Dance practice
Sunday morning, as I sat in the parking lot outside the vet’s office, blinking at the shiny hotness of this July-in-April weather and dehydrated from crying, I noticed a burst of movement off to the the side of the building. A group of young men were dancing. Step, jump, turn, half step forward and back. They were smiling and laughing. They were beautiful and graceful. As distractions go, it was a good one and I needed it.
Reality
“Reality so often fails when it comes to small, satisfying details, she thought.”
-Nation, Terry Pratchett
Thank god the older camera still works
Yesterday, someone bumped me and my newer camera hit the floor with a sickening thud. The lens is not cracked or in any way visibly damaged but it will not telescope properly when I turn the camera on. The lens starts to telescope, gets hung up and grinds for a bit, and then shuts itself down. I’m sending it back to Olympus for repair this week.
In the interim, I will hope the older camera doesn’t decide that this is the time to finally give up the ghost because if I am without a camera, I will surely shrivel up and die.
Mutant padding
I’m a woman. I have periods. In fact, I have been having periods for 25+ years so I’ve tried some things to deal with them and have come to the conclusion that I am all pads all the time. Every woman is different. I don’t really care. I also don’t understand the women who feel the need to tell me how sorry they are for me that I don’t use tampons. When did this become a competition? And I know there are still other options out there but I have had mixed success with those at best, so pads it is.
Feminine hygiene products are a mystery. They are packaged like party favors yet appear to be the stuff of high-tech, dark magic research facilities. And they are all defective in one way or another.
I — how do I put this? — I lose a lot of blood every 28 days or so. I have a vested interest in good pads and am always on the lookout for good pads. I thought I might have found some today.
People, I had to unfurl the pad I took out of the package. It was the length of my arm. It’s like a body pillow. I could garb myself in these things at Halloween and do a passing impression of the Michelin Man.
Who are these for? Why is she not in the hospital if she is bleeding this much? What sort of garment do you attach this thing to? I am baffled.
I am also mildly alarmed. I fear these things will rise up in the night and smother me in my sleep.
Make a big noise
It took me a minute to isolate the source of the sound, a rhythmic chant among the shrieks and yells of the exuberant kids running around all over the place. Sitting in a circle on a raised platform section of one of those ubiquitous primary-colored plastic playground sets was a group of boys, maybe 4th graders, clapping their hands and slapping their legs while chanting, “We will, we will…ROCK YOU.”
Sandwich Party III is now open
Subtitle: Simon is an overachiever.
The Sandwich Party is this weekend. If you are new to this site or planet, information can be found here. Photos here. Meanwhile, Sandwich Party co-host Elsa is off having a life this weekend. THE NERVE.
Don’t forget the official Sandwich Party image.
My sandwich will be as much a surprise to me as to you. Stay tuned.
Charmingly chubby
jagosaurus: Check this out.
trasherati: HOLY FUCK WOULD YOU WARN SOMEONE FIRST, PLEASE?
jagosaurus: :-D
trasherati: What’s with how he’s cupping/flashing his little package? Ewwww.
jagosaurus: Hahahahaha, I hadn’t even noticed the cuppage.
trasherati: He looks like a little seedy baby hobo in an alleyway.
jagosaurus: One of those cartoon non-babies.
trasherati: A bitty baby drunk in NYC.
jagosaurus: Wearing a bunny hat and a look of disgust casting about for some gin…in a sippy cup.
trasherati: Just peed himself and is soliciting strangers walking by for a blowjob.
jagosaurus: EWWWWWWW. You win.
trasherati: I win everything.
jagosaurus: True.
trasherati: Ooh, better one: he’s a baby derelict who just wandered, drunk, into the free clinic: “Doc, *hic* lookat dis – it keeps spreading.”
jagosaurus: Hahahahahahahahahahaha, and ew.
trasherati: HEAVY DEMAND.
jagosaurus: Enjoy a gallery’s worth of gorgeous baby “portraits” with attitude to spare. EACH DOLL IS ANATOMICALLY CORRECT.
trasherati: This is so disturbing. Not only the images, but the ad copy is just…off.
jagosaurus: You think?
trasherati: “Each blanket is imprinted with a sentiment that is sure to make you smile.” Only if they use my free clinic line.
jagosaurus: CHARMINGLY CHUBBY? Hi, my name is Jane, and I am charmingly chubby.
trasherati: Chuu–uuuu—by.
jagosaurus: LILFAT.
trasherati: Hahahahahhhahahaha! That’s his street name!
