Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Aw, screw it.
Walnut’s Thirteen Generator is broken. (From Frankie Name’s Photostream.)
I began working on my Thursday Thirteen last night. Plenty of time, right? But I didn’t count on the self-disgust factor.
Let me explain.
While live-blogging a few weeks ago, I got to make all kinds of obnoxious groaning noises over All The Great Movies Shaina Hasn’t Seen. Someone, Shaina perhaps, suggested I turn this into a Thirteen. Terrific idea, right? I could gush about all my favorite movies.
But between initial conception and ultimate execution, the idea morphed into “Thirteen Essential Films.” I’ll bet you see the problem already: rather than write about the films I think are important, enjoyable, life-changing, you name it — I decided to assemble thirteen “essential” films, whatever the hell that is. Which would be fine if I were a film critic, a latter day Pauline Kael (kids: substitute “Roger Ebert,” okay?), but I’m not. See, I forgot rule number one of this blog: write about everything through the filter of me.
And now it’s past 9, I’m tired, my back is sore from working out yesterday, and I still have emails to answer. So screw it. I’ll do what I wanted to do from the moment I woke up this morning. I’ll tell you about my dream from last night.
I’m in my 20s, in med school again, and a few weeks ago I broke up with a tall and pretty blonde. She was kind, sweet, caring, and so not right for me. I recall feeling relieved when she told me she didn’t think things were working out. Such a nice girl, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
So I’m in a restaurant having dinner with a friend, an older man in his 60s who is short like me, paunchy, nearly bald — nice dude, but nothing much on the hunk scale. We’re talking about my erstwhile girlfriend and I tell him, “Oh, I really don’t think she loved me.”
“You’re wrong,” he says. “And I’ll prove it.”
Turns out she’s in the restaurant too, sitting at another table with her friends.
We go over to her table and she says, “Yes, I loved you. But I’m a vegetarian and you eat meat. It wasn’t meant to be.”
I’m flummoxed over the fact she had loved me. I had not been in love with her. The older guy whispers in my ear, “I can get her back for you.”
I don’t want her back, but now I’m curious. “Come on — she broke up with me.”
“Blow in her ear and she’ll follow you anywhere*.”
“Get out of here! You’re full of it.”
“I’m not. And I’ll prove it.”
He gets close to her, leans over, blows in her ear. At first she looks baffled, then a little disgusted — and then, turned on.
She gets up out of her chair and follows him out of the restaurant.
True story: I’m describing to my nonagenarian patient the scars the operation will leave on her face. Her younger friend says, “She’s not interested in winning any beauty contests.”
My patient’s eyes get big and round as she turns on her friend and says with mock fury, “I beg your pardon!”
Still yucking it up at 96. I love her.
D.
*No, idiot, blowing in her ear is meaningless. You have to use your penis power and hit the bottom.
Hat tip to O’Brien, you nut.
You know, I figure that if I can get close enough to use my penis power, all the stuff about love and blowing in the ear is kinda irrelevant.
I swear to god. the reports filed by corndog, erin o’brien and you give me reason to get out of bed in the mornings.
baal was enough for the week.
So, the male version of the Glittery HooHa, huh?
I had to stop that clip because she was really annoying. Although I’m worried about these men with fire under their zippers – they may need an ointment, not an invitation to the vagina. I think she read too much Freud’s theory about immature clitoral orgasms and vaginal ones. All crap, who cares. But I hate the way she says clitoris, with accent on the “tor”, it sounds crude.
And who are these women who strap on their jackrabbits while at work because those things aren’t exactly discreet. Must wear pantyhose two sizes too small to hold them in.
So what exercises did you do?
Now I have to worry whether or not it effing glitters?
Shit, shit shit.
Doug, no thirteen is required. That link was enough.
oh, my, goodness. i also had to stop the clip, cuz she was annoying me. plus, i have work to do. but…wow.
and it’s ok if i dont get that list any time soon, cuz i wont have time to watch any movies until the summer anyways 🙂
Best thing about that clip was the one woman yammering about the rabbit, and the other woman confusing it — you mean a rabbit? That goes hoppin’ around? O.M.G. I was in tears. And that same woman at the end, praising Jesus. See what you missed, you folks who wouldn’t watch till the end?
As for glittery hoohas, as much as I love La Crusie, weeeelll, most of the time, when she’s not effin around with cute-dogs-so-ugly-are-they-really-dogs? I still don’t understand the concept of the GHH. It’s about love, dammit. The only reason a guy with supernatural irresistibility would enter a monogamous relationship is LOVE. Because if you don’t think that’s a sacrifice for a guy with supernatural irresistibility, then you don’t know nothing about guys with supernatural irresistibility. It’s about love, not about glitter falling out of a woman’s hooha. And yes, I realize it’s metaphorical glitter.
oh, lyvvie, you exercise nut . . .
I’m recovering from a viral crud, so I didn’t kill myself like usual. 50 min on the elliptical, then another 10 min on weights — abdominal crunches, reverse crunches, and then this back thing where you have your legs braced behind you, your butt is pointing up towards the ceiling, your head points down towards the floor, and you use your back muscles to straighten out your upper torso. Whatever the hell that one is called. And I worked on my triceps & lats.
I actually had a TT planned this week – Thirteen Ages of sxK – but I could only find 11 photos to post. The rest, I discovered, are in a box in the storage closet, under a huge stack of other stuff, and I just didn’t have the 2 hours it would take to dig them out. So I didn’t post at all. You, on the other hand, give us penis power (although I’m inclined to agree with Dean on that one) and, consequently, glittery hoohas. Which I’m definitely going to have to read up on, although possibly not at work.
Oh look, I’m rambling …
For the record, I didn’t click the link. I’m a 4, remember? (Plus, I’m at work.)
yeah, mo, you REALLY don’t want to listen to that link at work. Unless you want to disrupt everything, that is.
SxK, hey, I want that thirteen! I did it (as you probably recall) and I wish a lot of others would do it, too. It’s fun for the whole family 🙂
OK, OK, it’s up. Sort of.