After a year of inattention, my archives are current. Lest you think that I finally let the guilt of a thousand (dozen) emails get to me, it was actually Bryan who finally snapped. He’s an orderly kinda guy. Thanks, mister.
Me: Have you seen any of these “Girls Gone Wild” videos?
B: It’s all these women showing their boobs, and then every ten minutes or so, the guy filming says (monotone voice), “They’ve gone wild.”
Me: It’s hilarious, he’s totally deadpan, no inflection whatsoever. That poor guy needs a new job, he’s seen one too many pairs of boobs.
E: I heard that stuff was fake, that they bring in strippers.
J: No. Remember? That one girl sued and won.
Me: They actually do bring in strippers. I just read a really interesting article about it. They bring in the strippers and get them to do stuff that wouldn’t ordinarily happen out in public. Then the other girls get more comfortable with it, because of the group-mentality thing. They jump in, and the strippers move out of the camera frame.
E: Really? Smart.
E: Yeah, but smart.
B: I’m just saying
E: Yeah. I’m just saying it’s smart.
B: I’m just saying, “mental note.”
When you don’t leave the house for four days because your mouth hurts when you speak, eat, or breathe, and the medication makes you feel like your brain is swaddled in wool, you find new ways to measure self-worth. For example, a while ago I purchased a lot of spaghetti noodles–too many spaghetti noodles, some might say. (Drat the two-for-one and it’s terrible draw!)
Yesterday, as I shuffled into the pantry for a small spoonful of smooth peanut butter and marshmallow cream, I noticed that we’ve eaten nearly all the spaghetti. This gave me an inexplicable surge of accomplishment. Time to take a shower.
The Morning News posted my third piece in the fashion series yesterday. It’s about hats. I would’ve told you sooner, but I was busy with oral surgery yesterday and jury duty on Monday. It’s been a monkey-butt week, but everything is better with painkillers.
Characters: Two homeless men on the bus.
Guy one: (angrily) SIT down!
Guy two: Why?
Guy one: We’re not getting off until Church!
Guy two : (Silent)
Guy one: I’m close to God.
Guy two: That’s good.
Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got. I’m still Maggie from the block.
This woman is wearing spike heels, and I am watching her ankles. They shake perceptibly with each tiny step, and she seems to be having trouble balancing her bag on her arm. Who is she trying to attract with the hobbled, mincing look? Perhaps she has a thing for muggers.