I’m gone for the week, and instead of turning on RoboBlogger (he didn’t do well in the ratings), I am going to post a picture a day for the week. Some oldies, some goldies, and some never before seen ones – All Worksafe, but weird. I hope you all have a great week and I will be thinking of you while I’m on the Teacups ride.

Toodles.

Today I had a “first”.

About a month ago I stopped biting my nails cold turkey. This week I noticed my nails were like awkward claws that I would catch on things like soap, chips and my scalp. Later at the end of the day I would pretend I was a corpse on CSI and scrape the day’s build up from underneath and speculate on my “killer’s” motive for putting mozzarella cheese under my nails. So it went.

As SharkBoy and I waited for our custom T-shirt place to open (we’re getting custom t-shirts for Gay Days at Magic Kingdom – expect pics later this week) he suggested that we have a manicure. I was extremely apprehensive. Firstly, I was tainted by those horror stories you hear about nail infections and secondly… no one has ever touched my hand that way. I was a virgin.

I did give in eventually and was thankful for it. She was rough and made me bleed from my cuticles (“Tsk bad! But you nail is good!”) but in the end, I was left with shiny buff nails! And a hand massage! Why haven’t I had this done sooner?

Half way through it, what I suspected was half a bridal party came in and gave SharkBoy and I odd looks while we sat there. I just beamed like a blushing virgin and said “It’s my first time!” One of the women confided in us that she liked “dark” nails and I refrained from commenting that 40 years ago, that would be considered “slutty”.

So I recommend you get a manny. Next time I may move up to a pedicure but I know I would laugh all the way through it. I have ticklish feet.

After, we met Rod the Photog. and went and saw “Bears” at the InsideOut festival (thanks for Daryl for recommending it to us a while back!). SharkBoy has more on his site. It was fun. All the drama, cheese and excitement you’d expect from an American pageant.

“Hey,” I hear you exclaim, “where are all the pics you’ve taken in the last couple months?”

Why do you dog me so?

All right…

Dan’s 50th Birthday

Dad’s 75th Birthday

And (I’m sorry… I’m sorry…) George Hamilton

I go to the barber last week and he digs around inside my ear with a straight razor…

…and today, 5 days later, I am able to pull out inch long hairs from my listening hole.

…my brother yelled at me for eating all the cheese and mayonnaise in the apartment.

…my sister caught me ripping the head off one of her Barbies.

…I peed myself where I sat because I didn’t want to haul myself over to the bathroom. I had a broken leg.

…I told someone I didn’t actually like them that way and three days later, I got a letter in the mail, torn up, chock full of laughably hateful comments about my person.

…I told someone I liked them that way and he ran like a Japanese bullet train to Osaka.

…I handled my brother’s coveted KISS ARMY album by the grooves and not the label, and then played it fast, slow and backwards, just because he was a jerk to me.

…I was accosted by one of my other brother’s ex-flings because I was his brother. (chew on that a moment)

…I barfed so violently while I was on the stairs on the way to the bathroom, that it shot out between my fingers and painted the walls like a Jackson Pollock painting.

…I told a boyfriend that the crabs I got was from sleeping at his best friend’s house.