Ahem

Have you voted in the Nashville Scene’s “Best of Nashville” poll? No pressure, but how many other local bloggers showed you how their tits illuminate with a flashlight and a dark bathroom?

Oh, South, What Have You Done to Me?

So, I’m coming up Clarksville Pike (terrific job on the resurfacing, by the way, Nashville) and there’s an accident blocking both north-bound lanes.  A police officer moves into the south bound lanes and starts waving people through.

Did I wait to get into the southbound lane until the last possible minute so as to be in my lane should the police officer decide to let people come south?

No I did not.

So he had to move everyone around me.

It was pretty embarrassing.

So…

And here is where all of my midwestern ancestors begin rolling in their graves because we certainly do not interact with people we don’t know, if we can help it.

…I rolled down my window and apologized to the police officer!

He said, “Oh.  It’s fine.”

Tuesday Rhymes with Bluesday

Ha, so today is majorly sucking balls.  I’ve spent the last 24 hours trying to fix a computer problem it turns out I CAUSED!  Yes, me. I fucked the whole thing up and then was too stupid to realize it for 24 hours!  If you work with me and you couldn’t do anything for the past day, it was all my fault!

In other news, I learned about WinDirStat, which lets you see when you’ve left a gig of Spanish porn sitting on an external hard drive.  So, that was exciting and embarrassing.

In other, other news, some troll over at Feministing is linking to Tiny Cat Pants and I feel… well, I don’t know what to feel because I can’t understand his point.  If he thinks that I’m all “Yes, what about the menz?!” then I feel as if I’ve failed feminism for the day.  But, if he’s all, “Look, this woman is an evil bitch! Which just proves that someone must run around at all times asking ‘what about the menz?!'” then I’m going to feel good.  But I just can’t tell.

In further news, I’m back at Pith.  Not that I was ever out at Pith, which is why they tell you that when you assume, you make an ass of you and me.  Also, you leave a gig of Spanish porn laying around but assume the problem must be something more nefarious….  Lying around?  Spanish porn certainly lays, regardless, right?  Grammarians, in the lay v. lie debate, all porn must “lay,” surely.

In news even further than that, my guest-blogging gig at Feministe runs August 31st through September 13th.  Be sure to check it out.  Every day I will ask, “What about the menz?!” and deposit large quantities of antique Spanish porn on your computers.  So, I’ll be like a terrible virus, but more charming.

Ha, and Space Kitty posted this on the Twitter (as the kids say), and I’m linking to it here because y’all will enjoy it and then Coble and the Professor will look at each other and nod (or they will look over their shoulders like they would be looking at each other… You know, I’m distracted because I’m stressed and worn out, but I have to say, I think watching Coble and the Professor make out would be pretty hot.  Not that I’m regularly imagining which of you should… Okay, I am. Where the fuck was I?) Oh, yes, the Professor and Coble will look at each other and nod, as if to say, “And how many times have I said that?”

Okra

Okra is one of those things I have cheated myself out of for years, because I was convinced, beyond all reason, that it tasted like a pickle.  I don’t know why, but from childhood, I have been convinced of that.

So, it’s only been recently that I started eating it.  And I think I could, every day, just throw some okra in a hot pan with a little oil, salt, and pepper, and eat it and be happy.  Even the way the seeds taste makes me happy.

Ha, so, guess what I had for dinner?

Pickles!

No, ha, okra, of course.

From my garden.

Next year?  More okra, fewer zucchini.