Yes, yes, so in
three weeks I'm getting
married.
Shut up. I'd still like to be a
sex symbol.
I happen to think it'd be
pretty fucking cool to be
interviewed and have the
interviewer ask something like, "So, howz it feel to be a sex symbol? Did you know that such-and-such a publication recently printed this awfully sexy thing about you?" I don't think
people appreciate that enough. Everybody always answers that
question with some sort of
grumbled embarassment. Me, I'd be telling the interviewer, "Wow!
Sacrificing goats really worked!"
And sure, maybe
life would be a bit more
dangerous with everyone out there wanting to
have sex with you. But then again, if any of 'em ever did
get out of line, you'd have a
ready-made mob on call to
kick their ass all over the place. Hey, I'm
cheap enough to call the mob over that sort of thing. It's a
privelege that comes with
barely clearing five feet--you get to
call out the mob in times of emergency. Being a sex symbol simply means your
mob is
bigger.
Well, that's all
well and good, but to date, nobody's sent me an
application. I'm
watching the mailbox.