An un-eavesdropped conversation

Unfortunately, these are not direct quotes. My sleep meds are kicking in (i.e., very tired Amy right now), and this conversation happened this past weekend. But they’re close enough, and you get the idea.

• Jody’s Ravenclaw scarf: 7 of 19 stripes completed.
• Sunburn: no longer quite so lobstery, but am now peeling attractively. Expect men to find me irresistible, starting tomorrow. (Will report back with details should this come to pass.)
• Freckles: STILL ADVANCING. I have mutant freckles. My shoulders are now a sole protectorate of Frecklonia. Frecklonia’s pirates are getting a bit feisty; they’ve staked claims to my upper and lower arms, and are now taking aim at my chest and face. I fear their mighty, yet silent, onslaught.

Now, while you’re at it, I present a series of articles from Being Amber Rhea that just make my head explode: her dissection of Every Young Man’s Battle, a book filled to bursting with “strategies for victory in the real world of sexual temptation.” Parts one, two, three, four, and five are up so far. #6 promises to be a barn-burner. Read and be offended … or not. Whatever. I howled. Some of you will too.

(…and did I mention that it’s the second week of Wimbledon? I’m still a closet tennis nut. Don’t think I’m not checking scores. My spouse is kind in his toleration of my love of turning on tennis at random times during any of the major tournaments. However, I’m not sure how Brian / Suzan / Wes / Mary will look upon my whimper-begging to see bits and pieces of the men’s and women’s finals on Saturday and Sunday. We’ll see.)

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