Free Association Friday: That Bitchin’ Wife

Today, while I bloggybloggenshtein all day, my bloggy BFF and BlogHer roommate Amy-that-delightful-bitchin’-wife free-associates with me. Before anyone comments about the difficulty of the words, please keep in mind that Amy uses words like “Sisyphean” and “dystopian” in the course of regular conversation. I provided the words in bold, and Amy did the rest…

Luftballons: Karaoke FAIL.

Chicanery: The fights that break out over swag bags at BlogHer. There’s a limited number of bags, first come-first served…. Fightin’ words, if I ever heard ‘em!

Ipecac: Baking powder? Exsqueeze me? Are you okay? No, seriously, are you all right?? Stand back! I know the Heimlich!!

Chortle: Something old men do when laughing at their own jokes. Or maybe that’s what bloggers do when they crack themselves up while writing a post?

Ambrosia: Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods. Or what my stage-name will be if this whole blog-thing doesn’t work out and I have to start my own amateur porn site to make a few bucks. I can see it now: Ambrosia: Strippin’ ‘n’ Bitchin’ All Night Long….. Rawr.

Squab: I think that’s what the doctor said he needed to do to my cervix the last time I went in….

Fecundity: Fecundity, my friend, is what has landed me in this boys locker room that I call my life! Though grateful that I was able to conceive, I would’ve enjoyed having to work just a bit harder at it, if you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge! I mean, c’mon, where is the fun in procreation sex (and you know that is the hottest kind, right?) if you get pregnant the first time every go around? So, if you have a story about hot bathroom sex, hot sex at the in-laws, hot sex in the car while sleeping kids are in the tent , hot sex anywhere that is performed in the name of meeting that urgent ovulation call…. Spare me.

Quinoa: Twigs and berries! Tree-hugging posie-sniffers!? Salt of the earth, but with less flavor?

Ronco: I weep for that perfect carrot-peeler… or was it a lemon juicer?…. Wait, I think it was a meat-grinder. Crap. Whatever it was, I weep for its glorious simplicity of purpose, its exceptionally satisfying price-point, and its complimentary Ginsu Knife set.

Pasty: Normally, I’d immediately think of Annie Sprinkle and her outrageous swinging tassels but since I am about to become a Brit, I’ll have to sweep that image aside and instead envision eating warmed pasties filled with vile gristly meat and mushy peas and carrots. *Sigh* Maybe if I imagine eating said pasties to Yackety Sax?

Filmic: I was striving for this level of sophistication (just say it…. ‘filmic’ … it feels fancy!) with my undergrad education in radio, TV, and film, but my hopeless emotionality (apparently crying during class screenings of films isn’t good academic form for film-geeks-in-training) left me less ‘filmic’ and more, uh, vidiotic?

Tschotchke: Utterly craptastic, cloyingly adorable, or expensive classy clutter, it doesn’t matter; it just has to be completely devoid of irony. And covering every horizontal surface of your house. (My velvet Elvis collection, extensive showing of Hummel figurines, and starlight-mint Virgin Mary statuary DO NOT COUNT! They are highly collectible and valuable and I display them with heaps of irony.)

Filbert: That’s what you call the “nice” boy that you knew in high school or college that was not-so-secretly in love with you and who, one night, out of sheer desperation, teenaged hormones, and under the influence of a few too many Milwaukee’s Beasts (or whippets & whiskey, in my case) decided, to disastrous results, that maybe, just maybe, you could love him back and then tried to jump his bones. Regrettable in almost every instance. “Ah, Filbert…. You were just too ‘good’ for my bad-boy tastes!”

Awesome job, Amy! Now if I can just get you to stop insisting we play “light as a feather, stiff as a board” before lights out… and people do click over to her blog–especially if you haven’t see her fabulous re-design by Nap Warden.

xo friends!