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“whackadaisical”…

i just used this two seconds ago in my previous post.

it’s my new word i just made up.  i think.  i mean i don’t think i’ve heard of it.  and now, here it is.  ‘whackadaisical’:  a state of craziness that comes easily or naturally to some…

i need to create a dictionary or encyclopedia for all my words.  a denelleopedia

dunder.3 vaginae

 

THE DUNDER:

 

What does the sperm say to the egg?

THE WHY:

Today my sister and I were making fun of me. It’s one of our favorite pastimes, and in case this sounds self deprecating (sometimes true) it wasn’t; I find it healthy to laugh at myself from time to time. And anyway, everyone else laughs at me so I might as well join the fun!

I’m getting older, and lately you would think I was trying to get pregnant; my hair is growing faster, my notoriously short fingernails are noticeably longer and now I find I actually have to file the buggers, and my girly cycle has changed; sped up. Bodhi joked that I’m reaching the last possible windows of opportunity for pregnancy, so my body is just shooting eggs out of me like a machine gun…pap pap pap. Come on, make a baby, pap pap pap.

It reminded us of an episode of the Bachelor, when the bachelor had just met all his possible future ex-wives, and one girl stood out among the rest. Professional. Dark hair. Short and tiny, like a cute little thing should be. Not that she was all that cute, but if a guy wants a pocket wife, she would do. They seemed a perfectly likely pair, in her eyes, because she worked in the medical field, and he was…I don’t know, handsome? She said something to him that went kind of like: “ok, so my eggs are going to waste and I’ve got to get started if I want to have a kid, so…what do you think?” Now of course, this is a paraphrase, but she really did talk about her eggs going to waste, or shriveling, or something horrendously awkward when you are talking to a man you are trying to convince into dating you. No hand holding; no snuggling; just gimme the sperm so I can be a mommy already.

This led us into wonderment over the female womb and internals. Perhaps if it’s been a long time since the last sexual partner the female doorway to heaven creaks open noisily, like a haunted house in a Vincent Price movie, begrudgingly letting someone through the threshold and into the dark wonders. Creak…creak…

Are there cobwebs? Do the little sperms have to fight their way around dust bunnies and spider webs, desperately looking for the little egg he is so eager to find?

Does it echo in there? “HELLO!” the sperm shouts into the vast, empty darkness. “HeLLo” “Hello” “hello”. *sigh* He should have brought a sack lunch and a bottle of water; this looks to be a long journey…

dunders and such

 

Sometimes I’m hard on myself for my lack of memory. I feel weird or bad that I can’t seem to remember parts of my life, like almost all of third grade, or where we spent Christmases, or when I first had sex. But seriously, what is remembering anyway? I mean, literally, what does it mean to “remember? Re-member. Surely I’m not the only one to find this a strange word to describe trying to recall an event, idea or person.

Re-member them? Like, re-attach the body parts? Hi, I’m Denelle. We met once at a party. You may not re-member me, because it was the bodily-un-attaching party last year.

Not that it really matters in the big scheme of things, why ‘remember’ is what it is. But I wonder about it. My sister and I call these questions and ponderings of mine “Dunders”. For, like, “Denelle Wonders”. ‘Cause I come up with these kinds of weird questions on a pretty regular basis. I may start blogging my Dunders here…because – although they may drive readers crazy with annoyance (why does this wacky woman care about these inane things?) – the curiosity and thinking keeps my mind preoccupied for a while so I can eat half a bag of Doritos without realizing it.