••• Monday, December 13, 2004

Look Under There

An Ode to Bernard
So long ago,
My Momma say,
"Wear clean undies,
Every day."

A priceless gem
Of sage advice,
Worth well beyond
A princely price.

This classic pearl
Seems lost on those,
Whose butts won't clean
With a fireman's hose.

So don't forget
Clean undewear.
For you never know
Who's sniffin' down there.

I wonder if the same intell*igence team that brought us WMD is now working in the White House Human Resource Department.

I saw this over at Mode Knits.

The white trash in my blood will not keep me from becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but it will keep me from a good haircut and any sort of fashion sense.

I'd like to see a quiz for sifting out second or third generation trashers. I'd likely come out in the 90% range.

Post Dearth Warning
I love that word, dearth. Anyway. For the remainder of this week I may be absquatulating from my regular blogging duties.

I'm currently wirelessless at home (don't get me started on inCOMpetentCAST.COM) and the basketball season in full press upon us. (I don't know much about sports language, except for swearing, so I apologize for any perceived misuse or abuse of the sacred vernacular. Speaking of sports language, at the last basketball game, I leaned over to my husband and said "We've got a deep bench." He was impressed. Evidently he thought I was making an intelligent observation about the quality of the team. I was actually making a comment on the ass-enhanced couple who had just squeezed into the limited bleacher space immediately in front of us, and taking up all our leg room.)

I gotta go. My nickel done run out.

Be safe.

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