"That's how she writes."
I remember thinking this the first time I saw her handwriting. Which was ironic, because for a prolonged amount of time, the only communication we had was in text.
Fuck the digital-age.
We met on a website that I won't mention here because I like it better when people automatically think "sex" or "fetish" sites. If our friendship can be a coffee table book for people, I'm down with that -- because I don't really give a fuck what they think anyway.
"It's bigger and loopier than I thought it would be. She doesn't seem loopy."
I always associate bigger and loopier text with girls. She's a girl, so I nailed that one. (I've never nailed "that one," freaks.) Sometimes that kind of writing reminds me of girls and unicorns. But the more I looked at it, the more I realized that it was the handwriting of a cool chick.
You know? The kind that does boy things. The kind that isn't afraid to get her hands dirty, talk about masturbation and evaluate the pros and cons of the super powers held by certain X-Men.
"It's got enough roughness to it. Jagged and short curves. I'm down with that."
I don't pick my friends from their handwriting, but if she had the same "killer's slant" that I have in mine -- I would be pretty fucking weary, is all I'm saying.
Friday, October 22, 2010
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