I don't know about you, but that chick from Wonkette makes my pants talk. Ana Marie Cox? Mmmmm...
Which reminds me, somehow, of a story from my time in Athens back in 1995. By the time I got there on my little walkabout, my clothes were starting to get gamey. I was splitting a room in a hostel with a couple of guys, including a really great Japanese guy named Aioki. I was joking about how bad my clothes were getting, and remarked that I was worried that my shirts were starting to talk to me.
Well, at that, Aioki fell into the space I presume exists among the multilingual between doubting one's command of another language and the uncomfortable belief that the person one is talking to is a complete nutjob. Heh, heh. A priceless reaction (and a quick, sanity-affirming explanation). I guess my sense of humor doesn't translate.
But we did both agree that Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 17 is our favorite of all Mozart's concerti.
It's good to be alive, even if I can't sit still for two minutes together just now.