Papa's Got a Brand New Grab Bag

You seem to have happened upon a grab bag. This particular grab bag has been sitting on a drugstore shelf for a few weeks without attracting notice. (Aside from that crazy cat lady to visits every other day to stock up on catnip and B-12 supplements. She decided to grab cat litter instead of the grab bag 9 out of 10 times. The 9th time she entered the store, she was clearly rabid and was booted from the store before she could put her wrinkly fingers on the bag.)

Let's forget about the cat lady for a moment and enter a mind with its own blend of crazy: my own.

Why limit your broken resolutions to one month of the year; magazines out now are obsessed with getting your life into order by adding more paper to the pile.

(My hoarder personality is a mix of Miss Papyrus and Miss Procraftinate. What's yours?)

What makes this particular issue of Real Simple any different from the thousands of others out there? Unfortunately, nothing. What caught my attention was my first attempt at reading the bold headline on the cover..."Indigenous Organizing Systems". Which I could only imagine was an anthropological survey of the organizing methods around the globe, from feng shui to culturally-acceptable variants of O.C.D. to whatever method they use in third-world countries to keep possessions from overwhelming their possessors (I believe they call it "poverty"). Needless to say, anthropology is not simple enough to qualify for this magazine.

Onward, ho!

Found this van in Woodstock, a town whose inhabitants range from rednecks who proclaim their demographic proudly with confederate flags and mud flaps to rednecks who attempt to hide from their true identity behind manicured lawns, trophy wives, and HOA fees. I'm not sure which category F.E. Arnold's 'Lectrical Contractin' company belongs to...

One more. Behold Pepperidge Farm's support of those hungering for brains.

Arrgh. Cheesy brains!

Kameron, I failed.

I tried to write the post that I was unable to bring your selected number (20) to fruition on either of the last two days. I tried really hard but it just wasn't happening, so another day down the road you'll find a revived post entitled "Swollen Karma" and it'll just make your world.

(Reports of future post "making your world" are wildly exaggerated. Actual likelihood of this event are 1000:1. Maybe 100.1 if Emily can be a little self-confident.)

[30 sec to determine whether presenting the following comedic bit was worth the shame I felt while typing it.]

It looks like I've been a naughty little girl. I suppose you'll have to spank my fanny!




Thank goodness these fannypacks are 50% off because they give some cushion to my tush which protects this naughty girl during spankings.

Except...!

Fannypacks are typically worn on the front side of the body, over the pelvis. Why would they be called fannys (Did you presume that "fanny" would be a "drop-the-y-add-an-eye-ee" plural?) when they're not worn over your fanny?

Except...!

So I just invited you to spank my fanny. Which is to say that my husband will not approve.

I feel so dirty.



Dearest Tide! Thank you for still being proud ("...keeper of your team colors"; keep up, damnit!") after this disgusting display above. I figured my brother Nathan (big fan of everything Detroit) would dig this find. I suppose I should have tossed $11 at the cashier (or, if feeling particularly un-entertaining, placed it in her hand), especially since I'm pretty sure my brother uses this brand of detergent.

Sigh. *shakes fist at rearview mirror*

Whoa, watch where you're shaking that fist! There's glass here!



This find was for my Mummula (a Yiddish-esque term that I believe I will adopt), who has long referred to her and my father's house in derogatory terms. I don't suppose that a crooked house would be a foreign concept to her mind.

Speaking of minds:



Stupidity afflicts 75 or 23% of the people reading this post. (We're all carriers of the disease, if we're being honest. It's just a means of which of us can pass as "normal".)

In other news, if no one reads this other than me, I will be very concerned.

Awwwwwwkward.

(Other potential comments on the shirt above:

• Is this a Pokemon breast cancer shirt? (That's nearly as provocative as a G.I. Joe prostate cancer PSA!)
• This person seems to have a uni-boob. (Sports bras are really not flattering if there's no cleavage involved.)

Let's eat pie!



done

Swollen Karma

Happy Sunday, which strangely enough is more noteworthy for its moon than its sun.

Today, I challenge you to determine which of these pictures is not like the other. That is, if the challenge of reading through this post to its end doesn't prove too difficult. Here goes nothing.

The Mighty Baseball declares that "Teamwork divides the task and doubles the success." (Though if I'm gonna be a stickler, I can't really say it "declares" anything, as it doesn't have the requisite punctuation to declare anything.) I can't recall why I thought this baseball was worthy of my attention (hell, its previous owner didn't deem it worthy of removing from its plastic packaging), but I suppose it might be productive to consider situations where such a gift might be appropriate.

• Little League coaches
  (Throwing this at problem players -- with deadly intent! -- helps raise a team's average RBI)
• Bosses
  (What else are they going to put on their desk?)
• Mob bosses
  (When their taped-up baseball bats aren't being used to break legs and bash heads in)

I'm open to other ideas (comment away) but have a strong urge to sing some karaoke/Rock Band, so I'm moving on.

The page above is from a fantasy book with a writing style that just didn't jive with me. The prose is over-the-top and strangles what could have been a really good plot. Imagery, like anything else, is best in small doses. It's one of the few books I've stepped away from midway without any intent of returning. (The Gunslinger almost suffered the same fate. Friends insisted I struggle through it because "it'll be worth it" but I'm still undecided on whether The Drawing of the Three deserves my attention. Time will tell.)

For the longest time I refused to put down a book once I'd picked it up. Then I put my hands on Twilight...and forced myself to read it to the end. Let's just say that I made a huge mistake. (If I had just surfed over to Wikipedia, I could have saved myself so much pain.)

Tangents aside, let's look at some more pictures. (Neato!)

Um...pretty sure gender's not as clear-cut as your reference material suggests. I mean, even your orange t-shirt knows that it's not a black-and-white issue. And why would you put this on the front of a shirt anyway?

Oh sure, thanks for clarifying things. It's a sports team (?) that is "taking over the world..." Though, I must say that I appreciate the logic behind their order of conquest.

Speaking of conquest...

Whoever decoupaged this masterpiece (which the thrift shop priced at $7, I'll have you know) definitely conquered their fears of spray adhesive.

Okay, so it's a weak transition. But it's not like I'm a superhero (or even a super moon, for that matter).

In closing, I think Hollywood did Kerri Strug a disservice by refusing to cast her in the remake of John Wayne's famous western.

You decide whose body to Photoshop her head onto.

Of course, they didn't even give Hailee Steinfeld a credit on the movie poster...so what do you expect?



Kameron:

Herbal Cry: Dill!

If Eminem can do it, so can I. I'll be cleaning out my closet of photos today. Today's grab bag is devoid of knick-knacks, so enjoy four t-shirts for the price of one. (A $0 VALUE!) They appear to be only mildly entertaining, so let's see if I can spice things up with my delivery (free with purchase of $15).

First up, this cotton blend spits truth (which, curiously enough, tastes just like pineapple).

I have yet to see this generation's version, but Justin Bieber is putting out new "swag" all the time so I'll keep my eyes open.

Next up, check out a new landscaping option:

Sure, rubber mulch would be easier to install and more forgiving of face-plants and the like, but it takes a lot of time and energy to remove the metal rims and spokes and then shred the rubber into little pieces. Ain't nobody got time for that (I will refrain from linking to the meme, but you can look it up on your own time).

In other news: There's no need to be afraid of the hiking trail when your shoe salesman is a deity.

Skate on the edge of blasphemy Dive into a blasphemous sea with me and tell me the likelihood that God would commit these acts:

1. Comma splice
   Leave the forgiveness to Jesus; I'm pretty sure that God would be the top Grammar Nazi, raining fiery retribution down on those who break His laws.
   (I'm not calling God Hitler, but if the OT deity should decide to shave his "customary" beard and mustache into a Hitler-stache, it wouldn't be completely inappropriate.)
2. ALL CAPS
   I mean, it's not as if this shirt was etched into a stone tablet, making lowercase characters a pain in the ass to execute.
3. Communication through T-shirtAbout as likely as salvation through text message.
4. Hyphenated signatureGiven that the Big Guy devoted an entire book (and then some) to ceremonial details, prescriptions, and prohibitions...pretty sure He's going to pull out something a bit more formal than a friggin' hyphen to end his book. I mean, he did end His most influential work (His entries to the Babysitters' Club series were not well-received) with Revelations after all.

In other news...

Do we really think God's athletic endorsement would be for pink and white shell-toe Adidas lookalikes? I understand that lace-up leather sandals aren't really built for modern exercise, but neither are these. 

One more...and this one makes even less sense than the others.

I did a little research and learned that "avodah" is a Jewish word meaning "work" (start here and move on to more legitimate sources if your interest exceeds my own). It's also the name of the Jewish Service Corps which fights "against the causes and effects of poverty in the United States".

So now I understand the "anti-swine" bit (though the preceding article is still a bit perplexing). When I searched for "bleach" on the AVODAH page, I yielded no results. "Anti-swine" returned 3 pages, due to my inability to limit the results to EXACT MATCH. My revised search for "swine" brought back a goose egg.

In other news, 2009 saw the spread of the swine flu, and experts advised the use of chlorine bleach to combat the threat.

Still, while I can explain elements of this shirt, I am at a loss to put them all together. Perhaps the Jewish service group armed themselves with bleach and sprayed it in poverty-stricken neighborhoods? I am officially thinking too hard which is a sure sign that it's time to turn my mind to other pursuits.

Enjoy your weekend.

Cheryl:

Rising to Anarchy

Unlike some of my other "photo dumps", this one actually already seems to have a theme threading them together. The challenge then becomes actually making it through all four photos in one post (which I have successfully failed at all week). Here's goes nothing.

It's warmer than necessary outside...but while we adults are making every excuse to stay inside our air-conditioned homes, kids are making every effort to achieve dehydration and sunstroke commune with nature. (Note: I realize that this -- like all other dichotomies -- is not strictly true, but it's my intro to the post so you'll have to gloss over it.) There's lots of fun things to do outside:

Not to be confused with the "Indoor Bug Net".

Let's all take a moment to consider the fact that we smash bugs that enter our territory but we entrap those that are just minding their own damn business on their turf. Then again, I suppose I swat flies and mosquitoes regardless of location and wouldn't think to kill a Monarch (not even this one) even in my house. Hrmm.

Moving on...

Sure, it'd be neat to take your kid to the lake with a fishing pole and tackle box (no, it's not a euphemism...but it could be). But your lack of fishing skills are much less amusing when you're not three sheets to the wind and Junior's eight years too young (or is it nine?) to be your DD. Not to mention you have to whittle away at the mow the lawn before the H.O.A. fines you, and it's not like the "honey-do list" is going to do itself (as SHE reminds you every weekend).

Well, it's never too early to teach the kid about responsibility...

Put that fishing pole back, kid. We're raking leaves today.

Maybe while you're going over the half-assed job your kid did on the lawn, he can amuse himself with a song.

Why did people buy these again?

...Then again, maybe it would be best to leave some joy for another day. Christmas, perhaps?

Santa puts a hat garnish on everything he eats. (Watch out, elves.)

In other news, Camp Nanowrimo kicks off next month and I plan to focus on actually completing a novel (at least a rough draft) this year. I'll try to juggle both projects, but Mrs. Window Shopper will probably stay just as inconsistent in July so brace yourselves.


Cyndi: 

SPOILERS!

I missed you yesterday, impersonal blog editor. Tuesday was a day of car problems, unreliable coworkers, and self-betterment in the form of a gym visit and the consumption of multiple vegetables...all of which prevented me from posting by the deadline (midnight, that is). No excuses, just a step onward.


For those who care about such things, I am listening to the sweet sweet sounds of Battlefield 3, peppered with commentary and occasional strains of Foo Fighters' "One of These Days" performed by m

First up, an athletic (?) t-shirt.

Who thought that a scorpion and a Nike swoosh could grace the same canvas? Some theories:

• Nike's catchphrase is evolving from "Just Do It" to "Just Sting/Claw it". (Idea courtesy of Mr. Window Shopper, who appears to be on a roll today -- though his K/D ratio argues otherwise)
• The scorpion is a commentary on Nike's use of child labor: kids get clawed into a life of servitude and stung if they rail against Big Business.
• The scorpion is a commentary on consumerism: the claws are the advertising campaigns and celebrity/athletic endorsements that get us to buy a pair and we get stung if we settle for a "lesser" brand name.
• The real explanation (admittedly less glamorous but some team names do feature nice puns).

I seem to recall the following picture to be the reverse of this adorable Nike Scorpion shirt (though further research that I choose to omit for entertainment purposes suggests otherwise). The pairing makes about as much sense as the scorpion alone, and it successfully spoils my attempts to analyze and interpret it on its own. But no matter, as we are now treated to the fashion equivalent of the upside-down answers to cereal-box quizzes from our youth.

In other words: It matters little whether or not the cigar is really a cigar in the long run.

Have fun, people. I'm going to eat some food and think about going to work.

TBA a.k.a. "Photo Dump 14"

I spent several hours perusing my unused photos and found 22 x 5 that didn't really fit under a theme. (Not quite sure why I'm so obsessed with themes -- an affliction of the English major, I suppose -- but I am and you'll just have to get over it.) So here I am, trying to string together five dissimilar elements. At the end of the post, we'll determine just how tenuous the string is between these photos. But for now, I'm just going to jump into it.

(Oh, in case you're curious, the tunes tonight are from my "Sexy" Spotify playlist.)

First up, a tee from the Georgia Science and Engineering Fair 2007. (Brace yourself for nerdisms.)



According to the shirt, the "key elements to success (!)" are Lithium (Li), Determined (De), Sodium (Na), Potassium (K), Explore (Er), Imagine (Im), Responsible (Rb), and Diligent (Di). First of all...

Balance this equation:

Li + Na + K + De + Er + Im + Rb + Di --> Success 

• Only 3 of 8 "keys" are nouns. 

• Lithium, Sodium, and Potassium are the only real elements that made it into this chemical equation for success. It seems that bananas and salty food are leading "successful" scientists and engineers to mental instability, necessitating mood-stabilizing drugs. Seems legit (though I doubt the necessity of the cause, given the effect).

• There appears to be a column missing between IIA and IVA. Shame on you, "Science". 

• Let's suppose that the new elements are simply revised names for actual elements. Based on their placement to the right of the Alkali Metals, the De-Er-Im column becomes Be-Mg-Ca. This means that while Beryllium is "Determined", Magnesium just wants to "Explore" and Calcium would rather "Imagine". (What does this mean for Milk's future ad campaigns?) Meanwhile, Scandium becomes Responsible and Titanium is a stand-in for Diligent.

• The chemical symbol "Explore" suggests indecision. (Then again, what is a hypothesis if not indecision epitomized?)

• "Responsible" is a IIA element. Elements in this group (Alkaline Earth) are "silvery-gray metals which are...relatively soft" that can be drawn into a wire. Additionally, they are reducing agents (electron donors). I'm not sure that "Responsible" is as malleable as the t-shirt suggests. I also question its identification as a reducing agent, as it seems much more likely to pick up others' slack and gain electrons. If we label this Georgian periodic table properly (I will not cave to the temptation of insulting the southerners' intelligence; surely skipping from IIA to IVA was an oversight), "Responsible" becomes...rather unpredictable.

• "Diligent" is a IVA element. Not a whole lot of common ground in this column of the periodic table, so this "key" could be as versatile as Carbon, as pivotal as Silicon, or as common as Lead. I concede that diligence is a pretty important quality with some serious sustaining power, so I suppose it's a combination of all of these things. I could go all deep on you here (giggity) but I've got four more photos to go so I'll let you discuss these ideas on your own.

Before I finish this massive nergasm, I would like to push up my glasses and point you here. Have fun learning something.

The dump grew too massive...

...so I flushed once and return with more.

(Ew.)

Let's forget I made a poop joke and move along. [Insert correlation between poop and All American Rejects here.]

Slosh with me in this entropic mess:

Meow. (These cramped quarters are not nearly as sweet as they are patriotic.)

Racist or nationalistic?

See also, THIS.

Doesn't sound very super.

Pretty sure Superman would choose a much less topical t-shirt to wear while completing Lois' honey-do-list. (Unless his strategy is misdirection.) Though I suppose if a pair of glasses and a suit is his "disguise" then perhaps something equally obvious would make up his work clothes. Who knows? (Probably the same person who cares.)

Did they ever catch that leprechaun? I don't keep up with the news.

Done.

Why can't we all just get along?

How to keep the peace?

These guys know that pointing does wonders.

Where do I go to register complaints about the rebel forces outside my village?

Where can I get fresh water and political asylum?

Where are my loved ones' unmarked graves?

It seems they were unable to pinpoint the location in this case.


On the bright side, I successfully topped my own depravity in this post.

Thelonious turns Felonious

Tuned in to Thelonious Monk on Spotify right now and thought I might blog on some of the music paraphernalia I found thrifting.

...

Tangential thinking led me to follow another path and I now fear that a post with pictures and my long-winded exploration of a would-be autocorrect would wear out my audience. I'll move the pictures to another post so you can skip this babbling if you so desire. (Though you will have to wait another day or so before I take the time to post.)

...

To simulate a cyclical post, I would like to report that spellcheck prefer I take a listen to Felonious Monk.

All I came up with on Spotify was "Felonious Junk".

Google brought back

• a 2002 CSI episode
• a jazz-funk fusion group from Washington
• a comedian whose fifteen minutes of fame included an anti-Obama rant video and about 12 more minutes. 

A bit more research without any pre-determined endpoint led me to Twitter handle @Felonious_Munk, a user whose real name was reported to be "Wave Chappelle".

...And "Wave Chapelle" led me to three other "tweeters" claiming the same name (@Ambitious_Rome, @D_Gambiano, and @DerrockRose).

I stopped there, but figured I owed you the highlights of this voyage through the information superhighway. (Does anyone actually use that phrase these days?) So here goes (and then I'm off to read some more of The Gunslinger):


Listen to "Felonious Junk" and the entire Age of Empires 3: Original Soundtrack.

Check out CSI when you're looking for background noise or are just lazing around the house and reruns come on. Don't worry about tracking down the specific episode "Felonious Monk" as, despite an IMDB score of 7.9, this episode doesn't have any more or less twists than any other episode. Your efforts to locate this specific episode would be a waste of two minutes on bit torrent sites that you could be spending acquiring Game of Thrones. (Not that I'm condoning any of these activities.)

If you're in Washington for whatever reason and these guys happen to be playing in a restaurant you and your girlfriend happen to have walked into, by all means stay and listen. But their Facebook page doesn't motivate me to choose them over another jazz-funk fusion group.

If you've got three minutes to spare, are sick of cat videos, and are feeling particularly anti-Obama, check out this video. You might also consider looking up the clip if you get a kick out of muting passionate speakers and speaking for them (a la MST3K).

@Felonious_Munk (Wave Chappelle 1) is most likely to be the anti-Obama comedian. He is the only one of the four Wave Chappelles with anything worthwhile to say. Sure, the good stuff is peppered with inane musings, but considering the reverse is true on my blog, I figure he's doing pretty well.

• White people actually get offended when u use the "white voice". They immediately say "I don't sound like that"...because...they don't.
• Most unfortunate thing...if we only accept truth presented positively, you end up with politicians. Hope. Change.
• Btw... My dream was to wake up and eat breakfast food...and as I crack open these organic eggs...I feel successful
• Why not choose education over the nicest shoe/console for your child? Yes, they can have both, but in impoverished areas is that what u see?

@Ambitious_Rome (Wave Chappelle 2 on Google results, currently Flake Griffin on Twitter) demonstrates his wisdom in his personal slogan: "Chris Brown my Cousin, Ocho Cinco my Uncle, and the Bus Driver my Dad, I know how to treat Women. God is good and life goes on." If--like me--you're unable to pull your eyes away, I advise you to check out a few tweets.

• {Various tweets in real-time about Heat basketball games}
• If it wasn't for Nelly.. Hip Hop would have been died..
• about to watch Hangover 3
• it's macaroni time
• no she called me sucio
• Only if i had the same number of Twitter folllowers as my Instagram..
• I like them girls, with them booty cheeks. Especially big, round, and soft like bounty sheets
• Kesha - Die Young >>>>>>>>>>>..

@D_Gambiano (Wave Chappelle 3) has 377 followers, most likely because his profile background is a topless shot from the bath scene of Coming to America. Here are just a few of the over one-hundred tweets he made today:

• I never shined on my family cuz that usually breeds envy
• I'm not surprised your ass hating cuz that's the shit lames do
  ["your ass" hating or "you're ass-hating"? Also, isn't "lame" pretty un-PC these days?]
•  I swear a nigga is vexed when it comes to this love shit
• Girl flex, time to have sex.
• I'm blown cuz I missed the last 2 episodes of bleach so idk wtf is goin on....where tf is Izen?

@DerrockRose (Wave Chappelle 4) is some 21-year-old* kid whose "followers" are acquaintances from high school and select family members who are privy to his potty mouth. He does a lot of twittering (to) himself and his most poignant tweets are quotations whose author is presumably Anonymous (whoever that guy is). A few noteworthies:

• Yo tan ain't real so what that say bout your heart
• All of a sudden you're a shoehead
  [What the...is a "shoehead"?!]
• Customers be confiding in me at work. Bruh I'm just tryna download an app for you
• As you grow up, you start realizing shit. Like how the homie since elem. days Kevin was one of the biggest fronters ever in HS ahaha
  [Deep Thoughts by Wave Chappelle 4]
• Making and spending PayPal money
  [Look who's ballin'!]
• It could all be so simple
  [Lauryn Hill fan, are we?]
• Really can't drink the way I used to
  [You mean, illegally?]*

I hope you've enjoyed trolling complete strangers with me. Perhaps we'll try this again sometime.

I need more Office Space

I inherited both an aquiline nose and a love of office supplies from my mother. I am currently (and I do mean currently, as I'm attempting to blog and craft simultaneously) digging through a pile of scrapbook paper and I have 3.5 cups of writing devices in the office. (By cups, I am not referring to the cooking measurement but rather to the miniature vases of various volumes sitting on top of the entertainment center.)

I wouldn't call secondhand shops the best place to get office supplies, but they're not always the worst. Last fall, I paid a mere $1 for over 50 outdated greeting cards. According to the card backs, their MSRP was about 80 times what I paid; unfortunately, I have yet to mail out a single one because I keep forgetting to buy stamps.

I even found this fantastic pencil-holder (which I only passed on because I have too many of them already):

[    ]

I have just learned that the photograph of the dark-skinned-farmhand-mooning-a-cactus pencil-holder never made it into a Mrs. Window Shopper photo album. I have recreated the item below.

MS Paint evokes the most laughter by default.

But (as noted above in a roundabout way) the finds aren't always wonderful. Sometimes you find something that's come to the thrift shop to die:

Probably not the easiest sell since Vistaprint came along, shoving free business cards down our throats.

Another less-than-good find was the cards below.

Looks like someone accidentally plopped down some paint and decided to salvage the canvas by scrawling words over top of it.

Ts & A [relatively short post]

I'm a bit strapped for time but want to get something out into the world, so here are a T-shirts with mildly amusing commentary.

But they do control the SeXbox.

Can the new recruits rise to the challenge?

I confess that I'm more familiar with these PSAs than with the episodes themselves, so I can't really throw any hypotheticals at you that involve your favorite characters from the '80s cartoon. (I guess what I'm saying is that I lost the battle of which knowing is half.)

But please share your visions of the newest recruits in '07 (2007? ...Or 1907?) in the comments and perhaps someone else can provide the laughs here. Hell, maybe I'll even ponder this idea during my lunch break and tack on some comments later. (You can only find out by visiting this blog regularly. Time will tell whether you'll be rewarded for your efforts with lols or absolutely nothing.)

So that's who left that flaming bag on my doorstep...

It's not Halloween until your jack-o-lanterns have been smashed and your shoe has stomped out a fiery mess. (Do not take my sarcasm as a request for such things. I am not afraid to retaliate.)

At Home with Bernie and Ert

My brother's lady, Lauren, just gave birth to the first in the Palmer basic family unit (there has to be a less impersonal way to convey that idea). I'm super excited to have a nephew and super anxious to get to know him. The excitement and estrogen have heightened my senses and my radar picks up on anything remotely child-related. I recently found a kid's music album in the vinyl stacks the other day:

My first instinct was to reminisce over days gone by and to ponder a love for Sesame Street that is with me still. Then my innocence suddenly abandoned me and Ernie and Bert were a gay-and-proud couple singing together. I flipped the album over and perused the songs etched into the vinyl:

Side One
1. "Life without Bert"
Ernie (I can only assume) explores an alternative universe in which he hasn't met his soulmate, Bert. (Less butt sex.)

2. "La, La, La"
Someone's cheerful. 

3. "The Electric Fan"
Lyrics include "I sound like Darth Vader when I talk into it" and "I could use a folding fan instead, but my wrist is kinda tired".

4. "Everybody Wash"
Because personal hygiene is very important.

5. "Fish in Cowboy Hat"
I don't seem to know that sexual position.

6. "Ernie Puts the Vase Away"
Well, of course I know THAT sexual position.

7. "Ring around Rosie"
In the words of Bert, "Because if you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it."

Side Two gives the account of their domestic relationship outside of the bedroom. It includes the masturbatory "Ernie Plays His Drums" and the explanatory "Bert is Sick" (or has a headache or is "just not in the mood" perhaps) but the rest is pretty tame.

Too tame for this "cutting-edge" blog whose author is here almost as often as she's not. (I am so self-deprecating it's sad.)

Enjoy your travels and drop me a line sometime. I'd like to chat with you (though I apparently would rather not make the initial effort to establish contact).

Sexy Seaman

It's interesting that when I start a blog post, in order to properly display my text

I have decided that I need to simplify.

I use too many words to say the simplest thing. (See previous paragraph.)


I just cannot seem to stop overcomplicating [what the fuck are the specifics on this supposed Gradient of Complexity? "Undercomplicated" to just plain "complicated" to "overcomplicated" to "outside-of-the-atmosphere-bat-shit-fucking-crazy-complicated" (which, I can only suspect, is also known as OABSFCC)?]

(See following paragraph.)

The photos below seem to prove that sometimes you don't need a whole book full of words. Sometimes you can simply make do with the titles.

Especially when the spines look this good.

For your patience today (and for the dry months that preceded June), I bring you...

THE FULL FRONTAL!

To busy staring at the cover to dog-ear a single page.

In other news, all apologies if the strikeout text above was too difficult to read. (You missed the whole schtick on the top page.)