Beachfront Beefcake

California Muscle, the source for all things underwearific, list this number in their swimwear section. Naturlment. This is just what I look for when I'm planning on knocking out a few laps at the Y.

These Shoes Suck

Part of the upcoming weekend festivities will be a performance of Mrpeenee Goes Shoe Shopping. I'm not wild about any retail experience, except thrift stores, and shoes tend to be especially problematic since I wear size 13.5 (15 in ladies pumps. But that's another story.) You may have not noticed this, but in men's shoe departments, each size is afforded its own individual row, or sometimes two until you get to size 12 after which they just dump all the over-sized merchandise into the equivalent of a cobbler's black hole. The pitifully limited selection of all things 13 through 18 are simply jumbled together - good luck, freak. They might as well put a sign over them saying "Clown Shoes Here" and be done with it. Half sizes are almost unheard of since the evil shoe cartels assume if your feet are taking up that much real estate, such subtle distinctions are unimportant.

Maybe I should just go to the trannie shoe store and get some nice springolators. At least they would make my calves look nice.

Those Darn Accordions! perform Mothra

I believe this may be much better if one is really, really loaded, but that's true of so many things.

Australian Panties. Yay.

This is why we love aussiebum. They're serious about underwear and we respect that.

http://www.aussiebum.com/

Our Australian blogger mate the other Andrew probably sees this stuff all the time. Hell, he probably knits knickers for this boy. Still, for those of us living a more quiet, retired existence, this is notable.

The Divine Diane

We're counting down the hours until our dear friend, the divine Diane von Austin-berg, blows into town Saturday morning. Yay and more than yay. Adoration does not begin to describe our feelings for her fabulosity, her wonder, her grooviness, her willingness to over look my occasional shortcomings.

She and I go way back, to our misspent youths as lackeys on a daily newspaper at the University of Texas (hook 'em, indeed.) Actually, only I was a lackey, Diane wound up as News Editor because she can actually edit, a skill far beyond me, as these posts so often attest. We sort of drifted apart, but then collided, joyfully, at a wedding in Las Vegas where I was the matron of honor and Diane, as usual, was blameless. We have spent a part of each fall together ever since and they have all been fizzy vacations, let me tell you.

We've had extended houseparties in Ashland, Oregon to go to the Shakespeare festival there and we've had week-long times when we haven't made it any farther than Berkeley. She's been a great sport about invasions of my entire family suddenly jammed in on top of us and she was very supportive during a couple of bad spells when R Man was way sick. It's a testament to her fabulousness that both R Man and I love her company; you know how unusual it is for a couple to both enjoy a friend.

She and I share a real passion for good coffee, which translates into Peet's here, and for good food, so I've already made reservations at Chez Panisse, Slanted Door and Yank Sing, all of which I'm certainly looking forward to , but not as much as just cooking with her.

It's rare to find someone who can co-habitate a kitchen with me. I'm shrill and tyrannical around pots and pans, knives and cutting boards, but Diane and I function effortlessly and it's a joy. For months before she comes out, we email potential menus back and forth; this year, risotto with mint and peas as well as pan-seared scallops are coming on strong in our plans.

We also indulge our cut-throat love of thrift stores when together, but I am a mere piker compared to her mastery. That woman can walk in the front door, scan a rack of Walmart discards and emerge with the one Structure gray wool sweater in the whole place. In my size. On a day when sweaters are fifty cents. One can only bow down before her. There's new junk shop on Sixth Street I have refrained from working until I can share it with her. Greater love hath no poofy-boy.

Did I mention Boggle contests? Yes, I have no shame about my complete nerdness. Boggle. I would kick her ass at it, except she cheats, if you consider knowing more words than me cheating, that is. Cheat, cheat, cheat.

The only problem is we never have enough time for all our plans, but that's what next year is for.

62 hours and counting.

Pedantic Public Service

Mrpeenee would like to remind everyone, especially those who like to use big words they don't really understand, that the phrase "begs the question" does not mean to raise the question. Quite the opposite, it means to make the question unnecessary.

On a similar note, please bear in mind the whole is not comprised of its parts. What these slipshod speakers are trying to say is the whole is composed of its parts or else the whole comprises its parts. So knock it off, spitwads. You know how irritable I get.

Any similar grammatical errors Mrpeene makes are merely conscious deviations, colorful, humorous elements in our writing style. Suck it.

Thanks to our grammar coach, Santiago, above, pictured in the Mrpeenee International Center for Understanding and Research of the Native Tongue.

http://www.allamericanguys.com/

How Hard Could It Be to Cut off Your Own Foot, Anyway?

Why do minor medical problems during the day wait to turn into monster crises in the middle of the night? For that matter, why do they always schedule themselves for Friday after work, when your doctor is gone, to rear their ugly heads? It's 3:00 AM, my foot hurts, has done so with increasing shrillness all weekend and I have lots to do tomorrow. On the bright side... wait, there is no bright side. Oh, I know. The bright side is that tomorrow I can blame this post on the Valium I took and which seems to be having the same potent effect of a blue M&M. I'll stop now before this turns into one of those Andy Rooney-esque cries for euthanasia. I'll go find a humpy boy picture to post instead.

Everybody like humpy boy pictures.