I saw a woman picking her leggings out of her crotch and I thought that’s kind of disgusting and then I noted how she probably shouldn’t be wearing leggings to begin with. At least not with such a short shirt. This breaks one of my legging rules. Now before, you jump all over me, I…
I am about to rant about thongs. I’m sure you guessed that. This post is inspired by a recent time getting ready to go and sit near the pool. I had a pair of bottoms to go with my top that I would say probably technically fit, but that I would not feel comfortable wearing…
Guess what I discovered inside my zipper? And no it’s not my lady bits. I discovered those decades ago. Inside my zipper I discovered a patch. Not that kind of patch either. (You’re dirty-minded, aren’t you?) It’s a patch of fabric running vertical that says “lucky you.” Now, I bought these jeans over a year…
Note: This post stemmed from a prompt flashback to misery. I’m writing a book and it’s a shitty long look backwards. I mean the writing isn’t shitty, but the looking back certainly is. Memoir seems to be a deliberately-written exploration of a series of miserable flashbacks. Or flashbacks on misery. Flashbacks with misery? Flashback…
I’ve read this in a book. You’ll laugh. It’s the story of a damsel. You’ll know exactly this story as soon as I start simply by the way this story begins. Once upon a time … … in a land [insert some adjective that indicates far, followed by one that suggests foreign and a third…