I’m holding my hands to my face to hide my blushing cheeks. David shakes his head at me. “You are ridiculous.” “I can’t help it.” We’re watching The Good Wife. Finn Polmar has just flirted with Alicia Florrick. I feel it would be bad form to beg to rewind the scene… right away… with David…
“OH MY GOD,” says David. “G’aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh…” say I. “It’s SOOOOO good….” “Mmmmmmm…. hmmmmmmm,” I sigh. I move my legs. It is delicious. David gives a decidedly dirty chortle. “We need to do this more often.” “We are in complete agreement my love.” David makes the same noises he makes when he has his favourite hot…
“Wait! What did that sign just say?” Rissa asks as we careen around a corner as the rough gravel road turns even rougher, then strangely becomes less gravelly and more made of dirt and grass with a light covering of snow. “Dangerous: Unmaintained Road.” “What?!?“ “Use at your own risk.” “WHAT?!?” “It’s a short cut.”…
You see them in the lingerie departments of the Bay. You see them in the Sears catalogue. You have memories of your Gran or your Great-Gran wearing one. You think to yourself: I will never wear one of those. I’m shopping for one. I used to sleep naked. I used to revel in my naked…
Rage, all-encompassing RAGE. Because why? Because David left the peanut butter and honey out on the countertop. All-encompassing rage with a side of dockworker swearing. Because why? Because there are crumbs on the countertop. All-encompassing rage and swearing with a side of growling and hiccuping sobs. Because why? Because there are not one, not two,…
I always had a sneaking suspicion that I’d go crazy – I just didn’t know that it would hit me quite this young. I am 46 years old and my mind has already begun the descent into madness. Not only that – I’m watching it board the CRAZY TRAIN, don Groucho Marx glasses (with nose)…
Lifting the straps wasn’t helping. Why not? Lifting the straps always helps. The band just seems to… What the? I’m in the office bathroom. I lift my shirt and present my back to the mirror. The whole left side of the brassiere band is… torn?? How much pressure are my tatas putting on this brassiere?…
I’ve got a job for all the socially-conscious hacktivists out there. Join together you cyber Robin Hoods – join forces and find the anonymous trolls who spread their bile throughout the Interwebs. Identify these trolls, procure evidence of their gross violations of common civility and then give transcripts of those violations to the trolls’ Grandmothers….
We watch as he makes a beeline for the living room. “Bodhi?? Where you going, buddy?” He doesn’t even acknowledge us. He takes his 100 lb bulk and climbs up into the Lazy Boy, squeezing his hairiness between the arms of the chair – legs splayed – head over the side. “Bodhi. Dude. You don’t…
Ironing left-handed is akin to learning to ride a unicycle, but I’m pretty sure this hobble-shouldered old dog can learn new tricks. Cursing and taking double the time to actually get clothes wrinkle-free – but 20 minutes later, the shirt’s relatively smooth. TAH-DAAAAH!!!! Until the iron falls, spilling water everywhere, and I reach for it…