I was showing this writeup to a couple of my friends saying that it was a good attack on smart but lazy people like myself. The teacher pointed out that he was pretty sure I wasn't as bad as the people being ridiculed in the writeup, I mean, we all know THOSE type of people, right?

Later in the morning I talked to his wife, another teacher, about something I had written. I've concluded she is an amazing teacher because she basically said, "I have no interest in what you wrote, and it's really well written," and I believed her. The shocking part to me was that she thought it was well written. The whole idea of bad and good writing is pretty interesting. The idea (I think) is somehow related to what REALLY interested me in the discussion of the piece I had wrote: the idea of truth.

For example, I can tell you exactly how much money I pulled out of my apron as I sat at my computer last night because I counted it. I counted it twice and got the same amount both times, and although it's been split up now (the big bills are in my wallet, the change is on a big pile and the small bills have joined a stack of more small bills) I'm pretty sure I know the amount "I made in tips." It's possible I made an error, but I don't think so.

And YOU don't think so either.

You read my logs and just accept everything I say, for the most part. I could have said she said, "I have no interest in what you wrote, and it's really well written" and you might think I was cut and pasting.

Now the really interesting part to me is that I could keep repeating that line, and eventually what she actually said doesn't matter at all. All that really matters is what my brain took in, and now what I've repeated. And it doesn't really matter what I write, it's what you take in.

Back to being lazy: I was reminded of it just now because I went on this dating site I use and saw some random woman had looked at my profile. So I click on her profile and all she wrote about herself was one line.

My Self-Summary

I hate these things but apparently it is required. I just figure it's much easier to tell people about me through emails or IM.

I had a woman (don't worry, it's no one you know, she lives in another country you see, yes, I'm bragging, no, not that country, yes, I'm imagining two women wondering if I'm talking about them, yes I just admitted I only know two women outside of this fucking country, yes that means I'm not bragging anymore) say that most stuff she reads she gets bored after a couple paragraphs and quits, but my writing makes her want to keep reading.

Of course that makes me want to keep writing. I suspect there is a sweet spot, though. Write too much at once people will think you need to be the center of attention, or whatever. Too little and we get this feeling of laziness.

But as much as I like to write about writing, I want to switch gears and talk about this hostess.

I work with a hostess who is 19 years old, 4'11" and 85 pounds. I have friends that would like to fuck her. My friends have never met her, but I know. She is cute. I imagine the light just went on for some of you that know me.

"Ah, Brian doesn't really want to fuck her...when he said he had friends that would like to I thought that was just some clever writing device that would allow him to go into his extremely perverse fantasies...but cute? Brian doesn't go for cute."

I have been alone in my bedroom with a girl that weighed less than 100 pounds before. She enjoyed that I could throw her on my bed with one arm...easily. It's fun to make a joke about how that trick would probably throw my back out now...I constantly joke about how old I am at IHOP. I AM old, for IHOP. There are a few hostesses 18 and younger. Twice as old. I ask them if they can imagine what it would be like working with a 9 year old boy. Math is fun. But this 100 pound girl, I would not call her cute.

This 85 pound girl can raise her arm as high as she can and it does not clear my head. She was talking about how she and a friend went pan handling at a truck stop. It sounded like they did it a few times. "The most we ever made was like $200."

I went nuts. No physical display, mind you. I doubt I even raised my voice. But in my head. Nuts.


She said later that a lot of people tell her she should strip. "Do I come off as some kind of stripper?" I didn't even go into the stereotypes the world has. I just told her it was probably because she was so unusually small.

But I do not want to fuck her. Oh sure, I know some brains of women I could put in that body and have a lot of fun with afterwards. Shyness. Cuteness. These are things I just don't want to fuck.

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