cranberry cranberry

Day three of unsweetened cranberry juice, temperature and noxious antibiotics.

yuck.

lesson: always get up and go pee. (and insist on some gentleness ... )

mutatio

I put on socks today. And not for the purpose of wearing shoes. This is that seasonal watershed when autumn arrives and it becomes chilly enough that I, elliott, don socks at home. While wearing capri yoga pants. (Very charming outfit, really: brown yoga pants, mismatched big socks, zip up hoodie sans hood - what's with that? note to self: get hoodie with hood)
I'd resist this moment more, given my adoration of being barefoot, except I do tend to like socks.
They are my favourite accoutrement.
But only if they are big and mismatched.
and NOT slippers.

at least for the moment.

Reading: Poets and Pashevans by Marcello Di Cintio. Review copy. First para. should be cut. See how it is after the four-page mark.

Yeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaa!

SOMEONE STOLE MY BIKE!!!!!


YIIIPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Now I get to go use the insurance money to get one that actually fits!

do a little dance ... make a little love .... get down tonight ....oooooooo!!! .... get down tonight! *shake-a-shake-a-shimmmmy*

peracto

Dinner! I made dinner from scratch and it was über tasty. AND eaten before 7 p.m. Ahhh, the world is conspiring to reveal my adept competence.

Unfortunately, being a reticent blogger, I ate the yummy food while chatting salaciously on the phone with a friend who is about to move to Vancouver and did not even once think of taking a photo of my dinner as he made me blush and fend off suggestions of a goodbye visit — I had rehearsal!!!! And .... well! *blush*! So you all (all two of you) are stuck, if so inclined, imagining the genius concoction I created; think masses of condom-package-like quinoa, with an indian-spiced array of vegetables and pink poached salmon.

deeee-lish.

Reading: The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It's quite good.

special assembly

*tap, tap, tap*

Miss Weinstein, is this thing on?

It is? Alright.

*ahem*

People. People! May I have your attention, please!

Good. Right. Settle down, back there.

Now I know you have all been curious about this term being used — among yours peers and other. So I have called this special assembly to clarify things for you. And stop you from harrassing your teachers. Bobby ... sit down.

So. Pog'd, or pogged: marked by experiencing pog, alternatively spellt p.o.g., is an acronym for Post Orgasmic Glow.

Clear now, boys and girls?

Now, back to class. Do NOT run in the halls. Bobby! That means you, too.