Meet my new man, Domo. I have fallen head over heels for him. He charms me to the point that I lose all rational thought when around him. I have a stuffed effigy of him in my bed -- the only man I will consent to have in my bed (besides Midget Poo Poo Platter: I need someone to guard my chastity all night against would be suitors). All night we cuddle and he is the only stuffed animal I have slept with since I was a child. The only stuffed animal that I don't toss out of my bed in my sleep. I go to sleep with him cradled in my arms and wake up with him still near me. I have a T-shirt with his picture on it, proclaiming my love and letting the world know who has my heart. For Christmas I got a backpack/purse/bag with him on it, for my books and anything else I need to tote around with me that is too big for my current purse (I have a purse obsession that takes up most of my closet. The other part of my closet is full of my shoe collection -- my other obsession.) I also got a key chain with him on it that I put on my keys post haste, letting everyone know that the removal of said key chain would endanger their lives. I took off my Hello Kitty key chain out of some respect for those who drive my car from time to time; but Domo is one subject that I won't bend on: he stays or you can walk, its all the same to me. He is the perfect man. He doesn't talk back; he accepts and loves me for who I am; and he will listen to me for hours and never grow tired of what I have to say. Ahh, isn't love grand?
And we have so much in common:
*He is an alien while my personality is alien to many people.
*We both hatched out of eggs, although my egg hatching was a little different -- a difference I don't care to think about too much. I'd rather pretend that my parents never had sex and that my mom is asexual and just budded off her children. My older sister, Mellow Yellow, told me, when we were kids, that whenever I heard my parents talking at night it meant that they were having sex. That scarred me for a long time. Whenever I would hear them talking at night I would cover my ears with my pillow, do anything to drown out that sound. I even kept a radio under my pillow for such occasions for a long time. Now that I'm older and know a thing or two about sex, I know people generally do not carry on conversations while doing the deed. But maybe because my parents never had sex they needed to have conversations late at night, just to give them something to do before going to sleep.
*We both have beady eyes. His are black and beady while mine tend to be red and beady from the eye strain that I get so easily.
*We both make that face when irritated/frustrated/really crabby et cetera. It feels good to just bare your teeth and show exactly how you feel.
*We are both stuffed with fluff under our ferocious mean faces. Granted he is more stuffed with fluff than me. I am not as much of a softy as he is, but I do have some soft spots to me, they are just harder to find.
All in all, we are a perfect match. A match that I don't see coming to an end anytime soon. And frankly, my dears, I think everyone else is relieved to see something, anything, replace Hello Kitty -- an obsession that they did not understand, not seeing the beauty and poetry of her like I do. I still love Hello Kitty, but I have a passion for Domo that she cannot touch. She never understood the fine art of cuddling in bed all night and always ended up on the floor: a sure sign that she and I are not the soul mates that Domo and I are.
HORROR OF CORN FLAKES, NORDSTROM SOCKS
16 minutes ago