Oh, hello...

 

Hi there. Just me.
 I've been trying to figure out what to post here for a while...hmmm...and couldn't think of anything very witty or profound. Not a thing.
 Even if I had...well, I've not been home in like forever, and exhausted by dealing with work....and trying to care-take for my parents.
They've both been pretty bad off since about Easter.
But thank you all for your concern, well, anyone who might have been concerned.
Seriously.

Hopefully soon I will be able to think of something witty to say...or at least find a photo that's vaguely pornographic enough. I will not give up the ship!
I'm thinking the latter is more likely than the former, however.
After all, "Pornography is a sweet balm for the melancholy soul", as the Good Book says.

Mardi Maigre

My past few Mardi Gras have, sadly, been washouts. 
It seems to always be freezing rain. What's up with that?
The last time I made an effort to dress up, I traipsed through the pouring rain to get from Bywater to the French Quarter to meet Mr. Peenee.
Never did make it all the way.  Lost an ostrich plume somewhere on Frenchman St.
I was dressed in gold lame and pearls as Gloria Swanson. a Venetian dandy.
I still haven't gotten my tights clean.

This year, the weather was beyond perfect, so I had no excuse whatsoever.
But I couldn't muster the energy, mental or otherwise.  I'm not sure why.
I tried to take myself to a movie, but there was nothing to see.
So I stayed in bed and read.

Last year, despite my general malaise, I ventured to my ex's annual (always amazing) Mardi Gras party.
I don't know what I was thinking.

I ended up (unexpectedly) meeting his new boyfriend,  in from Europe.
oops
It was all rather like landing on a landmine.

I didn't expect it, but I should not have been surprised. 
Anyway, I acquitted myself admirably all things considered.
I'm pretty good at things like that.

Unfortunately, he (the new boyfriend) turned out to be completely lovely.
I couldn't even hate him or anything. 
I chatted as amiably and nonchalantly as I could, and then I went home and had a good cry.

And a nap.
So lame.

This year, all things considered, I guess, was better.

quiz show

Meanwhile, in lieu of therapy, I've been learning a lot about myself by way of stupid Buzzfeed quizzes that your friends and acquaintances irritate you with on Facebook.

You know the ones.
Anywho...here I am to bore you with some of my results!

a. What Color is Your Aura? ("Yellow". Great.  I was hoping for puce, but whatever.) 

b. Which Famous Novel Are You? (The Great Gatsby. Well, it is one of my favorites, so I guess I can't argue)

c. Which Type of Bird Are You?  (a Crow.  wtf?)

d.Which Famous Philosopher are you?  (Aristocrats  Aristotle)

e.Which Two Words Describe You?  ("Selflessly Caring".  zzzzzzzz I was hoping for "Sassily Sexy")

f. Which Tarot Card Are You?  ("The Sun" As a Leo I can only approve)

g. Which 60s Stereotype Are You? (Black Panther. Yes!  As a strong black woman, I approve)

h. Which High School Stereotype Are You? (Bookworm.  Ok, buzzfeed, you win)

i. What Kind of Woman Are You? (the "Creative Woman". zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Again, "Sexy and Sassy" would have sufficed )

 

j. Which Deity Should Be Praying to?  (Ahura Mazda. whut?)

k. Which True Blood Character Are You? (Sookie.  Oh my god, I hate this answer so much which means it's probably true)

l. Which Jungian Archetype Are You?  ("The Child".  Um..ok)

m. What Kind of Bitch Are You? ("Bad Bitch".  What. Ever.)

Let me look that up...

So, what did I do with my day off, you ask?

First I took my lonesome to lunch at our local Wendy's.
Hey, nothing but the best for me.

Mid-bite, I glanced up from my chicken sandwich to see the women of "The Talk" cackling down at me from both directions about "scrotum rejuvenation".
Yes, you read that right....I'm talking ball "ironing", ladies.

This, of course, led me to look it up.

Traumatized, I took myself to a matinee of a Danish rom-com called "Den skaldede frisør" (All You Need is Love). I'd never heard of it, but what the hell, right?

It was pretty enough and well acted....but I didn't much like it. 
Surely enough, my autopsy research yielded this very accurate review:

"So stale that the whole thing plays like a Scandinavian Tyler Perry movie."
Which actually makes it sound better than it was.

On the way home, I took a swing around to the library to return some books.
The librarian's farts pushed me out of the art section and into the direction of this one (below), so, of course, I picked it up too:

In it, he goes on and on about his son and his husband...so much that I gagged with jealousy
I can't help but be curious.  My research leads me to find his husband here:

wtf
Anyway.
What. Ever.
I just bet he's having to have his scrotum rejuvenated right
now, right?