I've spent the last week feeling, and you'll have to imagine the air quotes on this, "very aware of my colon." Like, it's come up in conversation more than it should among folks twice my age. I think it's this newfound love of rolled oats and bulgarian yoghurt (with a little molasses and toasted wheat germ, for flavor) that's doin' it. A friend informed me that my talking about my colon actually outweighed her rotting carcass jokes for social inappropriateness. It's not like I've said anything actually nasty. It's just that the words "colon" and "healthy" keep popping up. I'm not showin' my bits-'n'-pieces around or anything. Hell, I'm not even talkin' about poop.
All I can say is Oh. Hmm.
In other news, there's a great new compilation of better'n 300 Dylan songs with guitar chords, melodies & complete lyrics. That's kinda neat, huh? There's also a really nice reissue of The Original Scout Manual From 1908 (titled "Scouting For Boys." No, it ain't a gay pick-up book. It's about scouting. Getcher mind out'a the gutter) from Oxford University Press. Not a bad week for the publishing world, all in all.
Colon. HeeHeeHee.