He’s not against books. Just these books.
This is one of my favorite recurring bits – and last night’s rendition tops the list. The queer ghost impression nearly killed me. Every time this bit comes on, I set down whatever I’m eating and drinking so I don’t asphyxiate in my own living room.
Meanwhile, for now I’m jonesing to get me a copy o’ this. Wow. This shit’s for real. Check out that cover. It’s like Stephen Hawking talks boners. I don’t think it’s coincidence that the author has the same initials.
That promise about final dildo post*? Complete bullshit.
We have a major national emergency on our hands here, people – which is that Irene is shacking up with a rusty dildo and there’s photographic evidence to prove it.
Though one wonders – is a corroded knob the result of underuse or overuse? And who else thinks this apparatus looks like a rotten frozen banana?
*Thanks MKR, for inspiring this post by um, turning me on, to important dildo news.
‘Bout time! It took an Emmy nod to get to this point apparently. Sheesh.
Oh, and THIS?! I *cannot* handle the amount of awesomeness that’s enveloping the universe.
Dang, NYC! This is the stuff I miss about that great city. I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to bring this sort o’ fabulousness to SEA. Or just bunk it part-time in Brooklyn so I can get my fix.
On the phone with Mom.
Mom: “Your dad just picked up the other extension.”
Dad (feigning innocence from the other room): “Huh?!”
Mom: “I said you just picked up the phone. Like I don’t know. I can hear you breathing.”
Dad (confused): “Who, me? What??”
Mom: “God, what a pervert.”
From my mother, via email today:
Hello, just got home from the urgent care because I sprained my ankle. There aren’t any broken bones on the x-ray, so that was good. It happened yesterday afternoon and I couldn’t put any weight on it so thought it would be a good idea to have some x-rays taken. I have to stay off my feet for a long time because soft tissue takes forever to heal. And ice it 15 minutes on every hour. So I’ll be reading and watching TV for a while. Call before I die. Love, Mom
I heart her.
This person does too.
(Though, in all fairness, my Yofi dog has his own pillow. So I actually sleep next to him. He’s not much of a cuddler. I also got him at Barneys. Which is cool.)
Thanks, CD, for this monstrous chunk of truth and wisdom.
Speaking of “Hallelujah,” I’m rather partial to this version these days. If this doesn’t give you a chill and make you even just a bit weepy, you bleed ice cubes.
…you hear yourself saying these words to a biz partner:
“No, you don’t ASK the client, you TELL the client. It’s our job to recommend strategy, not ask them to figure it out themselves. Honest to God, are you a consultant or a concubine?”
OMG, this is only the beginning of my busy season and already I need a break. Calgon, Chardonnay, heavy petting, something.