Now I've typed the word so many times it's losing its meaning. Bonerbonerboner, l-m-n-o-p. There are many reasons it would be awesome to be a man: running without boobs, no periods, watching tv with one hand absentmindedly on my junk, the ease of public urination, never being called a bitch (unless of course I go to prison, in which case I don't think gender matters). But there are also a few reasons I am god-oh-so-lucky not to be a man, not the least of which is prostate cancer followed closely by the embarrassment of boners.
(Note to self: The Embarrassment of Boners as potential title of my autobiography. The cover would be an image of me with a photoshopped boner. Totally. You'd buy that, right?) ...
(Okay, if you wouldn't buy that book, how would you like to get a Christmas card next year of me and my family. Everything would be normal except I'd have a boner. No? Hm, I'll work on some other ideas.)
Since prostate cancer is not funny, I'm choosing to focus on boners. And so does this website: www.awkwardboners.com. I love it in a schadenfreudey ugh-I-have-PMS-but-at-least-I'm-not-sporting-wood-at-the-mall kind of way. Yeah. Happy Monday to you, too. Seriously--Happy Monday. Because this weekend Bryan and I sold our house and found the cutest house to rent, a 1940's 3 bedroom California bungalow in the most perfectest neighborhood and for almost half of what we were spending on our mortgage. And I've had a bit of a chubby ever since. I think things might be okay, after all.