There Are No Words, Except Maybe I’m Sorry

I was all set to put up a canned post. Completely canned, like peaches in the dead of winter, a post written way back in the wilds of November during NaNoWriMo. But instead I’m taking a page out of my dear friend Chris Hinton’s book from the Dimwit Diary and just writing whatever is in my head. God I love a man with a half beard. So sexy.

(Photo Credit : thedimwitdiary.com)

Is there a woman in the world who doesn’t want to tap that? I personally can’t resist.(Photo Credit : thedimwitdiary.com)

I’m going to email this post to him tonight. He won’t receive the email because Chris of the beloved partial facial hair is currently holed up in the mountains somewhere typing out a manuscript hopefully while sleeping with a beautiful woman. He loves to do that.

Can you say that? That you hope someone is sleeping with a beautiful woman? I just did. I’m drunk on exhaustion, which is far better than being drunk on boredom. And the former is less likely to end with pairing up mismatched socks.

I had better get to the meat of this post soon before I start talking about mailing people condoms because safe sex is like swimming- everyone should know how to do it.

The above statement makes far more sense if one knows that my closest friend is moving away and I had offered to send her obscure objects in the mail so she wouldn’t miss me as much. I think post marked condoms bring warmth and joy to most people’s homesick hearts. I would also send three wingnuts and an acorn in the mail too. It’s questionable whether this is more or less normal than the last batch of postcards I sent out.

The following is an excerpt from a postcard I sent to family friends.

Even centaurs have to do laundry. Although given the expression on his face, it seems he’s excited by this. Perhaps because that’s what passes for entertainment in the centaur world. Pity. Someone should really teach those creatures how to bowl or skeetshooting.

Even centaurs have to do laundry. Although given the expression on his face, it seems he’s excited by this. Perhaps because that’s what passes for entertainment in the centaur world. Pity. Someone should really teach those creatures how to bowl or skeetshooting.

 

So I’m two hundred and some odds words in and I’ve realized that there is no meat of this post. Which is tragic, except for the vegetarians, they’ll be quite pleased. As it is I’m a steak lover myself, thus I’m going to bed. Good night all, I bid you a tired adieu.

Santa’s Making Honey After The End of The World

Every year Canada Post runs an incredible program that is manned and operated by volunteers. In the months leading up to Christmas children can send their letters to the North Pole and Santa will write back. Of course “Santa” is probably a fifty seven year old retired female accountant but it doesn’t matter. The whole thing is magical.

Occasionally I like to spice up my sister’s life by sending her ridiculous things in the mail. Sometimes it’s a drawing.

This hangs on the fridge next to a mosaic made by our five year old cousin. Those are my mother's abs by the way, not an homage to snakes on her stomach.

This hangs on the fridge next to a mosaic made by our five year old cousin. Those are my mother’s abs by the way, not an homage to snakes on her stomach. I’m in the middle.

Sometimes it’s an awkward valentine professing my love for her roommate. Recently, I’ve felt the need to step it up a notch. So I decided to write to Santa on her behalf. We’ll see whether Santa writes back.

 

Dear Santa,

Lookin’ hot. I’m loving the black belt that you wear. So trendy.  Last year you were awesome by the way. I loved how all of the clothes you brought me also fit my sister which was fabulous because when I gave them to her, she found them very wearable.

For this year I would like clothes again however as always I’m a little picky. I would like a very specific garment- a bee keeper hat. Just the hat. Not the outfit, and preferably in beige. Living in the downtown of a metropolis can get kind of boring so I’d like to spice things up by plopping the bee keeper mask and hat on my head and then wandering through the streets pretending I’m in the middle of a post apocalypse movie. Also if you could bring me a guy who looks like Will Smith to help me out with the whole charade I’d appreciate it too. Don’t get too stressed about bringing me the actual Will Smith, I know you’ve got a budget. I’d also like whoever you bring me to be able to juggle. There is never enough juggling in post apocalyptic alien war movies.

Much love,

Diana

 

I should probably add that Diana and Phillip are very happy together and to my knowledge Diana has never expressed an interest in Will Smith or Will Smith lookalikes. I merely was drawing from my meager well of post apocalyptic movies which consists of “Men in Black”. Also I once saw a poster for “I Am legend”. Generally I don’t watch movies because that would requires for sitting for a period greater than ten minutes.

*Names of Diana’s boyfriend’s have been changed to protect their anonymity because they never asked to be a part of a family with a weirdo writer.