Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Hot dogs or tacos?

When I try to get to sleep, my brain regularly tries to thwart me. It's all, look. I have been passive all day, even when you needed me, because I'm an asshole. And now you're trying to shut me off, but hey! I have ALL THESE IDEAS! and they are BRILLIANT! You should totally turn the light back on and write them down. Because I will delete them if you don't.

And because I don't want to give in to bullying, I stalwartly refuse, and start thinking mundane things repeatedly until my brain is forced into sleepy submission. And for its part, it follows through on its threat: by morning, I can't recall my brilliant ideas, my life-changing blog entries half-written, my solutions to end world (or at least BobGinger) hunger!

This time, though, I remembered a snippet long enough to scribble it in my notebook. It reads: hot dogs or tacos? assuming sex. or.

Now the fun part, where I ask myself: ...what?

GUYS I REMEMBERED. I am so proud of myself that I kind of want to stand up in the middle of the room and yell that, except I'm at work (shhh!) and that would be... awkward. But guys! GUYS! I totally remembered! TAKE THAT, BRAIN, YOU FUCKER!!

(hmm. who wants to bet I won't be able to sleep tonight? hee. j/k, brain? let's be pals?)

So the whole point is sexual orientation, and how to tell. I was thinking about how it's harder, as a female, to hit on other females - outside of a lesbian bar, that is. I have no qualm with walking up to a guy and hitting on him, only to find out I am not his type in every sense of the idea. That's just funny. But if I walk up to a girl and hit on her, and she's straight, there's a few possible outcomes.

1. she could think it's flattering and everything's fine except I'm embarrassed because HI GIRLS SCARE ME OKAY.
2. she could not even realize I'm hitting on her, and we could hang out a bunch and be friends and I would pine and she would have no idea until one day I try to kiss her or hold her hand and she flips out, and then it's all awkward and we can't be friends anymore because she knows I want to see her boobs.
3. she could be offended that I thought she was a lesbian and kick my ass.

With my luck, I would end up with a combination of 2 & 3, wherein we become besties but she has no idea I yearn for her that way until I lick her ear one day and she punches me in the throat.

So I devised a possible solution! Begin the conversation with, "Do you prefer hot dogs ... or tacos?"

1 comment:

  1. if a girl's hot box was anything like a taco, I'D take the hot dog!

    (i do believe that's the first time i've ever referred to the female naughty bits as a 'hot box.')