7.31.2008
7.16.2008
so long, farewell, kill me before I fall into a never ending loop of julie andrews musical numbers
So It's about an hour or so until Go time. . . I've got everything packed and ready to go.
I just wanted to put it out there that if Knuckletoes comes back without me telling of my being eaten by bears, call the authorities as she's probably killed me.
I suppose the same thing goes for if I tell you that she has been eaten by bears. . . but you should not call the authorities as I am fairly certain that she will have deserved it.
We'll be back, with pictures I am sure, in two weeks.
I just wanted to put it out there that if Knuckletoes comes back without me telling of my being eaten by bears, call the authorities as she's probably killed me.
I suppose the same thing goes for if I tell you that she has been eaten by bears. . . but you should not call the authorities as I am fairly certain that she will have deserved it.
We'll be back, with pictures I am sure, in two weeks.
7.08.2008
hairy legs and hippy feet
I love it when people look at my legs.
This sounds like it's going to be a really awkward post, and it just may be, but bare with me because it's not that kind of awkward.
I Love it when people look at my legs. People I don't know. As a woman who doesn't shave I know that if it's a man he's feeling a teeny bit emasculated, and if it's a woman she's feeling a little uncomfortable, or possibly, maybe even more likely, a teeny bit jealous that I do not feel the need to complete this incredibly mundane and unnecessary grooming task.
What I love even more is when people feel the need to comment on what they're seeing:
*cough* excuse me, but your legs are really hairy.
really. . . I hadn't noticed.
Why don't you shave them?
I swear I did this morning, I don't know where all this hair came from!
I am not sure where the compulsion comes from, to point out to strangers the taboos they are perpetrating. . . I am not going to lie and tell you that I do not do it myself. (As you well know if your were at local pub last Saturday night to witness the great Crocks rant of 2008)
Perhaps it is that, as people, we are so absolutely terrified of living outside of the lines of acceptance that we somehow think that these comments are going to be helpful in making sure that said stranger changes their ways and is re-assimilated into our culture so as not to be left behind.
perhaps there is a world wide epidemic of verbal diarrhea.
Either way, I love it.
If people are staring at you, approaching you in random social settings, an/or whispering about you as you walk by. . . you must be doing something right.
This sounds like it's going to be a really awkward post, and it just may be, but bare with me because it's not that kind of awkward.
I Love it when people look at my legs. People I don't know. As a woman who doesn't shave I know that if it's a man he's feeling a teeny bit emasculated, and if it's a woman she's feeling a little uncomfortable, or possibly, maybe even more likely, a teeny bit jealous that I do not feel the need to complete this incredibly mundane and unnecessary grooming task.
What I love even more is when people feel the need to comment on what they're seeing:
*cough* excuse me, but your legs are really hairy.
really. . . I hadn't noticed.
Why don't you shave them?
I swear I did this morning, I don't know where all this hair came from!
I am not sure where the compulsion comes from, to point out to strangers the taboos they are perpetrating. . . I am not going to lie and tell you that I do not do it myself. (As you well know if your were at local pub last Saturday night to witness the great Crocks rant of 2008)
Perhaps it is that, as people, we are so absolutely terrified of living outside of the lines of acceptance that we somehow think that these comments are going to be helpful in making sure that said stranger changes their ways and is re-assimilated into our culture so as not to be left behind.
perhaps there is a world wide epidemic of verbal diarrhea.
Either way, I love it.
If people are staring at you, approaching you in random social settings, an/or whispering about you as you walk by. . . you must be doing something right.
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