Today's TGI...WTF? is not a fart-muffler or couture do-rag or even anything having to do with Precious and Red Vines.
It's that I have no ideas.
That vagina chart exhausted me, and, combined with the diabetic coma brought on by eating three boxes of Tagalongs in one day, seems to have completely sapped my will to blog.
Also, it's a freakishly nice day here in NYC--the Ice Age seems to have been temporarily suspended--and even though it's a little unnerving, like the Day After Tomorrow-esque calm before the giant tsunami, it's also doing wonders for my well-being. I just want to walk around, feeling the air that is, for the first time in months, not as cold as a witch's teat,* and remember that there's a season called spring, and that it's coming. Maybe not in the next six weeks (seriously, Punxatawney Phil, you are tripping balls), but soon.
*My dad's saying, which as far as I know, is not based on first-hand experience.
Don't worry, though. I'll come back inside before you know it. After all, that's where the Tagalongs are.