BLEH

April 11, 2011 at 10:53 pm (Uncategorized)

I’ve been rather violently ill for the past several hours. I didn’t actually puke, but it came close once or twice. Long story short, probably best to let a trained professional irrigate your ears. Because now I’m mildly waterlogged, still can’t hear, still all ear-ringy, off and on dizzy, and nauseated. Yay!

BUT, enough whining. I can see straight enough now to blog. DISCLAIMER: this is my blog, I can blog about whatever I like. =p

Boys are strange little creatures. Then again, I know they say the same about girls. Sometimes I do think that we should merely live next door to one another and occasionally visit; in that sense only because I have a thing about how I like to keep my bathroom clean, and my experiences are that boys do not comply with it. It’s very weird for me to use the bathroom in the apartments of my male friends, what few times I have done so. What is with you guys and not cleaning up after you shave? No handsoap!? There’s HAIR everywhere! Clean towels, anywhere?? How about toilet paper?!?!?

I’m not the cleanest person ever, but there is a LINE, fellows. I don’t need doilies everywhere and scented candles. Clean hand towel, soap to wash, and not come out covered in your sheddings. Also preferable if I can tell that any pee on the seat or the floor has been cleaned up, or not happened at all. (I wish I wasn’t speaking from personal experience. Ew)

Also, weird things! I didn’t really get the whole “Oh hey, look. Pirate. Rawr. Turned on.” thing. I don’t think they’re fetishes, just more “this thing turns me on.” Well… until I discovered that I have A Thing for cowboys. Stetson? Meee-yow. Boots? Yeshplz. And if he knows how to ride, well… take me off into the sunset.

I don’t particularly know WHY, either. I mean, I consider myself kind of a horsewoman. I can handle myself around the big, sweet brutes. Grooming, hoof-picks, saddling, riding, I’ve got it down. Hell, I’ve mucked out my fair share of stalls. But the guys that usually work around the stables are… not the brightest crayons in the box. Nice. Sweet. But dumber than my horses. I know this. I am AWARE.

And yet… there are a few guys around campus who wear Stetsons. Not particularly attractive. Regular dudes, but not any kind of ‘light-a-fire-in-my-loins’ thing. They themselves do nothing for me. It’s JUST THE HAT. (one wears boots too, so… for him it’s the hat and the boots) I notice it, I suppose. It’s different. Different in an old-timey way. I think that’s why I like steampunk too.

And then Matt Smith wears a Stetson in the new series of Doctor Who… okay, him, yes. All of it does it for me. XD

Clearly, I have been born in the wrong century.

I think I can pinpoint part of it. A book series I’ve read a few times has the ghost of a ranchero haunting the main character/mediator’s bedroom. This dude’s hot. Dead circa 1850. And just the way it’s written, you know that you’re supposed to find him as attractive as the main character (duh, like all books where you’re supposed to like the main character’s S.O.) but there’s just some habits that he’s written as having and ways of treating her that I’m like “Dude… want.”

Ah well. Maybe this cowgirl will find herself a ranch hand. Probably should move out West for that, though. Maybe not. It’s okay. You can always teach a man to ride. Or slap a Stetson on him. ^_^

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