Saturday, March 06, 2004
Went to see [i]Starsky & Hutch[/i] with Carter last night. Enjoyable enough, with a couple guaranteed-funny guys in Stiller and Wilson, but not quite their best work together - although, granted, Zoolander, The Royal Tenenbaums, and "Heat Vision And Jack" are hard to beat. Pretty funny, though.
Carter got kind of squirmy during the trailers, muttering how seeing stuff like Soul Plane and White Chicks being marketed to him made him dislike being a young black man. Can't say I blame him; the trailer for White Chicks makes me embarassed to be a person who likes movies and occasionally defends them as an art form as opposed to mere disposable entertainment. I won't even get into the guys pretending to be women angle.
We didn't go back to his place afterward - Carter has evidently started keeping track of my period on his PDA. In a way, I wish I'd thought of that back when I way a guy and had girlfriends, but I'd like to think I would have not mentioned I was doing it. It just doesn't seem right to be so matter-of-fact about finding part of someone who loves you gross. I mean, I've made my peace with my period, and he's not the one who has to do something about absorbing internal bleeding every month.
So, I went home and took a nice long bath, and decided to lay off the internet for a night. A lot of the time, I don't write in this journal until late because I'm spending the evening searching for information that may be relevant. It's ironic that this brain actually seems to be better at research than my original one - I hated writing papers in high school and college; sorting actual useful information was not my strong suit - but not enough that I actually enjoy it or am much good at it.
It's still kind of weird looking in the mirror naked, though. Even after seven and a half months, I still half-respond to visuals as a man. Printed stills, mostly, which is why the mirror's weird. Stand still, and it's like a poster of this hot, busty blonde. Move, though, and suddenly it's me. That can really mess with your head, especially if you're all keyed up, expecting to spend the night with someone and don't.
Ah, well. Nothing a hot bath and some practiced hands couldn't handle.
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