Tuesday, Apr. 24, 2007
Dear Diary:

There have been accusations of hostacide. Oh, and as if that wasn't bad enough, I didn't get an orgasm, either.

Hostacide!

ME!

And No Orgasm!

I have officially moved way, way beyond bitterness to a darker, nameless place.

Some of my three loyal readers may recall that last summer the spousal unit, who has mercilessly mocked my hosta obsession hobby, fell in love with a hosta called T-Rex. Ever since I myself fell in love with the leafy wonders of hosta, I have always believed that I wouldn't find a hosta I couldn't like.

Trust the spousal unit to find the one hosta I actually find somewhat repugnant. I couldn't find one locally from a nursery that I trust. Sadly, word of his dark obsession filtered around, and a friend of a gardening friend bought one in Ottawa and brought it all the way here.

As you can see from the pictures, this plant is only slightly smaller than an elephant. There aren't many places on the property where I want to put an elephant and so we came to a sort of planting stalemate about the T-Rex. It was decided to temporarily plant it pot and all to overwinter in one of my beds. It was agreed that in the spring we'd lift it and set it in its permanent home.

Let me stress here that we planted it together. As in Both of Us Planted It.

Neither of us can remember where we put it. We have scoured every inch of every bed on this property and we cannot find it. It was planted in its pot with both a plastic name tag and a metal tag, so even if the pot drifted below the soil surface, the tags should still be there. They are not.

Aspersions have been cast. Accusations have been hurled. It is all very sordid.

So, of course, I went to the one place I can always count on to dissipate bad feelings and build up those happiness endorphins—the gym. Where, because the universe is a dark and uncaring place, I experienced yet another disappointment.

A few days ago when I was Googling about for a demonstration of a one legged squat (because I am all about the sharing) I stumbled into a discussion of how the single legged squat could induce an orgasm in a woman.

Oh my gosh my golly.

MarnCo Labs, a wholly owned subsidiary of MarnCo (the ruthless multinational behind The Big Adventure) simply could not allow the chance to, uh, perform a scientific experiment of such value pass it by. Clearly, we're talking Nobel level science here.

So off to the gym I went to see if MarnCo Labs could replicate the coregasm.

Because my balance is hinky, I set up a bench by a wall in the stretch room so I could use one arm for balance. I let my leg dangle down as suggested. Even though I could feel sweat pouring down my back, I refused to give up until I literally could not move my bending leg.

Science.

At MarnCo Labs our motto is "Blinded By Science."

Alas, no coregasm.

I decided that maybe you had to exhaust both legs. So I dutifully switched legs and took the other leg to complete and utter failure.

What did I get for my efforts?

Besides the excruciating pain I now feel in my thighs and buttal region?

Besides that?

Nothing.

Have I mentioned that I'm now officially beyond bitter? Oh, but I am.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 118.11 miles Ten percent there rubber duck. Ten percent there rubber duck.

Going Nowhere Collaboration

Goal for 2007: 500 miles


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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