And This Is Why

Here is why I am henceforth going to avoid like the plague any Capricorn Rock Guitarists: because they're bitches. At least, one is. The one I live with. He's just a bitch and he is pissing the fuck out of me. Fuck fuck fuck <--there it is. Yarg! I am so god damned tired of making plans with him to do something, and then having him blow me off to go get drunk with his stupid ass band. Cancel plans with me?! What the fuck is that? Plans that surely would have gotten him laid with a fair bit of raunchiness, considering that I'm always more aggressive when I've been uber-stressed and frenzied. Whatever. ::grumble grumble:: I need a new man to fuck. One that's smart, fun, isn't afraid to hurt me, and a good kisser. Not some stupid twit in a band.

The problem with finding this needed man is that, well, obviously I just don't go out as much as a woman on the prowl should. I don't go to bars, clubs, hot spots, or street corners. I am at home on a Friday night, writing code and editing graphics (oooh, the wide wide world of thumbnails and JavaScript). I'm 21 and I end up working at home Friday nights? There is something wrong with this. And all I want to do is fuck, and there's no one here to fuck me. No soul I know online to chat, nor do I have any booty-call boys. Oh there is just great, vast, expansive fields of unsatisfaction with my sex life right now.

So, as I continue my work, I am going to force myself to change my mindset. No more driving pounding Angry Music that helps me type fast (it's the tempo and intense melodies). Instead I need to find something of a calming, soothing nature--but that won't put me to sleep. Fuck, I need to do something, because continuing to glare at my monitor like I am is only going to get me a monitor with a hole burnt through it.