I wanted to share two things. One is that I'm very super funny.

I'm having this (I don't think I shared a pic before) implanted next month:

PollyDude is very squeamish about medical procedures. He doesn't have an issue with blood and guts, but if it's an on-purpose medical thing, he gets super squirrelly. I thought HE was going to pass out when I told him I'd be awake when they put that shit in my chest. The idea of something inorganic in there gives him the heebie-jeebies. I told him that he could pretend I was a sex robot, and then I made super-sexy "beep! Boop!" noises while sort of robot dancing. "Oh. Dear. There. Goes. PD's. Boner. Must. Re-bone." Because he didn't find that sexy at all. I don't know what's wrong with him.


But we were so very enthusiastic, that I somehow pulled a muscle in my arm, and he threw his back out. He couldn't walk until afternoon. This is obviously no good, because he's in terrible pain and missed a day to work on his house, but I think that this speaks to how much we enjoy each other!


My euphemism for sex is "lunch," because I used to have pretty long email conversations at with friends while we were working, and everything is stored and is property of the company, etc. So we'd call it lunch. It ended up becoming confusing. "I'm seeing Grandma for lunch,"

Okay, maybe never GRANDMA, but there were a few awkward times when we really did mean lunch. That you eat. NOT THAT KIND OF EATING YOU SICKOS. (Also, we use fruits and veggies to express swear-y feelings. "Potato that load of carrots!")