Warning: Do not read this post if you don't like pornography!
So, Purrty Jami and I were talking about body shots. The conversation ranged from jello shots to the generic (hardly generic!) salt and lime with tequila body shots I enjoyed with a few fellas in Park City. NO, I won't be relating that story here.
But all of this really started when I showed Jami a picture of my rack. I've had many requests for a picture of my rack, so for your entertainment (and you didn't even have to ask!) here it is:
Yes, I love my rack. It's very useful, as you can see. Holds my microwave. It's important to be able to heat things up! And it's also very pretty, when adorned with flowers.
The truth is, though, that this really really all started when I sent Purrty Jami (whom I also refer to as Jammie or Jammies) a close-up photo, via text messaging, of my bosom. This picture was entitled, "Jammie Shirt," because I purchased this shirt in the Jammies department but I wear it as a shirt in public! Can you imagine that! I had also shared photos of my feet, face and hand with Our Miss Jenn of Holland on another day. So Jami and I decided to start a new blogging trend. You know, you've heard of Soap Opera Sunday (SOS) and Wordless Wednesday (WW) and Half Nekkid Thursday (HNT) ~ well... this is Body Shots Tuesday! (You can get drunk for this, too, if you like ~ isn't that nice of me to give you permission ~ or, as I like to say, purrrrrrrmission!)
Without further adieu, ladies and gentleman, in the soon-to-be tradition of BST, here is my "Jammie Shirt!"
AND this is my last-friday-shirt, sometimes called "The Oo La La Shirt."
Now, while I was wearing the last-friday-shirt, I drove to Southern California. I was there to get laid. And to move out of my place I've been renting down there. Not necessarily in that order, but yes, it was in that order. Now it's true I can get laid anywhere, ne c'est pas? But not like that! Non non, mon ami!
(Don't start answering me en Francais! I don't speak French!)
Anyway, the point is that I moved out of yet ANOTHER place. My boyfriend met me two years ago. I have moved eight times since then. I think. Seriously, I've lost count. He has never once said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
But no matter how many times I move, I have this feeling of melancholy on that last day of departure. There is a line in a song from the movie, "Evita," which always comes to mind at that moment and I feel exactly like that. In fact, I feel like that whole song. So I'm posting the lyrics here. If I was smart like you guys, I would just put the fucking song here, but noooooooooooooooooooooooooo... it's two a.m. and I just don't feel like figuring that out now.
Another Suitcase in Another Hall
I don't expect my love affairs to last for long
Never fool myself that my dreams will come true
Being used to trouble I anticipate it
But all the same I hate it -- wouldn't you?
Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
So anyone can hurt me--and they do
Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion
But that's no consolation--here and now
So what happens now?
Another suitcase in another hall
Take your picture off another wall
You'll get by, you always have before
Where am I going to?
(My blues-y lounging picture while listening to and pondering the song.)
Now we can only hope that our ladies mentioned above will follow suit, and then the rest of you, I would expect!
Get creative! Don't do dumb "rack shots" like Teri did on the first day!
*Update: So Miss Jenn found some YouTube videos of the song. You can view either or both or neither! It's up to you to figure out which one is so very expressive of the serious melancholy mood I was trying to share. I had to let Jenn advise me how to embed them. Yes, we were embedding at two a.m.! We got pretty turned on.
(There are no racks in the second video.)
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