Ninja Pajamas, and other good things.

One time, I discovered that by sucking on the inside of my bottom lip and catching it with my teeth, I could make it stick out in what I thought was a subtle, sexy, bee-stung look.

I showed C, my fianceé at the time.

"Do my lips look sexier like that?"

"Actually, it looked like you puked a little and then swallowed it."

So much for sexy.

First this.

Which is bad enough. But then someone actually rips it off and makes this. Although, the second one is kind of funny in the context of the first. But the ratio of effort input to laughter quotient leads to a net result of loss of intelligence across the entire human race.

The worst kind of anger is the kind that lasts all night. You know when your eyes snap open before the alarm that the last eight hours have done nothing to clear the rage from your system. Is rage processed by your liver?

You know as soon as you turn to the body next to you, sleeping, vulnerable, and the thought actually crosses your mind to push a pillow down over that resting face (How DARE it appear so peaceful!). The rage bubbles up and pounds just under your skin and all you can do is wake up, robbed of a few minutes of sleep, and storm around.

You are, in part, angry with this person for doing whatever made you angry in the first place, and also angry with your liver for failing to process this anger through the night. Had it performed properly, you could have woken up and let it go, and started your day with timid smiles and perhaps an act of contrition of the most carnal kind.