Coffee (Coffee Coffee)!

Random thought of the evening!

Brought to you by this here cup of coffee!

It’s pumpkin pie flavored!

I ought to have more pink in my wardrobe.

This may also mark the first occasion I have ever consciously decided that my clothes are lacking in a particular color.  Of course, it is also the case that I have been a fan of black and slightly darker black shirts for long enough I had almost forgotten that other colors are indeed available.

Since the purchase of a very rad pink and gray striped shirt, I have been converted.  I feel a lack of color from my pile o’ shirt in the closet.  However, it is also the case that identifying a problem is the first step to a solution.  To that end, I have been looking about for shirts with more color to them, and have not been disappointed in the available variety.  At least in the girl section of the store, anyway.

Ever noticed how boring the boy side is?  Seriously.  It’s all gray and brown everywhere.  It’s like a graveyard in April over there, and about as cheery.  Of course, as an observation from my previous affiliation, boys are remarkably lazy when it comes to buying clothes.  This comes as no surprise to anyone, obviously, but if anyone was confused as to why the boy side is as simple as it is, the answer is because it has to be.  It’s far easier to grab a shirt off the top of the pile and buy it than try it on or think about it.  Thinking about one’s shirt purchase is pretty unnecessary though, as every damn thing matches everything else.

Compare, if you will, with the girl side of the department store.  It’s like a rainbow over there, in both color and mood.  There are a million more options, but as we have learned from Spiderman, with great power comes great responsibility.  That is to say, of course, that one can simply not just grab and go, one must think a bit more about one’s choices over there.  You know, I’ve always liked thinking, so this part suits me well.

Also, compare the faces of those in each section.  Those trolling through the drab shirts stacked in piles look either patently disinterested in staying long or actively annoyed that the gray shirt they came there for isn’t on the top of the rest.  I mean, I’ve seen a happier bunch of people at a family pet’s funeral.  These guys who just want some shirt or whatever might as well have just come from a screening of Schindler’s List.  They mope and shuffle, and without the assistance of a girl, they just pick one off the top and hope it fits.  If not, they can use it to clean things with.

Now, look to the other way.  You can practically hear the gears moving.  Decisions are being made and careful analysis of the available options are being weighed.  A catalog of current and future options all at the fingertips of their mind.  See, they’re thinking over there.  Not so much zombies shuffling ’til they find something kind of close to what they came for, but more active participants in their own appearance.

This might be a bit idealized, but whatever, it’s my damn writing here.  Anyway, I’m just saying that the boy side is boring and does not promote active thought or participation.  The other side might as well be, in comparison, a lecture on the opposing viewpoints of Descartes and Spinoza.  It’s more active, and that is awesome.

Side note: I have somehow inappropriately compacted my left testicle in my pants.  I am feeling mildly nauseous and may have to fix this.

Anyway, pink!  It’s a pretty feminine color, and that is what I am going for, so I ought to have more of it.  Moderate doses right now, though.  Obviously, I’ve got several months before I’ll be able to present and hopefully be passable, but I will not shy away from pink until then.  I will wear plenty, simply because I like it.  Of course, folks may make inaccurate assumption about my sexuality, but that is not my concern.

Hey, speaking of which, do we all know that there is a difference between sex, gender, sexual preference, romantic preference, and preferred identification?  These are not binary and can appear in pretty much any configuration imaginable.  For example, my sex is male, gender female, sexual preference of either way, romantic preference also either way, and preferred identification female.  But, wait you say, what about that first one?  I will expound!

When, pray tell, does the sex of male get switched over?  Well, if we go by chromosome, that’s male and pretty much impossible to change.  If we go by levels of sex hormones, I am rocking more estrogen than most OEM females right now, so I am like girl plus.  If we go by what gender I feel like, then we weren’t paying attention above when I said these were separate.  Anyway, I think the point I’m getting at here is that, like so much else, it’s a gray area.

I think, especially in the case of gender, folks tend to be binary and dichotomous.  A person is one or the other.  This, like every other dichotomy, is false.  Everything has an extreme at either end, but so few examples of the extremes exist that it is statistically safe to say that everyone can be assigned a sort of shade of gray in between.  The same thing works with just about every binary system ever.  Seriously, if you ever see something solely black and white, look closer.

Also, bisexual, you ask?  I bet you never would have guessed.  Actually, you all probably should have known I’ll play for whatever team pays the best.  See, got to pay attention to this sort of thing, otherwise you’ll just be confused later.  This is also a shade between black and white.  Are there examples of those who are only interested in one sex or the other?  Sure, but it would not be possible to say that they would not change their mind in a certain set of circumstances.

Speaking of being an equal opportunity employer (wink, wink), the estrogen doth make my eyes wander toward those I previously would not have noticed.  I am not abandoning glancing at females, no sir or ma’am.  But I am spreading my gaze more evenly across the board these days.  Is this important?  To that end, boys ought to wear more flattering pants.  Good lord, take some pride in your ass, man.

Well, this got off topic, which is fine because there wasn’t really a topic to talk about since I decided to buy more pink shirts some paragraphs north.  Man, I love coffee about as much as I like to write nonsense.

I was going to talk about my penis a bit, but grandma is watching, so I’m going to talk in code about it anyway.  The cake is getting more and more difficult to rise in the oven.  It is also taking longer to bake, even with help in the kitchen.  However, it has become easier to clean up after whipping it all together.  No one likes too much frosting anyway.  On a related note, the cake is fantastic and different from previous cakes.  The cakes these days seem to have a more sustained flavor, whereas before it was more of a cupcake.  You know, over before you really got into it.  Anyway, it is worth the effort to bake the cake regardless, I just have to increase the baking time and add a few more wet ingredients.  Probably due to the altitude.

I think I should bake a cake tonight.  That isn’t code.  I actually want cake.  Hot, sloppy cake.

However, I have been eating way too much lately, and do not need cake.  Of course, I’m pretty much, biochemically speaking, about a week away from having my period all the time.  This means I want to eat everything.  With chocolate sauce.  Luckily, I am without the mood swings usually associated with such states.  Mostly.

Has this been rambly?  Yeah, probably.  Three shots of espresso make my attention span all rainbow zinc slotted spoon airplane.

I really need to start doing voice work.  I already have a voice that is a good starting point, but it totally needs to sound more angelic and light.  See, if I am lazy I default to my deeper voice, which isn’t that deep anyway, but it sure ain’t what I am trying to accomplish here.  I just have to think a bit before I speak so I use the right voice.  Come to think of it, I probably ought to think a bit before speaking anyway.

Ok, anyway, the coffee shop here is closing soon, I have to pee, and my fingers are getting clumsy.  Please note that clumsy fingers and a necessity to pee do not always go together favorably.  I can only hope that I get at least a 70% success rate.  Please keep in mind that’s a lot better than usual, especially if I have been drinking.  After a few, if 30% hits the target, I consider it a success.  If 40% or more makes it in, I tell the story of my overwhelming success to everyone around, regardless of whatever unimportant thing they were talking about beforehand.

Oh, one more thing.  One of these days, I’ll have to enter the girl’s bathroom.  For a while, I’ll have to go in the drinking fountain between the two bathrooms, I imagine.  After that point, I will have to remind myself not to stand in the ladies stall and pee standing up.  I will, however, continue to stand to pee in the snow.  However, standing in the ladies room is probably no way to blend in.

Please note that I have never actually urinated into snow.  Not even to write my name.  Yes, I feel as hollow and empty as you think I ought to feel.  Current living situations do not facilitate that most curious of cursive, but I will most assuredly do what I can.  Also, what name to use?  The boy name seems strange and foreign, but the girl name seems a strange thing to write in the snow with my dick.

Ah, first world problems.  Speaking of which, that left testicle issue above has escalated to threat level violet.  The right is still at threat level burnt sienna.  Either way, forces will be mobilized presently to remedy the situation.  If curious as to the metric of threat level and how the colors are assigned, please send ten dollars to me, and then make one up yourself, you lazy bastard.