Thong Tha Thong Thong Thong

This’ll be quick. Copped-a-squat Sunday I had with my amigos in Dupont Circle this past weekend. This photograph below sums up our day.

Description not required; commentary: this exposure occurred without adjustment for a good hour. Several squatters observed and commented – it actually seemed to bring the circle, crowded with tons of folk on the sunny day, together. I really felt like a part of the community.

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Uh, duuuuuuuh

Met my cousin in Ellicot City for lunch the other day. Mozyed around the old part of town for a few minutes before we chowed and popped into a few of the antique shops and saw this sign. I think it says it all…

 

More Important Dreamin’

So, I thought the Letterman/Dreyfuss/Cheney drag race was interesting fodder for my unconscious escapades, little did I know that just a few nights later I would be blessed yet again with a “way more clear and life-like than I’d care for” dream, or in this case nightmare, that would shock me awake around 4am.  Here are the key points…

  • I’m at a winery or something like that somewhere in the country
  • Specifically, I am at Molly Sims wedding (why? who? who cares?….I don’t know).
  • I lost something and instead of going up to my room to find it, Molly Sims tells me to go to her and her fiancée’s room
  • I enter the room, and instead of it being a hotel room, it is just one humongous bathroom
  • I’m looking around for something and all of the sudden the room starts to fill quickly with spurts of some sort of pinkish-white substance that looks like/is the consistency of something between whip cream and the stuff that comes out of fire extinguishers – super thick
  • Basically, the rest of the dream progresses as this substance starts to fill the room, crawl up my body, cover my head and eventually go down my throat…

So, basically, I died in a big bathroom at Molly Sims’s (again…why? who? who cares?) wedding. You’re welcome.

Sweaty Moles

Had my annual full body mole check at the dermo. Walked to the office, wasn’t hot or sweaty or anything on the way over and the waiting room was average temp, very comfortable and I was able to sit back, relax and take in the “The newest and most awesome poisons to inject into your face” and “Things they can do with repurposed butt fat these days” pamphlets while I waited for my name to be called. I was promptly called back into one of the examination rooms, and since this was the annual “strip down so I can examine your spotty bod” appointment, the assistant told me to get neckid, paper vest opened  in back, paper sheet draped over the lower half and hop up onto the paper covered bed. I did as I was told and then got super psyched cause there was a People Magazine left on the chair so I papered myself then lounged back and began to catch up on Kim and Kanye.

Eventually the doc came in and we began the exam. Did I mention that they actually have photographs of my nude body in my file so that they can accurately compare all my moles to what they looked like the year before to gauge changes and determine what needs to be dug out and what don’t? I’m super moley. So, I’m laying on my back while we chit chat and she scans my face, chest, belly, legs for color changes or wavy lines and she mentions that it’s hot in the room and then she says that that particular exam room is always really hot. I say, yeah, I am kinda hot, and then I realize I have been so clenched and concentrating on the exam that I didn’t realize that I am in fact super hot, super hot and sweaty, super hot and sweaty and most definitely stuck to the paper sheet I am laying on that is covering the exam bed (is that called a bed or a bench?). So, of course, she asks me to turn over. I at least had the curtsey to warn her, she said, don’t worry it happens all the time, then I began to turn, and she began to laugh hysterically. I took about 99% of the sheet with me and she spent the next 5 minutes slowly peeling the paper off my back, ass and thighs so she could continue the examination while I laid face down on the now uncovered exam bed/bench pretty much making out with what is most like 20 years of coodies.

Sooo, that’s that. I was feeling super awesome the rest of the day as I continued to pick little bits of the remaining shreds off my bod. Good news – no bad moles, so the humiliation was so totally worth it!

Dope Dreams.

Just remembered my dream from last night (the tip off was reading a Groupon for 2 tix to a comedy club plus wine and pizza. The quippy ad said that regulars at the club had performed on Conan and Letterman). Here was the dream: I was David Letterman’s much younger girlfriend and we were having people over in his fancy apartment and we got in a tiff because everyone resented the fact that I was so much younger than them and I was like “your friends are bad.” His way of showing me he was upset about our fight was pulling me out of the fancy apartment, down the elevator and outside where we were in a small town, downtown-y area in the parking lot behind the bank. He told me to “get in the car” and I got in the fancy sports car but said “ugh, I don’t want to do this, this is so stupid, you can do this without me…” kinda all annoyed, eye-rolling-y.

All of the sudden two other fancy sports cars pulled up driven by older looking men, best I can remember they both really strongly resembled Richard Dreyfuss and Dick Cheney but I don’t think they actually were Richard Dreyfuss and Dick Cheney. Then we took off and basically I had to accompany my boyfriend David Letterman on his weekly reckless driving race with other older men through the small town downtown area with lots of hard turns and donuts. That’s all I remember, so there was no resolution, but according to proper (internet) dream analysis by Craig & Jane, the “Mystical Meaning” is it’s a “sign that I will soon hear news. If I win, the news will be wonderful.” Sooooo…. that’s that.

Fight Club

Last night I was reminiscing with a good friend who I’ve traveled with a bunch of times over the years and thought I’d share this little quick ditty with you all, for your benefit. On one of our tropical, amazing, holy crap life is awesome how lucky are we to be here on the beach with a constant drink in our hand, live tunes and an array of people on their morning runs along the beach as we are sleeping off the night before on the sand that we can call rude and make faces at (or throw sand at) on a regular basis. Well, of course with all of this wonder around us we got into a slight (or major) tiff about something really important (so much so that I’m not sure what it was about) one night when we were out at a bar (covered part of the beach, footwear not required, serves liquor, everyone’s happy place). Well, it was getting pretty tit for tat when I came back with what we’ve all agreed is basically the all time, most impactful win a fight (or more like end a fight and realize what an arse you are) phrase….”SUPER DITTO!” Obviously, you can’t hesitate, you have to fully believe in your ditto-ing of whatever the other person’s tit or tat was and really commit to it. Use it in peace, and for those of you reading this that work at organizations aimed at fostering peace in parts of this world facing war and heated aggression, this one’s especially for you! Super Ditto! Might be the answer?

Dress for Less!

I was catching up on Watch What Happens yesterday and Andy had Jenni Pulos (sp?) from Flipping out and Rachel Maddow on (the low-voiced lady from MSNBC who I feel slightly akin to after she shared a picture from her high school’s commencement address where she, as valedictorian, was giving her speech in Birkenstocks and nice thick socks). An amazing thing happened when Andy read the first emailed or Facebooked in question of the night (I think it was the first). The question was for Jenni and it asked who made the belt she was wearing and she so eloquently and without pause said “Ross Dress For Less!!!!!” I had a moment, jumped up and down and think did the whole Home Alone cheek slap thing cause my cheeks ached a little later that night. Not only did she get her belt at the awesomest store ever and tell the world as she should, Ms. Maddow then chimed in with something like “I spent my childhood shopping there all the time…AND Mervyn’s!” MERVYN’S!!!!!!  I love Mervyn’s, got all my L.A. Gear’s there when we lived in Cali! I was so excited about what was happening on the tv that I called a friend who I knew would be equally as appreciative as moi, rewound the tv, and played the segment for her on her voicemail. Smell the pleather people!

 

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