Okay. I am going to try to write this while simultaneously watching Jesus's Son which looks to be a darn fine movie (not to mention having a very hot chick in it and I just finished watching the unbelievably cute bubblegum dyke movie (I do believe the first ever) "But I'm a Cheerleader", oh look, the hot chick's a junkie, that explains her total lack of body fat) and also appearing to be rather, and inexplicably Sick.

I don't believe I've mentioned my Involuntary Eating Disorder before.

Yeah. I have never been a stellar -- whoops! movie side note again. This is hilarious! Go rent it! Or watch it on...what is this? HBO Signature. The chickie HBO apparently given their choice of Pink but this is still a good flick and doesn't seem very chickesque -- anyway. Never been a stellar eater. Meaning that I've never been exactly healthy in my dietary choices. For a few years (between 12 and 17) I was a vegetarian and I think it was probably a good thing I started eating beeves again because I'm not entirely sure I would have made it. I mean survived. I was what I called a cookie vegetarian. Meaning that what pretty much what I lived on. That and Ramen Oriental (Blue) flavor which is the only flavor with no meat or meat byproducts.

Then there was my not at all intentional nearly starving to death from being broke my first summer in Boston. I mean, I'm better now. These days I eat at least once a day and I even try not to eat the same thing every single day (usually a pasta-based product) for months on end.

So. The I.E.D. Ever since I can remember, every so often, I just completely fail to be able to eat. I look at food, it makes me ill. Try to eat, ill. I have been having a bit of a hard time for the past week or so in the eating department but I didn't think it would get this bad. Also it has been a really long time since the last Disorder flare-up so I thought maybe it was done. I ate a perfectly solid sausage and pepper roll last night.

Ugh. Even the thought of that turns my stomach.

I have not been feeling good all day. And tonight I thought I wanted some Thai food but then that failed and so I ordered sushi. The Thai food failed to get to me, I didn't fail to eat it. Sushi got here. I did manage to eat three spring rolls, nearly threw up, and the rest is in the fridge. I have been downing milk and water and tea in the hopes that it might make my tummy better. I can only hope that this just doesn't last very long. I am also extremely HOT. But my forehead isn't hot, so it does not appear to be a fever.

What I had meant to write about was Ye Olde Porn Shoppe. I was inspired by a site that I do not want to name because -- no, it's not a porn site -- I don't actually like it, I just read it because it happens to be on another site that I do like and I read it when I'm bored and nobody has updated. Sorry to that person if he happens to read this which I doubt he will.

So, I must confess. I do not like porn. Not only does it totally fail to turn me on, I am against it on principle. Yeah, yeah, I'm sure that makes me all kinds of horrible stick-up-the-bum things but YOU go watch This is Not a Love Story and tell me how you feel about porn after that. Not that I think it should be censored. I'm not for censorship. I just see it as completely emblematic of the totally fucked state of the human race. And I don't want to be a part of supporting it.

But back sometime when I was around 18, I know it was while I was a (very much less than) Merry Maid, because I went with my partner, J. J. was a sweet and lovely dyke who was in lovely with a gigantic and homely but also sweet and highly improbable dyke. Both of them had gone to high school with me. J. was in a class ahead of me, and A, her love, one behind. I found it hilarious years later that J. had been intimidated by me in school. I found it hilarious, in fact, that anyone might be intimitated by me.

Well, except that one guy. There was this one night I was terribly mean and I had completely forgotten about it until the Boy reminded me awhile ago. I don't even know WHY I was so mean, something about him just really pissed me off. But besides him. I'm not very scary.

J. was in college and she had a human sexuality course and one of the things that they had to do was have a sex-related experience they had never had before. Now, mind you, it wasn't supposed to be *having sex*, just a sex-related experience. So she decided to go to a porn shop. And she decided to take me, so she would have company. And I had never been in a proper porn shop either, since I didn't count the high-class joints in Boston that were called things like Condomania but had a bunch of props and actual porn and stuff. But were supposed to cater to people who don't want to feel like they're *actually* buying porn.

We chose some skanky joint down on the strip complete with the jerk-off huts or whatever the hell they're called in the back and what must have been a very skeezy movie theater but we didn't make it quite that far.

So the image here that one must have is two screeching, giggling teenage girls doubled over with hilarity at such winners as the yard-long Disco Purple Love Monkey (I named it that. What else would you call a yard-long purple plastic GLITTERY dildo?), the *giant* inflatable penis (complete with scrotum) attached to one of the walls, and magazines the entire covers of which were used up by photos of splooge. Not even the apparatus from which the splooge came from, just the splooge. IN a very skeezy shop with lots of men trying extremely hard not to be seen and not to see anyone else.

If I had started with that story I probably could have made it longer but I still feel very ill and I keep getting distracted by the good movie. The upshot is that we both felt very dirty and laughed very hard afterwards. And I did not purchase the Disco Purple Love Monkey even though I was very tempted.

Okay I am going to go stop missing big chunks of good movie and nurse my poor sad belly some more. And no I am definitely not pregnant, anybody who might be thinking that.

And turtleguy seems somehow to be managing to read more of me than I think I've actually written. Wow.

Night.

onehanded