MORE OF ME

If I ever go 2 weeks without posting again, don't worry your pretty little heads. You don't have to go through withdrawal from my obnoxious sentiments. I have added Twitter to my blog (upper right) and you can follow me, if you think you really need to, at the user name "twisby."

I almost never post what I'm actually doing because I could only post four times and that'd basically be it. Sleeping, at lab, at Weaver Street, bored. No, no, no; instead, my twitter account is a fountain of inappropriate goodness. Thanks, Internet, for giving me another venue upon which to wreak havoc.

Awkspring

My boyfriend and I like to talk about baby names a lot. I think it's important to agree on baby names with your partner in case you ever accidentally have a child with him. I'm pretty sure that he simply agrees with whatever I suggest because today I suggested the names Thorfinn and Fokkobosker, and he said they were "great." But really, a man's role in picking babynames is just to agree with the woman, isn't it? It is.

Thorfinn "Lightning Fish" Twisby: I think that's a pretty sweeeeeeeeet name. He'd probably be the most popular kid on the math team. I was the least popular kid on math team, so that would be quite a generational improvement.

Attack of the killer ovaries

It's hard to summon up the energy for a sarcastic and acerbic post when there is an imaginary raccoon inhabiting my uterus, trying to chew and claw its way out. WHY, UTERUS, WHY? Someday I am going to stuff a gigantic, months-overdue baby in there to teach it a lesson, and then let's see it try to backtalk me.

There are things this week that I MUST do but have negative desire to start doing. I'm going to blame my dangerous apathy on the raccoon -- settle down in there, Rocky! -- and my upcoming inebriated visit to Chicago. Life gets hard when you get to adulthood and don't find the adult things rewarding... things like "pride in a clean home." I find buying and eating giant chocolate chip cookies rewarding. However, bikini season is coming up and I don't find the day after said cookie-eating to be very rewarding at all. How does one make the shift between concrete childhood rewards and aesthetic adult reward? I fail.

Last week I watched the Grey's Anatomy season finale. Besides feeling bitter disappointment in myself for debasing my good taste, I felt no sadness in the potential deaths of the annoying blond doctor and the annoying short doctor. Television can only improve with less dynamic duos of bubbly blond ladies and bumbling babyfaced men. However, I did cry when I watched a dog food commercial, a Dove soap commercial, a talking dog on Disney Channel, and when Rocky Raccoon gnawed through the last throbbing shreds of my fallopian tubes.

Thank you for putting up with these disorganized, uterus-strangling-me Monday morning blues. Tune in next time when SO HELP ME THEY HAD BETTER BE GONE. Peace, love.

Joe the Plumber Uses the Dictionary

Joe the Plumber Slurs Gay People: I Would Never Let "Queers" Near My Children

All that press from the last election must have inspired Samuel Wurzelbacher to brush up on his learnin'. In the above article, "Joe the Plumber" takes it upon himself to define the word "queer" to the Huffington Post, adding, "People don't understand the dictionary."

I can understand your confusion, America. After all, Joe is concomitantly defending bigotry using the dictionary and defining marriage using the Bible. Seems backwards! Can you help me understand, Joe, the difference between church and state? Can you look it up in the dictionary for me?

And let me just say, I don't want Joe the Plumber near my children, just in case willfully ignorant bigotry is contagious.

Sorry I've been lazy about updating... My life is crazy. I'll be back with more inane rants as soon as I can. In the meantime, go read Fmylife.com for some equivalent embitterment.