Today I went to Turkey Creek Sanctuary after watching Prince Caspian.

Possibly one of the worst ideas yet because it was approximately Satan's asshole hot outside and after twenty minutes in the sun I wished I was dead.

I love Florida in the summer!

I will give one thing to Florida, it's so very, very green when it wants to be. Even in the middle of a fire haphazard where at any moment everything could burst into flames; there's Florida, all cheery and green anyway. "DUDE. WE LOVE HOT!"

At any rate, while we were there Shawn rescued a turtle that was wandering across the road to go eat and forgot to check both ways so we picked it up. While we were carrying it he/she seemed pretty laid back about the whole floating-through-the-air thing and was even doing this lazy ehn-ehn flap of his legs half-heartedly until we set him/her down. Soon as we set him/her down him/her actually moved pretty fast to get out of there.


When we got home we cleaned out hamster cages (which we just finished up) and naturally, the best thing to do with a hamster while cleaning out it's cage is to put it in the safest place in the world.


My rack.

How was your day today?

My moment of brilliance starts by me making tea. Tea at the moment is not a complicated sort of deal since I have run out of loose leaf and am back to using Oolong tea in bags.

I found a lovely little thermal mug in a neat shape on my way to making tea. It's small at the top, then ballons outward. I was happy to find this, because often I make tea or coffee for an accompaniment to whatever it is I am doing. Surfing through Stumble Upon, looking through Deviant Art, and lately, painting or writing. So this little mug will help me keep my tea and coffee nice and warm, because I am a picky whore and like hot things hot.

So, I do my tea-thang, yo. Put water in microwave, heat, remove from microwave. Pour into cup with tea bag and bring it back to the computer. I sit down, put the little two-holed cover over it and settle in to paint a bit and browse in between. All is well.

OR IS IT?

A few sips here and there go well. I filled it a little too full and it floods the cap a little. No big deal, right? So without paying attention I tip it. A lot further than I should have. After that, I really didn't think because:

a) I had a mouthful of blistering hot tea
b) I wanted it out of my mouth THAT. VERY. INSTANT.

So what did I do?

Open my mouth and spit it out into my hand.

SPIT BOILING HOT TEA ONTO MY HAND.

Which I promptly flailed and shook it about as any idiot realizing they had HOT TEA in their HANDS.

This of course, meant the rest of the HOT TEA landed on my right tit.

I now have a burnt mouth, a burnt thumb and forefinger, and a burnt right boob.

BRILLIANT.

Have you had a moment of 'brilliance' lately? What did you do?

Soon, I shall go with Shawn to a place filled with people he works with. I have dressed up accordingly and will attempt to distract them from my fat with my boobs.





Also, thank you rachaelwynter I got your chrissymas card! <3

Honorary mentions: "well... they're boobz! c'mon! It's so obvious" -Shawn.

":Boobs have so many FUN names!

Boobs, boobies, hooters, jubs, jubblies, wubblies, joy bubbles, joy pillows, joy muffins, muffins...and those were just the ones I thought up by my selfes." -tigerphoenix

10.) They’re oh so warm. I know this because Shawn often shoves his little stubby antarctic circle-ice-cube-finger-sticks in my bra, under a boob, on top of, to reheat them.

9.) According to Shawn they are incredibly soft and should be pet like kittons often.

8.) Parts of the boob are named in a fun manner. Nipples are a silly word. Nipples. Niiiips. Nipply nips. Go on, say it. Niiiippples.

7.) Then, right by silly nipples we have the serious and oh so proper areola. Whoa. Fancy wordz.

6.) Nipples come in so many different colors, shapes and forms they can almost as unique as a finger print.

5.) They jiggle and are able to hypnotize many into joining your army to which you can take over the world.

4.) Temperature indicators!

3.) The occasional ability to render thought inoperative by cleavage alone.

2.) Large breasts in a bra make for an EXCELLENT stash place. Hide that dollar bill under your jubblies!

1.) "Best. Pillows. Ever." -Shawn

Of course, not everyone will agree nor enjoy the boobs and I say that's all right too.

This is Mel, signing off. Bringing you the boobs since 2006.

Several disjointed thoughts I have, such as why is it when everyone else has gone to bed and the house has gone still, I can HEAR silence? It's very odd because there really is no other sound like no-sound. That hissing, static drone of--nothing.

My birthday is coming up on July 2nd, and Shawn's father's birthday was yesterday. Because everyone had to/has to work/Shawn's mother getting laid off/the realization of the cost of caring for a diabetic without insurance/ I will be cooking his (our) birthday supper Sunday.

Today, I will pre-cook the meat loaf and the macaroni and cheese with four kinds of cheese because I don't want to have the hassle of cooking for eight people on Sunday.

This way, all I have to do on Sunday is prepare the red 'taters for their bake in rosemary, olive oil and garlic.

Shawn says he'll take me to Tai-Tai on July fourth, but I don't want to go, for a number of selfish and non selfish reasons.

We can't afford it.
We can't afford it.
Fuck it, I'm getting old and birthday's fucking suck fuckity fuck fuck it.
I want to stay home and sulk this year.


Maybe that's half the reason I've been in such a desperation to create something recently.

I will be twenty nine years old this July, 2nd, one year away from the big 3.0, where horrific tales of hairy chins, larger moles, willy nilly birthmarks, deepening voices and night sweats with day chills begin to circulate.

I have a love/hate affair with aging. I cannot wait for the grey or white hair and I cannot wait for my laugh lines to deepen but I don't want the pile of negative shit which starts and I certainly don't need an extra reminder that I am hurtling happily through life toward a permanent dirt nap to which my consciousness will dissipate and my brain will no doubt become a delicious side course for zombies. Or worms. Whichever.

Maybe I'm just not looking forward to my boobs drooping any further, because if these puppies are pummeled by gravity anymore, by the time I hit 50 I'm not going to have torpedo tits, I'm going to have foot warmers.

in this journal. Really, I named it 'Hooray for Boobies!,' and where are they? Where are the boobs?

Rose-Kim Knits have assisted me in bringing on the boobs. Here they are:




Nothing says cozy, better, than a knitted boob pillow.

EDIT: THEY WEREN'T REAL BOOBIES. IT WAS A PILLOW WITH KNITTED BOOBIES ON IT. OH MY GOD PHOTOBUCKET.




Shawn, Artisan of Song, man of poetry, loving husband, often tells me to, bring your boob blanket to me. Another way of him saying, gee honey, it'd be great if you'd cuddle up to my back as we sleep.

I think I'll get him this instead.