The Things You Learn… From Boobs…

I was reading an article the other day, Strange Things You Learn When You Don’t Wear A Bra For A week. The validity of the article flew out the window right from the get-go. Two reasons. Sizing & sagging. Which we’ll get to.

This is my own Social Science Experiment on going braless & not it isn’t titillating (yeah, see what I did there?). Anyway. Lot of things to unpack & for an experiment that didn’t go well, it ended up surprisingly alright.

Let’s read more, shall we? Come on!

The Giant Red Bra… & Other Tales of Being a Woman

No, I’m not in love with… well I’m not sure if this is Jon Hamm or his character of Don Draper from Mad Men, but regardless I don’t dig this guy (not like this), but when I saw this picture the other day it made me LAUGH! It still makes me laugh & found it appropriate for this post. Perhaps read this post as him, does it make it more entertaining? I certainly think so.

Basically I just talk about the omission of The Universe giving me the Girl Guid to Life & how I’m stumblin’ through & apparently breaking all the rules.

Brandishing Weapons…

I’m not a girl who’s afraid of weapons (I slept with a big knife as a little girl… until I found out) or dipping my toes into “Boy Land”, though I sometimes don’t really know the rules. So I’m just remembering my evil nature, trying to figure out how to not be the object of desire, & learning to stand my ground.

Insert Doom Music Here…

When little demon babies are produced, they get put into human meat suits & infiltrate the ranks of Earthlings. There are no instruction manuals. Only the fittest survive or else are absorbed by humanity. This is the story (or part of the story) of one such demon baby, dropped into the human world, & learned, vicariously, how to navigate it.

The Tale of Joo-whan.

If you’ve been reading for awhile, you’ll know that I’m learning Spanish over on Duolingo. I have mentioned in a previous post how a surname came up (early on in my learning) & all I could think about was that kid that tormented me at the private Catholic school (I’m sure there was a better, more language oriented post about this, but fuck if I can find it, so you get this one instead).

However, that was awhile ago. Today will be 875 days of Spanish. So, we’re talking 200-ish days. But I’m good now. And that’s not the point. The point is that a few nights ago, a completely different memory sprang up.

Lookin’ Like I Was Goin’ To Greek Prom…

Just another post about my body. How I learned to see my real self & others are seeing me, which has always been awkward. Re-finding myself, my style, myself. How I think I’m that perfect bridge between guy land & girl world… but maybe I’m just delusional?

Let’s see, shall we?!!

Oh You & Your Childhood Ways…

Came across this image that said “What do you still do today that you did as a child?”, & I had all the thoughts. This post is all over the place, when are they not, & that does coincide with who I am, who I’ve always been. So, lots of varying topics from hygiene to music, gender roles & woodland creatures.

Sounds fun, right? Maybe… you decide. This post was like two years in the making, so I don’t even know anymore, y’all. Did you even wanna know more about me? Well, here ya go!

Playing Devil’s Advocate…

A lot going on in here. Unanswered questions, per usual, about my guy brain & apparent sexiness. Things I don’t understand. There’s some saving graces & awkward sex humor sprinkled in for some good measure. My butt is discussed a lot, I’ll just state up front. As well as the fun of Satanic Panic, because why not?

Confused? Let’s dive in, shall we?

When You Don’t Play The Mardi Gras Game… But You Still Win!

Saw this today from my friend who is from Southern Louisiana. She’s kidding… but also she’s not. It’s like this unspoken rule that you flash your tits & shimmy & shake for drunk men to throw you trinkets off of parade floats. A rule, which you might not be surprised to learn, that I never wanted to follow. Which makes it all the more amusing that this Mardi Gras name generator gave me the very stripper-esque name of Roux Jambalaya.

Kentuckians Really Dig Their Candy…

It is true. I don’t even worry about this anymore. Well not in a “OMG they don’t like me? How do I fit in?!?”, while nervously biting my finger nails. No, I think on it. I know that I don’t fit in really anywhere. So I ponder what it is about me that effects my humaning capabilities, but from a social science perspective. Or also pondering why humans do act in the ways that they do.

But part of that has me thinking on the dreaded words of “she’s a bad influence”. What is that really? Just bucking the system or being told that one does to get the spotlight off the person who actually is doing what society said they shouldn’t be doing. It’s not like I lead people in ritual human sacrifice or something. I’m not a “bad” influence, but it took me awhile to realize that this human construct holds no meaning for me & that I’m also not really an influencer.