One of my grandmothers is dead and the other one lives just south of Chicago and I never get to see her. So, I find your presence in my life comforting. I like to sit down with you on a Wednesday afternoon and soak in the Grandmotherly ambiance.
This week has been especially sweet for me, as you’ve covered a plethora of the Grandma topics:
–"What’s with these new-fangled motorcycles? They’re so loud. And they’re dangerous."
–"You know what’s fun? Gawking at people who are different than us."
–"Kids today. Why must they act so shamefully?"
–"Call me persnickity, but…" [Yes. Actual quote.]
–"It’s too hot!"
–"That Shania Twain. She’s such a hussy."
–"No one cares about dead people as much as I do."
Now, don’t get me wrong. Each individual story has something to offer, but it’s the overall effect I find most moving. Opening up the Scene is like snuggling up with a little old lady.
It’s not quite what I think of when I think of "alternative press" but it definitely is a unique voice in alt.weeklies, I’ll grant you that.
Anyway, I was just writing to see if you wanted to go out for brunch on Sunday. I think that’s what grandmothers like to do and I’d hate for you to think that I was being negligent.
1. So, yes, Brittney sent me a photo of a slightly scandalous nature. I sent her back a snarky comment of a slightly scandalous nature. I neglected to see that I’d chosen "reply all." Oops. Hello, Internet Strangers! For the record, I am not actually the Number 1 Cock Sucka. That was a joke.
2. It is HOT out there. The Butcher’s friend Manny has a problem with ball sweat in weather like this*. He’s been trying to devise a way to place sanitary napkins in his shorts so that they can absorb the sweat. Times like that, a girl wishes both to see how that’s going to happen and to flee for her life.
3. Speaking of Flea**-ing, she’s having a sale on sex toys. Go check it out! At those prices, you can buy one for you and one for me. Because, really, if the internet isn’t about buying random sex toys for your favorite internet Aunt, what is it for?
*Come to the Midwest for the snark, stay for the inappropriate revelations of too much information! God, I love my people.
**Do homophones work in writing? Maybe not very well.
It’s hot and the air in the office doesn’t seem to be working and it smells like the bug bomb one of my co-workers let off last night, so I’m having trouble breathing, just a little bit, and I forgot my purse, so I had to go back home and get it, because I promised myself I’d have lunch out, even if I couldn’t find anyone to go with me, and one cannot have lunch out without money.
Still, I’m feeling good.
I’m worried these are bad omens, though, so I’m a little afraid to open my email or answer the phone.
Y’all, my poor computer here at home is just not… I mean, for starters, I bought this computer for $100. It’s definitely given us more than a $100 worth of computerness, but it has some issues, which are more and more noticeable every day.
Sometimes, though, it amuses me, these problems.
So, I’m trying to nose around the blog for Wo! Magazine, which looks like it’s going to be (or is, I can’t tell) a feminist magazine out of Australia and it’s not going well.
For some reason, my computer is just lumping all the text together in these large abstract jumbles. So, for instance, it looks like one of the subtitles they’re trying to vote on is “a magazine, not aa creative mangazine refashioning of feminism.” And I don’t know why, but that made me laugh so damn hard.
I don’t even know what a mangazine is, but I’m going to pretend it’s some kind of patriarchal periodical about mangos and manganese, which, as every good refashioned feminist knows, are the two things necessary for keeping women in their proper place.
When you are sitting on the couch reading your fascinating history of pagan Europe and you’re waiting to see if you learn anything more interesting than that every month has an “Ides” and that it used to be the time of the full moon and you lean your self against the big comfy pillow on the back of the couch and you nod off just for a second even though it’s only…
Oh, god, I can’t even bring myself to tell you the time. Let’s just say it rhymes with Bix* Birty.
So, say you nod off and you wake up at 8:20 and the first thought that runs through your mind is, “I bet the bed would be really comfortable,” then, my friends, you have not just taken a two-hour nap. You have fallen asleep for real.
So, yes, I got eleven hours of sleep last night.
It was nice.
*And you doubted my midwest street cred. Here I am throwing around old Jazz musicians like confetti.