warning: run-on sentences
originally written to my deafeningly quiet list-serv

Hi whispering nappers,

What are you whispering and napping about? Sh-sh dreams? Or do your fingers have a bad case of laryngitis? Why so shy, wall flowers? Come out come out and bring your chatterbox fingers with you.

Well, just because when I am faced with uncomfortable long, drawn-out silences I get a slow on-coming case of hives and begin a drumming circle all of my own by rapid shallow breathing*, I am choosing to blab in your eyes and tell you a whole lot of nothing.

(* Not really. I actually like those.)

Such as, I really want the latest Television Without Pity t-shirt called "God is in the Tub." You know how you shouldn't bug yer mom when she's had a long day and is soaking in the tub so even though your little brother just burped in your ear you best back away from that bathroom door and leave her alone? That's what this t-shirt is about. Stop bugging God with your mundane trivial boo hoos and let him/her relax in the tub. It's been a long day.

And also I'm soaking my ears in Led Zeppelin. Is there anything more delicious for the ears than Zep? I'm thinking no.

Today I spent hours — HOURS — looking at nipples. Inverted nipples. Long nipples. Wide nipples. Low nipples. Shy nipples. Nipples that have fed entire villages. Nipples that range from Crayola "Flesh" color to dark as a plum.

Okay. Maybe it wasn't hours. But it sure damn well felt like it. And all I have to say is ENOUGH WITH THE NIPPLES ALREADY.

That said, it is amazing the stories people tell you when they find out you are writing stuff about inverted nipples. Especially guys. Guys really want to talk to you about inverted nipples. Girls they used to know, playboys they've seen before (swear to god and hi to ST). The girls have been a little less forth coming, but not totally. I've heard from them, too.

ST told me that I had the dream job of certain fetishists. And I'm sure I do. Too bad I'm not one of them.