The New Interview Series! xec8 does santa.exists!

[B][I]You’ve surely been in love before. I want you to describe the following things from the story of your first love: his name, his hobbies, how he made you feel, when you realized you loved him, whether you consummated your romance and did the dirty, why you broke up, where he is now, and how your experience differed from that which you’ve seen in a million movies.[/I][/B]

I loved a lot of men before my love story begins. At age 6, it was Ernie from a little town called Sesame Street. I only recently found out that Bert was his life-partner. At age 12, it was a rich entrepreneur named Bruce Wayne. He was sexually active with his butler. When I was 16 and finally had decent bosoms, I fell in love with my gay friend Waldo. It is about this time that I learned to pleasure myself.

My love story begins with Dracula, but is not about Dracula. His name is Chris. He was surrounded by ugly women who told me stories about his penis. He complimented my choice in necklaces, and I was worried I would be once again broken down by the steady stream of men with life-partners and butlers. We watched the remake of Dracula together, with Keanu Reeves. I held his hand. He was submissive and awkward. He was disliked by everyone and generally considered unattractive. I wanted him. He was the first man to see my vagina in broad daylight. (Before him had been a steady stream of my lesbian friends whom I let give me oral sex.)

The moment I knew I loved him was when I was giving him a blow job and he finished in my nose, as I was moving his junk out of my mouth. If a man’s spunk flies into your nose--and your heart is warmed--it’s love.

It’s not like the movies. He’s too funky looking. We’ve not parted since, but when it ends, I’ll let you know.

[B][I]Lesbian friends, eh? So are you a part-time vegetarian?[/I][/B]

I am not nor have ever been a vegetarian. I am not nor have I ever been a lesbian. I eat raw meat, fresh from the womb of a cow. The funny thing is (funny-strange thing) that you can never tell the difference between and affectionate friend and a lesbian until you both drink together.

[B][I]Let’s suppose, purely for the sake of intellectual masturbation, that the last time you went shopping, someone saw you and thought he recognized you. He even followed you briefly, trying to remember where the hell he’d seen you before; with every second he stared at you, he grew more confident that you were once an important part of his life. You did not notice him following you, but there is a chance that you will meet him again. Explain, in detail, whom you most hope that this old acquaintance is, and what you’d do with him if you met each other one morning.[/I][/B]

It would probably be Edward Norton. I never actually knew him before, but you didn’t say we couldn’t both be having a brain fart.

Edward Norton would be shopping that same place he saw me first, say, a bookstore, and I would be at the end of the section he is browsing in. I’d be wearing a single red rose in my hair, and I would look a lot more like Naomi Watts. He would approach me.

“Where have you been all my life?” He shall say.
“O, Eddy, I thought you’d never return from the war!”
“Wriggle your way into this manly bosom, you dark mistress of magic and sexuality. Kiss me.”

And he will tear off his button-up shirt and will enfold me in a violent (but gentle) embrace that will end in orgasms in the fiction section. We will drive back to his home and have sex for three days, but part sorrowfully on account of our love being just too passionate.

[I][B]Wow. Have you ever considered plastic surgery, a radical diet or a complete change of wardrobe? What motivated you to want to change yourself so drastically?[/B][/I]

In the 1939 movie “The Women”, the mother of the Norma Shearer’s character says that when a woman wants to feel good about herself, she just goes out and does her hair or buys a new dress. When a man wants to feel good about himself and younger, he must see his reflection in the eyes of a different woman. Hurray for hair dye!

[B][I]Is it okay for Asian men to dye their hair bright pink?[/I][/B]

Asian men are so smoking hot, they can do just about anything.

[B][I]The most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you must now be shared with everyone. You must include how other people reacted and how this affected your social standing.[/I][/B]

O God. It was just after this very fancy coffee-shop kind of concert filled with handsome Nicotine-addicted musicians, all half-shaven mancakes and whatnot. The show has just let out and naturally all of these men were accumulated in the parking lot, smoking and talking about manly college things. I was 17 or something at the time, and I thought my shit smelled of roses. My friend Charlotte and I decided to race to my car, prompted by a mancake’s suggestion.

I have weak ankles.

Needless to say, I skidded on the pavement about three feet after falling. My shoes, pants, and shirt was torn—I was bleeding at all angles and sore. In front of everyone. I heard them gasping. A few sarcasty, nicotine voiced concerns “are you okay?” and “did you see that!” I jumped in my car and drove off. One called me later and I never answered.

[B][I]Do you write? If so, share a poem you’ve written. If not, write a poem.[/I][/B]

I do write, generally not poetry. Here is a poem about Target vs. Walmart:

Red vs. Blue
Piece of poo
Cheap things to buy
Chicken thigh

Red is clean
Designer sheen
Blue is cheap
Molesters peep

Sweatpants at Blue
Obese, too
High-Heels at Red
Hurtful, too

Red vs. Blue
Piece of poo
Both are lame
Not the same

[B][I]Have you ever caught yourself showing off? What did you do about it? [/I][/B]

Showing off it so often considered a negative part of our culture. But when you are able to hold your breath underwater for 30 minutes and weight-lift rabid pit bulls for exercise—you are automatically allowed to show off.

[B][I]So you can hold your breath for 30 minutes underwater?[/I][/B]

No.

[B][I]Sometimes we hang out with people whom over time we grow to dislike for no better reason than that they are, quite frankly, pathetic. Unfortunately, if we don’t hang out with them, we’re afraid of hurting their feelings because they have no one else to trust. Has this happened to you? What did you do? Describe this person’s pathetic side.[/I][/B]

In middle school I used to hang out with a girl who was blind. Her mother dressed her and did her hair, which I think was the finest example of exactly why mothers should have no say in their child’s wardrobe. I hung out with her because I felt genuinely bad for her, and not because I thought she had an outstanding personality. It was ridiculously mean of me.

[B][I]What do you do? Do you study? Do you like it?[/I][/B]

I study English and Theater. I actually do not like the stagey aspects of theater at all. I do like English. I would altogether rather be studying film editing and making a lot of money. That’s because I am a capitalist. I love money.

[B][I]In a civil war, you must choose between joining a very left-wing terrorist group or a very right-wing, racist government. Your odds of surviving are the same regardless of which side you’re on. Who will you fight for?[/I][/B]

I would pretend to support the winning side. History makes heroes out of the winners anyways. I’m a Benedict Arnold in a dress.

[B][I]Why do you consider your best friend to be your best friend? Have you ever felt jealous of him/her? When did you meet? Is it childish to have “best friends”?[/I][/B]

It’s never childish to have “best friends,” even though the term might have that childish connotation. There’s always that one friend you’d call up when there is an emergency.

My best “girl” friend is Lucia, because she thinks my boobs are the finest boobs in the world. I am jealous of her ability to draw. But it is a great responsibility, and a somewhat expensive hobby.

[B][I]If your boobs had lives of their own, would your friend still like them? What would you call them? What would their sex be?[/I][/B]

My boobs do have lives of their own, just as men assume that their penis has a personality. My boobs would be named Hilda and Donna, and their theme song would be "Fuck the Pain Away" by Peaches. The famous line of which being "sucking on my titties like you wanted me. Calling me. All the time." Hilda and Donna are famous for being eaten, but overall, men prefer Hilda. Odd coincidence.

[B][I]Describe your face when you’re alone, then describe the face you make when you’ve just noticed a cute guy and you know he’s looking your way.[/I][/B]

I can raise my eyebrow, sort of like Cruella DeVil. My lips are stupid and my eyes are poophay colored brown. Not a bad face, from afar. Maybe not bad close up. When alone, I usually try staring at myself until I convince myself I am a different person. That can be creepy. Now you try it.

When a cute guy looks over at me, my expression probably matches the expression I use when I have a stomach cramp, or I have to pee. Uncomfortable. Maybe even a little frightened. I’m not proud of it.

[B][I]I tried it and I felt like Brad Pitt. I got an erection from looking at myself, but it died when I realized how creepy I was being. Have you ever turned yourself on by looking in the mirror?[/I][/B]

I have never been turned on by my own reflection, but more than once I have felt possessed by some kind of satanic force. Like the Exorcist. That is what happens when you stare for too long a time.

[CENTER]*****************************************************[/CENTER]

The rest of the interview was spent talking about the current revival of Bolshevism in Mongolia.