
Here I am, linking myself, or something, to Technorati, since apparently they sorta know me anyway. We'll see what happens.
A loud-mouth woman's rant about the need for all women to shed our lady-like habits and Say Something about the issues - gynecological, psychiatric, every-day, spiritual, not-spiritual, gastro-intestinal, dermatological, illogical, and otherwise - that we hide from each other, our partners, and our daughters, because we are ashamed, embarrassed, polite, meek, in denial, or just too plain stupid or asleep to say it. I'm working at it. Goddammit.
t of surgery (oh please). It's the way everything folds over onto everything else, all narrated by Ellen Pompeo's soothing voice. It's as if doctors are excellent people. They're flawed, but just a teeny-tiny bit. And they care so much.
my way in, Big Guy told me that he had to leave at exactly five. Fine, twenty minutes was good. But then, then, he didn't make very good eye contact. He interrupted me a coupla times to tell me how I would finish my thought (he was wrong). And he answered his cell! Phone! To tell his wife that he would be on time! As my grandfather would have said, "Oy-a zuchen-ves-amiyir." Finally, when he flubbed something else, I said "you re
ally are distracted today, aren't you?" He didn't answer. Hmmm.
listen to Elf Power simultaneously, or intermittently. Elf Power? Next post, I suppose.