- Joined
- Jun 9, 2005
- Messages
- 9,258
I'm sure I don't have to remind you how crazy a man's life can get. Let me tell you, I am no exception. Sometimes I just need to build a roaring blaze in my living room fireplace and sit in my chair and stare at it. I sit in quiet awe of the fiery glory, think my serious thoughts, and enter a meditative and sultry state.
I am well aware that the garbage in the kitchen is overflowing and stinking up the house, but I don't want to think about that right now. All I want to do is gaze into the flames, letting the light flicker off my gold chain and dance across my mustache. In fact, I'm not so much looking at my fire as I am looking through my fire, but I don't really expect you to understand that.
Do you think this fire just made itself? I take great pride in putting together a good blaze and I'm sure as hell going to enjoy it. I work hard. This is my time. Time for fire. Time for staring. Time for staring at fire. I think I deserve not to be hassled during my ritual.
Roman, my faithful tigerbearshark, will sit by my side and bask in the warm glow of my creation. He is a powerful beast and should be treated with respect and admiration despite his bladder infection. I will stroke his head gravely, as together we ponder our lives.
I understand very well that during this time you may feel especially drawn to me. I know that I appear very intense and sexy when I am looking at my fire. That's because I am. If you feel compelled to look at me, I really can't blame you for that. But please just make sure that I don't notice you glaring at me, as it might distract me from my reflecting. Actually, come to think of it, I would kind of enjoy it if you couldn't take your eyes off of me. Something to consider. But I'll tell you right now that I will pretend not to notice you standing there. I am way too consumed by the thoughts in my own head. So even though you may feel a powerful urge to tear open my shirt and rub my muscular and hirsute torso with sensual and fragrant oils, you must resist.
In the end, this is about me and my thoughts. Important thoughts about power tools, fantasy football, and flame. So under no circumstances should I be disturbed, especially about the trash in the freaking kitchen.
Don't make me go out and ride my glorious motorcycle.
Thank you for your consideration in this matter. You knowing how important this is to me makes me feel very important. Now, if you will, please leave me be. I have serious work to do. This fire isn't going to stare at itself.
I am well aware that the garbage in the kitchen is overflowing and stinking up the house, but I don't want to think about that right now. All I want to do is gaze into the flames, letting the light flicker off my gold chain and dance across my mustache. In fact, I'm not so much looking at my fire as I am looking through my fire, but I don't really expect you to understand that.
Do you think this fire just made itself? I take great pride in putting together a good blaze and I'm sure as hell going to enjoy it. I work hard. This is my time. Time for fire. Time for staring. Time for staring at fire. I think I deserve not to be hassled during my ritual.
Roman, my faithful tigerbearshark, will sit by my side and bask in the warm glow of my creation. He is a powerful beast and should be treated with respect and admiration despite his bladder infection. I will stroke his head gravely, as together we ponder our lives.
I understand very well that during this time you may feel especially drawn to me. I know that I appear very intense and sexy when I am looking at my fire. That's because I am. If you feel compelled to look at me, I really can't blame you for that. But please just make sure that I don't notice you glaring at me, as it might distract me from my reflecting. Actually, come to think of it, I would kind of enjoy it if you couldn't take your eyes off of me. Something to consider. But I'll tell you right now that I will pretend not to notice you standing there. I am way too consumed by the thoughts in my own head. So even though you may feel a powerful urge to tear open my shirt and rub my muscular and hirsute torso with sensual and fragrant oils, you must resist.
In the end, this is about me and my thoughts. Important thoughts about power tools, fantasy football, and flame. So under no circumstances should I be disturbed, especially about the trash in the freaking kitchen.
Don't make me go out and ride my glorious motorcycle.
Thank you for your consideration in this matter. You knowing how important this is to me makes me feel very important. Now, if you will, please leave me be. I have serious work to do. This fire isn't going to stare at itself.
