A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion:
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

-William Shakespeare

Translation:
Shakespeare is in love with his dude-friend, we’ll call him Jack, and he’s lamenting the fact that Nature was so unfair as to give Jack a penis rather than lady bits. It’s like Plato’s Symposium and the story of soul mates, except… it’s like an appended epilogue where suddenly some enemy emerges and convinces society that peen-on-peen action is icky, thus keeping duomale soulmates from mating.
WOE IS SOUL MATES! WOE IS SOCIAL NORMS!

If only Nature weren’t such a despicable and spiteful House Frau, plotting away in her infinity cabin and mucking up Fate-driven romances with her long spoon. Blah. Blah. Blah.

The pause is important.
The paws is important.
The paws are important.
Paws are important.
Paws.

Dear Diary,

I never gave much thought to how I was going to have sex with a vampire, I figured maybe without a condom. Or on birth control. But no sex at all seems like a far cry from my original fantasy.
And it’s so. Fucking. Hoot.
So hoot, in fact, that I’m surprised I could stop masturbating to my Stephanie Meyer book long enough to write this.

So.

The strangest thing happened to me on the way home from the theater tonight. It was cold, but I (like all self-respecting girls ought to) opted for my super cute t-shirt that looked like a hoodie with super cute pockets painted all over its front. And, of course, my green Ugg boots and the shortest skirt I could fit over my already perfectly flattened ass. While I was walking, complaining aloud to anyone who would listen about how cold I was I bumped into the most beautiful man. Mysterious. Pale. With cold, clammy skin– skin cold the way we found my grandmother Christmas morning.

Push thoughts of Nanna aside and continue with the sex-I mean story.

I’d hate to say I couldn’t keep my eyes off a certain area of his body, but it was soooo big I couldn’t resist. His eyes, of course.
So big and… pulsating. Almost… throbbing. Can eyes throb?
Maybe it was all the drugs I was taking– it may have been the intravenous ones or maybe the inhalants, buuuut for some reason I felt like I couldn’t resist him. Something was drawing me near. It could have been his smell. It could have been the way he looked at me as if he wanted to bite into me like an apple. Whatever it was, it made him irresistible.

Have you ever wanted to have sex with a stranger in the middle of a busy street? Because I have.

As I was looking into his eyes, which were brown- no wait, yellow- no wait, brown- possibly a golden rod of some kind… Wait, no. They were black. Yes. Definitely black.
Anyway, back to the sex…er… I mean. Story.

He asked me if I wanted to walk with him.
And then he told me to go away.
So I was like, “What? Why? I want to walk with you FOREVER!”
So he was like, “No. I am irresistibly repellent and all of me wants to tear you apart and then put you back together and make love to your pieces. But I can’t. Go away. I love you. Come back. No. Leave.”
So I was like, “What? Please. Do to me what you just said. I want you. Why do you need to be invited? I invite you! Fuck my pieces. Please?”

I never thought it could happen to a girl like me.
I mean, I thought I would get some sort of troll from under a bridge. A bridge troll. Yes. Bridge troll.Or possibly an elf with those gross, pointy ears.
Or, worse yet, that football player with the weird, unsettling pugface.
But no. I got a sexy vampire and his sexy vampire family. Do you know how hard it is for a girl these days to find a sexy vampire to want to spend the rest of her life with while he tries desperately not to rip her apart? I wish he would just give in and “lose control” (whatever that means). I’d love for him to actually rip into me, if you catch my drift. I don’t know what’s stopping him. It’s not as if I use a garlic douche or my hymen is made out of adamantium.

The next morning my dad was ramming his cleaning tool into the barrel of his shot gun while I sat across the table jamming warm pieces of sausage into my moist mouth. Warm, dripping pieces of sausage. When the drip greases escaped my tender, shiny red lips I gently pushed them back into my mouth and sucked the salty juices from my stiff, hard finger.

All I want is for him to fuck me. The sexy vampire, not my dad. Gross, guys.

His breath was terrible, though, as anyone would expect from someone who eats animals. I mean, did he have to breath directly into my mouth? So. To avoid the subject, I offered him a blow job. It was my first blow job, so I was a little nervous but when he resisted, I was curious.

“Why? Why would you resist a blow job?”
“Because I’m afraid,” he said. “Afraid that with my super human strength my man meat would smash your face and you would no longer be the beautiful thing I’m attracted to. You’d look like some sort of rotting fruit.”

A little tactless, but he’s so fucking hot I don’t care what he says. Or does. So long as he fucks me eventually. Or doesn’t. Whatever.

Did I mention I met his super sexy family? Because I did. They were, if I haven’t already said this, the sexiest family I have ever met in my whole life.
I made joke about how they wanted to eat me and they all laughed.
And then I laughed.
And then I cried a little. On the inside.
Then I laughed again.
I hope that means they liked me.
They made me dinner. Haha, no. Not like that.
I really wished they hadn’t killed that old lady, but I ate her anyway just to be polite. I mean, wouldn’t you?

Anyway, back to the sex.

I have three reasons why I really want to have sex (but can’t) with this vampire.

One. He’s a vampire.
Two. If his skin shines like diamonds, do you suppose other parts of him could get as hard as diamonds?
Three. I am a dumb lamb but his hair is a lion so your argument is invalid.

(13 year old girls are SO jealous of me.)

< soliloquy >
All I want is for him to fork me twirl me around his giant hard fork like a tender piece of spaghetti to be flung against the wall to see if it’s done O I’m done my virginity was to him as a steak to the heart my virginity touched him like the sun itself and his shiny shiny diamond flesh his intoxicating sent brought me closer and made my loins heave in pleasure but I must resist his forceful phallus could break my tiny bones like a baby bird falling out of a tree greens keeper dirty uncle lotion on the floor its ridiculous when its doused in pepper but we love it anyway how many baked beans can you stuff into a thimble I don’t know either but god I wanted him to try his undulating member darted toward me like a speeding porpoise I dodged him like a scared guppy so I smooshed cake all over myself walked into the room happy birthday he looked at me rawr I’m a lion I squirted ink I doused him in the face with my ink a frightened squid it was yellow cake so it was fine marble or angel food would have lost me thats the last time I went to a luau does that mean I’m not sexy?

OOPS! I slipped and fell face first in love.
< /soliloquy >

I read somewhere once that the state of your home/room (the cleanness or messiness) was a sort representation produced unconscious and representative of your current or most regular state of mind.

I wonder, then, if that theory stretches to smells?