I love to go grocery & farmer's market shopping. It was one of my favorite things to do with my mama when I was little, particularly when I'd ask for special things to bake cakes or muffins and she's always help me. I learned most of what I know about cooking from her. She cultivated my love of cooking and feeding people, as well as nurturing them and adopting strays.
Anytime I see a movie like The Breakfast Club or The Karate Kid coming on TNT or USA Network, I feel compelled to watch it for the 3,267th time. Same with any and all episodes of Roseanne.
I can and will eat sushi until it absolutely makes me sick. It is possibly my favorite extravagant meal.
Once upon a time I had a love affair with heroin, it was 13 years ago and I have no regrets about it. A large part of who I am is a direct result of my former drug usage. I do admit that occaisionally I feel very anxious and still have strong urges to do it again, but I cope.
I have no problem with snakes or spiders, but birds and lizards creep me the fuck out.
I love the smell of puppy breath.
I once fell out of a tree and headfirst into a chain link fence, carving out a section of bone from my forehead. Having a high pain tolerance, I just got up and dusted myself of and kept playing, even though I was bleeding profusely and completely freaking out the neighborhood kids. I also got highly pissed off when I was forced to come inside to get cleaned up and ready for a trip to the ER, as it interrupted my playtime.
I cannot watch people do karaoke, it pains me immensely and I have anxiety attacks as a result not unlike those resulting from my intense fear of heights.
When I was a teenager, I had a serious crush on Kirk Cameron. I still count Growing Pains as my 2nd favorite sitcom ever.
On my 7th birthday, my parents took me to pick out a present at a department store after attending a party in my honor at school. I do not recall feeling sick, I do not recall what I ate at the party, but I do recall spontaneously vomiting in the store entrance - and it was vivid pink. Perhaps that is where my aversion to all things pink comes from.
I told my sister in her 5th month of pregnancy that she was going to have a little boy, that he would be a month early, and that he would have red, curly hair. I was right on all counts.
My first real kiss came almost 4 years after I lost my virginity.
It takes a lot to get me to the point of blind rage, but in the rare instances it happens I'm told that my behavior is terrifying, violent, and borders on sociopathic. *bats eyelashes, cradles a kitten*
I used to volunteer on the weekends at a women's clinic that performed abortions. I escorted people in and out of the clinic, walked the grounds and kept the fundies at bay, and lent my support where I could.
I am an avid fan of the site Solotouch (masturbation info, stories, techniques), though I only masturbate approximately once a week on average. Sometimes more, usually not. I also like the site Nifty.org (erotic stories archive), particularly the incest father/son story section.
I once got my ass totally kicked by 4 or 5 rednecks who called my friend a dyke while driving past in a truck one day. I yelled back "Fuck off, asshole!" and they skidded to a stop. When they got out of the truck and strutted over menacingly towards us, she ran to get help. I stayed and stood my ground, forcing myself to get up each time I hit the sidewalk. Later I was asked by friends why I would do such a thing, and I responded "BecauseFUCKthem. I'm not scared to take a beating, but I am scared of letting someone else think I'm just some faggot they can shit on at will because I won't defend myself." I have since declared that I will never throw a first punch, but once the first once comes my way then it's open season and you deserve whatever I give you.
I think I'm possibly the only person in the world who thought "Saving Private Ryan" sucked. I also hated "What Dreams May Come".
Nobody makes me laugh like D does, nobody comforts me like he does, and nobody has ever loved me as completly as he does. No one else ever will, either.
Recently a former friend that I severed ties with sent me an apologetic email in an effort to explain some things that led to the dissolution of the friendship in the first place. I did not read all of it and I did not respond to it as I felt the motives for it were questionable, even though I struggled for a while with whether or not I'd made the right decision. I'm a firm believer that if you don't occaisionally give yourself room for error, you become prone to making errors. In this case, and after much thought, I am confident that I made the right decision for myself in leaving it be. I have no faith that any shared understanding is possible or that even an agreement to disagree could be reached. And at this point, I'm past feeling like it's sad that it came to this. It just doesn't matter to me anymore, I've too many other people I am responsible to.
I need new models for an upcoming photo series, both male and female, and all unafraid of being photographed nude.