The original subject line for this post was, "SPECS APPEAL OR girls who wear glasses are desirable lasses. Really, we are. May I have my chocolate covered boy now, please?" However, that stupid butterfly boy over at MSN doesn't understand my need for long subject lines but is into truncation of my usually unbearably long sentences. Ohhh, it's a good thing Marcel Proust is dead or he would be UP IN ARMS! Well, maybe laying down in his bed in arms. Whatever it was, there would be arms - and since it's Proust - probably whips too. Onward and upward folks. Jay went for the juglar with, "She's a busy girl, of course, with her store and extravagant social life and whirlwind romance afoot." It must have been quite the whirlwind romance indeed and happened so fast that I wasn't even cognizant of its existence. Last time I recall liking a boy, it took me three years to manage to speak to him without turning foot and running. So, this romance - details please. Were they cute? Were they foreign? Was that the reason I liked them - because I couldn't understand what they were saying (mighty attractive quality you must admit)? Did I follow them around hopelessly while furtively looking through the language dictionary book trying to stutter out phrases such as, "I love the way you lisp when you try to say my name" and "You are you paying for this, aren't you?" Or is the reason I don't remember something to do with Markelby C-my-assarotto's statement of, "when I eventually get Laura Llew into my boudoir I shall render her stupefied"? Was my original reaction to this statement true in that I would already have to be stupefied in order for me to end up there in the first place? Did someone slip me a roofie? Well, I suppose this post is going to be all about setting the record straight. I've always considered my only charm to be my consistency in being single. Of course, this might be because I think relationships are for SUCKAHS.. which leads me to my second clarification of the evening which is that I was indeed going to do the Valentine's Day Exchange. However, I was just waiting for January 17th which is the anniversary of when my best friend got really drunk and confessed his love to me so I spent the rest of the night resisting the urge to poke him out of his alcohol induced unconsciousness to ask him if when he said he loved me if it was "I love you like I would a matronly dumpling of a convent nun" or if it was a "I'm IN love with you and would like to eventually snog the life out of you but if you prefer we can wait until my breath doesn't smell like wet dog. Now if you'll excuse me I'll pass out in a lovely puddle of my own drool." However, I never got the courage to clarify. If Christmas is all about getting drunk and insulting your blood relations, then Valentines Day is all about being muddled by a crush and consuming two pounds of chocolate in hopes you'll forget about it or at least slip into a chocolate induced coma. My point, which is as dull as I am, is that far be it from me to deter GayJay from meeting his -until now- unrequited desires to pack on the adipose tissue, drop most of his clothes, and wield sharp weapons in hopes of matching Sinisterines so the best luck to him in the Valentines Day Exchange and to everyone who participates in hopes that it will result in disco balls, strobe lighting effects, and getting it awn. I mean, I love you all - even those of you who I feel like are my slightly slow, raised-by-monkeys, 4 year old brothers. In other news, for the first time ever I had a very sinister New Year. Not in the tight leather, shooting up heroin and getting slipped roofies (or so I THOUGHT) way but in the cozy new york scenester set as I drove up there with GayJay to be with the best hostess in the world Miss Laurel, Sir Matthew (the first person to ever write back to something I posted to Sinister), the most clever Hobnob Brian, Will Porter (who, thankfully, is as fantastic and as foxy as I've spent the past three years declaring that he was), and then later the infamous and swoonfully cute BILWWNLM. I wish there was someone subpar in the group so I could make thinly veiled insulting comments about them so I didn't seem like such a sycophant but the truth is I loved and am quite smitten with them all. Sick, isn't it? They even took me to the Algonquin where too expensive cocktails were drunk, insults were sniped, and eyes made at some skinny Russian boy with a big head and bad hair because evidently other people like skinny boys with bad hair. These are the type of people who get involved in relationships. See why I think they're for suckahs? xo, Ll 'meeting all your Laura Llew needs since 1977' ps - In this post I quoted Miss Maddie Minx and Sir Brian In The Orange Toboggan. They're the really clever statements. The drivel is mine. pps - Apologies to those who requested a Christmas post from me but I was really quite ill. Not that you should feel guilty for being an uncaring and selfish bastard in not rushing over here with tea, soup, and offers to plump my pillows (not a euphemism, not a euphemism) because I understand how it is. Really, I do. ppps - I LOVE HONEY. _________________________________________________________________ STOP MORE SPAM with the new MSN 8 and get 2 months FREE* http://join.msn.com/?page=features/junkmail +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. 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