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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2005-02-08 ... 8:41 p.m.

I have a bottle of cheap hand lotion in my bedroom, and it is not a gentleman. I know this because no matter how often I politely explain, "Listen, hand lotion? I don't play that way," the hand lotion insists on ejaculating all over me. I do not mind, and in fact I want and expect, a little spurt into the hand, but this hand lotion gets coverage and distance. I routinely end up with hand lotion on my clothing, on the other dresser-top items, and once even on the OPPOSITE WALL. My bottle of Suave Advanced Therapy is clearly a very advanced "heavy finisher," and should consider being in porn films. And I would encourage such a career, I would even drive the bottle of hand lotion to auditions, because the hand lotion sucks as a bottle of hand lotion. One wants soft moisturized hands and fingers from a bottle of hand lotion, not big irregular splotches of creamy white goop all over shirts and pants and furniture.

I was telling LT about the stupid ejaculating hand lotion, and because he likes to be Super Logic Boy Who Will Fix Everything, he suggested that I "clean the little crusty bits out of the spout." At the time I simply demurred on the grounds that cleaning crusty bits out of my hand lotion's spout did not sound like a terribly fun use of my time, but now that I have taken the "ejaculating hand lotion" analogy to its logical (?) conclusion, I REALLY don't want to clean crusty bits out of the spout. If you know what I mean. That sounds like something the bottle of hand lotion should take care of his own damn self, possibly in conjunction with his primary care physician, and I should stop this because I am honestly starting to feel a bit sick. I would throw the bottle away except that I have anthropomorphized it to the point that I would feel a little weird just tossing it in the trash. But what does one do with porn-star bottles of hand lotion that won't stop ejaculating all over the house? Should I draw a sleazy mustache on the bottle and put up a "free to good home" ad on Craigslist? I just don't know.


Fashion magazines, particularly the slutty ones like Cosmopolitan, love to make lists of things you should do in bed. This combines three of the most reliable prescriptive-literature standbys: sex, lists, and things that you are not currently doing, but that would improve your life and desirability quotient if only you would do them, so get out there and start doing them! And buy these products while you're at it! I really can't bring myself to buy Cosmo, but I will read it whenever I get the chance, and I love these lists of things to do in bed. They crack me up. They often take the form of "surprises." Surprise your man by putting an Altoid in your mouth before a blowjob! Surprise him with unusual underwear or pubic hairstyling! Surprise him by putting a well-lubricated finger up his ass! (Except that this is Cosmo we're talking about, so instead of "ass" they probably use a bizarre cutesy phrase like "backdoor love button" or something.) (Personally I think that ass-related things should never be a surprise, but rather carefully planned for, researched, and outlined using PowerPoint and an Excel spreadsheet, but your mileage may vary.)

Anyway, that was a long rambling preamble (pre-ramble?) simply to say that my own sad version of a sly sexy bedroom surprise recently was to reach over and suggestively turn off the baby monitor while getting busy with LT. Because as charming as it is to hear Nora in her crib repeatedly counting to eleven,* it does make it hard to concentrate. On the assplay PowerPoint presentation.

*I know! Is she not a genius? Nora also can sing both "Happy Birthday" (although she loses track of the lines and sometimes never gets to the "dear ____" part) and the chorus to "Cherry Bomb", and I have recently taught her to yell "RELEASE THE KRAKEN!" when she feels angry or frustrated.


smartypantsmimi: This is a terrible error message that made me sad: Run-time error -2147220504 (800403e8): attempt to create an extra APIContainer object
smartypantsmimi: I so wasn't trying to create an extra API Container object. I swear.
susaneven: Are you sure? Sometimes I do that accidentally.
smartypantsmimi: I only want my fair share of API Container objects.
smartypantsmimi: I would never try to grab an extra.
susaneven: I know.
susaneven: You are not greedy with the API container objects.
smartypantsmimi: I always make sure we have enough for the whole class.
smartypantsmimi: And then, if there were an extra API container object, I would say, "Does anyone want to split this extra API container object with me?"
susaneven: You would only take extra if ALLBODY could take extra.
smartypantsmimi: Allbody was used to great effect yesterday: Nora was yelling in the crib MOMMY! DADDY! and I was kind of ignoring it, because she wasn't distressed and NAP SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN OVER YET GODDAMN IT. Then she yelled, "ALLBODY COME! ALLBODY COME GET NORA!"
susaneven: Oh man. Did allbody get Nora?
smartypantsmimi: I think I just went by myself. Now I'm wondering if allbody could mean anybody as well as everybody.
susaneven: Somebody.
smartypantsmimi: You're nonebody until allbody loves you.

smartypantsmimi: ROCK IS BACK!
smartypantsmimi: I love those trend stories.
harry: Me too.
smartypantsmimi: I once saw a cover story in some fashion magazine that said PRETTY IS BACK! Which is great, because ugly was really getting SO MUCH GOOD PRESS in the fashion world.
smartypantsmimi: BLOWJOBS ARE BACK!
harry: I wonder if this has anything to do with pink being the new black?
smartypantsmimi: Wait, I thought orange was the new black.
smartypantsmimi: Maybe little tiny ball bearings are the new black.
harry: Organ meats are the new black.
smartypantsmimi: I like it when they're called VARIETY MEATS.
harry: Wow! Such variety!
smartypantsmimi: By the way: babies aren't supposed to eat brains. No brains until you are three years old.
smartypantsmimi: (This was in an actual infant-care book.)
harry: So sad for babies! They are crying and pointing at your delicious plate of brains.
smartypantsmimi: Sorry, kid. No brains for you.

---mimi smartypants: no brains for you!


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