“Barry,” my cousin Mike said, “I think it’s time.” It was clear that my brother didn’t feel the same way, but he only shrugged, which Mike took as agreement. “Dave,” he said, giving the words as much gravity as he could muster, “Go get the dictionary.” I was nine years old, and a tag-along. I’d walked in on my brother telling a story about how—during school that morning—a girl he knew got her period in the middle of French class. And I laughed like the dickens. And then they called me on it. After I’d lugged the dictionary down from the spare room, Mike told me to look up the word period and read out the definition. “The end of a cycle, a series of events, or a single action?” “Keep going,” he said. “The full pause with which a sentence closes?” “Not that.” “An interval of geologic—“ “Gimme that!” He yanked the book towards him, read down the page, and pointed me towards the definition he’d found. Menstruation: the monthly discharge of blood from the uterus of nonpregnant women from pu...
Comments
Go find your man-whore and touch his gonads.
Beth - My cats and Dave's cats have equal cuteness. They will eventually get together and form the Justice League of Cats. They will live in a cat house.
j wo - You stalking freak!
Today's Word verification? soibdoo! Sounds like an Ella Fitzgerald lyric.
I mean, those cats are CUTE!
really, really cool.
:)
or something like that.
Reach into my pants.
Grab my change purse.
Gonads touched!
J
For shame.
Mais, bien sur!
I don't have any pockets.
Come to my neighborhood in Chicago where you can photograph scores of stray alley cats having the run of the place. Big, mean, alley cats in action would make an interesting subject. I'm thinking there's a coffee table book in there somewhere.
Those of you who know me for real know I'm kidding around (well, the posturing is just humour. The content is for really real).
Next time, though, we'll meet half way in the 416 area code.
For shame on you ALL.
SHAME!
BOOYA!