I think I'm going to use random lyrics that have nothing to do with my subject for blog titles for the rest of the week. I'm on vacation. I CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT. Ha! You're lucky, I coulda picked "she got a ass that'll swallow up a g string."
I had a very very busy first day of vacay. First I went to M2's house to give her a massage and then, it being a lovely warm afternoon, we took a nice long walk to The Kebab Factory in Somerville for a two hour $8 Indian buffet lunch. You can't really go wrong. Not only do you get a whole bunch of delicious entree choices, it's all the chai you can drink, and the yummy rosewater (?) cardamom rice pudding for dessert. Eight bucks. Srsly.
But the point of this all is not to brag that I was lazing around chatting and eating two hour long super-cheap tasty lunches while you were probably working, sucka, nor is it to suggest places you really ought to try the next time you're in Somerville, though there is that. No, there's more. Do you all remember my discussing that there are certain friends of mine who do not know this blog exists? I've always felt I wanted to be able to express whatever I wanted in here, because otherwise what's the point. And as time's gone on, I've only lost more and more discretion. (Frankly, after November 2008 was oral sex month in The Adventures, I kind of gave up on even trying to keep myself in check.) Not everyone knows all the facets that make up your charming blog hostess, because, unlike in here, in real life I do have some ability to keep my mouth shut and practice circumspection.
Or so I've always liked to think.
Cut to this afternoon. Before we left the restaurant, M2 decided to visit the bathroom. I was sitting, waiting for her, and waiting for the waitress to come grab our check, and I looked up at the wall that M2 had been sitting against. There was this picture of two women in the seraglio, lounging about in their skimpy little harum outfits, and in the background the sultan or whoever entering. Not that I'm an art critic or anything, but it wasn't the most technically well done of all possible paintings. The colors were nice, though, and it was pretty. When M2 came back, I pointed it out and said, "I like that cheezy painting. I wouldn't mind having that in my house."
M2 looks at it, and at me, and narrows her eyes at me, and smiles, and she says, "That one kind of looks like you." Pause. "I could definitely see you in that outfit."
Okay. So M2 has given me a lot of massages over the past four and a half years. I suppose she could have looked up the meaning of that tattoo I have that's mostly hidden, out of, y'know, curiosity. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm just not as fucking slick as I like to think I am! It was pretty hilarious. I love M2.
Anyway, eventually she had to go home because she had a client! I repaired to Mr Indemnity's office to get his keys so I could proceed with our Top Secret Project while he was working. Not that his not being there for the project saved him from my forcing him to listen to my latest download "Drop the World," which is the song that was so heavily bleeped at the Grammys. After hearing the actual lyrics, we both were forced to agree that, yes, you really *couldn't* say muthafucka forty or so times on network TV, so *just maybe* the censors weren't actually overreacting.
So, that's day one of vacation. Tomorrow, if all goes well, my electrician will come to give me an estimate and I shall paint something in this house. While I paint, I'll think of a good lyric to use for tomorrow's blog title. It will not be "it be on, muthafucka, cause all the bullshit made me strong, muthafucka." As far as you know.
xoxo
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