Saturday, Sept. 14, 2002
Dear Diary:

Help me out here. What IS the proper etiquette regarding a runaway testicle?

The daughter and I were sitting on the Metro (subway) today heading uptown to check out a photo exhibit, buy a birthday gift for a friend's daughter and look for some books for me.

Sitting a few rows ahead of us and facing us was a man wearing shorts, a salute to the unseasonably warm weather here in Montreal this weekend..

Clearly he had decided to go commando because the shorts had rucked up and one of His Boys had decided to slip the surly bonds of earth and was making a break for freedom.

Well, as much of a break for freedom as bulbous bits firmly attached to your body can make.

It took me a moment to register what I was seeing. I blinked several times. I took a quick glance to reassure myself that yes, yes indeed I Was Looking At Dangly Bits To Which I Had Not Pledged My Troth.

Oh my.

This is new territory for me and I did not know how to react. Where oh where is Ms. Manners when you need her? Huh? HUH?

I mentally reviewed my options. I came up with three possible scenarios.

First, I could take the direct approach. This would involve me walking over to a complete stranger, looking him in the eyes and saying, "Nice testicle".

Second, I could use the childish euphemism approach. This would involve me walking over to a complete stranger, looking him in the eyes and saying, "Excuse me mister but did you know that one of your cookies has decided that it's too sexy for your shorts?"

Third, I could use the complete denial of reality approach and simply pretend that I wasn't seeing what I was seeing. "Lah lah lah lah lah. No naked nuts here, nosireebob. Lah lah lah lah lah."

I mulled over the pluses and minuses of each option. My final decision?

Lah lah lah lah lah.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


Subscribe with Bloglines


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 -


.:Cast:. .:Diaryland Notes:. .:Comments (0 so far):. .:E-mail:.
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.

Cavort, cavort, my kingdom for a cavort Globe of Blogs 12 Per Cent Beer my partners in crime


A button for random, senseless, drive-by linkings:
Blogroll Me!


< ? blogs by women # >
Bloggers over forty + ?
<< | BlogCanada | >>
[ << ? Verbosity # >> ]
<< x Blog x Philes x >>


This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.