Sometimes people like to send me t-shirts, which are, of course, delightful things to receive in the mail. I love the promotional blog-related tees. Even when I have to pay for them.
Danny from Dad Gone Mad is currently -- what's another word for pimping? I know that I speak for most middle-aged, middle-class white folk when I ask, Can we be done with all things comically pimpish now? -- Danny is currently persuading people to buy this particular style of shirt on his site:
I do like the fit of a men's shirt once in awhile. The teeny-tiny tees you still see all over Southern California, occasionally it's good for a gal's soul to take it all off display for a day or two.
But then, refreshed! I can slip my milk bottles back into something more sex-predictable -- say, an American Apparel tee from Monkey's Cafepress store -- and then attack with the same pose:
O, the Warholianism of it all. I much prefer sporting a terry cloth primate on my bazooms than that tired, old, pink-skinned Liz Taylor anyway.
But the winner for labor intensiveness goes to Deb!
Can you see where she's embroidered W,T,F and O,M,G on the keyboard? Inspired details, Deb. Love it.
PART TWO! WHEREIN I ASK THE Good Lord if is this what they're asking of today's preschoolers, that they start writing sci-fi short shorts?
Jackson and Sophia's Story
Once upon a time there were two people who went to Egypt. They ate fish. They said they didn't like fish. They bought a house, it was on fire. It was made of metal.
Well, apart from the sheer Tarkovskian brilliance of buying a house that's on fire -- a metal house that's on fire -- I feel disappointed at the characters' limited palates. I mean, okay, some people don't like fish, but if you've got the money and the desire to travel to Egypt I'd think your tastes would be a little broader. But maybe they were desert tribespeople, Nuer, perhaps, who had traveled up from the Sudan, and though they had a well-developed taste for the Nile perch of their homeland, in Egypt they were offered a plate of, I don't know, eel perhaps, and politely rejected it in favor of boiled grains of some sort. Hard details to fit in when you have to keep it under 35 words. And you're five years old. Still, bravo Jackson and Sophia! I see a great future for you both, as soon as you learn when to use WTF and when to keep it to a simple OMG.