The Chatty Pointless Thread

Ah I see now, it's a fetish thing. "She's somebody's daughter" is like a call to action one whispers after pounding their last call and finally approaching what's her name.
 
5465d0a5-3625-419d-86cb-46cab705557e_text.gif
 
Only the finest shields leave your hand fully unprotected when using them.
My dad had a really similar philosophy when it came to underwear. If he had to wear some, he still didn't want to leave much to the imagination, damnit.
I feel like this informs a lot about your personality.
I feel like I've shared some of this here before, but yes my dad's love of nudity definitely had a massive impact on me. I don't remember ever not being modest, so I can't lay that on him entirely, but he definitely didn't help it any. But my favorite stories to tell about this, some of which I really think I've posted her already, but... my cousins STILL talk about the family beach day where my dad, who didn't own a swimsuit, got a pair of white boxer shorts to use instead. When they got wet, he traumatized everyone in view. Another was when I had a friend sleep over and we were up too late bouncing off the bed etc, and my dad (who slept nude), threw my door open and yelled "Enough!" at us without having thrown a stitch of clothing on first. I would be interested to check in on that kid and see if he also has a weird obsession/fear of male genitals like I do.

And the last one, which is my favorite, was when my dad signed up to be a model for an art class at the college where he taught photography. He just had to get comfortable on a platform in the middle for an hour while they drew him, but of course he quickly stripped naked. When the teacher said, "Oh, no, you don't have to be nude for this," my dad shrugged and said, "Eh, I mean, I'm already naked, so..." and lounged.

But yeah, I probably have a weird fascination with dicks the same way some people are fascinated with serial killers, and I still cover myself up as much as temperatures will allow, and often even more so. My dad is a loud, sometimes obnoxiously extroverted person who is perpetually in 'look at me' mode in various, very talented ways. While I love hiding (look at me, posting on an internet forum with an avatar of me in full costume). I love one-on-one interactions and expressing myself solely with my words and ideas, so yes, you're absolutely right, a lot of who I am is in response to many things about my dad.

For the record, my mom is a lot like me as far as introverted, always hiding in her countless books (fiction, science fiction, but also a LOT of nonfiction about history, archeology, paleontology, viruses and micro-organisms, etc), but I feel like she's the more socially-removed version of me, so I'm actually somehow firmly in between the two. And no, no one, even people who knew them when together, understands how that happened.
 
.... I'm fucking sick of twang.
My taste in country is almost always bracketed by the question, "Is the artist still alive?". Because with a few exceptions, any country music created in the last generation is jingoistic garbage.

On the topic of modern country music...
"They're just doing hip hop for people who are afraid of black people."
--Steve Earle
 
...my dad, who didn't own a swimsuit, got a pair of white boxer shorts to use instead. When they got wet, he traumatized everyone in view.
...my dad (who slept nude), threw my door open and yelled "Enough!" at us without having thrown a stitch of clothing on first.
...my dad signed up to be a model for an art class at the college where he taught photography. He just had to get comfortable on a platform in the middle for an hour while they drew him, but of course he quickly stripped naked. When the teacher said, "Oh, no, you don't have to be nude for this," my dad shrugged and said, "Eh, I mean, I'm already naked, so..." and lounged.
The original "fall out boy".
 
Theorycrafting since I think a lot of us are similar in age:

I am now convinced that the stereotype of middle-aged back problems isn't actually an age thing but because one day you're fine and then you have a couple of months where every fucking thing in your house breaks and in attempting to put it all back together you void the warranty on your spine.
My taste in country is almost always bracketed by the question, "Is the artist still alive?". Because with a few exceptions, any country music created in the last generation is jingoistic garbage.
Pop country is all jingoistic garbage, but I love freaking out colleagues when they say they like country by mentioning some of the alt-country/punk country stuff I love by living artists. I mentioned to a colleague the other day my favorite working country artist right now is Austin Lucas, an openly trans songwriter who has some of the most razor-wire smart lyrics I've ever heard. Austin's older stuff is as country as you'll get, except the lyrics are basically a fuck-you to modern right-wing country.

I was beside myself for days when Kristofferson died because it felt like one more nail in the coffin of the days of "fuck you and the bootlickers you rode in on" outlaw country where it all started. We still have Lucero, American Aquarium, Jason Isbell, all those guys, but they hew so close to punk I don't know if they are really country anymore. That "Americana" label used to work but who knows these days.
 
My taste in country is almost always bracketed by the question, "Is the artist still alive?". Because with a few exceptions, any country music created in the last generation is jingoistic garbage.

On the topic of modern country music...
"They're just doing hip hop for people who are afraid of black people."
--Steve Earle
I like the throwback guys like Luke Bell (RIP).
 
I got a new desk chair today at work. My previous one had almost no back support, so when I would lean back, I'd go almost 45 degrees. With that, I always had to be hunched forward which didn't make my already shitty back feel good.
 
Back
Top