ode to horny, testosterone is evil

Now while were on the subject—…hello horny, holy Christ! Seriously people, this has got to stop, I feel like a teenaged boy…staring at asses and packages on the bus, hiding my boner with the Daily Times. On my way to class I’m imagining torrid little vignettes at dark solitary or not so solitary junctures on the public transit system, I am shaming myself with dirty, lurid, nasty little thoughts, *doh!* of sexual desire. It’s carnal, animalistic wretchedly torturous. I liken myself to be a pretty intelligent woman who can keep most impulses at bay. We know how to keep it in our pants if you will. *Yowza* We don’t react to our impulsive nature like men do. Walking into street lamps staring at some busty, blondes, tits *Heeehe* or creepily peering over their Esquire to stare at the stick figure with awesome hair and the face of a manatee in front of him or disturbingly *hoho* sit next to some pretty little thing when every other seat on the transit system is empty.

But my fucking testosterone levels are up again… *Sheesh* There goes another one, see they are relentless and unstoppable.

Testosterone is evil.

There is no shame in-*Eeesh!* Sexual fantasy, *Wowza!* There’s just a moment of dis- ease, *Woosh!* when you’re mid fantasy and you realize that you’re staring at someone, *Wee!* And you think to yourself, he knows exactly what I’m doing, *Boing!* He knows that I want to grab his shirt fling him to the train floor , *Hooo!* whip his belt off and take him right there in front of all the passengers. *Whoa!* Seriously, somebody has to make it stop. Of course I am civilized my exterior is cool and breezy, no indication of ridiculous hormonal fluctuations here, but inside I am as hot as a cat on one of those freaking roofs, my claws are firmly embedded and I am ready to pounce at any second.

But I won’t.

My composure is that of a ladies.

~ by Timbre on March 31, 2008.