Up next, we have a post from my younger sister (by five minutes)-Zaine. She is a lawyer (and single!) and lives in DC and I didn’t know until last week that you aren’t supposed to type “D.C.” I told her she could write a post, but she couldn’t talk about politics or musicals, two subjects that she knows VERY well but I feel it makes her less marketable to the opposite sex.

I’ll be the first to admit that I am hyper-sensitive to anything that might have to do with bodily functions or the bathroom (ask your fair blogger about my reaction to dirty diapers). With that being said, I feel nobody, under any circumstances, needs to witness the following public transgressions:

-Lady #1 was blow drying her freaking snatch in the gym locker room. She had the “decency” to wrap a towel around her waist after her shower but held it open with one hand while using a community hairdryer. If you need to blow dry it, then maybe you want to consider a Brazilian. Just saying.

-I now know when Lady #2 last had a Brazilian because she was laying spread eagle in the sauna with her lady junk facing the only glass wall in the sauna. The other three walls are wooden, and lucky me, the glass wall faces my locker. By the way, there was nobody else in the sauna, so she could have easily re-positioned.

-Man#1 thinks it necessary to give himself a facial in one of the many, many mirrors in the gym by squeezing his gross pimples. Sherlock, the mirrors are there for weightlifting. Check it in the bathroom or invest in some astringent.

-Man#2 doesn’t understand that our gym towels are not the same as Kleenex. If you need to blow your nose, the tissues are sitting DIRECTLY NEXT TO the towels. I know we’re in the gym, but we’re still in public. The front desk probably thinks I’m crazy because this incident made me ask them if the towels were bleached during each wash.

Thanks for indulging me. I feel better after venting!

*If you aren’t watching Monk, then I insist you rent it now. I find myself identifying with him more often than I’d like to admit. You can usually figure out the criminal before the second commercial break, but it still makes me laugh out loud at least once an episode.

NB: I know my sister, so I decided not to blog about the President (loving the person and the principles so far, but please bring on universal health care); musicals (not sure I can get behind the new Broadway version of West Side Story, as I feel like they’re messing with a very good thing); museums (a little disappointed at the Pompeii exhibit at the National Gallery); Lost (I will be behind this show no matter what and am convinced Sun and Jin’s backstory is the best love story on TV); or high heels (tribal sandals with a heel, buy them now!).

Oh wait, I just did.

Bonus points issued to my sister for using “snatch” and “musicals” in the same post. Well done.

Due to my impending breakdown, I called upon a few of my peeps for some posts this week. I asked everyone’s favorite witty bastard ~Uncle Steve ~ to write something special and he was all, “What can I talk about?” and I was all, “Um, whatever you want”. Obviously, I should have been more specific because now I present you with this. Enjoy.

Hi Ladies (and Kreg),

As one of the few male readers of Shindig, it’s my pleasure to be the first guest poster. I consider myself a sensitive, progressive individual and a good husband. That’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to foster a discussion on a very important topic.

Periods.

Or more specifically, other things we can call those persistent, fun-ruining events. There are a lot of overused popular phrases that need to be retired. “Aunt Flow” and “Red Tide,” I am looking at you. To get the conversation started, I’ve listed a few personal favorites (presented in sentence form to ensure proper usage) below:

“We can’t tonight. I’m leaking oil.”

“Don’t even think about it. It’s in the shop.”

“Honey, can we fool around a bit, or are you wearing your ketchup suit again?”

Readers, what else?

Not to worry, Zoe put the jacked up labels to good use.

I stopped her before she made a skirt for her brother.

The printer actually admitted to the mistake and I didn’t even have to send him a mean email or threaten him with the Better Business Bureau once. He is making me new labels and I should have them before the end of the week. Perhaps he could speak with the sign company for me. (They still haven’t sent anyone over.) Sigh.