Jun 21, 2009

coping mechanism: accessory love

I sometimes catch myself staring at someone's accessories, or the detailing on their clothes.

Sometimes it will be a ring, I often recall asking girls about their rings. Err not as sifting as that sounds.

I once was caught staring at my cousin's exposed mid-rift, she's kinda an uptight prude, and other than that I don't see her sexually. Apparently it's ok to marry to your cousin. . . lol. She had quite a lot of difficulty finding a husband, after being fucked around by one she married a very quiet man called Jim. But I don'y think she got so desperate as to consider her cousins. I feel like the family thinks she married beneath her. He just lost his job, which is a bit depressing.

I was picturing myself sending her an email last week saying:
"one of the many reasons I enjoy the recession, other than the sense of camraderie it engenders and the fashion sales it stimulates, is that other people now understand what it is like to fucked in advertising. But that was until I knew people who were casualties of it."

Anyway, I get the impression that my family think I'm some sort of sexo, or pervo, in the parlance of our times. But maybe I'm imagining this. My grandmother has walked in one me during a 5 climax orgasm marathon, like there's anything else to do in Hamilton. I was trying to be the "playful older cousin" when I was 14 or so and she was 6. I said "do I get a kiss?" before she and I realised how creepy it was. But it wasn't meant to be. That side of the family had two children with a terrible brain disorder, being at their house was pretty creepy already.

So anyway if I stare at your buttons (over/size seems big right now) I think it's because I'm uncomfortable. Just do something like softening your gaze, or sighing audibly.

Come to think of it my cousin has caught me in flagrante delicto, along with my sister, brother, father and mother and god knows who else. Wtf, get a room! With a lock on it!

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