Just sayin’ is all…

Freshly ground

I do like grindr.

I get to see the boy who works down at the Safeway with his shirt off every evening. I know exactly how many gays are within 200 feet of me any point in time – always handy information in the event of a wardrobe malfunction or cocaine drought. One evening when we were in Portugal, there wasn’t a gay man with an iphone within 30 miles of us, which I found quite depressing. I’ve even been invited on several occasions to watch people do things to each other that I thought were impossible without elective surgery and ongoing access to a qualified physiotherapist.

Anyway, anything that helps my boys rub their pink bits together is good with me.

It does become a little silly sometimes, though. Late last year I was at a Romney fundraiser with Sandra Roberts. I had my phone on vibrate and every time I went near the toilets I thought it was going to explode. We spent so much time trying to work out which of the respectable Mormon youths at the next table was the flag-draped headless torso calling himself “Gingrichwife4” that we missed the speeches entirely. Always a blessing. We did, however, find time to bribe the kitchen staff to spike the chocolate mousse with so much laxative that I don’t think he (or anyone else at the dinner) was able to sit down for a week, let alone give Newt Gingrich access to his pink bits.

I quite enjoy Douchebags of Grindr, as a fine demonstration that where ever there are people, there will be dickheads as well.

I also confess that these boys and their drunk grindr made me laugh. So cute. So young. Such little shits.

I do know that the ginger one can come and sit on Grammy’s lap any time he wishes.

The little things that keep me sane

I apologize that I’ve been quiet recently. There hasn’t been much posting because every time I sit at my computer and start to write, I have an overwhelming urge to repeatedly slam my face into my keyboard, and frankly ten pages of:


does not make compelling reading (even if it is more coherent, incisive and factually-based than anything Megan McArdle has managed to write in the last ten years).

I’m going to try and get my mojo back with a post about things that have enabled me to survive a month in which it seemed like everyone in the world had turned into a raging dickhead except you and me (and honestly I was a little bit dubious about you and me).

First – geekery! A new Doctor Who trailer with lots of recycled stuff, but a few intriguing new glimpses of pyramiddy goodness.

I think I might be a little old for Matt Smith, but it would be nice to add a fourth Doctor’s notch to my bedpost. Anyway, you never know, he might be interested in a woman who’s almost as old as his character. Read the rest of this entry »