Yes, yes, so in three weeks I'm getting married. Shut up. I'd still like to be a sex symbol.

I happen to think it'd be pretty fucking cool to be interviewed and have the interviewer ask something like, "So, howz it feel to be a sex symbol? Did you know that such-and-such a publication recently printed this awfully sexy thing about you?" I don't think people appreciate that enough. Everybody always answers that question with some sort of grumbled embarassment. Me, I'd be telling the interviewer, "Wow! Sacrificing goats really worked!"

And sure, maybe life would be a bit more dangerous with everyone out there wanting to have sex with you. But then again, if any of 'em ever did get out of line, you'd have a ready-made mob on call to kick their ass all over the place. Hey, I'm cheap enough to call the mob over that sort of thing. It's a privelege that comes with barely clearing five feet--you get to call out the mob in times of emergency. Being a sex symbol simply means your mob is bigger.

Well, that's all well and good, but to date, nobody's sent me an application. I'm watching the mailbox.

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