Unh?

I'm not sure when it became cool to trash on boys and men here in the States. I know it's been a long time, but I'm curious about the origins of the tradition. I've pretty much had it with that whole thing. One of Sluggie's friends sent her a YouTube clip from some kid show (a Nick show I think) and it was (from the sounds of it) 2 boys talking (or reading?) about why boys are not stupid. But of course they were being very stupid and disproving their own point. I made her turn it off. Grrrr! You don't see people getting away with calling girls and women stupid, but make it a boy or a man and ha ha ha, there's mirth all around.

I know that boys face a lot of prejudice in school these days, and I'm so glad that Fishy isn't being hampered by that. I'm also grateful that there's no one to pressure me to put him on meds just for acting like a boy so that he can become a nice, quiescent little zombie instead.

That's my deepish thought for the day. Now for something fluffy.

Bras.

Why is it that it's so freakin' hard to find a bra without a life of its own these days? Seriously. Go to any bra section in any store, and see how many bras are living complete little lives with their own phantom boobies right there on the rack. I want bras that do NOT have their own personality -- bras that to NOT ask my boobies to assume their identity. (--tity. ha.) Bras that do not jut out past my boobies and belittle them for not filling the cup. And also bras that do not mould my boobies into weird pyramids in some sort of Egyptian homage sort of thing. Even the wee tiny little A cups have minds of their own. What's up with that?

Oh and by the way, WTF was that terrifying monstrosity next to the strapless bras? I couldn't find a pic online, but suffice it to say that it would have made a nice hump-cozy for a Bactrian camel. If you want to see for yourself, I think you're out of luck, but you might enjoy a Google search for "gigantic strapless bra" just to see the weird crap it pulls up, like Johnny Depp, groomsmen's neckties, strollers, and ice cream drumsticks. Or you can go look at the boobie bags made by Faveo.

We got to play kick the bottle at TKD tonight. (an empty little water bottle suspended from the ceiling) It was great fun, but both my buns need a massage now. Or maybe I just need a "Buttocks Bra."

Le Sigh

I'm sick of this review book. I'm sick of all the stinking typos, misspelt/misused words (no, you do NOT "role" onto your back, dammit!) and missing words. I'm sick of jumping between 654 characters' points of view and trying to remember whether or not I've met THIS guy yet, and if so, who the hell he might be. I'd like to try to pull a semi-positive review out of my ass, but it's going to have to really pick up before I can do that. To borrow from ~d, right now this is a "crap-ass" book. All I can think about when reading it at this point is "I have so many GOOD books waiting to be read." Le Sigh.

But it's still better than that one book. (Not Peter and Beth, which was good, but the book from which I reprinted the paragraph in italics, which I choose not to name.) I'm not sure what to do at this point. I really try to take only books for which I'm pretty sure I'll be able to write an honest, positive review. When some place called this one of their "top ten sci-fi picks of the year" I truly did not expect it to be riddled with typos and annoying omissions. But at least the writing, in general, is decent. It needs help. It needs to be tightened up. There are whole pages that could go missing without harming the plot. I wonder if this book had an editor. At this point, I sincerely doubt it.

OK, well that's enough ranting. Plus, I want to check out Sylvia. Of course it can't have a happy ending, but it does have Bond. ^_^