World Domination, anyone?

Wow.

Spent the day thinking, hey, I should tell the blog this, and I should tell the blog that.
oh, this is an exquisite form of exhibitionism, and you, my love, the most beloved of all Voyeurs. Asuming that someone is reading this.

I got my very first comment on a poem at the poetry boad today! Weehooo!
I beleive it was (copy paste) a comment on my Sonnet 69 - to be found in the September section of this blog - "I like this, tho I'm not sure why. It has a playful bounciness that contrasts with the serious title and (maybe) subject matter. Black humor? And where are the other 68 sonnets? :-)"
Aaaaaaaaha.

Told Andreas this. He started giggling in his sometimes girly way, and exclaimed:
"You're Chinese -African, living in Sweden, doing snus, for Chrissakes, get an identity!"
And this is the problem that faces me veryday. And this is what I write about.
That, and Love. I have to prove my flowery feminity somehow.

So we're going on the cruise on Monday (job people) , which is great, except for that it's really really terrifying. At the workplace you limit jargong to "Working long hours?" and the occasional crack about that one workmate that smells kind of funny. But when you are stuck on a boat together for 24 hours- well. It speaks for itself, doesn't it?

One of the guys at work sang for me today. I kept waving my hand and going "Stop, stop", while laughing. Apparantly he took this as encouragement. He isn't the first. People seem to have a hard time reading my signals. I've been called everything from weird to psychotic - to the wussiest pansy ass on earth. I'm not. It's just that while I may be terribly political incorrect in writing, I'm usually terribly political correct in person. I can write about fountain orgasms that are not quite fountain orgasms, but I can't say the p word.

For some reason, Andreas & I happened to arrive at the topic of his nipples. I have no idea why, and quite frankly, I'd prefer not to remember.

Me: "Please don't talk about your nipples. You can talk about your package* all you want, but not your nipples." (*referring to an old conversation)
Him: "I haven't talked about my penis, I was merely establishing the fact that it's THERE!"
Me: "Please refrain from using the p word. Just call it 'lower regions'."
HIm: "Yeah, sure. As a matter of fact, just forget it. I have no penis. Yeah, that's right, I PEE FROM MY MOUTH"

...which basically confirmed something I had suspected all along, but hey. Point was, I think, is please don't take everything for face value. I'm not necessarily evil, just sadly misunderstood. But then again, us übergeniuses usually are.
And then we take over the world.
And then you'll be sorry.
Very Sorry.