This morning, I was driving behind a white delivery type van. It had a big insignia of ‘Louie’s’ on it, and the L was wearing a crown. Beneath the royal crest of the house of Louie, was the slogan ‘Custom Made Puddings’.
What?
‘Custom Made Puddings’
And then a list: Bread Pudding, Rice Pudding, Tapioca Pudding, Baked Custard.
Goodness. I had no idea that the Pudding King lived in the vicinity. And people were custom ordering their tapioca pudding. I may never be able to enjoy a plebian Jell-O Fat Free pudding cup as long as I shall live.
I have obviously led a sheltered, pudding-for-the-masses kind of life.
So, I think my uterus is pissed that I made fun of it. Two weeks after it had me in its clutches, I am once again at mercy of its whims.
I can’t figure it out. I think I screwed up my pills or something. Or it’s really fucking with me. Because that would be just like my uterus.
Weetabix’s Uterus: Sure, bitchtard, make fun of me?! I’ll show you! How about we go to a bi-weekly schedule instead, huh? Bwahahahahaha!
Dave, the husband of Kelley, one of my readers, suggested that I share the dialogues of other of my body parts, such as my boobs and my other girl parts. I tossed that possibility over in my head but now I’m afraid to. What if they rebel as well?
The strange thing about my diary is that I have surprisingly large proportion of male readers. That boggles my mind. I think I’m like a slide of Crazy Girl and this diary is the microscope and my male readers are standing above it in white lab coats saying ‘Zis iz vedddy interesting’!’ while stroking their goatees. Because all my male readers have strange German accents and goatees. Or maybe just Outfoxed.
Last night, I watched ER which I’ve started to watch again after reading the hilarious recaps on Television Without Pity (formerly Mighty Big TV) and let me tell you’. Luka is still yum. I am seriously regretting removing him off my List. He is the male equivalent of a hot fudge sundae, only with a little stubble and sloping de-evolved caveman brow.
(Spoiler alert: if you haven’t seen last night’s ER and you give a shit, don’t read any further! Although I’m not really spoiling anything that wasn’t foreshadowed with a giant spotlight for the last four episodes.)
You know, this is going to piss off my internal Gloria Steinem brain voice, but let me just say this. There is nothing sexier than brute angry strength. Man. I don’t know a girl who doesn’t go all gushy at the thought of a guy fighting another guy FOR HER HONOR. We might act all disgusted at the senseless violence, begging him not to get into a fight, but inside, we’re just yelling, ‘Hit that fucker harder!’ Of course, Abby will likely only give a pained wooden expression and be pissed off about it, because she’s actually a robot. And then Luka will brood silently. However, if some guy hit me, it would thrill me to no end if my ex-boyfriend felt the need to go and beat him up. If Jason the Starbucks Guy did that, I’d fall at his feet in a heartbeat.
At the same time, I’m shocked and dismayed at that last paragraph. Shocked! There is too much hate and violence in the world, people! Violence is wrong! It doesn’t solve anything. Hug more! (Weetabix breaks into ‘I’d like to buy the world a Coke’) Plus, I should be able to do my own ass kicking.
But man, Luka was HOT!!! Growllllll!
That’s just got to be the Uterus talking right there. That’s the only thing that explains it.
I could really go for some chicken fried steak right now’ with some mashed potatoes.
See’. Right now, the male readers are taking notes: ‘Subject displays a sense of conflict between traditional female roles and high level feminism. Very illogical.’
Atlanta update: I will be in Atlanta from March 8-12. If anyone in the Atlanta area (or who will be IN the Atlanta area) wants to get together for drinks or lunch or something, send me an email. We are definitely driving down in the Monte, thanks to your feedback about getting around in Atlanta. And I’ll probably bring the laptop as well, so should be able to update the diary too.
It is sad the way I plan my life around my Internet addiction. Pity me.
