COMMENT, damn you, COMMENT!

Okay.  It's cool.  I can live without comments.  (HIM, the man to whom I'm married, comments sometimes, but HIM doesn't really count.  HIM knows what I mean.)  However, one anonymous person out there felt the need to comment this, 'Fair words break no bones,' on the blog about 'Pain in the Ass Man OR How my Husband Invented a NEW IMPROVED Super Hero.'  (I know.  I know.  Is it fair to ask for comments if when I get them I then proceed to make them into a blog?  And possibly make fun of them, too.  Probably not.  But hey, it's my blog.  Haha.)

I'm going to center this comment and make it bold and make it a larger font and put it in color so everyone can see it, and absorb it, and let it soak in:

 'Fair words break no bones.'

I'm not sure.  Was that criticism?  Does this person think I'm insulting HIM, the man to whom I'm married?  I can assure you, Anonymous, that HIM reads 99% of my blogs before they are posted and HIM has not complained once.  HIM has never once said, "OH, Jesus Christ, Caren, don't write that!" or "For the love of gawd, that's TOO MUCH DAMN INFORMATION!" or even "WTFWYT, woman?"   As a matter of fact, I'm going to ask HIM to come in and type something just for Anonymous.  (I'd like to reassure Anonymous that HIM is psychologically and socially okay with my rantings and wry humor so Anonymous has a good day.  I'm having a sudden image of Anonymous skipping happily through the forest with a picnic basket holding hands with a cute blonde stripper.  Dude, I've got to get more sleep.)

Here is HIM's comment on the comment: 

"My wonderful, magnanimous spouse is the best woman in the world.  Her beauty exemplifies the word, 'beautiful.'  Her sarcastic wit thrills my ears.  Never shall she offend me by her satirical and mordant badinage.  I worship even her little toes.  As a matter of fact, I love her little toes to death.  When she dies her toes will be soaked in gilt and mummified."  (Okay, this isn't HIM's real words, but it's what he meant.)

I wish.  Okay, HIM just read the above and here's what he really says.  No, HIM isn't speaking, despite my entreaties to versify the matter.  HIM is staring at me in a way that indicates that HIM thinks I am amusing and that he is not going to comment.  So I'll ask HIM, "Did your feelings get hurt?"  "No," HIM said.  (Now HIM thinks I'm being silly and well, HIM may be right.)  So I ask, "Are you embarrassed by my blogging?"  "No," HIM said.  "Do you still love me?" I asked.  "Of course I do.  Where's the beer?" HIM said.

There.  See?  His bones aren't broken and actually HIM thinks most of my witty repartee is hilarious.  Good thing we're married.  (Keep in mind that HIM's birthday is coming up and HIM might be buttering me up for a better present.)

So when I put out the blog about Alternative Barbies and some of the illustrations got, shall we say, somewhat offensive, I thought, 'There.  People are going to comment about that.  For sure.'  So what did I get?  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  Which leads me to put in this one just to shake things up.

Then of course I had to do this:

Oh, hell yes.  Fat Woman is on another roll.  Here's my nod to my daughter, Cressy:

I thought about doing something really offensive like painting a picture using my whoa-mammas as the paint brushes but then there was a moment of 'how do I get the paint off me when I'm done?' and that was the end of that.  Surely that would get comments.  (Isn't there an artist who paints with their ass?  Talk about paint removal issues.)  (Think about the names of the artistic works.  'Blue Ivory Blush Upon Crushed Umlatters.'  'Sprinkled Tatas Melting into Red Sienna.'  'Sweater Puppies Meet the Crimson Valley of Alizarin.'  I'm feeling inspired.)

So zooming off on a tangent, I actually looked on the Internet (Google and Bing ROCK!) and found several artists of a mammary gland nature.  Surprisingly enough some of them were very interesting.

Here's one who uses her 38DDs as a paint brush and sells her stuff on eBay:

Kira Ayn Varszegi - Tata Artist
Not sure how she walks without falling
forward.

Anyway, am I digressing?  Probably.  I really wouldn't want to scrub the paint out of every nook and cranny.  But here's one of her works and I'm having an issue trying to figure out how she does the details with her boobies.  (Her nipples must be like stiletto heels, I'm thinking.  Or is that just my dirty brain?  Let me ask HIM.)



Anyway, I kind of like her work.  (Maybe she keeps a lot of ice on hand while she paints.)  (Think about it for a while, I'll still be here.)

How did I get from Barbies that should have been to painting with titties?  I'm not entirely certain.  Ah, yes, shock value.  Here's my final volley into the comment issue.  (My Sis said I shouldn't do it, but I felt compelled.  I mean, really, I had to do it.  It's awful, terrifying and wholly inappropriate but I was obliged.)

Be WARNED!

Not for those with sensitive stomachs or those lacking in resolute mettle.  This could be very frightening to the uninitiated.





Bet you didn't know Fat Woman was invited.  Did ya?