rough boys
05.23.03 @ 12:04 a.m.
Rough boys
Don't walk away
I very nearly missed you
Tough boys
Come over here
I want to bite and kiss you
-Pete Townshend, "Rough Boys", Empty Glass
Oh my god. There was the MOST GORGEOUS punk guy standing in front of me in line at the Greyhound station today. I spent the entire wait in line and most of the bus ride consumed with fantasies involving a) ravishing him b) being ravished by him c) silly punk-domestic things like shopping or listening to music. Did I mention his staggering gorgeousness?
He was tall--I'm 5'5" or so and I only came up to his shoulder--which featured a spiderweb tattoo. He was wearing a black t-shirt with "L.A. Guns" written on the front and "[something], Booze, and Tattoos" written on the back. The sleeves were cut off, allowing for my perusal of the aforementione spiderweb tattoo. His hair was dark--black, in fact, probably dyed. It was perfectly sexy-shaggy, nearly covering his eyes and the ends curling up against the nape of his neck. He was wearing white jeans in the tight, straight cut punk guys seem to prefer. They were slightly dirty but not gross-dirty. He was also wearing two belts: a brown one and a thin white studded one slung lower on his hips. He also had dirty, scruffy black All-Stars on and a red bandanna in his back pocket. He was really skinny, too, which I seem to be attracted to. Graah. Sex on legs, that boy was. The way he stood... I have a hard time describing it. I wanted to say it was a 'fuck you' posture, but not really. It was... nonchalant? Very casual and uncaring. Loose and confident and very attractive.
He also had, in his bag (I saw as he was digging through for a different CD): a packet of sewing needles, a spool of black thread, and a Rolling Stones patch. I loved it. Can you just see the sexy punk guy domestically sewing a patch on his bag? Mmm.
He was across the aisle from me at first, but moved back a row to accomodate a family with two kids. This hideous Billy-Bob type ended up sitting next to him, which made him look uncomfortable to me, and so I pitied him. A nice, quiet young man with headphones sat next to me. At Salem, Billy Bob got out to smoke and gorgeous punk boy fled to the back of the bus. My seatmate had departed, and I fleetingly wished that punk boy would simply transfer across the aisle, but it was not to be. *sigh* The rest of the trip was spent with an annoying woman with a baby sitting next to me. I have very little tolerance for infants, I discover. Which is odd, because I do want to have kids someday, I just don't want to deal with the noisy, intrusive children of strangers. And there were so many fucking crying babies on that bus! I think I remember punk boy making a face when one of them started screaming.
Still. Listened to a lot of music, fantasized about the ravishing gorgeousness of punk boy, and read a huge chunk of Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. More Anne Elliotness with the saving from the pesky children and the surreptitious note, with a twist. Oh, and I typed up half an annotation for my interview.
I have four annotations due tomorrow. I have not done any in a while. Fuck. Fuckitty fuck. It's after midnight and I have a raging headache. I do not want to DO annotations. And yet... I'll take a stab at it, I guess. But I think I'll have to leave the book one be. I can't get through a book tonight enough to annotate.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
