This darling toddler, wearing a fetching jean skirt and a cute pink shirt is standing by the mailboxes, trying, repeatedly to open them. Now, she’s marching through the yard, lifting her knees way up out of the wet grass.
Mrs. Wigglebottom is watching her intently, wagging her tail and trying to bark in her friendliest way. Now, Mrs. Wigglebottom has come over here and is sitting by me, but watching out the door. Now, Mrs. Wigglebottom is back at the door. Now, she’s looking forlorn at me over her shoulder, as if it’s my fault that the little girl won’t come visit us.
A felonious baby may be the most exciting thing to happen here at the dead end since the great “Young Girl Rides Big Circles on Her Pink Bike” incident of forty-five minutes ago.
I’ve been trying to do some work, but every time I sit down to concentrate, I start thinking about whether the Rotten.com article Sarcastro linked to the other day gets at something important or really misses the mark. But when I sit down to write about it here, I get distracted by the sheer joy of deciding how I’m going to respond to Sarcastro’s insult.
I mean, I guess it’s an insult. Just to bring a post full of girls around to feminism, isn’t it cute that Sarcastro assumes that insinuating a girl has a lack of sexual experience is somehow insulting? Apparently he lives in some alternative universe where society smiles on slutty women and virgins are roundly denounced as boring and not highly prized*.
Anyway, I had to decide whether to go that route in replying to him or whether it’d be more fun to claim that he was getting on in years and secretly in love with me. I went the route I thought would cause him the most discomfort. I reproduce it here for you, in order to save it for posterity, should he decide to take it down:
Oh, Sarcastro. When you call me and ask me to talk dirty to you and I finally relent and agree and ask you what you want to hear and you say “Say I’m the first man you’ve even ever kissed,” that’s not real. That’s just a friend helping a delusional old man deal with sobriety.
And now I’m making it worse by talking about it here. Maybe it’s not funny to anyone else, but it makes me laugh pretty damn hard.
So, vagina dentata–Freudian fantasy or myth designed to explain to parents for millennium why some boys butt-fuck each other?
*Yes, one might point out that this place exists and it’s called Liberal Coastal Elite America, but our darling Sarcastro is not a member of said liberal coastal elite.