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[phosfate]

Hot, tired, in no mood to type massive MediaWest accounts. I will note that apparently nothing brings out the fuckwaditude of Mr America like sports. I wore a black Nebraska jersey of no fixed sport at the con (hey, it was three bucks at the Goodwill, is astonishingly well-constructed and handsome, and I approve of anything bearing the name of my home state that is not in fucking red and white). No less than two fellas were compelled to come up and, with extreme rudeness and little humor, diss it. Amusing, since I could give a crap about sports, one of the gents in question is in fact a native of Omaha, and the other had begun the conversation by begging me to hold an elevator door open for him. Ask me again why I don't date them.

I was thus tempted to wear the thing for the entire con, but five days in a humid climate would have produced unpleasant results.

Comments

[moroburrows.livejournal.com]

deep blue morocco!

[annlarimer.livejournal.com]

It smells of sage, for it is wise to your shennanigans.

[moroburrows.livejournal.com]

like a buffalo thunder with a smell of sugar and a velvet tongue and designer voodoo. but i got phonesex to see me through the emptiness in my 501s. freeze dried in my new religion and my teeth stuffed back in my head.