Male Bees Die After Sex, Their Testicles Ripped Off

Mild intoxication, severe exhaustion, moderate frustration

Not quite bold enough yet, but we're nearly there. A couple more semi-arbitrary alterations and we're good to go. Jesus Eyes with the 70's Anchorman hair will win the goddamn day, one way or t'other. Washboard and contacts. I don't blame myself, mad and overstocked parties are a damn sight more difficult to meet and greet than one with a bit more division of socialization. She-Ra, Flower-Girl, the Bugs, Breakfast At Tiffany's, the Construction Girls, Margo from Royal Tenenbaums, and two of the three Cat Girls were painfully hot, but all of them were so far out of influence and social circle as to be little more than frustrating background noise. Of course, the problem is that the people I've most access to and time with, well, they're close enough for it to be a kind of weird. First years with a departmental focus. Maybe four single women and I work with them too too often for it to be a safe thing if it fails. I tell you what, though, two of them are strangely compelling and one of them for the weak spot I've had since before hormones: Strong. And why a weakness? Because strong can be Strong or it can be Bitch or Control Freak or Prude or Square and not just Strong itself, but still thrums the ol' magnets. And damn if she doesn't make one hell of a good-looking Betty Crocker/50's Housewife (more like a 50's Housewife from the cover of SPICY ROMANCE than anything else). And since she's a bit more... pure than I am and a bit more the social coordinator, it'd be a loss and awkward study groups, certain enough.And difficult. A perverse attraction to the difficult woo. Still. And then, I think another girl finds me a little attractive, but her english is just passable and I've no idea how to work in those limits. I'm not that pretty, just pretty enough for a second hello, not a third, so it's all on the jive and toss and sharp teeth verbosity. So how do you work when the scene is out of your skill? And I don't know from culural differences. Too much a bad man to care much, but too good one not to when the rules can't be so easily passed on. It's sad, too, because humble narrator here was spoilt for choice less than eight weeks ago and now it's all unknowns and poor bets. Full of oneself it might sound, but truer than it had any right to be, leaving a taste for the classy, the beautiful, the brilliant, and, admittedly, the at least slightly busty. Once it's long enough passed, it's back the fathomless monster and predator smile which works too well for reasons less than respectable. Shameless upfront lawyer and out in public un-adventures. Now, though, too concerned with the accidental repulsion of new potential friends, frustrating as a solo flight may be.

More importantly, how the hell did I get through undergrad without going to a stereotypical college party where "skank" or "slutty" was the prefix to whatever noun was a girl's cosutme? I cannot explain enough how hot a sleazy She-Ra and vampy Flower (the plant, not the skunk in this time around) can be. And Dark Phoenix's ass? Phenomenal. Truly goddamn amazing. And Catgirl 1? Christ would have appreciated his view from above if present with a display like that. Crude it may be, but true too. And too bad, because as much as I respected her boy's "Flying Squirrel" costume, a girl that attractive only triggers the primal male to evaluate if her boy could be made broken. He could. I could have done that. Makes me almost miss the Bad Old Days. <- This is the sick talk of a man drawn into the addictions of his gender. I remember once when I was asexual and maybe a bit too strange, but it was a simpler life to live, to pretend a desire than to possess it. As is, the things I miss, the hungers that hang close over the skin, it's a sad sight. Like a hobo junky. A goddamned junky hobo. Pitiful. Pitiful. How normal folk grapple with this ridiculous crap, I can only start to admire. At least it's good incentive for exercise. Ay.

And you know the truth? Those girls you say I don't want? Yeah, I want them. Not for keeps. Not for forever. But yeah, I want them. It's the unfortunate side-effect of being male and less than oblivious or content with my place and relation in the world. There are times in-between true love and tragic love and big stories and I don't want them to be empty just because they couldn't live up to more than the physical. I want to live crude as much as I want to live big glowy idealism, mind, soul, and novelization.

Also, since no one else was using it, mm, I am a bee for Halloween. Honestly, the costume could as easily be a hornet as a bee. Or a wasp. Bad-ass wasp, you know it. Went over well tonight, though there were THREE OTHER BEES. What the hell. Bee girl 1 was cute, bee girl 2 was ok and so was bee girl 3 but 3 was outshone by dragonfly and ladybug. Might add the extra limbs and leg-fuzz if I feel it, but then, I might resort to the "mutant scientist with extra arms", so we'll see. One of these years, I swear I'm going to do the "Your Evil Twin" costume, with the terrifying bearded reflective mask. Still, it's a great bee costume. If I can GET a pic, I'll try to set it up just right for everyone. If I can't, just imagine a great looking guy, dressed as a budget bee.

And there was a guy who went as a LEGO man. Fantastic. Real devotion to a costume. Actually, a lot of good costumes, but the LEGO man was probably the best.

Lot of folk dressed up as native americans though. That was a bit odd.