psst, David. I think you did that wrong.
::docks Cass imperfection points for correcting me, but gives her double points for doing it publically which is, of course, the wrong thing to do::
::gooses Cass. Gooses Trudy for good measure. Waits for Hil's ass to wander around in a distracted fashion...::
what IS a distracted fashion for an ass?
which is, of course, the wrong thing to do
Some things? You can pretty much count on me doing. The wrong thing is one of those things.
what IS a distracted fashion for an ass?
Wearing plaid on the left cheek and polka dots on the right. Very distracted fashion choice for a tush.
Some things? You can pretty much count on me doing. The wrong thing is one of those things.
::does the secret handshake of imperfection with Cass. Incorrectly::
::fumbles on the grip part and blushes::
::finds nearest Equus asinus to distract with a carrot::
You're not putting any carrots near
my
ass, lady!
...what?
Erin, brava! You're the bravest! Go Team You!
Looks like I was a distracted ass. Congratulations on surviving your first year teaching, Erin!
You're not putting any carrots near my ass, lady!
It's like you're looking for phallic symbols.
To put in sentences next to your ass. It's your own fault.
I guess so.
ion, I taste
fabulous.
Inasmuchas I taste of white chocolate and vanilla and honey and apricots and coconut cream, courtesy of Jessica Simpson's edible perfume, purchased in Seattle. I'm fuzzy on who Jessica Simpson actually IS, but I'm told she's some blonde hussy who unaccountably got the role of Daisy Duke in the Dukes of Hazzard movie. (Which is crazytalk, because Daisy
totally
needs to be a hot brunette. A blonde in those shorts is just crass; a brunette is sexy, because brunettes get extra seriousness brownie points for the hair colour, whereas blonde's automatically lose intelligence points and gain probably-a-tart points on the basis of THEIR hair colour. YMMV.*) Regardless, anyone who hatches the idea of a line of edible perfumes and moisturisers is a VERY smart cookie.
*and it worries me slightly that, upon reflection, this is essentially what Milan Kundera said in his novel
The Farewell Party,
because I found him pretty misogynistic. But I DO think that people make assumptions about women based on hair colour, cliched as it sounds.