The boy with all the leather hips.
So I have an OCD when it comes to cds, it seems. Hopefully I'm poor and I somehow manage to have this thing under control, but sometimes I find that it takes a lot of will not to succumb to the
delicious temptations that are put in our way.
I'm trying to forget how it would feel to have all those singles by singing along to my new favorite song,
Michael, by Franz Ferdinand:
Michael, you're the boy with all the leather hips
Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips
Michael, you're the only one I'd ever want
Only one I'd ever want, only one I'd ever want
Beautiful boys on a beautiful dancefloor
Michael, you're dancing like a beautiful dance whore
Michael waiting on a silver platter now
And nothing matters now
It's almost as good as singing along to Shudder To Think's
Hot One, I tell you.
Recommend me homoerotic songs. I'm in a mood.
You know you're gonna have a good day when your friends send you gay porn.
Heh heh.
I just realized that out of 50 icons in LiveJournal, I have 21 featuring Dominic Monaghan. Add moodtheme and layout and you have a fangirl.
I've also just printed Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets on the office printer -- 341 pages. Yay for laser printers.
I'm also alone here, dancing barefoot to "Rush" by Depeche Mode.
And people wonder why I don't have a boyfriend. Pffft.
Ah, las mujeres...
You know you're living in an Almodóvar world when you find out you're in the center of a love/hate triangle square, involving four friends.
All of them female.
Oy.