I HATE ARIAL

I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT

Blogger

Blogger is kind of strange. I don't mean blogging is strange. Blogger is a bit too round at the edges in the third dimension. By that, I mean it's like a toy. It's not very clean. It's not very efficient. It's a shell at best. It doesn't work right. For instance, I think my custom "posted by" and "comments" things are lame. I can't change them back at the moment, though I was able to change them earlier this evening. Why? Who knows.

Also, I couldn't change the size of certain elements of text in my blog. Why? The stupid button was changing the wrong element. FIX MEEEEEEE, GOOGLE!

At around the same time, I also made this. It's for an imaginary product, which, because it's imaginary, doesn't need a legal disclaimer! Egad.

Expansion and Variety

This blog is henceforth no longer restricted to purposes of writing, as demonstrated by this, which I made earlier today:

Disclaimer: I don't own the trademark for GE. Also, please don't sue me; it's free advertising, and it's just an experiment.

THE TAKEDOWN/TAKEOVER

I used to post to this account as sarixe. Now I post as drm.mundy. In other words, the previous owner has died and been reincarnated as the new management. Good luck, readers, as you try to understand my new, improved ramblings. Forthwards and on!

By the way...

I'm not having sex with Valeria Mezzina. Just wanted to clear that up for you.

Spillage

I am at a loss. I was having a great time until my parents came home. They leak emotion all over the place like a bucket without a bottom. Of course, a lot of it got all down the front of my shirt, and it just won't go away. I tried wiping it off, but that only helped a little. It's not even mine, yet I'm the one who's upset and terrified and tense. I didn't even do anything.

Nevermind. That's not what I came here to talk about. Here's a rough, scratchy attempt:

I want to kiss you. I want to do it slowly and softly. My heart shoots up into my throat every time I try to speak your name. I feel like a jerk because I can't just come out and say what I want to say. I even feel like a jerk for wanting to say the things I want to say. I don't say them. Until now. I want to start kissing you harder, more passionately. I want to hold you close to me, hold you tight against my body. I want to improvise. I want to try new things. I want to find my limits and your limits, and I want to know you like nobody else knows you. I want to whisper in your ear how much I love you. I want you to know I love you, and I want you to feel safe and right around me. I want to be a reliable, desirable person for you. Most of all, I want you.

What do you want?