DISCLAIMER: There will be no pictures of any body parts, naked or otherwise, in this post

Thanks to my desire to get to know my new point and shoot camera and my struggle with writer’s block, you’ve seen my feet, neck, ears and thighs recently. One of you (Hi Bullgrit!) commented that my blog might be headed for an R rating should I continue to regale you with my anatomy. Therefore, I’ve decided to hold off on posting the macro shots of my urethra, as well as the accompanying power point presentation entitled Mississippi Burning: A Day in the Life of a 42 Year Old Decrepit Bladder. I was going to go with the title How One Woman Temporarily Named Her Urinary Tract System After a Movie So That She’d Have a Cool Name for a Slideshow About Peeing Orange on a Routine Basis, but it wouldn’t fit on the cd label.

So, lest my blog run out and get all liquored up and come home with a NSFW (not suitable for work) tattoo emblazoned on its header, I will not be posting pictures of any parts of my body for at least a week.

You’re very welcome.

However, I would like to take a moment and publicly thank my new point and shoot camera for its uncanny ability to squeeze into some pretty confined spaces.

It’s Friday and I decided to jot down a few things that need to get done. I’m calling it my THINGS TO DO WHEN I’M DONE DOING THE OTHER THINGS I’M SUPPOSED TO DO list:

• Update our wills. We are taking a trip to San Francisco soon which means that (1)  Nate is busy creating an itinerary broken down into 30 second intervals; (2) the girls are busy stocking their iPods with music for the plane; and (3) I am busy anticipating an airline crash and/or earthquake and/or terrorist attack and/or Armageddon.

• Order replacement cartridges for my Canon i9900 printer. It has eight separate ink cartridges and I believe some of them may be empty. I became suspicious last week when it gasped, choked and spit out a sheet of paper with FEED ME, YOU MORON printed on it in invisible ink after I clicked Print.

• Clean out my cook books. Do I really need 183 cookie recipes to remind me that the last time I baked cookies without scorching the bottoms was never?

• Email Lane Bryant. I’d like to sing the praises of one of their employees who spent over an hour with me last week. Did you know that it is, in fact, possible to fight gravity with an industrial strength bra that does not migrate up to your neck within 35 seconds and which looks pretty and feminine and nothing like an ugly ass UFO? This almost made up for the discovery that somewhere along the way, my double d’s procured an illegal passport and crossed the border into triple territory without my knowledge. Almost.

• Lose weight. So that I can wear a bathing suit without throwing up. So that I can swim laps. So that I can lose weight. So that I can wear a bathing suit without throwing up.

• Avoid vicious circles.

• Order a conveyor belt. I’m going to install it between the back of Helena’s bedroom door, where two years worth of schoolwork in the form of eleventy billions sheets of paper and projects are currently growing roots, and the top of her closet where a gargantuan Rubbermaid container housing all of her memorabilia from birth to first grade sits patiently. She’s only finishing up third grade. I’m wondering if I should just hold off until she graduates college and get the biggest bang for my buck? Those conveyor belts are expensive.

• Get the oil changed in my Honda. I’d prefer to simply get a new car instead because I hear they come with free oil changes and don’t leak transmission fluid or need an alignment or breed bacteria under the seats. But, seeing as how I just spent a wad of cash on bras, I can’t afford any prosthetics which means no surrendering an arm or a leg for a new set of wheels. So I’m stuck driving around in my 2000 Honda Accord. But at least my boobs are sitting pretty while I leak transmission fluid, so it’s not a total suckfest. And just to be perfectly clear, I’m leaking transmission fluid from my Honda, not my boobs. My boobs haven’t leaked anything since Y2K.

• Upgrade my Verizon phone. I’m torn between the Voyager and the enV2. They both have the QWERTY keyboards which I prefer. However, I don’t like the outside keyboard on the enV2. I’m afraid of butt dialing and while I know it was redesigned to require two clicks of the OK key to unlock it, thereby reducing the risk of accidental dialing, I also know that my butt is pretty resourceful. If it can find a way to morph a sliver of cheesecake into 38 pounds of fat all on its own, it can certainly click OK twice to dial a phone and the last thing I need is a butt that can order pizza. On the other hand, I don’t like the touchscreen on the Voyager because touchscreens have a tendency to lose their sensitivity and I don’t feel like punching the snot out of my phone so that I can dial Nate’s number to complain that MY PHONE BLOWS. But the enV2 has this while the Voyager has that, and the Voyager has that while the enV2 has this, which reminds me …

• Piss or get off the pot

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What’s on your list today?

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