Loading ...The other day KK came in while I was working. She stared open-mouthed for a good long time at my tv screen. Finally she asked, “Whats wrong with your TV?”
Me:Nothing
Her: There has to be something wrong with it!
Me: Nope.
Her: Then why is the screen blank?
Me: Its not on.
I suppose I could understand her confusion, since she rarely comes into contact with a TV that isn’t on. The TVs are always on, every waking moment, around here.
There isn’t a moment of the day I can’t walk into the kitchen without hearing Paula Deen’s nasal drawl waxing poetic over the merits of butter.
And speaking of butter, tonight is Walpurgisnacht.* Do we celebrate, or just quietly ignore the breast-feeding Maypole Dancers?
And speaking of breasts, Bas sent me an email loudly proclaiming me to have a ‘Great Rack’. I think he meant ‘great track’, referring to a song I sent him, but just left out the T. Of course, I do have a great rack and at first I was quite pleased that someone noticed for the first time in ages.Then I realised it was a typo (or perhaps it was Dunglish for something else entirely).
And for those of you who believe math has no practical application in our daily lives, you’re wrong! Finally the mathematicians have started calculating something meaningful and close to our hearts.
And I do have a great rack.
*I have no idea what butter has to do with Walpurgisnacht, but I needed a segue
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This entry was posted on Monday, April 30th, 2007 at 3:53 pm and is filed under phenomenal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
I love it that KK just cannot FATHOM why your TV isn’t on!
I’m sure Richard can share more, but his parents’ are the same way! My house was totally different growing up, and we only had the one (!) TV on occasionally. I can’t get over how at his folks’ house, the TV just isn’t shut off at all until quite late, and then it’s right back on in the morning! Sometimes, I just hate to hear or see that thing, even in our house. I am guess Richard will chime in with his disagreement on that one, but to each his own, I suppose. I let him be boss of that part of the house. I don’t care as much about it.
Can’t say I’ve ever celebrated Walpurgisnacht or whatever and your description doesn’t entice me much, sorry to say.
As for your great rack, I can only say that I’ve heard as much about you (it?). Are they mammarific? racktastic? spectitular? titriffic? I could go on, but it’s too silly even for me. I’m glad that guys across the ocean recognize your fantastic décolletage, via email, even!
Mathematicians do it again: They study something that really doesn’t matter. But this time, they’re doing it on something that really DOES matter!
You do have a great rack. Great enough for gay men to give you beads at Mardi Gras. I’m just laughing at the thought of Bas just emailing you out of the blue about your rack. Maybe he saw it over on aboutus.org.
Yes it was funny logging on first thing this morning and seeing the subject heading ‘Great rack!’ (exclamation mark an’ all) in my inbox.
Lets just hope the aboutus cult hasn’t scraped any pics of my rack yet.
Talk about your daily affirmations. Forget looking in the mirror and saying, “I am a worthwhile human being.”. Just look in the mirror and say, “Great rack!”.
Give me some of that dang good stuff!
No idea why I said that; just seemed appropriate.
God, R the P, your daily affirmations reminded me of that person you used to live with whose name began with K (we’ll call her K the Lez), who used to tape affirmations all over her apartment. When I stayed there, I couldn’t open the fucking fridge without seeing “I am a wonderful and worthwhile person. I am great just the way I am” taped to an orange.
I also remember that you and I used to go to the chinese restaurant, and order our food extra extra extra spicy, so that no one would eat it but us. The next morning we woke up to find K the Lez eating it for breakfast, tears streaming down her face, “This is so good”, she said, “so hot.. but so good.” GAAAAAH
I was actually thinking of K the Lez and her daily affirmations! She had them taped everywhere. You couldn’t even go pee without being reminded that you were a good person who people loved.
Maybe she and L the Lez wouldn’t have split up if she had taped “Great rack!” all over the house. Then L could have gone to the toilet and thought, “Why, thank you, toilet! I DO have a great rack!”
Although quite honestly, K’s was greater!
Yeah but I had a thing for L. I kept hoping she’d dump K for me. I did play with K’s breasts once, while … uh… never mind.
I miss old K and L.
Not for the same reasons you did though.
Too bad K was the one who slept around. You could have had some fun with L.
One of the best times I had with L was when I drove her to get her motorcycle from the shop and after we got it, we didn’t have anything to do and neither one of us wanted to go back to work, so we drove to Backstreet and started drinking …
At 2 in the afternoon.
By the time L got off work and got to us 6 hours later we were having a grand old time, drinking dancing, shooting pool and um, other things. I think it is the only time I ever shot pool in a gay bar. Now at a lesbian bar, I’ve shot pool everytime I’ve walked in to one. That and watched the lesbians get in fights. There’s never fights at gay bars.
I think we finally left Backstreet at 5 a.m.
Oh, I’ve seen fights in gay bars. Cat fights. I nearly got set on fire in a catfight at the Pegasus. What a gay fucking name for a bar.
Anyway, I was downstairs in the lounge, dead drunk, sitting in front of the fireplace. Two guys got into a huge row, screaming and scratching and tossing each other around. One guy got tossed right into the fireplace. Sparks and flame flew everywhere. The carpet caught on fire and just so could not move.
I finally managed to drag my ass out of the lounge, glaring angrily at the fighters for disturbing my drunken haze. Then I went outside and threw up.
Don’t tell me gay guys don’t fight.
True enough. I’ve seen slap fights and if you would go to say The Eagle, the butch gays would fight.
But everytime I’d go to say The Other Side two lesbians would start fighting then a whole group would jump in. Fists would fly, bottles would be broken.
It was part of the fun!
I can’t say I’ve seen a lot of lesbian fights. Maybe they just behave themselves around me.
Oh wait, never mind. Twice I’ve been in dyke fights with ex-girlfriends.
Maybe it was just that K and L liked to fight.
They definitely liked to fight with each other!
They called each other
L Honey!
and
Jesus Christ, K!
Because K was always trying to sweet talk her way out of whatever she had done and L would just get angry and lash out.
Ooww!! Fight!! Am i late?
Rack ‘em all! Darned T-racks…
Walpurgis… nah.. dancing with the un-dead. Yawn… Walpurgis is blender fodder.