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Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Holy Mother of G-d... 

... I'm twelve.

No, really. I may have the body and face of vivacious 37 year-old woman (oh, shut up), but I think I might actually be a twelve year-old. A hypocritical twelve year-old, to be precise.

Like other folks, I’m annoyed at the big brouhaha over the exposure of Janet Jackson’s breast during the Super Bowl. I’m pretty sure there are more devastating things over which to be offended than Janet’s one second peep-show, accidental or not.

It’s just a tit. A nice tit, to be sure, but a tit. Hell, you couldn’t even see that much nipplage. Grow the fuck up, people.

Or so I was telling myself. Until earlier today.

The assignment in which I’m currently working involves ad sales, marketing and the internet. So as I was innocently working away, updating a database, I stumbled across the phrase “KY Jelly”. And while I was outwardly perfectly professional, inwardly I actually snickered. There may have even been a mental “heh-heh”.

Yeah, I know. Grow the fuck up, Carol.

(KY Jelly... *snort*)



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Carol/Female/36-40. Lives in United States/California/Los Angeles/San Fernando Valley, speaks English. Spends 40% of daytime online. Uses a Normal (56k) connection.
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