simple_defeat

ANSWER: Yes it is, just often not a very good one.

burnoutfuture

ANSWER: Genetics...pure luck...smoke & mirrors...?

ANSWER:You know I actually had to go look up "bmoco" and my stars...the world is full of interesting organizations, isn't it?
To make a rather involved story a bit more short and sweet...my delightful boyfriend started chatting with me on Yahoo. Or at least that's where I remember talking to him first. And when we first started chatting I thought he was someone totally different. So we chatted and he would invite me out places to hang out or get dinner and I would hem and haw and find reasons not to go and generally turn him down. This went on for a few months until he verbally cornered me and insisted that we go get dinner somewhere, which we did...at a place that serves good burgers and french fries that taste like bacon. We, however, didn't officially start dating until about a year and a half later because we're confusing that way.

So in essence, he found me. And I'm happy he's persistent.

boxtrot

ANSWER: At the moment I haven't really been reading all that many graphic novels. I do flip through the ones we have at work while I'm reorganizing the section, but otherwise I haven't really read anything new. My all time favorite graphic novels are the Sandman series (because Neil Gaiman really melts my butter), The entire Kabuki series (I love "Circle Of Blood" but I love David Mack's art work as it progresses through the series and slowly leaves his black and white ink work for more decoupaged/watercolor stuff. Plus the story is fun)
Blankets by Craig Thompson is wildly amazing and very moving. His art and writing weave together so seamlessly to create this incredibly moving story to the point that you kind of forget that you're half reading, half looking at pictures. This one is truely a "Graphic Novel".
I'm also a huge fan of all of the Flight trade paperbacks. I love those crazy kids.

I'll answer the book part later cause I have a larger list for that one.

sweetjimmyto asks: "When are you getting your hair cut?"

March, from what I'm told, is some sort of national "Ask-a Me A Questions, I Tell-a You An Answers" month. So Ask away if you so desire and I shall respond.




And remember: "You're not good enough for your boyfriend." and "I want to have sex with you." are not questions.

However: "How is it that your boyfriend, who is almost as hot and faultless as Jesus Christ himself, has come to be in a relationship with a slattern such as yourself?" and "If Matthew St.Partick were to approach you in a bar and ask you to return to his Bungalow for an evening of hot spooning action, would you say yes...or no?" Those are questions.

Please stop fucking stalking me. It's starting to piss me off. I didn't complain when you sat outside my work all morning filming, but really, when I ride the subway back home and am not allowed to come above ground because they're filming a scene and god forbid they catch sight of a white person on Fulton street.....come-fucking-on. You all fucking suck. Just because Mr. Rapper Fat-Ass liked to eat Cheesecake doesn't mean you have to rope off all the sidewalks around Junior's and not let people though. Some of us actually live around here and would like to be able to walk home and take a well-deserved shit in our own damn bathrooms because the ones at work are kinda frightening .

whatever. fuck you all.

Just because you're super hot doesn't give you the right to smell so bad that it makes my eyes water. It's totally forgivable if you're trying out a new "natural" deodorant (maybe made from diatomaceous earth, pink Himalayan rock salt, rolled oats and a dash of lemon zest) and it stopped working 5 minutes after you stepped out your front door this morning. That's totally forgivable.
But this...THIS wasn't an hour or two of man-muskiness I was smelling. No, sir, this was days...weeks...months...dare I say, maybe even years worth of unwashed, peppery, putrid body odor that had been percolating and stewing for quite some time so that your stench hit me like a cloud of small fish hooks struggling their way up into my sinuses to say "Howdy-Do!" to my brain.

I had to slowly move away from you, hot man, and that was sad because you were so pleasing to one sense, and yet so foul to an other.

I have a feeling that not just one bath and interaction with some sort of industrial cleaning solution will rid you of the totally malodorous situation you seem to to have found yourself in, so more than one bath might be something to look into.

I look forward to gazing upon you again when Hell's putrescence isn't seeping out of your pores.

DON'T BUY THIS BOOK
This guy has no real idea about music. Look @ his Sam Cooke Selection
& Ellington
And LEFT out John Mayer.

HE MIGHT EVEN BE BRITISH!