Clitoris, Lunch, Chapstick, Train Rage and Nightmares
1. The Italian called me and woke me up yesterday to tell me that his son asked him, “Dad? What’s a clitoris?”
Yes, I’m serious.
The Italian responded, “I don’t know but I know where to find it.”
I told him to tell his son that it was a woman’s Staples Easy Button.
2. I went to lunch with Instigator and spent hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Okay, so that’s not entirely how that shit went down – but more or less how it happened. We went to lunch and I told her about an awesome loft I had seen the day before but that someone had already made an offer on it. She said, “let’s just drive by!” We drove by. Next thing you know, I called my realtor and we put in an offer. Then a third party made an offer and suddenly, I was in a bidding war.
I got the loft. And it’s kickass and awesome and perfect.
But maybe next time, I will just meet Instigator for coffee.
3. The other day, Besos and I were in the living room and Little Filthy was no where to be found. It was quiet. Too quiet. We found Little Filthy in the bedroom with a tube of Chapstick between his paws, the top chewed off and half the actual Chapstick clearly eaten.
*sigh*
4. I have train rage lately. To avoid my train rage, 1) don’t put stuff on the seat next to you when there are people standing, 2) let me off the train before you try to get on, 3) stand the hell up and give your seat to pregnant women, 4) don’t ask me for money – for any reason, and 5) on the escalators leaving the station, stand to the right, walk on the left. Is this too much to ask, people?
5. I jerked awake the other night after a nightmare. In it, I was on an upstairs balcony of a home, in a hall that overlooked the living room. A nanny was there, watching a baby crawl. The baby stopped crawling and sat down with his back toward the railing. I asked the nanny, “Can the baby fit through the rails?” She said no. And then I watched as the baby leaned back and his head slipped right between the rails, his legs shot out to get balance and he slowly began to fall back between the rails. I yelled and lept forward to reach for him. That’s when I jerked awake.
What the bloody hell.

As a child, Boss went through a phase in which she would only eat white foods. I find this fascinating since my only qualification for if something is edible is 1) if it stopped moving and 2) I can fit it in my mouth.























Just a random attorney writing about daily life with Little Filthy, my rotten dog.