|
|
|
|
|
You could be wearing this or another of our fine tea-shirts. Just stop by the Meta-Wear Store.
The mad-for-tea-shirt was inspired by Jo Stockton and a young friend of hers. Commissions from sales of this shirt will be donated to an Ottawa United Way Children's Charity.
Nik at Kill Everything had a fun Facebook chat with a woman, Sarah G, whose name showed up in some insulting graffiti. Sarah G didn't realize at first that Nik was actually doing her a good deed and lashed out at him. The way Nik turned it around is an example we can all learn from:
I was walking my dogs with my wife and we saw the graffiti. And I said, jokingly, "I wonder who Sarah G--- is? Maybe I should look her up in the phone book."
She laughed and said, "Look her up on Facebook."
So I punched in "Sarah G---" and your profile was obviously in Ottawa. So I sent you a message.
It struck me as vaguely funny. And your response ("fucking dick") made my wife and I laugh. So now everyone is happy.
Well, except maybe you. And maybe some other Sarah G.
Zoom over at Knitnut reported on Nov. 12th that XUP said she talks about her Gentleman Caller (GC) too much [ed: I disagree and would like to read more adventures of GC.] And so, Zoom announced that she will be mentioning XUP in every post until the end of the month.
P.S. A little birdie told me that XUP thinks I’m mentioning GC too often on my blog, so I’m going to mention XUP every day for the rest of November.
Do you see what is happening here ESIs? Zoom has already schooled us on Kitty blogging, Craft blogging, Local Politics Blogging and Photos of Dead People Blogging, but now she is coming after our main turf: Self-Referential Wanking (SRW)!
Hella Stella is going for a spa massage soon and tells us that this always brings to mind an experience she shared with her Better Half (BH) in India:
...actually, every time I get a spa massage I flash back to that time I was in India and decided to get a Aryuvedic massage with my BH. Then we got stripped down to nothing, oiled up, and spanked for over an hour. It was pretty much the worst massage EVER. The only thing my massage "therapist" could say in English was "ticklish?" and I had to laugh and nod because she wouldn't have understood "no, I'm bleeding internally." Then we limped back to the hotel.
Remember last week when Hella met Mae for the first time and told her that she loved the story about her vibrator [which was really a dildo] and the eight orgasms in one night?
Now Mae (or you) when you see Stella somewhere in public, can say "Stella, I love the story about you and your guy getting oiled up and spanked by women in India!"
Hey! I didn't actually say I was appalled myself, did I...? And the cookies over here are terrific!
