch/Prank Comedy: Chappelle's Show, Crank Yankers, The Hollow Men, The Kids in the Hall, Laugh-In, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Mr. Show with Bob and David, Saturday Night Live, The State, Tracey Takes On, Upright Citizens Brigade
Commentary Comedy/Pop Culture Wank: Best Week Ever, The Daily Show/The Colbert Report, Ego Trip's Race-O-Rama, I Love the 70s/80s/90s, The Showbiz Show with David Spade, The Soup, SuperSecret TV Formulas, Tosh.0, Web Junk 20
Documentary Reality/Talk Shows: Autopsy, Inside the Actors Studio, Intervention, Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List, Martha Stewart Living, MythBusters, The Oprah Winfrey Show, Penn & Teller: Bullsh^^!, Pimp My Ride, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, Real Sex, Supernanny, True Hollywood Story, What Not to Wear. Also virtually anything on the Food Network or HGTV (unless it's about curbs or dirt or real estate – *yawn*...)
Competition Reality/Game Shows: America's Best Dance Crew, HGTV Design Star, Jeopardy, Project Runway, So You Think You Can Dance, Top Chef, Top Design, The World Series of Pop Culture
Sci-fi/Fantasy/Horror: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek (original flavor), Tales from the Crypt, The Twilight Zone, The X-Files
Kids' Stuff: The Electric Company, The Looney Tunes Show, The Muppet Show, The Powerpuff Girls, Rocky & Bullwinkle & Friends, Sesame Street
Stand-up: Dave Attell, Maria Bamford, Arj Barker, Greg Behrendt, Lewis Black, George Carlin, Dave Chappelle, Margaret Cho, Dane Cook, Bill Cosby, David Cross, Ellen DeGeneres, Jim Gaffigan, Zach Galifianakis, Kathy Griffin, Mitch Hedberg, Eddie Izzard, Kevin James, Demetri Martin, Eddie Murphy, Patton Oswalt, Caroline Rhea, Chris Rock, Roseanne, Sarah Silverman, Stella, Nick Swardson, Wanda Sykes, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, Ron White
So you can see how I've flushed my life this way. :| I also feel like I should own up to the fact that in much the same way that I have a sheepish love for the cheesy bygone ballads, I have a special fondness for cornball crime-solvin' shows of yore, particularly when the genius protag is oft-underestimated, as in Columbo, Matlock, and Murder, She Wrote (also The Closer and Monk, which seem like the current representatives of that subgenre.) Wonder what that says about me...
F) I tried to add a section on my tastes in video games, but when I posted it, this bit got so long that it broke OkCupid. :| So I'm adding it as another journal entry if you're interested. (RPG kids, you may want to check this out -- some of it concerns you. :) )
And kids... while I have your attention here, I don't want to sound like a grouch (really I'm more of a cookie monster... btw WTF with this "Veggie Monster" shit?? Cookie represents the universal kid id -- all pleasure principle and no concept of fiber or consequences -- and Jim is probably rolling over in the dirt nap... *and* we're back to grouch...), but I wish y'all would stop taking this question so GD literally, and answer it in the spirit in which it's intended. The question is not "What elements and/or functions does your body require in order to continue living?" or "What universal physical laws keep your meat balloon from flying off into space and popping" (although those kinds of answers were sort of cute the first dozen times we saw them...), nor is it "Could you survive in the woods without your iPod?" or "Rate the importance of a machete versus a mojito to a nomad." :|
It means, "What are those particular things that *feel* crucial in your actual, spoiled, day-to-day life that would say something about who you are to someone who doesn't know you?" You're all very clever, but make with the info. We're all aware that high thread count sheets, hair gel, ABBA, wasabi, your shih tzu, and LiveJournal are not technically necessary for survival; but if you would feel deprived and disconsolate without them, that tells us something about *you*. It might even make you someone's dream dude (although if that's your list, it *might* be another dude... I'm just sayin'...), so cough it up, yo. It's a compatibility thing, y'all. :)
When I'm not busy with the horndoggin', amusing myself a little too much, and weirding out strangers on the interwebs, I spend a lot of time thinking about my blessings. Corny, but true. It's astounding how much better my life is now that I've shifted my focus to those instead of my grievances, wounds, and shortcomings. How is it that I wasted so many years failing to grasp that endlessly reviewing my personal Worst-of was turning my life into a double-decker shit sandwich? (Now it's all Best-of, gag reel, and coming attractions. :D ) Who knew it was so easy to be happy? Why wasn't I informed?? How come it took me so long to figure out that people lead happy lives because they have positive attitudes instead of the other way around? I'm learning to live in the present, dream about the future, and dismiss the past as irrelevant, which is hella liberatin'.
I'm also starting to intuit that the self I'm describing here, the self doing the describing, is just the filmiest, most transient, soap-bubble level of what I am; and I'm curious about the Breath inside me, and all of us, and all around us. Baby's Breath, I guess, to run with the bathwater analogy; and while I tried for a long time, nobody puts Baby in a corner. :| I've begun to sense the gentle chuckling of a Consciousness within me more profound than the hamster wheel of my thoughts, an Awareness that sees the wheel and the bubble as the busy, fascinating, translucent illusions they are. You think that *sounds* weird... Try feeling it. No really -- do! It's *Cool*! :D Anyway, I've just begun seeking some Truth, and that should keep the hamham busy for a while...
I've also been thinkin' 'bout bumpin' bubbles with some o' y'all. :|
Then I will further confide that I have misgivings about mentioning that here -- don't want y'all to think I'm running a BJ booth or something... Really, unless you dazzle me with your heart o' gold, sterling character, sparkling wit, vibrant personality, scintillating conversation, effervescent sense of humor, and volcanic desire for me; it's unlikely that I'll bestow that sublime lusciousness on you (or any of the other ones involved in naughty relations with a luxury-model woman; I don't withhold particular activities like that... I find the birthday-beej phenomenon peculiar and sad but also rather amusing just desserts for dudes who pick their consorts by the wrong criteria... HA ha... :p ) Just thought I'd include it in the list because it's something I love to do and the feedback is consistently that I excel. I'm really good at all those other things, too. :| Just keepin' it real, yo...
Speaking of which... I have spent *hway* too much time on this profile (as have you, I guess, if you've read this far - sorry about that...), but I endeavored to do the best I could to convey what I'm really like, figuring that the more truthin' I am here, the more likely it will be that anyone who really likes it will really like me. And if I'm going to scare you away, I'd rather do it sooner rather than later. So yes, I really am this "classy" and "awesome". :| But I would also like it known that I am *capable* of behaving with decorum in polite society, even though it's strictly pull-my-finger at home. (I'm versatile like that.) And while I'm definitely bawdy and my sense of humor tends toward the crude, gleefully veering into the gutter and splashing up murky fins of can't-believe-she-said-that, I'm never rude in a mean way. I think I have good manners in the sense of making people feel comfortable around me, even if it's just that I'm such a rampant dork that they feel cool and poised in comparison. :|
Believe it or not, your mom would like me, as in mixed company I am friendly, open, reasonably articulate (except when flustered, which would be unlikely unless I'm extremely sexually attracted to your mom, which, again... unlikely; your *dad*, on the other hand...), and, in spite of it all, a nice girl in the ways that really matter. It's just that demure behavior is kind of like pantyhose to me – it's unnatural, and it chafes, but I can pull it off, provided it isn't too long before I can... pull it off. Actually, I'm a better sport about the etiquette than the hosiery; I won't wear it at all unless it's your kink, and then only in kink situations, and in exchange you'll probably have to hold me down/tie me up now and then, and let me call you "Daddy" on occasion. :| Sibs, if you're reading this, I apologize for striking you blind, and rest assured I didn't mean *our* daddy... But I guess you didn't see that last part. 8|
Perhaps by now it's redundant to say so, but I often find myself attracted to older men. Not exclusively (it's not a fetish; just a recurring motif I've noticed, so despair not, young blokes and peers -- I'm talking about icing here, not cake), and not *much* older, really. Not old enough to be my dad now -- Dad's in his 70s. More like late 40s to mid-50s -- the age dads were when I was young and tender. (No, I don't want to examine that too closely. :| ) Think golden age of Redford. *yowling and presenting* (So sorry... putting it away...) I also have a slight but not important penchant for big and tall men. I guess from both of those preferences, it would seem that I want the dude I'm with to make me feel little. ;;) I hear you snickering, world at large... :| Speaking of snickers, I'm way into black dudes. By which I mean I love chocolate. With nuts. :p What can I say? Just really satisfies... ;) (So if you happen to be an enormous black dude with the ferocious sexual appetite of a barbarian Horse Lord, you should probably already be inside me. :| )
Vanilla dudes (by which I mean conventional, not Caucasian), don't let the kink business scare you. I don't *require* it; I just meant that if I'm game and willing to encase myself in itchy synthetic fibers for someone else's perv, I want equal time. :| I feel about kinky sex the way I do about spicy food; it's great fun sometimes, and can keep things interesting, but I do have a personal concept of too spicy, and I'd be perfectly happy to live on comfort food with the right person. <3 Freaky-deaky dudes, don't think I'm limited to the pervs I've mentioned. I am mostly sub and my tweaks tend toward power/role angles (but don't they all, kind of?), but I'm GGG and I *love* the fact that playful, imaginative, adventurous partners can be anything to each other that they choose. It might take me a while to ramp up to full comfort level, and I wouldn't recommend myself as a freak-o'-the-week playmate, but if you're looking for a long-term relationship with a total sweetheart who will also indulge your wickedest secret fantasies, then I might be your gal. You sick little monkey. :p
I don't want to come off flip, here... With or without toys, props, or let's-pretend, I don't think of sex as a game. It's a form of communication, and just like a nice chat over a cup of coffee, it's much better and more meaningful with someone you know well and love much. I'm not against casual sex and I don't want to be thought hypocritical if I *do* bone you right away -- I mean... it's been a long time and I'm lonely -- but to me, casual sex is kind of like fast food. It can be convenient and *duh-lishus*, but it's usually not very nourishing to the body or spirit, and making a habit of it can be bad for you. The best sex I've ever experienced has been a profound, transcendent, floodlight-to/from-heaven, utterly sacred communion between souls deeply in love, and that's ultimately what I'm looking for. Not that I'm against burgers and a beej on the way. :| (Assuming you bring the aforementioned awesomeness... It might not take a luuurve connection to get me in the sack, but it does take a connection, and I have to at least *really* like you...)
While we're on the subject of the sex-having... I've noticed that I've been attracting the interest of a fair number of poly-identified dudes. Some of y'all seem like gen-u-wine, free-lovin', responsible, polyamorous flower children; and some of you seem like greedy, opportunistic, manipulative, multifuckerous douchebags. I'm not sure if y'all are sniffin' around me because I seem weirdo-friendly (which is cool, former dudes :) ) or because you think that as a fat chick I will have poor self-esteem and o/` <3 Lo-wered Expec-tay-ay-tions <3 o/` (which is not, latter douchays. :| ) Righteous dudes, by all means, if it works for you and your womens, let your freak flag fly. It's a celebration, bitches.
However, I would like to take this opportunity to RSVP in advance with a no thank you to that. It just sounds way too emotionally complicated and difficult to me, and I am also self-aware enough to realize that I am enough of a handful (in both the exasperatin' and the insatiable sense ;) ) as a leading lady, without being part of an ensemble piece. :| Also, I am teh aW3z0m3, and merit more than 8% of your heart. (Youngsters, 'member that on "Square One"? Too funny...) Before you tell me how your infinite wuv draws from different accounts or whatever, feel free to substitute "time" where it says "heart." Besides, it would be so unfair to your existing bouquet of ol' ladies when you realize that I'm your favorite and you only want to hang out with and bone me now. (See, bags? My self-esteem is fine, thanks. :p ) Seriously though, you alternadudes are great and maybe I'll catch you at Burning Man and jiggle m'puddin' in your drum circle sometime. Just not in the van. :|
D-bags, y'all can suck it. Just not mine. :|
Regular freedom-lovin' dudes, I feel like I should point out here that just because I'm not into the whole poly thing, it doesn't mean I'm going to demand or expect a commitment right away, either. I'm not going to assume exclusivity after few good dates and/or bonin's (and neither should you, confidentially -- Mama likes to shop around :| ); I'm never going to *assume* exclusivity -- that's something to be discussed and mutually agreed on. But I am looking for a *significant* other, not just an other... and another... I want a PhD in my One Special Dude, not a neverending survey course in Comparative Cock. (Although I think I minored in that one year in my twenties... I lost a lot of weight and dudes were throwin' me freebies like it was my birthday. Good times. :) Different times, though...)
So while I have no problem with casually dating people initially to see if we're a good match, I would like the dudes I'm casually dating to be seeking something long-term in the long run, just so everybody's on the same page. I don't know about y'all, but while I do enjoy the free samples (MMM-MMM, BITCH!), I am shopping for happily-ever-after. Although there will be no baby-makes-three, the picket fence is optional, and we'll be lucky to get an NC-17. Okay, I confess -- it's porn. :| The grand love story that I envision for my life is an epic romance and a hilarious, lighthearted romp that is also deeply and relentlessly pornographic. So I guess that would rank a XXXX. Which can also be found on some of my clothing labels. :|
I now have the longest "most private thing" section known to Cupidkind. If you're reading this and know of one longer, message me the ID; I'd like to get to know that kid. Although after reading that profile, I guess I wouldn't have to bother...
- You have some love, laughter, or wisdom f'Mama.
- You wanna have a dirtysweet barely-innocent teen-style makeout with me. (M'gladies, I'd probably consider it...)
Above all, if you're the Dan to my Roseanne. Meaning you're a big, funny, smart, smart-ass, caring, warm, crazy, lazy, dorky sweetheart who can handle the same qualities in a woman (alright, big and lazy are preferred, but optional; however, okay with them is a must); you're a goodhearted, empathetic person who will treat me and others well because it is your nature to do so, without expecting anything other than the same consideration, and without having to be asked; you are capable of reciprocating absurd amounts of love and kindness, rather than feeling guilty/resentful/annoyed or taking advantage of my big soft heart. Although I'd love it if you want to take advantage of my big soft body... If you're a ridiculously nice guy *and* an alpha horndog *and* into fat chicks, you should probably get all up on this. (Pesky sexual prime...)
Self-deprecation notwithstanding, there's something I'd like to make clear. I am a beautiful woman. I weigh 303 pounds. I don't think those statements are contradictory. Fat is just one of the things that I am, like tall or brilliant or half-Colombian or lusty and robusty. I joke because I realize that the vast majority of this country doesn't see it that way. Fuck all y'all haters. :p Seriously, though... if it's a problem for you, *please don't write me*, no matter how super cool you think I am otherwise. We'd just end up disappointing each other, and life's too short. Find you a bony gal to bruise you with her pointy parts and her hungry bitchy ways, 'cause it ain't me, babe. I'm all about comfort, sensuality, satiation... indulging all the appetites and enjoying all the pleasures of the flesh... Ever notice how eating and sex are the only activities that involve all 5 senses? Witness how much I love food and bear in mind I love sex *much* more. :| ("Why You Should Fuckafatty," by kitsypuff...) In other words, COOOOKIEEEEE!!! *GNOMGNOMSCROMPSCROMPGNOMSMACK*!!! *devouring plate shards and licking muppety fingerfur* Honestly, y'all, bring on the scrumptiousness, because why else bother living? Eat, drink, and be hairy. (Okay, maybe that's just me...)
Conversely, developing to one's most splendid potential in a society that abhors, reviles, and marginalizes one is extremely difficult, and I realize that my rightful self-confidence has been somewhat rootbound. So I feel I should warn you that even if by some chance you belong to the minuscule minority (which includes myself) that does find me gorgeous and sexy just the way I am (or the minority that actually *admits* to it, y'conformist cowards -- you know who you are), I might still have a hard time believing that and need some convincing and occasional reminding. If you have a romantic relationship with me, a lot of patience and understanding will be required of you, but it will be faithfully extended in kind. Man, life dents you up pretty good, don't it? Holla', thirty-somethings!
In other news, I've been wanting to take salsa lessons for the last 80 pounds or so, but I'm embarrassed to go and be partnered with someone skinny who never gets winded or perspires, so if you're a sweaty fatty with some sense of rhythm and no sense of shame, by all means, bring it. We'll break it down and tear it up until we have to sit it down and cool it off. :D
And dudes around the country/globe, I heart you, but only Austinites and those who aspire to be need apply; I want a squeeze (and/or a dance partner), not a pen-pal. Sorry, fellas -- the big awesome brain and the big awesome bod are a package deal. ;)
One last note (I promise :| ) -- my eyes go all heartometer-bustin' converted-Grinch Chuck Jones bluey when I see that someone is "more loving" than I am. You lil' care bears are most especially invited to love me. <3 <3 <3