Wednesday, November 16, 2011


OK, you can consider me officially bummed out. Man. Our beloved Diane von Austinburg was scheduled to come out for Thanksgiving and we were going to go down the coast to Big Sur to hang out for the annual celebration of carbohydrates. Then last month, Diane broke her tail bone. Sitting is very painful, so a four hour plane ride and then a three hour drive down the thrilling but zig zaggy coastal highway is just such a dumb idea not even I can endorse it, despite my astonishing powers of being delusional.

Let me make clear I really am disappointed and feel awful about the poor thing's on-going pain. That said, because I have the sense of humor of a sixth grader, I cannot let go of the inherent sniggering in a bone named "coccyx" and commonly referred to as the "tail bone." I am ashamed. I am a bad friend. And yet, I snigger.

I'm not alone in this. Our friend Super Agent Fred asked her if she cracked it practicing her triple axle lutz. John, another pal, suggested the break had obviously come about during a skateboarding spree. I favor a simpler and more broad reaching conclusion: shenanigans. She can blame tripping over her cat all she wants, there is still a free floating implication of sexual gymnastics gone bad, terribly, terribly bad.

So, now that I have that more or less out of my system, let me reiterate how sorry I am for her. Poor thing.

Houseboy Jinx Nocturnus demonstrates a functional coccyx:


  1. Of all the times of the year to have a broken butt!

    It is too bad Ms. VonAustinburg cannot visit, for I am certain the Evil and Adorable one would do all sorts of healing purrs for her. And, if not, some of the houseboys probably would.

    Feel better soon, Ms. VonA. Maybe Mr. P. can go see you and help you fist a turkey for the big day.

  2. Oh no!

    All the more reason for you to get out the gilded silk upholstered litter and have a few of your houseboys cart her everywhere.

    Oh, and one of those donut hemorrhoid pillows too.

  3. OH EM GEE, as the youth would have it. Donut pillows have actually come up in emails between the two of us. I think that, combined with my sniggering just makes it worse. I'm lucky she still speaks to me.

  4. Well, I don't know about speaking to you, as you refuse to ever answer your phone. But still love you . . . even through my pain and extreme sadness. In fact, I think I better go take a vicodin.

    And you'll be seeing me soon, just not soon enough.

  5. Also, I'm not sure my name has ever come up in a post that also contained the label "muscle pussy."

  6. "...a free floating implication of sexual gymnastics gone bad, terribly, terribly bad"

    And unfortunately all that work for naught. The East German and Soviet judges never score the dismount higher than an "8".

  7. How unfortunate. A fractured coccyx is the last thing one expects from tripping over ones pussy. Gasps of admiration... rounds of applause... or money being thrown by the audience perhaps could be anticipated... but certainly not the resultant cracked "crack".
    I send my best wishes Diane for a speedy recovery from such a pain in the arse....

  8. Poor Diane! Thank God it's just broken. It'll mend.

    I'm bummed for you Peenee. I know what a bummer it can be to have one's plans fall aprt.

  9. Having once been the bearer of a bruised coccyx, I feel for you, Diane.

    I also just like saying the word "coccyx."

  10. What? Oh no! And I mean that for everyone involved!


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