1. I'm going to Minneapolis for the weekend, sans husband and child! A dear friend lives there, and she has already acquired some tempting-sounding Italian white wines to swig.
2. You know what gets me about thong underwear (which I still am not convinced aren't icky, even though a friend swears they feel fine)? It's the fact that so many women who wear thongs are now walking around with their pants or shorts wedged deeply in their buttcracks. That. Is. Just. Wrong. If you wear actual underwear, you can wear your jeans, shorts, pantaloons, or other trousers for days on end before they need a washing. With a thong? No way. I thought one of the functions of pants was to hide your buttcrack, not to call attention to it while simultaneously chafing it.
3. My boy has got himself an infection in his arm. I'm hoping the antibiotic shot this evening knocks out the bacteria, because (a) I want him to get better quickly and without incident, (b) I'd feel guilty leaving town when he's ailing, and (c) if the shot doesn't do the trick, he could need IV antibiotics, in which case I'd be spending the weekend at the hospital rather than in Minneapolis.
4. The crossword fever, it's rampaging faster than avian flu through a flock o' ducks. If you've got the fever and you find yourself doing the New York Times puzzle, but you need a little help, you can often find (or ask for) a little help at my other blog, Diary of a Crossword Fiend. If your local paper is not the NYT but runs the NYT crossword in syndication, the daily puzzle is probably printed on a six-week delay, so the Fiendish archives might come in handy.
5. Confession time: I am no longer an assiduous blog reader. I have fallen behind and don't make it to all of y'all's blogs as often as I'd like to. It would appear that I have reached the saturation point and can absorb no more blogs. But I do stop in at your sites when I can—honest. Give me a smack upside the head if I need one, will you?
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Your home for scattered bits about language, my kid, feminism, things that happen to me and things that cross my mind
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About Me
- Orange
- I'm an all-purpose word geek: I write (blogs, plus a book), I edit (medical stuff), I read (mostly blogs and magazines...that stack of unread books glares at me from beneath the dust), and I play with words (crossword puzzles are a strong favorite).
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- A Little Pregnant
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- I Blame the Patriarchy
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- So Close
- The Assimilated Negro
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- Welcome to the Nut House
- you don't have to read
15 comments:
I hope Ben progresses and that you get the fullness of your wine-logged trip.
Was that him in the pic at Flea's? The B'day Boy?
And, yes, I have wanted to belt you for some time, but then you up and commented on my blog last week. It made up for a lot of ground, but, honey, that was the second time I'd stumped for your major motion picture debut. You're missing stuff!
Cricket, the antibiotic injection seems to be doing the trick—the unsightly Popeye bulge in his forearm is much reduced. That was indeed my boy to the right of Flea's kids, sporting his Chuck E. Cheese's birthday crown. Crikey, you flogged Wordplay earlier? Apparently I was waiting for an engraved invitation. I used to be checking, like, 30 blogs a day. Now it's closer to 5. Dang freelance work! It's cutting into my time-wasting regimen.
Word to the wise: If your kid has something that looks like a bug bite and it gets bigger, bulges out, and is red and hot, get thee to the doctor right away. Cellulitis is nothing to monkey around with. Especially if it's on the face—waste no time getting medical attention for the kid.
You did an amirable job catching up. Thank you.
Has Mr. T shaved yet? Is the affair over?
The thing about thong undies is that the string rubs against your bum hole and therefore gets infested with bumhole germs. (I don't care how much you shower, your bum hole is germy.) Then the nice bum hole germs go hiking along that thong towards a person's vaganda and infests it!
Frankly it's less germy to just go commando if you want to avoid panty lines all day long.
I figured you were just pissed off that it took me so long to go see your movie.
The bumhole problem is only for string thongs (aka g-strings -- what does the g stand for, anyway?). But I wouldn't discourage anyone from going commando.
I'd rather go commando than wear a g-string. I don't care what anyone says, there are some moving and bending and stretching the female body does that inevitably makes the string go WHAP, right up your bumhole, and that's just not right.
Yay Ben's getting better! Our kids are very sensitive to bug bites (the swelling of the face or arm). We're very familiar with the emergency trip to the doctor or the ER. Scary every time.
Have an awesome weekend!
I think "G" stands for "Gross, I have a string up my asscrack!"
So we saw your movie a couple nights ago (see comment on appropriate post below for reaction but no spoil), my man and I have done the NYT crossword together two days in a row. It's so fun! I truly have never done a crossword in my life (odd considering my many related passions). Of course, it takes a bit more than five fucking minutes given that we are mere mortals and all. But it helps me be even more in awe of your skills.
Cricket, he hasn't shaved, but he trimmed the growth a bit. My sister thinks he looks scary...I think anyone looks hotter doing a crossword. (Again, my weird book.)
Becky, thank you for raising the bumhole issue and using the term bumhole. It seems to have struck a chord with this group!
Doctormama, how does the rear strap of the non-G-string thong manage to not get swiped like a debit card in the asscrack when one bends over? I'm not buying that the standard thong is any more sanitary than the G-string.
Mona, enjoy your weekend, too. Commando style!
E., I'm glad to hear you and the mister are doing crosswords now. There's nothing like a major motion picture to make a geeky pastime hip again!
Coming up north at all?
Krup: Sadly, no. But if you listen to a southerly breeze this weekend, you might hear a faint hello amid assorted pollen particles.
Yeah, I feel like I can tell when someone's wearing a thong because, instead of a panty line, I now see butt cheeks and ass crack. Which is fine, but then...why not forego the e coli infested string then? Ah, I'm preaching to the converted, aren't I? Have fun in the Sin Twitties!
You know, that WAS a pretty stalkerish comment from me.
I think the purpose of thongs is to show the thong. But I've often wondered if by their close proximity to the sphincter they somehow reduce fart nose. You know, like dampening the flapping anal parts. That's what I've wondered, anyway.
And I'm not crossing my arms and harumphing at you, if you're curious. Blogs and I are on a little cooling-off period as well.
FM, which is more feral—going commando, wearing ratty underwear, or wearing a thong that gets intimate with the anus? Have you compiled definitive rankings yet?
Krup, if you really wanted to stalk me, wouldn't you insist on telling me your real name? Went to a movie in Edina tonight (guess which one, everyone!)—my friend explained that the town name is short for Every Day, I Need Attention. Good gravy, these people in the parking garage, walking willy-nilly down the middle of the driving lane, sending cars willy-nilly into the oncoming traffic lane. I wanted to smack them all, and hard.
Mignon, let's you and I go into business together. We'll market what we call the Put A Cork In It Thong for the overly flatulent woman concerned about panty lines. Any ideas about cork design?
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