Category: TMI

On another site, I read of a gal’s woes ordering lingerie from Amazon. Seems some bras that were delivered were. . . not exactly as ordered.

Off-the-wall and around the corner. . . and since I don’t wear a bra (*heh*), probably not germane, but. . .

I noticed recently that one of my Wonder Woman’s discarded bras might make a couple of good facemasks, with perhaps some added filtration material. Something to think about? *heh*

Aaaannnd,

Neon colors and psychedelic designs (the aforementioned gal’s complaint). . . Jimmy Durante said it best:

The joys of good grammar include clearer communication, but also include the “joy” of sometimes making an otherwise enjoyable set of lyrics grating to the ear. *heh* For example, John Jacob Niles should be retroactively slapped upside the head for,

I wonder as I wander out under the sky,
How Jesus the Savior did come for to die.
For poor on’ry people like you and like I…
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.

No, “like you and like I” has the pronouns in the objective case position, not subjective case. The often made lame excuse of adding a mental “are” is no better than correcting it to “like you and like me.” In fact, it’s worse, apart from “like you and like me” ruining Niles’s rhyme scheme.

It’s unfortunate that Niles died in 1980, because he really deserves a dope slap for this abomination. I’d offer remediation for this stanza, but then I’d have to fix the rhyme schemes of the other two verses to match, and I’m not quite sure it’d be worth the effort. Of course, that would afford the opportunity to fix the really awkward last line in the second stanza. . .

Nah. I’ll just pass on the whole thing.

Read a book blurb. Aloud: “Highballs in the Hamptons? Not interested.”
My Wonder Woman: “You’re not interested in other people’s balls.”
Me: “You really lowballed that one.”
MWW: “If the cup fits. . . “

Over on FarceBook, one guy posted,

“got a pedicure yesterday. Need to go to XYZ, WV, and do a mineral bath and massage treatment next.”

My teeth are still good enough, but I’m not flexible enough, anymore, to give myself a “pedicure”. . . *heh*

. . . that my fav line from Ghost, by John Ringo is,

“Dead bad guys and naked girls. It’s like an op in a titty bar.”

Yeh, there are tons of great lines/scenes in the book, but somehow, that one gets me every time. (And, yes, since confession is good for the soul, I do re-read the first book of the Paladin of Shadows series every now and then. It’s a quick “palate cleanser” *heh*)

Every now and then, someone has said to me, either humorously or not, that I’m full of shit. I always smile at the patent falsehood. I can’t be “full of shit,” because I seem to have three or four large bowel movements each day.

Each one is a moving experience.

I had someone on FarceBook ask for a better pic of me than my profile pic. (I can only wonder why. . . nah, that’s too much work. Don’t care why.) So, before anyone else asks, should there ever be anyone else who wonders what I look like nowadays (again, why?), here ya go (clipped from a Candid Capture). Don’t ask again, Mystery FB-er. *heh* I don’t have any better pics available.