Poor Wikus just asked me why the hot girls from his past never track him down through Facebook. This was prompted by the fact that an old roommate of ours did track him down to say that he has changed "about 100%." I'm not sure if that kind of turnaround is possible. Once, to prevent anyone entering his bedroom, he tied a plastic bag around his French doors. That totally showed us! I mean, before the really tight security, we were always hanging out in his room on his crusty punk clothes, and enjoying the smell of bong water. I would have rather stood naked in a Boston blizzard in front of a snowplow than step foot in his room. But thankfully, if I changed my mind, there was that plastic bag keeping me in check. So, yes, Crusty Craig but no hot girls. Poor Wikus.
I'll actually be doing the unthinkable--visiting Boston in February. Since I can't afford an electric snowsuit (as Wikus recommended), I'll have to make do with a blubber suit. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I can gain the amount of weight needed in such a short amount of time. Especially if I keep exercising through laughing:
Wikus: You should get some kind of electric snowsuit.
Grumples: a blubber suit
Wikus: That might be stinky.
Grumples: eh, it's not like i'll be trying to score dates
Wikus: But I guess it'd be too cold to smell anything.
Wikus: You would get a date with an orca who would try to gnaw on you.
Grumples: do orcas now hang out in brookline?
Wikus: Only the russian jewish ones.
Grumples: those are the best kind
Wikus: They run fish markets.
Wikus: They're so big, they wear trashcan lids for yarmulkes.
There was also some assisting with moving a piano that I did earlier. The Boy probably has a hernia now, but he won't admit it. At one point, in his grunting and panting, he had the audacity to ask me, "Can you lift up just a bit on your side?" Did he really ask me if I could lift up the piano? Seriously? My arms are brittle, pale, life-less twigs. Only good for accomplishing a 30-second orgasm and lifting food to my mouth.
However, even though my limbs can barely carry the weight of my body, apparently they are very sexy. Or at least according to a dingy boy at Target who could not have been more than 14. He had a furry little friend living on his lip, and he stalked me in the hosiery section (I really wanted some white thigh-highs to wear while rollerskating, but I was denied). He was very enamored with me, or at least the decorated part of me. He did ask how much my artist would charge him for a sleeve. I couldn't help it, I totally laughed. Gently, I swear.
There's a certain addiction I always indulge in while at Target (and no, it isn't luring teenaged boys in to the dressing room--I only do that with college boys now): I love to buy underwear. Not fancy underwear; just some plain old cotton knickers. Though, Saturday's purchase was microfiber, so that's fancy, and bikini-cut. Today I matched my shirt to my new pink panties. I've already changed in to my muumuu, so I can't prove it. Nauticalina can--I showed her. She fed me when I was beyond hungry, so I paid her back with a peek at my undies. Though, that isn't what she was charging for that chimichanga, banana ice pop and spicy hot chocolate. Seems just being friends is pay back enough for her. Just in case though, I felt it was prudent for her to look at my underwear.
.
Speaking of underwear, I really do not like MTV's version of Skins. Why did it have to be an almost word-for-word reproduction? It just makes me compare the two casts, and I'm sorry to say, the American one is seriously lacking and trying way too hard. I'm embarrassed for them. And okay, fine, I'm still going to watch it, but just so you know, I'm not enjoying it. Damn it.
I'll actually be doing the unthinkable--visiting Boston in February. Since I can't afford an electric snowsuit (as Wikus recommended), I'll have to make do with a blubber suit. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I can gain the amount of weight needed in such a short amount of time. Especially if I keep exercising through laughing:
Grumples: a blubber suit
Wikus: That might be stinky.
Grumples: eh, it's not like i'll be trying to score dates
Wikus: But I guess it'd be too cold to smell anything.
Wikus: You would get a date with an orca who would try to gnaw on you.
Grumples: do orcas now hang out in brookline?
Wikus: Only the russian jewish ones.
Grumples: those are the best kind
Wikus: They run fish markets.
Wikus: They're so big, they wear trashcan lids for yarmulkes.
There was also some assisting with moving a piano that I did earlier. The Boy probably has a hernia now, but he won't admit it. At one point, in his grunting and panting, he had the audacity to ask me, "Can you lift up just a bit on your side?" Did he really ask me if I could lift up the piano? Seriously? My arms are brittle, pale, life-less twigs. Only good for accomplishing a 30-second orgasm and lifting food to my mouth.
However, even though my limbs can barely carry the weight of my body, apparently they are very sexy. Or at least according to a dingy boy at Target who could not have been more than 14. He had a furry little friend living on his lip, and he stalked me in the hosiery section (I really wanted some white thigh-highs to wear while rollerskating, but I was denied). He was very enamored with me, or at least the decorated part of me. He did ask how much my artist would charge him for a sleeve. I couldn't help it, I totally laughed. Gently, I swear.
There's a certain addiction I always indulge in while at Target (and no, it isn't luring teenaged boys in to the dressing room--I only do that with college boys now): I love to buy underwear. Not fancy underwear; just some plain old cotton knickers. Though, Saturday's purchase was microfiber, so that's fancy, and bikini-cut. Today I matched my shirt to my new pink panties. I've already changed in to my muumuu, so I can't prove it. Nauticalina can--I showed her. She fed me when I was beyond hungry, so I paid her back with a peek at my undies. Though, that isn't what she was charging for that chimichanga, banana ice pop and spicy hot chocolate. Seems just being friends is pay back enough for her. Just in case though, I felt it was prudent for her to look at my underwear.
.
Speaking of underwear, I really do not like MTV's version of Skins. Why did it have to be an almost word-for-word reproduction? It just makes me compare the two casts, and I'm sorry to say, the American one is seriously lacking and trying way too hard. I'm embarrassed for them. And okay, fine, I'm still going to watch it, but just so you know, I'm not enjoying it. Damn it.
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