I need a change of pace (or pants)

Whilst taking a break from my busy work demands (see: knitting) I decided to stretch my hamstrings. With my body bent in half I noticed an odd smell. What could it be? No, it's not that disgusting; the answer is simple.

My pants need to be washed.

I really need to get a handle on this. Basically I have two pairs of jeans that I wear almost every day. I own about five other pairs of pants but none of them go with my awful falling apart white jogging shoes I now also wear every day. I recognize that I don't have much fashion sense but really, I'll feel uncomfortable all day if I have to wear black dress slacks with white sneakers.

Yesterday I woke up early and noticed that my skin had been feeling particularly dry of late. Here's my thought process:
Okay, usually I use almond oil in the morning as my body moisturizer but I have to be careful how much I use or my skin won't absorb it all. But, those salt or sugar scrubs you can buy have a bunch of oil in them and I love how my skin feels after I use those in the shower, so maybe I'll drench my body in oil, give it some time to absorb, then take a shower to wash away anything that's left. Then my body will be totally moisturized! So I threw off my clothes, put out a towel, drenched myself in oil (really, drenched), wiped off my hands and sat down to play video games. About 30 minutes later I got up to take a shower. (By the by, I spent too much time playing video games and though I woke up exceptionally early, I nevertheless would need to take a lickity split shower to still make it to work on time.) I stepped in the shower, turned on the water...and waited...and waited...and waited. There was no hot water. Not even warm water. Not even above frigid water. I tried kind of jump splashing my way through the stream but my body wasn't having any of it. I didn't know what to do. I had to take a shower, I was covered in frickin' oil. (By this time I really needed to get my ass in gear to make it to work.) I went back in my room, cursing the whole time, grabbed some moist towelette things I keep on hand (for various reasons) and set to work cleaning off the excess oil. I felt sticky and disgusting all day. This might explain why I need to wash my pants.

more

Curse these long legs of mine! I feel like I'll never be done with my legwarmers, but be sure that this blog will host a picture of them when I am. But for now, I'm taking a break.

The hottest rapist ever post was inspired by Dario Argento's movie The Stendhal Syndrome. This movie particularly resonated with me for several reasons:

1. I think the concept of Stendhal syndrome is pretty cool
2. Attractive people
3. Blood
4. Sex
5. I may have been in an altered state, organic or otherwise.

First a disclaimer: Rape is not sexy. Okay? Duh. Rape is horrible and awful and I can't imagine what it does to a person psychologically. But the fantasy of being completely dominated and forced to do things against one's will? That's hot. Now...

In this film, a young policewoman slowly goes insane while tracking down an elusive (and extremely attractive) serial rapist/killer through Italy when she herself becomes a victim of the brutal man's obsession (thanks imdb). There's a particular scene where Alfredo (the killer) has Anna (the policewoman) tied down and is about to rape her but first he cuts the inside of her lips with a razor blade. Part of the idea is that he wants her to look the way she did when he first saw her: bleeding after she swooned looking at art and cracked her face against a table. Anyway, blood is profusely pouring out of her mouth and he begins kissing her, quite passionately. This scene is sadistically and eerily hot. Here's the thing, the exchange of body fluids (come, spit, tears) is, I think, the most intimate act you can have with someone and blood is no exception. Plus, Thomas Kretschmann (Alfredo) is freakin' hot hot sexy hot. I'm not saying that I want to go out and lick someone's cut hand (maybe) but I won't deny that I want to make art that might involve said act.

Or maybe I'm already beginning to (see following post).

afterward

The other night I was at the theater where I recently auditioned a piece. Outside I happened to strike up a conversation with one of the panel members who saw the auditions. We of course hit on the subject of my piece and he said the only note he made while he watched it was:

creepy serial killer vibe

And apparently, to him, that's a bad thing. I'm okay with that.

hottest. rapist. ever.

And without the blood:




















Maybe this will force me into creating an actual post to explain myself.