Recently I remembered this deeply weird clip from Sesame Street about the geefle and the gonk. From the planet Snoo. Oh come on, you remember too.
They end up cooperating OF COURSE, that’s the message of like 85% of vintage Sesame Street sketches, although it amuses me to think of some alternate-universe Ayn Rand-ian children’s program where the geefle picks the nectarines and the gonk runs away with all of them. Because he is a superior ubermensch with firm strong arms and an aloof manner who lights his cigarette in silhouette at a picture window overlooking the nighttime cityscape.
Also, this clip makes me wonder what kind of twisted natural selection is at work on the planet Snoo. There is an upright-walking creature that is unable to bend its arms? And its preferred food grows on trees, but it doesn’t have a long or extendable neck? Cruel, cruel universe.
BITS AND PIECES
1. When I am naked and waiting for the shower to heat up, sometimes I pluck out a few random nipple hairs. I always mentally congratulate the nipple hairs for getting so long and silky in such a short time. How do they do that?
(By the way, I’m not trying to nipple-hair-shame you. I don’t think worthwhile sex partners care one way or the other about nipple hair, since mostly they are just like HEY WOW NIPPLES. So pluck or don’t pluck, whatever, I just get bored sometimes and the tweezers are right there.)
2. A pushy security lady kept referring to my “son” while I was signing Nora in to my office building, and normally we don’t really respond to that because who cares, we will probably never see that person again. But for some reason it got to me so I said, “Actually, this is my daughter,” and she immediately made it worse:
Pushy Security Lady: OH! I didn’t know! So sorry!
Me: Don’t worry about it.
PSL [to Nora]: You really kind of look like a boy!
Me [gritted teeth, fake smile]: Mmmmm. [WTF?]
PSL [to Nora]: Don’t you want to get your ears pierced? Would your mama let you? That would make you look more like a girl.
Nora: Um, I don’t really want my ears pierced.
Me [finally done signing in, which is good because I’m about to SLAP A BITCH]: Okay, let’s go upstairs!
Are you serious? You’re asking a kid to get body piercings for your mental convenience?
I think we need t-shirts that say PLEASE DON’T FRET ABOUT MY GENDER PRESENTATION.
3. File under “stuff I didn’t know about the plague.” Including how pretty it is under the microscope.
—mimi smartypants, gleefle gleefle gonk gonk.