I just spent like thirty minutes

writing a post about unicorns, because I am deranged and exhausted.

Needless to say my better sense kicked in when I realized there were more boobs in the post than there were unicorns. Sometimes that happens. I’ve learned to let it be my DO NOT POST THIS alarm.

Matthew is trying to trade his Civic SI in for a van. He prefers a station wagon, the more outrageously strange-looking the better, but he’s been test-driving Transits. (Yes, those are fleet vans, the kind that carry vacuum cleaners and plumbing equipment.) I really hope I can get to Washington before he does something rash, especially since he assures me that he has a ‘plan’ that requires a van and will result in his becoming a ‘rock star’. God help us all.

As an experiment, I introduced a number of my friends to Battle Racks. They were, of course, appalled. Once you start clicking, though, you can’t stop, and pretty soon you’re shouting at the screen: “WHAT, THOSE ARE AMAZING BOOBS, HOW DO THEY ONLY HAVE 17%, WHAT IS WRONG WITH AMERICA” etc etc etc until the neighbors think you’re watching some really interesting sports event. After fifteen minutes you are reeling from what I shall delicately term ‘titshock’, and it stops even being about the boobs. You don’t know what’s wrong with your mind, or why you can’t stop clicking, and finally you feel like you are rating the carapaces of alien beasts against each other by arbitrary criteria you couldn’t begin to explain.

Dammit that’s the third post in a row that’s violated the boob rule.

If I keep deleting these I will never post anything, so… sorry. If boobs offend you, you are probably reading the wrong blog.

(All two of you. XD)

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