Why does Bert always get the shaft?

I'm ignoring the obvious joke about how B&E are actually lovahs, so that's not what I mean by "shafted." I don't judge. Muppets are free to love whomever they want, I say!

ANYWHO. It's Friday, and I'm feeling frivolous. (Brought to you by the letter F!)

As the mother of a toddler, I watch a lot of Sesame Street. Both of my sons went through/are going through an Elmo phase, and I honestly don't mind watching The Street because my 2 year-old is actually counting to 10 and singing his ABC's already, thanks to his TV time. He likes his SS so much that he gets me up at 5:30 AM every day so he can squeeze in an episode before school. Isn't that lovely?

Ha... not so much. I'm not a morning person, and 5:30 is just an ungodly hour if you ask me. It's dark out and my REM cycles are all wonky from going to bed too late, usually after having imbibed a glass or two of moderately-priced red wine the night before. Early mornings are just not prime Bev time, let's put it that way.

At any rate, lately I've been wondering why it is that Bert is such a second-class citizen of the Sesame 'hood. My kid gets all excited when ERNIE comes on, but when they finally give Bert a little screen time - nothin' but crickets. M knows everybody's names, even Zoe's (!), but not Bert's. Poor Bert.

I mentioned the lack of Bert sketches to Jim and he laughed and said he'd noticed the same thing in a Sesame St. book he reads to M at bedtime; Bert is featured prominently in the illustrations, yet he has not a single line in the whole story. He's essentially a background artist living in the shadow of his more famous partner, stuck playing idly with his pigeon (that's what they call it in the 'hood) in the shabby chic apartment that he and Ernie share.

Come to think of it, among famous duos the straight man always kind of gets ignored. One of them is always second-best, right? Case in point:




Kind of makes me wonder if I'm a Bert or an Ernie in my relationships. Of course I think I'm the Ernie, but doesn't everybody think they're the Ernie? Nobody wants to be Oates or Garfunkle, after all.

If I had to choose, I'd be Cookie Monster, if for no other reason than I fucking love cookies. Plus, he's kind of fat and happy and a little dumb, but he's likable enough and everybody gives him a pass because he's a nice guy. That sure beats being the "plus one" for a short orange dude with a funny laugh and a strange fascination with his rubber bath toy.

If you lived on Sesame Street, who would you be?

Boobs: A love story

You all know I love boobs, my own in particular. I don't know why I'm such a tit-fanatic, I really don't. Maybe it's because I wasn't breastfed? Maybe because I was already a D cup in 9th grade? Maybe because I'm just a natural-born perv, as evidenced every time I open my mouth or start typing on the ol' blogaroonie? Who knows. Fact is, I don't even care, I just like 'em and think it's important to feel 'em at any opportunity.

Stacie reminded us today that next week is National FEEL YOUR BOOBIES week, so I am going to wax poetic about ta-tas and urge my lady friends to feel themselves up today in the name of science and good health. Guys, you can help, just get permission first, ok?

After reading Stacie's blog I ran right over to Boobicon to make my own graphic for the OOBH. Would you believe that I had a terrible time finding a picture of myself with sufficient cleavage?! I know! I was shocked. I thought I had zillions of photos of my stunning rack! I think I'll take a look at home and see if I can find a better one later, but this'll do for now.

Last week Cary posted the "feel your boobs" PSA with that Canadian bimbo VJ, and some people didn't like it. Pppfffftt. If it raises awareness of a worthy cause, who cares? The girl's got nice bazoombas and it certainly gets your attention, so STFU.



Incidentally, every time I see this spot all I notice is that one of her boobs is slightly bigger than the other. I can totally relate; one of mine is just a touch more voluptuous than the other, too. It's kind of irritating because that's the one that always pops out of the top of my bra a little bit when I bend over or am, ya know, moving. Yet another reason to be sedentary, right? Just keepin' it real.

Anywho, boobs are wonderful things, and I love mine. In fact, I'm thankful for them, so technically this post is Thankful Thursday material. In all seriousness, cancer is nothing to joke around about. This might be the only case in which being a boob-loving perv could save your life, so get groping, ok?

Feeling your boobies is awesome. I'm doing it right now!