Department of The Informed Consumer
This is what the back/insides of your clothes dryer may look like, after someone has taken it apart in an effort to discover why it has stopped drying clothes.
Now you know.
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The D word
As in, Duh – do ya think?
Earlier this week I found The L Word TV entire series collection as I scrolled through the Netflix offerings. I was looking for an intellectually-effortless diversion to pass the time until MH returned from a game of Ultimate Frisbee and we could watch The Serious Movie © we’d rented.
I recalled that the term “groundbreaking”  had accompanied every other mention of the show during its finale year, and thought it a shame that no such ground had been broken on my TV screen (the show had heretofore not been seen by moiself). Thus, I proceeded to watch the first two episodes of The L Word, that seminal,  groundbreaking cable TV drama about the lives of a group of Los Angeles area gay women.
Correction: I tried to watch the first two/pilot episodes of The L Word.
Hey world, we got your bold, sassy, livin’ and lovin’ LILAs (Lesbians in Los Angeles), hanging out at chic coffee shops (read: having sex), going to parties (read: having sex) and art gallery openings (read: having sex) and exercise class (read: having sex) and skinny-dipping in their chic condo pools (read: having sex) and flirting with straight women, all of whom have repressed or unaddressed desires to be with women (read: having sex)….
And all of the women – every fucking one of them (pun mostly unintended) – had the faces, physiques and wardrobes of models who’d just stepped off a Calvin Klein catwalk. Which is, of course, how the majority of lesbians in this country look (ahem ) . And the gym locker room scene between two topless ladies, featuring the spinning instructor who was so-skinny-you-could-see-every-clavicle-curve yet somehow had amazingly ample breasts (the outline of her implants could be plainly seen, what with her skinny-ass skin stretched so tight to accommodate them)? Classy.
I couldn’t make it all the way through the second episode, FAVOR.  I found the show too silly and too booby and too fake blow-jobby and…
Okay. My age or something may be showing here,  but I just don’t find the overwrought, overplayed scenes of what I call movie sex to be sexy, or the least bit erotic. Not. At. All.
You want erotic? I’m bringing sexy back with this:
While I take a breather and dab my forehead with a cool compress, I must apologize for the previous pop song reference.
By the way and apropos of almost nothing, did you know that when I first heard SexyBack I thought Mr. J. Timberlake was warbling about his allegedly alluring upper torso?
You know, like this:
And not this.
Excuse-moi. Once again, I digress.
The morning after watching The L Word I googled the show to confirm what (to me) was a duh suspicion: that The L Word was produced by men, who could sell to other men (who are the majority of television producers) the idea of nubile lesbians – not a lumberjack shirt or sensible pair of shoes in sight – getting all rubby-dubby with their hot lady selves.
I was close, if not entirely correct. Credits claimed The L Word was “created by” three women; however, two of the three executive producers – the ones who greenlight shows and are the real power behind what shows get made/aired and what doesn’t – were men.
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Department of What’s the Point
While we’re circling the subject….
Yet another night sitting in The Stressless Comfy Chairs ®, awaiting the queuing up of yet another movie.
I reached for the remote to mute yet another commercial about ED, only this time I paused to briefly consider the paradox of the ad. An attractive, older (silver tresses elegantly coiffed; no male pattern baldness in sight) couple was walking on the beach, holding hands and exchanging sly looks, while the voice-over promised you’ll be ready for whatever comes up, so to speak. The couple continued their stroll while another voice-over cautioned that, in return for the illusion promise of an appearance by the swashbuckling Captain Standish,  you may also be visited by his deck crew, Ensigns headache, backache, sore throat, sneezing, “indigestion” (upset stomach and diarrhea), sore throat, nausea…
So. You’ll be ready for sex, but who will want to be around you?
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More Guy Things I Have Recently Learned About
“Intellectual growth should commence at birth and cease only at death.”
Albert was right – education really is a life-long experience.
Last week a friend called to reschedule our meet-for-lunch date because she had to leave her work to pick up her husband at his work. She took him home to get a change of clothes and tidy up, after he’d had a self-described “wardrobe malfunction.” Details: he’d been in need of a bathroom break, and while using the facilities he had “lost his grip.”
Never again will I be able to hear one person tell another person to get a grip without wondering just how metaphorical or literal the advice may be.
The story, entertaining on its own merits, elicited additional amusement when I relayed it over dinner to MH. I previously had no idea as to the real and present dangers every man faces when he uses public or workplace restrooms, until MH enlightened me. A wardrobe malfunction is a common result of urinal splashback, which, MH gravely informed me, is why smart men “never wear khaki.” Denim and other dark colored pants are best for hiding and/or absorbing splashback. 
Good to know.
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We now take a (perhaps welcome) break in our unintentional Naughty Bits Theme to end with a moment of Self Promotion.
The Book fair is here! The Book Fair is here!
As I mentioned in last week’s blog, Saturday, April 25 (yikes, that’s tomorrow – I’d better start looking for my hairbrush), the Beaverton City Library is holding the ingeniously titled Author! Author! – a book fair featuring local (Washington & Multnomah county) authors.
The event is free, open to the unwashed lit-loving public who, from 10a – 1p may browse and (hopefully) purchase selected titles of fiction, nonfiction, poetry and children’s literature penned by local authors.
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May your backs be sexy, may your wardrobe never experience a malfunction, and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
 Whether a show breaks ground or fills in previously dug holes – makes no diff to us, as we are among the few remaining cretins/sensible people who refuse to pay $$$ per month to get 249 channels we have no intention of watching.
 That just doesn’t seem right, does it?
 PC apology/disclaimer forthcoming. One of these days.
 The return of my favorite acronym: For A Variety Of Reasons.
 But at least not my titties, unlike every character in that show, who must have signed multiple breast exhibition clauses in their contracts.
 One of my slang terms re such matters, along with, “Having the Irish toothache.”
 A phenomenon which is never, ever, to be confused with sexyback.