what honestly crossed my mind last weekend

While I don't know the rationale of the claim that 70% of an average person's body heat is lost via the noggin, if we go with that then it's safe to assume some of us with what some may deem a disproportionately large head lose more heat at this area of the body.

Self-question:
If I just super-bundle my head and neck, do I even really need to wear a winter coat? I mean, within reason, could it be?

Self-answer:
No. And with these crummy, weak, scarred lungs of mine the theory mustn't come close to being tested.

[Scene: Brady Bunch opening screen with the nine squares. In place of Mr. Brady - my brain. In place of Alice, my lungs, right there in the middle waving and smiling, messing everything up. My Brain is not Mr. Brady, however, and first growls then roars and throws itself lobe-long at Lungs. Lungs stare into the gaping maw between Brain's hemispheres and shrieks. Brain finds those little black lines dividing them to be more an issue than one might expect, gathers self together, determined to maintain its dignity.]

cha-i-rity

I was telling Polsky how LZP is currently dating the worst-named-to-date-LZP person imaginable. The formula for this, you ask? Ah, it is quite simple:
sibling's first name = date's first name
+
date's last name rhymes with female subject's first name

She cannot take his last name, and he cannot take hers because then he'd...have her brother's name.

Also, he has a beard, but has been alerted that its removal is vital.

To this Polsky shared that her visiting friend from L.A. showed up last week with a two-foot long beard.
[her face: shameful admittal/visual lust of reaction.
my face: disgust.
her face: acknowledgment of shared mental anguish]
His excuse is that it's for charity.

But can there be, even in the further reaches of the intellectual universe that is L.A., a charity for people to donate to those with less fortunate chins?

eyrror

That is when my eye makes an error, and is not the retarded cousin of the donkey in Winnie the Pooh. (There's still no excuse for naming him Pooh, though. Regardless of slangination, 'pooh' sounds icky.)

Anypooh, I was poking about in the blogger utility navigations and thought it somehow read 'Dashbort' where Dashboard appears. Dashbort could only be a hurried abortion. That is not what I was looking for.

And probably is not the sort to have, especially in place of looking at your blog(s). "Darnit. I meant to create a new post...Rather impressive functionality, howevah."

a date with breastiny

My f'ing gawd - they're even bigger today.

How do people stand this?

hermones

My boobs hurt.

They won't stop.

I do not feel like my boyfriend's friend who declared last weekend at dinner that his four-year old son is his nemesis, mostly because I do not feel my breasts are bound to grow into better versions of myself.

Hello, old friends, rooted mightily to my rib-region. I miss what we used to have - the quiet walks in the park, bounding painlessly down steps, snuggling up on a cold night just keeping each other warm. Remember? I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Let's just do what feels good, and comes naturally, to both of us.

Reduce yourselves! Stand down! It can be like it used to be for us.

It can.