I can barely wait for the candy bar to hit the bottom of the snack machine.

Ooopsie!

"Aaaaand they're off!

At the quarter pole it's Baby in the lead, Baby by a nose, I think it's a nose, maybe it's her sunglasses, come on, those freakin' dogs are tiny..."

Poor, poor Magnum.

That would make a great T-shirt. Being Biblical and all.

I think that even though racism and sexism are alive and thriving in the US, there is also an unmeasured electoral power at work - one that can be summed up as "I don't really have a candidate in mind, but I'm not a schmuck." There are voters who would go for an Obama/Sebelius ticket just to see it happen in their lifetime.

Stay tuned for more, after the war.

Also, Dunkin' Donuts (cough, cough).

It freed me up tremendously. I wanted to switch to BC because hubs was not crazy about condoms, and it was such an easy conversation with my doc. He was all about checking my medical history, and probably relieved that I wasn't acting squeamish.

I have to say, if a doc tried to make me feel guilty about sex/no sex, I would ask myself, "What would Samuel L. Jackson do?"

But not all pelvics are the horror. They got much, much easier when I became sexually active and also when I switched docs. I'm not saying I think "woo-hoo!" about pelvics now, but my doc just zips through it ("and I'm going to palpate your ovaries..."). My last was on the morning of the day we flew out for vacation, and it was not a deal-breaker.

You might want to ask a pal to drive you, and have a margarita beforehand. Just a leetle one and far enough ahead that you can be mentally present and accounted for.

So, I asked my pals at work about their OB/GYNs and found a practice that I love. Birth control, babies, it's all good. My docs and NP are fabulous.

Basically I think if my doc is unable or unwilling to answer my questions, he or she is not providing me with quality care. And needs replacing.

Wink, wink, baby.

So-and-So is fighting with NoName. OK, silly, no big.

So-and-So has picked a fight with Poobah. Yi!

You need to know when to climb up on the roof, 'cause the storm it is comin'.

I take back what I said about the wizard! My eyes, my eyes!

I like Chloe Sevigny and her clothing rage too.

You know, we don't have enough clothing rage. People say something is "all the rage" but usually they're exaggerating.

Til then I will laying in the AC in the grocery store, hugging watermelons like big humpy life rafts.

It turns out I am crazed. I know this will come as a shock to you but later (perhaps in thirty minutes, or after a nice glass of wine) you will be really, really grateful at how I laid my crazy right on the table and invited you to smell it. Also you will be happy that I put it in writing so you can frame it and show it to your daughter someday, because she too will probably attract the atentions of a crazyman.

-William I mean Chris I mean - oh, God, who knows what I mean?

Uh, you didn't forget ANYTHING.

That's so dumb, though.

Please, please...

I hate meetings where we talk about "vision." There is always an older man who doesn't use his mirror yakking about how great his plan is. Oh, the painful irony.

"Blood and bloody ashes, angst, every guy except Rand doesn't understand women...and their women are FEISTY!OK, all caught up!"

But why the ix-nay on the oral sex?

It was the main reason I stopped reading. Well, that and the god-awful length that went absolutely nowhere.

I guess that's easier than knocking on a woman's head like a melon to see whether she's ripe.

People having seizures can't talk, you know.

Just sayin'.

So, no.

Okay.

...and then you go home and your spouse is asking you if you ate the last muffin, because it was THEIRS.