9:37 PM |
Sexting to LA. I am wicked. I promised myself that I wouldn't blog under this influence-- entire bottle drained. It wasn't that good (the champagne that is), but the fantasy is incredible. Started texting about whether to watch Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's with Ryan Seacrest or New Year's Eve with Carson Daly. Former: traditional but Dick Clark's sorta paralyzed, maybe boring, but who knows, Snooki may show up. Latter: Who can't love the fabulous Gay Eye. Traded witty reparte about what I would watch if I was so drunk I couldn't handle the remote. Bridezillas or Loggers. Man v. Food or Ghost Hunters. How about Monster Fish of the Amazon?
Texted my almost-real imaginary boyfriend with fantasy. Here's how it starts (see left):
Use your imagination. I did. By text.
I find that I really like this communication. It's like an imaginary relationship with real physical effects. I'm in such need of relief. It's never been like this for me before. Which is why the almost-real imaginary boyfriend is useful. Brad falls a bit short in this department as he can't text. Or touch. But neither can the the almost-real one.
Please, please text me back. I'm dying.
Texted my almost-real imaginary boyfriend with fantasy. Here's how it starts (see left):
Use your imagination. I did. By text.
I find that I really like this communication. It's like an imaginary relationship with real physical effects. I'm in such need of relief. It's never been like this for me before. Which is why the almost-real imaginary boyfriend is useful. Brad falls a bit short in this department as he can't text. Or touch. But neither can the the almost-real one.
Please, please text me back. I'm dying.