With the unveiling of the new iPhone with fingerprint reading technology, some people have raised the fear of having their fingers cut off for the sake of unlocking a stolen iPhone.
People are so paranoid. About the wrong things. Of course the new iPhone should raise some security concerns. I mean, the most vulnerable part of the phone, the Home button, is now the key to unlocking all of your sexting secrets with a single tap of your specific finger friction ridges.
Clearly, it needs protection.
I give you, my friends, the Smart Pants Smarty Pants.
No well-dressed phone should go without this foundation item. I mean, you put a case over the back of your phone and there aren’t even any buttons there. It’s like Winnie-the-Pooh shamelessly marching around in just a shirt.
What you need is something that insulates the front and devotes less of its valuable resources to the unnecessary defense of the rear. And you can stick it in your pocket without the worry of visible panty lines!
A thong for your phone.
You never knew you needed one.
Our bulldog, Wonderbutt, thinks that his exclusion from the public school that Dimples and I both attend (well, she attends and I teach there) is speciesism, and he would like to protest his prohibition from the property. Since he cannot hold a sign, he decided to parade around with Dimples’ underwear instead.
I informed him that he is the lucky recipient of home schooling, which is what Dimples has been begging for ever since she learned that it existed. But Wonderbutt does not seem to think this is adequate. Once Dimples began to sharpen her pencils in preparation for the new year, Wonderbutt immediately felt deprived.
Every morning, when we carefully enclose him in the Kitchen Corral, Wonderbutt gives us his most mournful look of abandonment, despite the piles of toys and beds that are showered all over the kitchen floor.
Surprisingly, he has not engaged in any interior decorating during our absences this week – which is almost disappointing. In the evenings, however, he has managed to chew two rolls of duct tape and to make his stuffed raccoon toy into a quadruple amputee. It seems that, if we are going to continue to neglect him for 8 hours a day, that he absolutely insists on unwavering attention once we return in the afternoon. This makes it a bit difficult to cook and clean – and blog – but he has made it very clear that these are not his problems.
If you take a peek at my widget on the left margin, you will see that our new furniture has made it over 3 months without receiving the mark of Wonderbutt. 3 Summertime months. 3 months of the World Revolving Around Wonderbutt. This may change very soon…
I forgot to wear my bra.
Periodically, as I attempt different fashion combinations inside my closet early in the morning, I throw things on without the bra b/c the final topper will determine the foundation, as most women know.
Every once in awhile, I am so flustered and running late, that I head out for the day without that somewhat necessary piece of equipment. I say “somewhat” because, unfortunately, some might look at that general area of my body and wonder why I even bother. However, in certain outfits, and in certain types of weather (such as really cold), trust me, it’s necessary.
The necessity can be compounded by the fact that I am a teacher, and spending an entire day in the classroom with certain pieces of clothing missing is generally frowned upon by anyone other than teenage boys. I don’t teach teenage boys.
I keep a sweater at school for just such emergencies. People tend to question you, however, when it is 107 outside, and you are wearing a sweater in a school whose antiquated air conditioning system can’t even come close to keeping up. “I’m cold, ” does not seem to be a satisfactory answer when your co-workers are fanning themselves with everything from clipboards to old book covers.
Now, if you happen to be one of said co-workers reading this post, let me assure you that I often am cold. I don’t really forget to don my bra that many days per year.
As you may have learned from my other posts, however, I have a tendency toward forgetfulness, which I blame on terrorists or the internet, and which sometimes manifests itself in my periodically incomplete or mismatched wardrobe.
So, I was sitting yesterday at my daughter’s synchronized swimming practice, when the horrible thought sent a chill down my spine. I forgot to put on a bra. That’s why that New Parent at the other end of the table eyed me so strangely!
I waited until I could surreptitiously and nonchalantly walk to the bathroom to try to create some sort of makeshift MacGyver bra. When I closed the door and lifted up my shirt, however, lo and behold, I discovered I actually had remembered after all.
Of course, after the relief wore off, I had to deal with the discomfort of two more tantalizing questions – how could I not know I was wearing a bra? And what else could have made New Parent look at me as though I had walked into the room with toilet paper hanging from the back of my shorts?
Oh, wait a second…