Less of Josephine.

Bugs: Apparently the entire world’s population of mosquitoes is currently camped out in my backyard just waiting for me to leave the house. I imagine them there, huddled in a sneaky, buzzing mob just around the corner, sharpening their teeth or their suckers or… or… their proboscises. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Sharp frickin’ little proboscises, the wee bastards. So doing anything outside in the yard is supremely unpleasant even though we are having wonderful weather. I hope the recent losses I’m seeing on the scale (unofficially down to 193.2 this morning!) aren’t simply due to blood loss, but it seems quite possible.

Talk: I’m glad I can be anonymous on the Interwebz right now because I’m going to talk about something scandalous. Well, not super scandalous, but more titillating than cooking at least. This month’s issue of Maxim had an article on the do’s and dont’s of Dirty Talk. I read the article aloud to my husband because it was pretty funny (lots of hilarious examples of what NOT to do). He laughed in all the appropriate places, but he also seemed mildly interested. So I asked him if he wished I would do more dirty talking in the sack. My current repertoire consists mainly of moans, sighs, and occasionally a faint “yes, yes, yes…”. But that’s it. Nothing that’s going to win me any awards, I assure you. Now I’m not adverse to hearing naughty talk, and my husband is pretty good at delivering a variety of raunchy, yet sexy, phrases in flagrante delicto. But every time I try I just get the giggles. Well, my darling husband answered that, yes indeed he’d love it if I could manage a few words here and there, perhaps even stringing some of them together into actual sentences. He even went so far as to make some suggestions, bless his little heart. He had me repeat his selected verbiage back to him and of course, I just couldn’t keep a straight face. I just can NOT do this and I’m a little surprised. I’m not uptight and I’m certainly not a prude, but I just feel plain silly saying that stuff. I guess it will take some practice to get this right. Practice, and maybe a half dozen shots of Cuervo.

Dreams: Dreams are weird. I had a dream last night that I was in love with Jim from the television show The Office (best sitcom ever), but of course he was completely, eternally in love with the wonderful Pam and so he totally ignored me. It was as if I didn’t even exist. In the dream, I moped around alot and the damn camera crew kept following me to capture every one of my devastated facial expressions whenever Jim and Pam laughed or smiled at each other. Man, was I rejected. I bet it’s because underneath those cute little sweaters and business-appropriate-length skirts, Pam is a real wild one and talks up a blue streak in bed, the little minx. It figures.