monkey pigeon

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Well, looks like I need to pick up a copy of Time magazine this week. It’s my most favorite of subjects! (In the rest of the world, the cover topic is about something lame and substantive instead of strange animal couplings. Pfft, Europe, who cares? Time sure has America’s number.)

Also, HELLO tiny chameleons I didn’t know I was obsessed with until I knew they existed!

Interesting body politics reading.

“I’m not sure how Cupid decides who will get to fall in love, because there’s this one guy at the library who looks like he could really stand to have some love in his life.” (Made me laugh. The Rumpus is so much fun.)

An article pointing out that marriage hasn’t necessarily been the institution we might think.

 

Meanwhile, an otherwise fun day at work has been colored by some one infecting my car with a horrible stench. Glamorous.

 

Since I am dead inside (or at least doubting my ability to make new romantic connections to people), I’ve decided to save everybody’s time and be totally straightforward about all my things. That is, the stuff that would be my “dirty secrets” were I ashamed of any of it. It just makes sense. I am not a perfect date but I do know who I am and so why not put it out there? If my quirkiness is too intimidating to some one then it’s not likely they are the person for me anyway.

I’m not exactly a conventional person. It’s part of why my inner circle thinks I’m awesome. I need someone at least a little unconventional too. Not shooting for Sid and Nancy or John and Yoko. And I read George Bernard Shaw had a sexless marriage so that’s not exactly the idea but…whatever.

 

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