I was at Dr. Helen’s blog today, and for the first time noticed that the picture of her leaning back and smiling in the chair is meant to be her in her red pajamas. Which it probably actually is, I belatedly note. Cos, you know, Pajamas Media. It’s semiotics, is what that is.
Now, I’m not a big fan of the basic concept and I wasn’t invited in the first place, but it occurred to me that even if I was inclined to join, I simply couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. I don’t even own a proper pair of pajamas and I haven’t for nearly as long as I can remember.
I did have a pair of red flannel Calvin Klein bottoms that I very much liked, but those wore out years ago despite an attempt to salvage them as pajama shorts. I have some replacements, but they’re just not the same, and besides, there really isn’t any need for pajamas in a Mediterranean locale. I may be a remarkably handsome individual, but even so, I don’t think the world needs an image of me kicking back in my not-pajamas anytime soon. Or ever, really.
If Chapter 13 gets a little out of focus, blame it on the Disaronno, I just knocked out half of it in one sitting. (The chapter, not the bottle.) I’ve also decided that I want to debate Christopher Hitchens, but with a rule that you have to do a shot before taking your turn to talk. (Make that two for Hitch, he’s supposedly got the tolerance of a mule that’s trod a wine-press for the last decade.) And a one-shot penalty of the opponent’s choice for accidentally saying “Crushades”.
If we could get Book TV to televise it, it could be their funniest broadcast ever. Everything is less boring with a degree of difficulty.