By: Ann Brown
I’m having such a hard time writing the blog. I’ve been so tired. Just writing that now, I am spent. I must take to the couch with a cranberry and tonic, twist of lime, please. See how tired I am? I cannot even twist my own lime. Which is not a euphemism for anything prurient even though it totally sounds like it should be. Twisting my own lime is a capital thing to call it, isn’t it? So…sporty. So refreshing. Like a person would smack their lips afterwards and trot off to, say, clean up the oceans.
I bet more people would masturbate if there were agreeable euphemisms for it like “twisting my own lime”.
Although the word “twisting” makes me a little bit nervous. It implies a spinal flexibility that I no longer have. I’d have to tweak it to, I don’t know, gently stretching my own lime or something. Which sounds extremely repulsive and not at all like something that could relieve stress after a bad day or enhance a fantasy that Theodore Bikel is sharing my Jacuzzi.
Finding just the right words for things is a full-time job. Albeit a non-paying one. And one that does make good use of one’s precious time on this earth. Or of one’s degree in Ethnomusicology. And its quest causes one to hole up in one’s office telling family that she is working on her novel, the novel that is almost done, the novel that will, surely, pay off the Master Card bill when, in fact, she is in there thinking up clever euphemisms for the word “masturbation” for a blog post.
While the Chinese move ahead of us and take over the world.
A man with whom I am relatively newly-acquainted recently wrote the words, “sticking things up my ass” in an email to me. Rest assured the phrase was neither his reply to my earlier query that morning about how he spent his weekend nor was it his suggested activity should he and his wife ever invite Robin and me over. So I had no reason to be weirded out. I think, in fact, he used the phrase to make it clear to me how much he did not want to come to a class I teach, as in “I’d rather be at home…”
I mulled over his words. “Sticking things up my ass.” Clearly, this is a person who does not while away his days in search of a perfect turn of phrase. Clearly, this man has more important things to do with his time – feeding the poor, perhaps, or recycling, or keeping the Chinese at bay, and thus, he just runs with the first words that come to him so he can get on with living his BEST life, as per Oprah’s last wish to us.
Me, I am still here, trying to figure out how to end this post. I’m sorry, America.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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