I guess I'm the typical extreme left wing former art student/English major who dropped out of college for the glamorous life of a career in an IT cube farm.
I've got some wicked cool scars, but I prefer my tattoos. Seven at last count, if I can say each backseam is a separate one.
I don't have a car, so thanks to public transit I get to read constantly. I speak a few useless languages very poorly. I generally like to go out on weekends with my friends. The usual stuff people do. Oh, and I make custom corsets. Which isn't exactly "the usual," but I enjoy it.
My friends tell me I'm funny. But, my friends are nuts. And, they also tell me I talk too much and that I'm too loud. So I may or may not be, since they do have a vested interest in occasionally saying nice things.
I guess the rule is that I'm supposed to say I'm not into "games," but I've never quite figured out what that means. Or the whole "looking for someone real" thing. But then, maybe I'm just not drinking enough tequila to find myself playing bocce with Captain Picard and William Henry Harrison at three am. Perhaps this is a serious problem I know nothing about. A study should be commissioned to determine the extent of women playing games with imaginary people, and its long range consequences on society.
Conversation Starters (i.e. what you'd like to do on a first date...)
I don't know. Stuff? Dinner in a cafe, wandering a used bookstore, coffee, going to listen to a good band, going to mock a lousy band, there's always something to do.
I'm kind of fond of the movie followed by dinner or sitting around a coffee house when it's people who don't know each other well, if only because you'll at least have a movie to talk about, should all else fail. (in reality I hate the cliche of dinner and a movie, but I hate sitting uncomfortably across from someone with nothing to say even more.)
I never, ever want to go on a "long walk." I live in Buffalo. It is now just days to December as I type this. Anyone whose idea of fun is walking into the wind in below freezing temperatures with occasional snow pelting them in the face and cutting through their skin like little pins is not for me. That's not fun. That's not even masochism. That's a reality show endurance challenge. Or my morning commute.