Okay so. Our bank card? It’s missing. MISSING. We used it last night, and I know Rob brought it home. I’ve been looking for it all day– under stuff, in stuff, behind stuff… everywhere. It’s impossible to find. Hmm. Maybe I ate it. Hopefully not; anyway I’m hoping Rob can find it when he gets home from work; there are a couple of things we need to get. The bank was closed by the time I got there (dang bank– 11 – 3? Why bother opening at all?) Man. Why don’t we keep emergency cash in the house? DANGIT! OH THE WOE OF BEING PART OF A PLASTIC-DEPENDENT SOCIETY!
Also. I just watched a show on TLC about plastic surgery. I have nothing against plastic surgery if you feel like you need to have it; I do question people like the lady who had 49 surgeries and was in for her 50th. The one that really got to me, though, was the guy who was getting penis surgery. Like, a penis implant. They use flesh taken from cadavers to implant into your wang!!! DEATHWANG!
Not that I’m ever going to encounter it, but I think I might be a little… I don’t know. Squicked out, if I came upon a wang in my travels and said wang was all scarred like Frankenstein. Frankenwang.
I’ll spare you any google’d photos or anything like that.
In my early twenties I worked for a plastic surgeon… it was quite the learning experience.
There are men who request implants in their claves, to make them look muscular. You’d be amazed at what people will do to stay young, to look strong and be attractive.
I’ve got to say I love the Wonder Woman image.
Take care.