Shoes

Sometimes, even though you haven't showered, are sad, uncomfortable, and wearing stained, fold-over waist shorts from Target, you can put on your sexiest pair of shoes and feel just a little bit better.

Paragraph of the Day

I do not make a regular habit of reading Paul Krugman's column in The New York Times, but I'm always satisfied when I choose to do so. Today, in particular, was quite rewarding. I was pulled into it by the headline: The Swiss Menace. Turns out it's an Op-Ed piece about a subject slightly less near, but no less dear, to my heart: healthcare reform.

To wit:

Besides being vile and stupid, however, the editorial was beside the point. Investor’s Business Daily would like you to believe that Obamacare would turn America into Britain — or, rather, a dystopian fantasy version of Britain. The screamers on talk radio and Fox News would have you believe that the plan is to turn America into the Soviet Union. But the truth is that the plans on the table would, roughly speaking, turn America into Switzerland — which may be occupied by lederhosen-wearing holey-cheese eaters, but wasn’t a socialist hellhole the last time I looked.

I'm not sure what made me laugh more: "vile and stupid" or "lederhosen-wearing holey-cheese eaters".

Clearly, Krugman wasvon a role. But he should have taken it one step further and gone with, "lederhosen-wearing holey-cheese eating neutrality monkeys".

So Much to Post About...Yet No Posts

You would think that the amount of sheer boredom and life-altering mishegas experienced as a result of a hoo-hoo-ectomy and it's subsequent convalescence would provide for many Deep Thoughts.

Nope.

Nosiree, bob.

Actually, all I can think about is:

* When will I be able to roll over onto my left/right side?
* Did I really make the right decision, because this just sucks.
* Wow, I had no idea that EVERYTHING IN MY KITCHEN weighs more than 8 pounds and I cannot, therefore, pick it up.
* A well-mixed martini overwhelmingly outweighs the pain-relief powers of Percocet. And you don't need a prescription.
* The only man to touch me below the waist since July 18 is a highly paid professional hell-bent on causing me extreme pain by removing things in the name of saving my life. The nerve of him.
* Online shopping is fun; however, the post-surgical attempts at trying stuff on....not so much.
* If anyone else says, "Wow, you're so lucky! I wish they'd take mine out!" I will procure weapons and go from there.
* Six weeks off in the summertime when you cannot go swimming is cruel. Just plain cruel.

There is more; oh yes...much more. But perhaps that is best saved for another day when I cannot nap and there are no more "Say Yes to the Dress" marathons on TLC.

Making You Feel Better By Making You (Feel Like) Crap

There is a guaranteed method of making sure that a surgical patient will heal quickly. Apparently, it has to do with making that patient feel as NASTY as possible prior to the surgery so that, in retrospect, the patient is duped into thinking that s/he is "recovering" when in point of fact, s/he is NOT recovering, but is merely returning to the baseline point of health that would have existed after surgery had not the patient had to:

* Become dehydrated.
* Go 24 hours without solid food.
* Poop. A lot. For hours.
* Lose sleep.
* Poop some more.
* Go an additional 24 hours with hospital food.

So, I'm just pointing out that when you arrive at the hospital for surgery, and you feel extra-rotten, it's just a trick. They are tricking you.

Don't let them trick you!!

Today's Statistics!

Okay, so in praise of my departing, uh, ladyparts, I ran some stats. It's the last ever time I will have Aunt Flo in town, and it got me to thinking about the whole thing:

* 33 years
* 400 times
* 2000 days
* 10,000 ob's

Other miscellany:
* If it ran continuously, that would be 5.4 years.
* Advil and Aleve used to be by prescription only.
* You don't have to have it at all now, if you take Yaz.

Will I miss it? Not really. But it's odd to think that I'm performing a biological function for the last time, quite literally. How often do you get to say, "This is the very last time I will ever (burp, fart, sneeze, etc.)?" I mean, seriously? If you knew you'd never sneeze, ever again, would you miss it? Would you think about all the other times you've sneezed and wonder about sneezing's role in your life? Would you think, "Hey, I'll never need to buy Kleenex again, because, hey, no more sneezing?"

At Home, Away From Home: The Irish

I am in an strange city, alone, but I find a fairly cheesy, inauthentic "Irish" pub. I hear a penny whistle, a bodhran, and a beautiful voice. I walk in, no longer tired, alone, and lonely. I sit down; order a black and tan....I am suddenly home. My mother's voice is with me, my aunts, my family....everything that I need to make it through one more long work day is here.

I am a mutt, but I am Irish. I can always go home.

Sex For Younger Ladies Is Healthy, Normal, and Fun....Really!

Okay, this is not another addition to the conversation about the whole madonna/whore, capitalist notion of female sexuality, and whether girls going wild can be empowering or just drunk and stupid. Those conversations have been augmented many times by others who've added more value and cohesion than I.

Okay, I lied. It is another one of those conversations.

We've entered into this Bizzar-O-Land of muddled sexual mores, and I can no longer take the Sex = Slut argument. It's really messing up a lot of Young Ladies, some of whom I am related to.

I say "entered" into this weird land, because I feel as though there had been a tiny window of opportunity in the early, pre-AIDS 80s where feminist ideals of female sexuality converged with cultural acceptance of said, and us gals were genuinely empowered about seeking out, and enjoying, lots of sex. Sadly, that time passed far too quickly.

I have had a lot of sex. Some of it was fun. Some of it was really fun. Some of was awful. Some of it was really awful. Some of it was with a known entity, some of it was not. So here's what I have to say on the subject.

Having a lot of sex, on your own terms and by your own choice, does not make you a slut.

I encourage the Younger Ladies to, in the absence of a partner, learn about their bodies and understand what makes that body feel good....sort of like training wheels. After all, you don't just go out there and immediately ride that two-wheeler, do you? So, spend quality "you time" first, Younger Ladies. Then, after figuring it out on your own, have a lot of (safe*) sex!

(*By "safe sex", I mean: condoms always and an additional method such as: foams, suppositories, creams, the Sponge--which is finally coming back again--oral contraceptives, Depo Provera, the ring, the patch, you name it; you've got options, Young Ladies, and barebacking with withdrawal is not one of them.)

Have sex because:

* It's fun.
* It feels good, physically.
* The guy/girl is hot and you want him/her for that night only with no strings attached and don't ever expect to hear from him/her again.
* It can help you learn about what you like and don't like.
* You love the person, and the person loves you right back and it's nice to be intimate with your loved one.

Do not have sex because:

* You think your boy- or girlfriend will leave if you don't.
* You think it will bring you closer. (If you need closeness, just ask for a hug and have an long conversation instead.)
* You think it will make you appear to be smarter/prettier/more important/popular.
* You are depressed and think it will cheer you up.
* You are pressured into doing so.
* You expect that by having sex, you will end up in a relationship with this person.

Yes, there are risks to having a lot of sex. Believe me, I know. However, there are far more risks to labeling and shaming an entire generation of Younger Ladies with the Sex = Slut argument, and by offering that generation yet another double standard about their own healthy, normal, exciting sexuality.