Thursday, January 22, 2004

Sorry, friends, no blogging today. I'm having one of my "How could I be DOING this?!" panic attacks and I need to recuperate. If I'm not back tomorrow, I've converted to Mormonism.

Okay I lied. Here we goooo:

I've been having the dumbest masturbation fantasy ever. I don't like writing about it, but here goes.

Sonic pasta.

Okay, you remember those Spaghetti-O's variants that they used to make, with Sonic and friends? Well, er, I masturbated about that. Yeah. Well, we'll fill in this blank right here:

I was at Dante's house (with his darling fiancee; yeah, I spent most of the time playing Halo) for New Year's, and I couldn't get myself to sleep. I was lulling in bed and thinking about, oh my god, what if...

Here's how it went. Sonic and friends get sucked into a giant can of Sonic pasta, implying that they, in fact, ARE the pasta, and this is some silly marketing scheme, like those awful commercials where Donkey Kong gets squashed by a Game Boy or something. (I hated those ads. Which is PRECISELY why they now turn me on. Ooogh...) It was so light and happy-go-lucky that it couldn't possibly think it demeaning to Sonic's character or his attitude. But, you know, that's hot.

So, that's been going on for a while; I've been guiltily (izzat a word?) imagining Sonic, you know, getting turned into action figures and T-shirts and various American promotional items. It's terrible. I feel guilty now, looking at Sonic's mug, and thinking of how I've used my childhood hero for my silly girly fantasies. That, might I add, are really dumb.

(For the record, it also really turned me on to think of Kasumi, from Dead or Alive, trapped in a little glass cylinder, being gradually turned by a demonic scientist into... orange juice. You may commence heckling of my fantasies now.)

So... previously, I've been able to live with my fantasies, being that the object of being turned into cardboard/green alcohol/ice cream has always been me, but man, I feel SORRY for Sonic. I've degraded him, somehow. I love him. How could I be thinking this when I'm so attached to him?

(of course, the fact that I'm so attached to him is WHY it turns me on... but anyway.)

(of course, it would turn ME on to imagine somebody coming to the thought of me being, say, run through a meat grinder...)

(all, you know, in theory.)

(Leticia out.)
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