I realized on my ride back home yesterday that I had forgotten something at work: my bag of dicks. Before the pandemic froze the world, a friend mailed me a rainbow of micro-penises to attach to valve caps so that I could make the cycling world a gayer place. (The same friend gifted me dog testicles stuffed in an olive jar years ago.) Since it was just me and Yann in the bike shop, I figured it’d be the perfect time to mix up a drop of epoxy to fuse the caps and dicks together.
But, the epoxy had been put away after the ski season ended, so I couldn’t get that done. I don’t know my co-workers well, so I’m not entirely comfortable with them finding out that I carry around a bag of dicks.
Whoever had gotten into the bike shop first this morning put aside the bulging bubble mailer. When Yann arrived a few hours later, there was no need for him to ask, “Excuse me, have you seen Laura’s bag of dicks?”
He had to deal with receiving a text from me that asked, “Don’t forget my bag of dicks!”
And, when he came home, he was able to gloriously proclaim, “I have your bag of dicks in my bag!”
I could have called them novelty valve cap covers, but where’s the fun in that?
As much as I appreciate Yann, he’s no Yan of Yan and Henck fame.
Netflix has a competition show for everything. I like them only if the contestants have real talent, which means I could not handle Too Hot to Handle. (Although I’ve seen clips from the show via Trixie & Katya’s I Like to Watch. It’s like MST3K, but with drag queens.) I like cooking and baking shows; I’ve seen Glow Up (and Trixie & Katya’s I like to Watch commentary), which I found to be very amateur; I even know who won Next in Fashion.
I wasn’t sure I was horticultured enough for The Big Flower Fight, but I’ve been enjoying it. For starters, in the episode I watched tonight, the host told one of the teams, “This is something I would want to order for my child for his birthday party,” referring to a 3-meter-tall t-rex floral sculpture.
I believe ice cream cakes were the biggest expense of my childhood birthday parties. Some kid gets floral sculptures?! No wonder I get excited over a bag of dicks.
Anyway, these two are the best part of the show:
If Wes Anderson characters were ravers.
On top of designing big, complex floral sculptures, they plan their outfits with that level of detail. Just look at that lobster necklace.
The other contestants also have tons of character, and everybody on that show is uncomfortably affectionate. At the end of judging, they form lines to hug everybody. It’s like Too Hot to Handle, only in a strictly platonic sense.
I guess I’m a person who watches reality shows about the topiary arts and leaves her bag of dicks lying around at work.