What’s in the package?

I keep looking at my blog and the design and my options and just keep coming back to one thing: How the hell do you work this thing? Okay, it’s not bad as all that. I’ve pretty much got it figured out. I just can’t seem to be satisfied with the designs I keep picking out, so you’ll pardon me if I keep changing themes and such.

So why I’m really here is mention that I’ll be on vacation for next two weeks. I should get plenty of writing done, right? Probably not. I’ll be wandering off to places with little internet connection. In fact, I won’t have access to much electricity. Spending some time in the woods, feeling the earth, hearing the stream and the trees…sweet bliss to me. Anyway, seems like perhaps I should have started this whole thing AFTER my trip to the woods but, meh. I don’t leave for a day or so, so let’s see how much I can pack in before then, shall we?

For right now, I’m watching Labyrinth. I never realized what revealing pants David Bowie is wearing. They leave little to the imagination. I’ve seen far more of his junk than I’m comfortable with at this point. I’ve also just discovered that there’s a Facebook page entirely dedicated to Davis Bowie’s crotch. Check it out: Bowie’s crotch is here. In fact, a Google search proves this to be a rather popular topic. Who would have thought? You know, actually, I’m not even surprised. Why wouldn’t there be numerous references to David’s Bowie’s unit? He’s David Bowie. Most of his parts bear scrutinizing in some fashion. Actually, I’m guessing you search for anyone’s crotch and come up with a few references.

Speaking of packages, my boyfriend received on a little while back. I happened to be home that day when it arrived and we were IMing at the time. He asked me to open it and the following conversation took place:

Me: There’s a gas grill cover and…some other thing. A Grill Out handle light. No clue what that is.

Boyfriend: It’s for grilling at night.

Me: Ah, all that naked night grilling you have planned.

Boyfriend: I LOVE me some nighttime grilling. I mean if you can’t grill nude in your backyard at night the terrorists win.

Me: See, this is what I’ve been trying to tell everyone.

Boyfriend: They hate our freedom, my dear.

Me: I know, I know. If everyone just embraced naked nighttime grilling this would be a much better world. Although maybe an apron would be called for. We don’t want sparks or grease getting on any sensitive bits.

You see, I’ve somehow ended up talking about junk again. Ah well. On that note, I’m going to wrap this up. For now.
I did a Google search for Mitt Romney’s crotch. Turns out, no one is interested in that.


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