In the backseat. Windows down.
I let my hair down, it's still damp as it blows around my head, over my face. That smell so comforting.
In this moment, I love myself.
It was a day of civil disobedience and photography. First thing this morning, the Goblin crew invites me to go along and aid in the photographic aspect of some undisclosed downtown shenanigans. I say "Why not?", and I mean it in the good way. They want "a militant look" so I put on my (over-sized) camo fatigues, looking about as militant as your cat wearing a suit of camo fatigues. We meet.
Unibomber and General J are wearing Hawaiian shirts, bad shades, and slacks in a State Research Bureau slant. Bongo-Bong is a red an' yellow pimpish monstrosity. Solar Sin is a fitting accompaniment, and lead camera woman. No one else wants to come out and play.
I'm pretty much tagging along, trying to decide if I want General J on top or bottom in my dream 1 night stand. Damn, the boy is fine. Why does he have to be my bro's best friend? The world may never know. I had a real wet dream with him the other night.. (quite a rare occurrence for me) goddamned forbidden fruit. Angryface!!!
The pictures look fun, if a touch contrived. Ok, mega contrived. And part of me feels like I'm just facilitating the mundane desires of most of the crew. "Lets get dressed up funny so people will look at us."? *sigh* Ok, this post is taking on a completely different feel to me. I dunno. I had fun being with them.. and I know the pics are business related, and they want to look somewhat anonymous. Maybe I'm judging too harshly.
Or, maybe I'm just loosing more braincells every day that goes by that I don't get cock. Why did I want to be single, again?