My Five
No, I’m not talking about cell phone plans – don’t have one, and I probably won’t have one for awhile yet. A friend and I once had a conversation about an idea that she had come up with and had proposed to her husband; each of them would make a list of the five celebrities that, should the opportunity arise, they could sleep with without the other person getting angry. What follows is the only five men in the world that I would have a one-night-stand with despite being engaged.* Hell, I encourage all of my readers to do this on their blogs, too, with the gender of their choice – most of us are well acquainted (unfortunately) with Lil’ Markie, and I’m sure that he’d be just so scandalized by everyone being so perverse–
…
Sorry, thought about him too long and threw up in my mouth a little. Anyway, I know what exactly what’ll scrub my mind clean of all of that Putnam County nastiness… my five!
1) John Morrison
The Shaman of Sexy, the Guru of Greatness, the Friday Night Delight… well shit, I sure as Hell wouldn’t stop him from delighting me any night of the week! From the moment that he stopped wearing shirts and started using slow-motion in his entrances, I was transfixed. The abs, the tanned skin, the flowing dark hair… all of it is enough to leave me staring blankly at my screen. Hell, I wouldn’t have gotten to the rest of this list had I not closed the window that had the picture above in it!
2) C. M. Punk
When I was in high school, I was a part of the punk/goth scene. There were some pretty boys that I dated… and all of them ended up being assholes. I’ve largely moved on from that scene (well, beyond the music) and I was well on my way to forget the appeal of a lip ring and tattoos… but then I saw C.M. Punk and all of that came rushing back. He’s a good blend of the most attractive qualities of both sides; the long, dark hair from the goth side, and the tattoos and piercings from the punk side. He’s also wickedly dextreous – enough so that he’s got to be able to move like no one’s business.All in all, he’d be great fun.
3) Orlando Bloom
Blond or brunette, elf or pirate… there hasn’t been a movie yet that I’ve seen where I wouldn’t want to drag him out of the scene he’s in so I could have a more private, steamy scene of my own. What really gets me, though, is his accent. Jake can attest to my love of them, and how much I lament his utter and absolute lack of one. Anyway, Orlando’s also a sweetie, which means that he’d likely be the sort to actually cuddle afterward – maybe even make breakfast!
4) Alton Brown
Sure, he’s balding… and sure, he looks like a nerd. But that’s the thing – not only do I dig nerdy guys, but this is a case of a man having a personality that I find abso-fuckin-lutely irresistible. The sarcastic sense of humor, the random bits of trivia, the dead-pan delivery that rarely deviates… and you’ve got a man that I’m utterly and completely drawn to for a reason all his own. Hell, a small part of me is curious to see if he can keep his cool when he’s between the sheets.
5) Brad Pitt
Yes, I know – most red-blooded American women would’ve had him higher up on the list… and at one point, I probably would have placed him right at number one. However, as I’ve grown older, my tastes have deviated a bit from the norm (like you couldn’t tell!) and the aura of sex appeal that most women feel when they look at pictures of him has lessened. It hasn’t gone away, obviously… but it has lessened.
And there you have it – the five men that I find attractive enough to have a one-night-stand with.. and that Jake’d be nice enough to forgive me for. I imagine that some of you are surprised with my choices, and that some of you are going ‘Well duh you’re attracted to them!’ Oh, and if you’ve got the phone numbers of any of the above… you know what to do.
*Not that I wouldn’t bang a few famous women, either… but I’ve already got clearance to go at any woman I please so long as I’m honest about it. Jake’s such a peach.
Mad Girl’s Love Song
“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
– Sylvia Plath, ‘Mad Girl’s Love Song’
Whew, there’s that tradition out of the way…
Anyway, hello folks! The name is Kris, and I’ll be providing you with content of varying relevancy and quality to read for this particular blog. I could introduce myself, but I think that the little About Me page that I set up does a good enough job of that. Instead, I think I’ll talk a little bit about why I decided to start this, my first proper entry here, with a poem.
At the tender age of sixteen, I was introduced to the horror that was Mrs. Bedford’s Honors English class. This woman’s reputation as a (proverbial, in my case) ball-buster of a teacher was well-deserved; be it the material that she covered or what she expected of us, she was undoubtedly at the helm of the hardest class that I would ever take during my high school career. Add onto that a temperament as pleasant as a rabid badger and… well, was it really any surprise that I dreaded her class? Walking into my second period class, I made sure to get a seat about halfway back – the best way to avoid her notice, I figured – and waited for a Hellish experience that would make the Trigonometry class before it seem outright pleasant.
It never came.
Oh, sure – the majority of the school year would have me struggling to not pull my hair out by the roots and run screaming out of the classroom, but Mrs. Bedford surprised us all when she came to the front of the room and read that poem instead of launching into a lecture. Even though her delivery wasn’t the sort that would have won her any awards, it was more than enough to open up that ever-important emotional connection between her and the class. For the first time, I found myself moved by a poem, a feat that had only been accomplished before by stories and songs.* No poem since has gotten to me like ‘Mad Girl’s Love Song’, and there was a time that I had my website named after it. Those times have passed, obviously (Ephemeral Echoes has taken over that role), but I still refuse to use a journal of any sort without copying it into it. I like to think of it as a reminder that even the most obstinate people or the most difficult subjects can evoke a lasting positive reaction…
Well, that and I really like it. >.>
Anyway, I’m sure that I’ll be posting here on a relatively regular basis. I’ll warn you now, folks – my mind tends to wander, and it does so at alarming speed. Don’t expect a certain length or rhyme or reason, and if you don’t like what I have to say? There’s a little ‘x’ in the upper right corner of your browser that you can utilize.
Oh, and Seether‘s cover of Careless Whisper? Love it. It’s almost enough to make me forget the abject terror that I felt when I heard Cake covering War Pigs… almost.
* I know, I know – to some, songs are the same thing as poems. For me, I cannot just adore a song by lyrics alone; the music must also properly support the singer’s words.
