Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Putting the TMI in absentminded

Month: July 2009

  • It’s the Bass, Baby

    Baby. It’s me, baby. I’m the Bass with No Name. Yeah, Baby. I kept that girl going all night long. Her husband went to bed and we kept at it. She three-fingered me until I could eventually recognize “Bird on a Wire.” You don’t use your thumb in that song. It’s a good song for…

  • I Ache In The Places Where I Used To Play. Still.

    I was self-diagnosing on the internet when I came across the graphic below. Does this graphic look right to you? Uh, it seems to me it is not drawn to scale. Or else it is accurate and Gary is really well endowed and has stretched me entirely out of shape. Because my parts are not…

  • Intimacy

    I had planned to get my tags renewed today. I had planned to get my Celexa refilled today. I did not plan to have a McAngus Burger barrel through my lower GI tract as I drove home. Yet, that is what happened, and I am proud to say I made it. I planned well in…

  • In Which I Am Trodden Down By The Man!

    Today the Man is the Missouri Department of Motor Vehicles. I don’t know the Man’s scam in other states, but Missourians have to get plastic stamps to stick on our license plates every year. Back in the day (1980) I would pull my Mustang with its gutted seatbelts into the gas station; the mechanics would…

  • Sunday Miscellany

    I. Both days this weekend met my yardwork criteria: they were overcast and approximately 80, so I allowed myself to go outside. I see now the criteria should be expanded to require the weather be overcast, 80 or less, AND have some actual oxygen molecules in the air that are not bound to hydrogen to…

  • A Time to Sow, a Time to Reap

    I remember 20 years ago, planting the landscaping around the house, searching for ground covers that would fill in the blank spots, waiting through “the first year they sleep, the next year they creep, the third year they leap.” That rhyme doesn’t continue on, but the verse 20 should be “the year they become invincible…

  • I Hope I Get Three Secrets Too

    This coming week it will have been one month since the last holy visitation by our Lady of the Labia and her miraculous stigmata of the Cooter. Will my crotch weep tears of blood every four weeks? It is a little like Mary appearing every month to the children at Fatima. We shall see. Given…

  • A Poem for the Last Late Six

    natural causes / trashed a closet – strangled and dangled while masturbating / found in bed not respirating / crappy anus / heinous heart / Died in penury of an old neck injury and the next set of three can start