You know you've been spending too much money on houseplants when

...the woman who owns the flower shop on the corner
a) recognizes your face
b) remembers your name
c) greets you when you walk in by saying "Ah, my favourite customer! How's the dissertation coming on? What exciting things have you discovered about Chaucer this week?"
d) all of the above

HAPPY PIRATE NEWS HAPPINESS

THE PIRATE IS COMING HOME!!!! Normal communications have been resumed, all is well, and the original scheduled return date of 22 November has been restored, with the footnote that there's a 50/50 chance that he could be home as early as NEXT MONDAY!!! 6 DAYS!!! But if he's not home next monday, it will be 22 November at the latest, and that's only 2 weeks. I can live with that.



The drawback to all this is that I'll probably have to shave my armpits. Havn't bothered since he left. I look like I'm smuggling hamsters.

Dry spell and footwear angst

First of all I'd like to aplogize to all the foot fetishists out there who arrived at this post because of a Google search. I'm afraid you're in for a disppointment.

Dry Spell. My first ever. Since that first night with the Hairy Man way back in March, I never had to go more than a couple days without. Certainly never longer than Monday morning to Friday night, and the 3 to 4 times a weekend was more than enough to compensate for that. And of course I jumped right out of the Hairy arms and into the Pirate's, so the spell was never broken until he set sail in the beginning of September. I remember thinking after that night with Hairy, "Ah! So this is how the rest of the world lives! I could get used to this..." And I did.

27 years of involuntary chastity, 6 months of regular, hot, wild, slippery, skin-slapping action, and now a 3-month drought. It really is all or nothing with me, isn't it?

I've heard people whinge about "dry spells" before, but now I find myself thinking, "oh, so this is how the rest of the world lives."



and the other thing that's pissing me off right now:

WHY THE FUCK DON'T THEY MAKE WOMEN'S BOOTS WITH VARIABLE CALF DIMENSIONS?????

Look, I've got huge legs. I admit it. (No point in denying it - I couldn't hide them behind a refridgerator.) I tried to buy a pair of wellies last winter, and I'm not shitting, I couldn't get WELLIES over my giant calves. Wellies, for fuck's sake! Had to buy the men's ones.

Women's shoes come in variable widths: narrow, average, wide, etc. Surely women's calves vary in circumference as much as feet vary in width! So why the fuck don't they make tall, sexy, brown leather boots with extra-wide calves? Why God, WHY?

If anyone out there (HC? You're the shoe expert around here...) knows where I can buy a pair of affordable boots with a (brace yourself for this one) 44-centimeter calf circumference, PLEASE let me know.

Chicken soup diet

Got an email from His Pirateness this a.m. Yay! He's still alive. Don't know when he'll be back yet, but he's still alive. So that's good.

In less good news, I'm sick. Yesterday I had a sore throat. Today I am fucked. Time for the chicken soup diet.

The Pirate informed me this week that The Powers That Be have given him a new job. His original return date of 22 Nov has been chucked out the window. He does not know when he will be home. To make matters worse, he normally emails me every day. Since receiving this news (in a brief, 2-sentence email) I've not heard a peep from him.

I know not what this portends, but I am left to imagine the worst. I am very worried.

For Michael

Here you go, dude. With your weekly meat and pie you've given me so much eye candy to enjoy, it's about time I return the favor. Behold: The Most Kissable Lips Evah!


















There. Now you never need to resort to Andy Rooney wank fantasies again. You poor soul!

Behold

I give you....


VOMIT PUMPKIN!*



















*Also known as How I Won the Pumpkin-Carving Contest in my building.