Everything I Like Causes Cancer

The other night I was watching The Usual Suspects when I got a Facebook IM jangle from bloggy friend Othurme.  We chatted for a minute and after I mentioned what I was watching he asked me if I was watching it on cable or with swears.  I was watching the original version and he suggested I find the edited version as it's much funnier.  Skeptical that an edited version should be more revered than the original I did a search on youtube tonight.  He was absolutely right.  The words the editors chose to replace "fucking cocksucker" are a scream.

For the most part I don’t discuss politics.  I’ll talk your ear off about those shoes you’re wearing and the weather, even religion, but politics . . . meh . . . just not my forte.  I understand the issues and I know what choices are best for me, but I rarely feel comfortable discussing them.  It’s just too personal. (Ok, mostly it’s that if we disagree I’ll get mad and act a fool and then we'll both be uncomfortable and nobody needs that kind of unecessary stress.)

Anyway, a week from today we’ll* be voting in what’s being marketed as “the election of our lifetimes.”  I’m not sure it’s all that, we’ve got some shaky years ahead of us with real potential for tougher decisions, but this election is an important one.

Look, I don’t give two shits who you’re voting for, I just care that you do it.  It’s important.  Do it.  Don’t forget.  Don’t get lazy.  Don’t waste your chance to make a choice.

Speaking of making good choices, it’s always a good idea to "don a glove when practicing the love" and these 2008 Election condoms from condomania.com are perfect for making your voice heard in ways other than inarticulate grunting.

There's the McCain:

If you use good judgment you'll smile all the live-long day!

But my absolute favorite is the Palin:

Little BRR was working hard browsing Overstock.com the other day and ran across this extremely odd item, the Hug Me Pillow. This creepily prosthetic pillow is designed to simulate the arm of a real man, namely Brad Pitt. I will grant you that Brad Pitt has a nice arm but it isn't the part of him I want to cuddle with, if you know what I mean.

She emailed me the link to the ad with instructions to read the reviews. We had so much fun laughing at them that I nearly hyperventilated. I've pulled the best ones for your enjoyment.




Anonymous from Alaska: If this pile of fabric "exceeded even (your) wildest expectations" you might want to dream bigger. You're from Alaska, fashion yourself after Sarah Palin. She's just a "hockey mom" and look where she ended up. You can do better than this.




Wait a minute. I thought this thing was supposed to be fashioned after Brad Pitt, not Jeff Bridges. Although I think a pillow fashioned after The Dude would provide a more peaceful night's sleep: Brad's always starting or ending or coordinating some sort of fight - not restful - while The Dude is a lazy time-wasting slacker.




Jesus, woman, you are one supremely high-maintenance bitch. I bet your husband's glad you got this pillow so he has a shield against your constant complaining. You might want to check yourself before he uses Brad's bolstered hands to suffocate you in your sleep. I'm pretty sure a jury of his peers would let him off.




Ewwww. You put your feet in a guy's crotchal region to warm them up? Socks, honey, try socks. Unless, of course, you're a podophiliac, and in that case your pillow should have been fashioned after Ben Affleck.




OMG!!!! YOU NEED TO STOP YELLING!!!!! OVERSTOCK IS A VERY QUIET STORE, LIKE THE LIBRARY! And for realsies? If you'd get some self-esteem and stop coercing your cats, you might actually be able to get a man in there. (Hmmmmmm, note to self . . . )

Isn't it funny that Sleepless but Godly is from "Virgin"ia? Poor girl would sleep better if she got some. I know that I am out like a light after a good roll in the hay, praise the Lord.




Um, ghost7? Do you and your sister live in the attic of your grandma's mansion? Because what the hell are the two of you doing when she visits that warrants a "wink, wink"? Gross.




This one brings me to a point that needs made . . . most of my married friends rejoice when their significant other is out of town because they get the bed all to themselves and will have a uninterrupted night's sleep. Some even talk at length about moving to separate rooms to get away from the snoring, blanket-stealing, bed-hogging bastard with whom they share a bed, so tell me again what purpose this creepy pillow serves . . .




I don't believe that you even have a man, SoLonely555. I can think of a lot of things that would do a better job of replacing a man when he's out of town than this awkward little pillow. Then there's the matter of your screen name - kind of gives it away - but it's mostly that you are excited about dressing your pillow in different outfits.




Hold up. You're too big for a pillow? I think I might have just solved your problem, Cute But Not Comfy. Try one of these instead.




SoLonely555? Is that you again? The Overstock reviews are not personal ads, hon. Try Craig's List, look in the casual encounters.

A week ago today I posted an incredibly funny, and real, dialogue between some friends and I, but many of you failed to notice because I made a critical error: I ended the post with a McGone-esque footnote explaining a not-often-used nickname of mine, Walleye. Pistols at Dawn said it best, "Note to self: if you end the post with nipple talk, no one will remember anything else you wrote about."

All you people could talk about was nipple this, nipple that, veering v. pointing, and even had the audacity to question my truthiness. The nerve! And that Dr. Zibbs, my God, he had the most questions of all about my wonky left nipple . . . "Do you mean it POINTS ot (sic) the left? Is it obvious through sweaters or just tee shirts? Is it ever exposed? Does the one on the right get jealous and bitter of it's own normalcy? These questions must be answered in a full post."

So, to answer your questions:
Yes.
Both, but only when I'm cold.
A lady never tells all of her secrets.
Not jealous or bitter, but obnoxiously superior.

What? You want more? Alright. I doubted that would satiate you jackals.

First, I'm not sure how it happened. I assume I was born that way. Some of you may not have been readers here when I told the story of how I won my boobs on a radio contest, but I won my boobs on a radio contest. Yes, I did. I actually won $5,000 but since no one can legally force someone to have surgery, I paid off my car. Understand that I entered the contest for boobs. Yes, it felt good to be fiscally responsible with the winnings, blaah, blaaah, whatever. I wanted boobs. I entered the contest to get boobs. I had asked for them every Christmas since the time I realized I wasn't going to grow any. So yeah, as soon as I got my bonus check I made an appointment for a consultation.

I scheduled the surgery for right after Valentine's Day. I had been divorced less than 6 months so went around telling everyone, "Last Valentine's Day I was a pair; this year I'm getting a pair." You can call me precious if you want to.

So anyway, when you wake up from said surgery you are wrapped tightly in 12,000 feet of ace bandage and you have to leave it on for several days. When I took mine off, and inhaled for the first time in a week, I was shocked to find that Lefty was askew. I was furious, assuming that I had been "re-arranged" during surgery and/or binding. I got over it after a while, because really, what could I do?

It wasn't until years later, after I'd closely compared the before and after pictures, that I noticed Lefty had always been askew - my boobs had just been too small to notice. I don't know what happened to me. My grandma had huge bazongas. Huge. I used to tell the girls in my sorority (do not judge, I was cool) that I inherited my grampa's boobs.

I gave your suggestions/requests/pleas for a demonstration some serious consideration and decided it's actually a good idea. Some of you were horrified by Lefty, to the point you had to go back to bed, and I'd like to show you that I am not an animal.

Before I go any further, however, I want to establish that I am doing this because it's funny. Do not start asking to see my lady bits. It will not happen. Ever. Don't ask. Also, I am not judging anyone who chooses differently, it's simply a personal boundary. Thank you.

Like I said, I seriously considered what props would be the funniest. I was formulating a plan involving styrofoam balls, and I really thought it was going somewhere, but in the end I simply couldn't make it funnier than Zibbs' grapefruit/thumbtack suggestion. I should've known I couldn't out-funny the master. BTW, have you read his post about the death of the guy who wrote the book, "100 Things to Do Before You Die?" It almost killed me it's so funny. You can go over there to read it when we're done here, but you haven't been dismissed yet.

So yeah, grapefruits and thumbtacks. I didn't have any thumbtacks so I used two Sudafed. The Sudafed are placed where you would expect a nipple to be, approximately in the middle.

The shamrock pin on the right is where Lefty sits. I measured the distance in real life, 1.5 inches, and placed the shamrock pin in the exact location.

I didn't know how to calculate the size difference, ratio, whatever between the grapefruit and my real boob, but believe me when I say that the shamrock pin looks a lot farther from center in the picture than Lefty does in real life.

I am surprised by the amount of interest garnered by my wonky left nipple yesterday. I shouldn't be, I do actually know you people, but still. Sheesh. I promise all of your questions will be answered soon. Patience is a virtue.

In the meantime, I'm going to finish my story about Chicago. Oh, come on! You better not be clicking away right now. I mean it. You want nipple? Yeah? Then finish this post. You can't have your pudding if you don't eat your meat, monkeys.

There's a creek, at the bottom of the hill behind the house, that runs all the way to the lake, so the bank was lined with paddle boats and kayaks and jet skis and boats. The kids had a ball playing in the water.


They recently built an addition that is a sharp, modern contrast to the warm lodginess of the house. The addition acts as both a work-out and music room. The guys went in there almost immediately after dinner and played and jammed until well after midnight.


John is sporting the latest in men's fashion, the plastic clam shell bra. I gave a pair to each of the guys and only John wore his. He's my favorite.


Here are Robin and Cindy, two of the neighbors. These gals are polar opposites, you can tell by just looking at them. Robin, wearing the blue sweatshirt, well, let's just say this was not her shining moment of the evening. When I first met her, an hour or so prior to this photo, she gave a good first impression, she seemed energetic and fun. And then the next time I saw her, pictured above, she was loudly trying to badger Cindy into going out on a boat with her. She was not a very good advocate for hershelf, conshiderinnnn her speesch annn all.

Cindy, a character in her own right, repeatedly refused and became more inventive each time. It was so funny (uncomfortable) to watch that I pulled up a chair and took in the show. I couldn't believe I hadn't even had to pay admisshhion.

Speaking of not paying admission for a great show, let's go back to Cindy for a minute. Super friendly gal. Funny, engaging, pleasant. So when she asked me if I wanted to take a tour of her house I was flattered to have been asked. I've since named this chapter in my life "The Cindysperience"; everyone should have one.

The house, a forty year old* A-frame, has lots of interesting features: a spiral staircase; a shower installed along one leg of the "A" such that no one can stand up in it; and outdoor laundry. You could tell Cindy was proud of the eccentricity of her home and was delighted that we were interested in its colorful stories.

One of those stories centered around a bat that had once gotten into the house. As she told the story she darted from one end of the living room to the other, hurriedly describing and reenacting the story, using different voices for each character. It was a scream. The best part was being there with Jeannie, a stoic woman jammed-packed with biting and hilarious sarcasm. I found myself edging farther and farther away from them so I could see the entire exchange - Cindy breathless and darting; Jeannie observing and biting her tongue. It was priceless.

Late, and I mean really late, John and I realized we had forgotten to do something. Something really important. Something we had looked forward to all day. Know what it was?

Yup, we burned another Christmas tree. Only this time we are 10x drunker and forget that the camera is on.

Dudes, seriously, I fucking stink. I'm not talking about some pansy-ass, girly glow. I stink. Construction worker on a hot sunny day stink. Ate garlic and ran a marathon stink. I'm raising my arms right now so you can smell me because I know you want to. Get in there! Stahn-ky!

For some reason I got a little funky this afternoon. It happens. Everyone around me says I'm crazy when I tell them I stink, but I can smell me and I stink.

Since getting home at about 6:30 I have: ridden 10-15 miles on my bike, trimmed and edged the yard, watered the plants and swept the sidewalks. Believe me now?

I have no idea why I've been pushing myself so hard lately but this has been the norm for a couple weeks. I get home about 6:30 and then ride my bike and work in the yard until it's too dark to be outside. It's 8:30 and I JUST put dinner in the oven. (Salmon. I've got a couple fresh, homegrown tomatoes to go with it. YUM!)

This week I've been trying to get all my weekend chores done during the week because I'm leaving Friday morning for a fun-filled, and most assuredly drunken, weekend in Chicago. I'm going back up to visit these idiots. You can read about my trip to see them at Christmas here and here. If you've only got one out-click in you today I recommend you try the second "here" link. The guy in the video is my retarded friend Zellmannnnnnn. You know, the one I told you about who does public relations work for a cycling company? Gals, he's a hottie . . . six four, rides bikes all.the.time, and not an ounce of body fat. Me-ow!

It should be a good time. If it isn't, someone's getting punched in the neck. I'm taking my laptop in the hope that I can get at least one of them to drunk blog.

Yes! Other things have been happening in my world besides the garage repairs. I apologize for being slightly one-dimensional this week. I promise to make it up to you.

Let's see here . . . Monday night Heathybear's parents took us dinner to celebrate her birthday. I bet you're asking yourself, "Self, how could Gwen possibly make it to dinner after the arduous day she spent live blogging her garage repairs?" Because I'm amazing, that's how. Now never question me again.



H had just taken a ten-day trip to Colorado and while she was away her parents collected cards and pictures and letters from all of her friends and family and wrapped them up in a really fun box. I didn't know they were presenting it to her at dinner but I'm so glad I was there. She cried. It was awesome. She came back to the house after dinner and we went through the whole box. There's a pile of glitter in front of the loveseat to prove it.




Tuesday night I was obligated to update you with regard to the garage roof and then I watched Big Brother.

And tonight? Well, tonight I saw Mama Mia. I knew Leslie would want to see it so I volunteered to go with her after we saw The Dark Knight a while back. I suspected I would be entertained but I had no idea I'd love it. Really. I loved it. I genuinely laughed out loud A LOT and was tapping my foot and humming the entire time. I don't care what Pistols says, it is a fun little romp of a movie.

First off, I never cease to be amazed by Meryl Streep's range. One minute her name is Sophie and she's got a big choice to make and the next she's a formerly slutty cool mom who owns a seaside hotel in Greece.



And then there was poor Pierce Brosnan. Not much of a singer, that one, but he gets an A for effort. Plus he's hot. I might be looking the other way simply because he's over there with his shirt off again.





There was one character, an old friend of Meryl's, who reminded Heathybear and I of Peabody which made it even funnier. Her mannerisms and the things she said were so Peabody that we were screaming. (Pssst! . . . Peabody! . . . I'll go see it again if you want to go.)

So now you're up to date. Satisfied that I won't be posting about the garage again?

Oh! I almost forgot! Remember earlier when I told you that I'd make it up to you? Well, I'm a woman of my word. Earlier today a friend emailed me a bunch of pictures of some zany and/or effed up people that are allegedly mug shots. I know how much you guys like to play games and out-funny each other so I've turned it into a game. It's no WVM, but I think you'll enjoy it. Every once in a while (don't hold me to this as I am allergic to commitment) I will post one of these mug shots and leave it to you guys to discuss what happened. Here's your first victim. Go to it. Make me laugh, monkeys, make me laugh.

So yeah, Peabody came over yesterday and we summered in The Hamptons. All of your comments were hilarious, BTW. We’d have moved over for any one of you. Girlfriend kicked off the ridiculous for the day when she pulled six airline bottles of liquor out of her goody bag.

She kept the ridiculous flowing when she insisted on swimming laps. Keep in mind it’s a ten-foot pool. I haven’t actually gone back to the record books but I’m pretty sure she broke all previous Daydream Olympics time trial records. She earned it; she worked hard.

My yard inclines incline slightly so the pool ends up having a very definite deep end. Remind me to pick up some water wings.

Taking a four-hour bath in the backyard with your friends isn’t for everyone but she and I sure had a kick. She loved it so much that a telephone call this morning found her at Target searching for a pool of her very own. She’s going to class it up a bit, though, and set it up on her driveway. Her fancy neighbors are going to love that. Mmm-hmmm.

Shortly after Peabody left, I got a call from LM who was checking to see if I was ready to go see the naked people. There was a buzz in town all week last week about the World Naked Bike Ride. From what I read it seemed like the STLPD just wanted to be sure that the organizers and participants were very clear on what is and what is not acceptable under the local public nudity codes. It also sounded like there was the potential for some skirmishing. She and I are both insatiably curious so you know we made a quick plan to go see what the fuss was about.

Sadly, there was a lot less nudity than we were expecting. We saw maybe five gals with bare but painted breasts and one naked guy. One. One naked guy. And we didn’t even actually see him, LM just happened to get a picture of him. It’s funny to see his wiener just hanging out there on his bike seat.

Anyway, I took video of almost the entire procession. It was dark so you can’t see much in some parts of the video but occasionally the obnoxious guy next to me would take a picture (make sure you catch his brilliant color commentary at the beginning) and his flash illuminates enough that you can get a sense of what it was like. It was pretty funny and there were a couple characters in the group. Almost immediately (about 0:05) watch for the guy who's wearing a naked girl suit. At around 1:40 you hear this one little gal yelling, "Yay for the polar bears and the unicorns and sea turtles!" I love how she gets all hysterical at the end. And at about 1:54 you see a bike outfitted to look like a camel.

Overall we thought it was fun and different and cool and we were glad we went, but we were disappointed by the number of people who were fully clothed. I sort of wish we had made it to the park to watch the participants prepare for the ride; I think there might’ve been more freaky frolicking to witness. We talked about it at length last night when it was over and there are a couple of us who want to ride in it if they do it again next year.

Yes, I am included in that group and no, I won’t ride entirely nude. Too bad for you!

I've only got a couple minutes this morning. I'm heading in to the office early and I need to get moving.

Last Saturday was LM's birthday but she had a family emergency out of town so we are celebrating tonight by going to Live on the Levee, a free summer concert series put on by the city. To be technical, this year it's Live at Soldier's Memorial because the riverfront was under water when the series started and they haven't moved it back. Tonight we're seeing Grace Potter and The Nocturnals open up for The Black Crowes, assuming it stops raining.

Here are some pictures from last year when we saw G. Love and Special Sauce:

LM and I with The Freshmaker

Me and My Boyfriend, G. Love.

Baby's Got Sauce

My only other real plans for the weekend are a long bike ride and seeing The Dark Knight on Sunday. I cannot wait for either event, and also some extreme couch sitting.

Have a fabulous weekend! Be safe and have fun!