Ron Smells Like Pez

It is Saturday. Sitting here in bed – Ron to my right. He put on that Body Sorbet stuff last night so he smells like a giant pez.

We were up all night. He’s been putting in lots of requests to trade trips for work and they go through at midnight and then again at 10 AM the next morning. We ended up watching a very censored American Pyscho on USA channel amid Guthy-Renker infommercials for an exercise ball (starring Nick Lachey), the ab lounger and other shop-at-home greats. I’d still like to get a Total Gym. I’d used one for my physical therapy for my shoulder way  back when adn really liked it. The ‘w’ key on this laptop is a bit belligerent today. Kitty is sitting on the floor to the right of the bed. He stayed up with us too.

We did catch the end of a pretty horrendously made film called The Dallas Connection which featured some pretty wild 1980s hair and clothing. I wonder when feathered men’s hair is going to come back. I am concerned that jean shorts seem to be on a rebound for this coming summer. In the movie these three buxom gals with very little breasticular support jiggle their way around with guns looking for the bad guys, shooting semi-automatic weapons without even bothering to look at what their firing at. The best is when the blonde girl is hiding behind a tree and she jumps out to attack a baddie and her hair has stuck to the tree bark. I was coughing up a cilia I was laughing so hard.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I think the word ‘bolus’ is a fantastic word. You know what a bolus is right? The ball of mashed up food you chew before you swallow it? It’s just a fun word to say. Next time you’ve stuffed your face with some bread quietly say the word bolus to yourself and I’ll bet you’ll smile.

My email server finally stopped being persnickety. Turns out the 24,000 emails in my Trash folder were weighing things down. Took me many trys to get those deleted though.

Kitty is now to my direct right as I type purring like a diesel engine and flexing-and-pointing his paws. He just laid on my arm. Sometimes I think this cat gets way too much affection.

Ron and I managed a late night snack run that didn’t leave us regretful. We went to White Hen where 2 drunk white girls were accosting the guy behind the counter. One of them was putting the moves on while the other shoved the donuts they had yet to purchase in her mouth. Plus the donut mauler had somehow mashed all the donuts – I think by leaning on the counter. They exited stuffing donuts in their mouths and stumbling down Broadway. Ron and I escaped with tuna salad sandwiches, cantaloupe, milk and yogurt. I really wanted a smiley face cookie. Something about smiley face cookies that I really like – I think I just like iced cookies. Martha and Rachel Ray had a technique of instead of icing a cake you make some sort of weird sugar and dough-ish sheet that you use to cover the cake and it makes a really nice flat smooth surface for the cake.







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