Niceness And Underwear
Must we do this? Label every goddamn kind of person, try to pare humanity down into useless subsets so groups of us can declare some kind of solidarity without any actual community involvement?
"The so-called Cheeseburger Bill [in the United States] bans frivolous lawsuits against producers and sellers of food and non-alcoholic drinks arising from obesity claims."
It is likely that it was the ETA who bombed the commuter trains in central Madrid, Spain during morning rush hour injuring 1200 and killing approximately 200 commuters.
More on the nice front: Rose, a lady who works where I do, just came in and picked up a package of scented candles and some chocolates, because she wants to thank the dentist and dental assistant who worked on her last week. Rose hadn't been to the dentist in twenty years out of fear, and these two people took such good care of her. She asked me if that was too much to do for them, and I encouraged her, because I bet dentists and their assistants have a hard time getting nice words out of anyone. Just seeing how nice Rose is has put me in a good mood.
It's funny how much medicine has started finding out about women's bodies since they started studying them not so long ago. Our fertility is not necessarily like what medicine once thought.
Sinead O'Connor just had her third child. When did she have the second? Shows how much I keep up.
Lately, I have become more cleanliness-and-order conscious around the apartment, and this has included doing the previously hidden mound of laundry that has been stashed in the back of the closet for eons. While working my way through this pile, I came across many pairs of underwear that I had forgotten about and many I wish had not resurfaced. I am like a guy when it comes to underwear. I don't mean to be sexist; I'm just relying on my personal experience with men. I found underwear from grade eleven, and not just one pair, but several. If you know how old I am, you will now be appropriately appalled at that fact. They're not even a nice kind that I would ever buy. They're that off-white, champagney colour verging on grey with one remaining hanging tatter of the original lace applique left on the right hip. They are an unidentifiable form of synthetic fabric. All of the cotton lining in the gusset looks shredded. I don't what my nether parts do, I mean they're toothless, but they manage to shred cotton with ease. I found another pair of underwear that I don't even recognize. They are navy blue (I hate that colour), they're huge (I've lost some weight, but not that much), and they've obviously been worn a lot, because the waistband does that wavy old-elastic thing. I know they're mine and not some plus-size side-love of the Fiery One's, because they have that tell-tale shredded gusset deal going on. I also found some nice black lacy numbers that I had forgotten, and they are still young enough to remain unchewed! As I went through all this underwear, I mercilessly threw out anything too holey, too degraded, and now I find myself with way too many thongs (I've never been crazy about them and can't figure out how I ended up with so many) and very few of the regular kind that actually fit and are in decent condition. So, I guess what I'm saying is, feel free to send me panties in size medium. I'm not picky about colour, just as long as they're not scratchy (always test the fabric on the inside of your elbow).
On the one hand, people freak out and say that gays cannot be given equality to other married couples under the law, and then on the other they try to make civil union sound equal but different. Fuck them.
This story was only mildly interesting to me until I came upon the line “...leggy honey-blond...”, which refers to a witness who is-or-was an underage prostitute. This is unfortunate. Maybe Lynn Moore can stand by this piece of shit writing, but I can’t.
Spalding Gray is confirmed dead at the age of 62.