Speaking of conversation - this may come as a total shock but I actually talk. A lot. Like, I'm a chatty-fucking-Cathy. And because I've pretty much moved to Twiland permanently at this point, most of my dialogue involves the fandom or this blog [okay, okay, I temper the Twi talk with some poop jokes], regardless of whether the person I'm chatting with wants to hear it or not. Despite this, I was still somewhat surprised just how many non-Twi, real-life peeps not only knew about the blog, but actually read it. Like, often. Which is why I was standing in the kitchen discussing the post about how I was berating my brother for telling his coworkers about the blog and now they all know I'm a porn addict and have possibly stalker-ish fascination with Robert Pattinson.
I'm essentially oblivious when it comes to realizing which topics may or may not be appropriate to bring up in... polite company. And by "polite company" I mean "everywhere except the blog." Oh, who am I kidding? What little inkling I had for any sort of propriety has pretty much disappeared in a swirl of Robporn and Twismut.
Therefore, it didn't occur to me until much later that I was... standing in someone's kitchen actually discussing the fact that I'm a porn addict with a possibly stalker-ish fascination with Robert Pattinson while debating the pros and cons of a personal lubricant called Make Me Cum.
Face to face. In a crowded kitchen. With a man.
Yeah, I'm pretty much a total fail when it comes to social shit sometimes.
Some small part of me knows I should have been appalled that anyone in real life knows I surf the web for personal lubricant, have conversations about sex toys with my mother, and have a totally unhealthy obsession for Twilight-related smut. But I don't.
I need to hire a filter or something. You know, someone who follows me around and smacks me upside the head before I blurt out anything inappropriate. Or figure out how I can muster up some shame because it's becoming quite apparent that people are aware that I don't.
And this is going to get me in trouble one day.
For example, that same weekend I was having a
Anyhoo, while I'm looking up docking on Urban Dictionary one of them mentions that a hooded dick is supposed to be more pleasurable for the chick and then they all looked at me like I was a fucking cock expert and hellooooo ML is sitting right there and you want me to weigh in on your conversation?
So maybe I do have a little filter, after all.
Maybe. Just maybe.