Improbable Fetish of the Week

Y'all, there are quite a few of these pictures on the internet? And this is the safest (read: least clearly graphic) that I could post?) But there exists someone out there who apparently has quite the fetish for pictures of dragons making sweet love to cars. This seems so improbable as to be a serious hoax, but I thought you needed to know. Didn't you?


If you want some more pictures, I can send them to you.


Next week, we hope to have the Tort of the Week; But this week we can share: Things my Family Says.


I am quite irked when people tell me, O your mother is so sweet. No she's not. You just don't know her.


See, like last week, apropos of nothing- well, no. Remember how I told y'all that she was wondering how many times I had done that Senator Craig thing in the Loo? How do you think she expresses this?

"I hope that when we win the lottery, you're not the one that brings the family down."


After I get over my initial shock/horror, I assemble this train of thought in my mind, and coming up with - a lot of interesting assumptions.


One of which is that she's going to win the lottery, which I have always believed is a stupidity tax. I guess it's ok to buy a ticket occasionally, but I hate going into the petrol station. Another assumption- I had to get her to explain this- is that I have a lot of "vices" in comparision to the rest of the family; I am just morally corrupt, y'all!

I stink of moral decay and decadence! You can smell my putrescence! My budget for deodorant alone- it would positively boggle your minds.


Not. And the other assumption is that money creates more vice; I don't THINK so; poor people seem to get in just as much, if not more, trouble than the rich do.


Anyway, I was all insulted.

And then another thing she did- she calls Alex up and asks him- So you were looking for pillows for your bed?

Now Alex was, or is, actually, in need of bed pillows. BUT he knows better. He knows that she won't have, you know, actually BOUGHT these pillows. She won't have FOUND them- inside her own house. He knows from whence they came.

She found them in the garbage, and Alex was understandably loath to put his head on something that came from the garbage. For some reason she sees nothing wrong with this.


O and then Trey and I have been having problems- or really A problem- which is that he is an immature party boy. "Superannuated Party Boy" would make a good SNL character. He's pushing 40 and still acts like he's 17.

Some of which would be all right if he A) took care of his home responsibilities and B) the people he chose to do this with weren't so- AWFUL.

Like he made "friends" with this one chap Jacob. The first time I met Jacob, he came over with Denise and some chap who looked just like the caricatures of Edgar Allan Poe. So Jacob asks me, did I put honey in the beer.

Probably, I say, I don't remember what went in what precisely.


Oh! He says very disdainfully! Well, I SUPPOSE I can drink it, I'm a VEGAN, you know.


So I took an instant dislike to him, because first he's being obnoxious, and then he's being stupid, because how do you exploit a bee? They're like, workers by definition. I mean, they're BUGS. I can understand and sort of accept the whole anti-factory farming argument. Pigs probably have feelings and some degree of self awareness. Cows might, although you try teaching a cow to do a trick. Chickens- anyone who has spent time around chickens learns to loathe them. So I'm pretty sure it's ok to eat chickens, besides, leg quarters are like 40 CENTS a pound, cheaper than many sorts of vegetable.

But you can't exploit an INSECT, ok? No. To have met Jacob is to understand why people detested Truman Capote when he was alive.


Anyway, Trey and I have been fighting, and so Freddy points out that if I break up with Trey, I can do the Internet dating thing.


I tried that, I say, It didn't work.


Well, you could date women, he says.


Um. No, remember, I tried that, and for a very few very significant reasons (one comes to mind) that did not work out. You would think after 6 years of very obvious flamboyance; I mean, pronounced, clear, unmistakable, prone-to-tiara-emergency-having flamboyance; everyone would know!


But on a lighter note! Guess who ironed his shirt WHILE HE WAS WEARING IT! (not I) And this was only a couple of months ago! He said, well, he had it on- and he didn't want to be late, so he just ironed the wrinkly part while it was on him. He managed not to burn himself but reported also "it didn't work out all that well."