On mojo and bow ties.

Every so often, I become convinced that the only reason I am not having loads and loads of rampant, mind-blowing sex is that I choose not to. Entirely at random I will start to believe that I am, in the words of Fat Bastard, dead sexy. Well...maybe not dead sexy, but at least attractive enough that I could reasonably convince one or two people I find dead sexy to climb into bed with me.

As far as I can tell there is no particular trigger for this sudden change in attitude, and in hindsight I almost always find the idea horrifying, but since I'm in the midst of one such mood swing I'm perfectly content to do an erotic dance and flirt outrageously with people I've never met before. Frankly I think all the Doctor Who has had a wayward effect on me; Jack Harkness is a terrible role model unless you really are undeniably attractive.

On an almost entirely unrelated note, bow ties have become fetish fuel for me, and I've decided that the absence of one in my wardrobe is an atrocity that must be corrected.

(Bow ties are cool.)