If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

That is a band.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

Not for Pink. Apparently they believe that if you're picky enough to expect your shirt to fit both the neck and sleeves, you'd do better to go with bespoke.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

Hi NB! *wave*

Fuuuckk
 

On the way to work this morning I broke a fluorescent light bulb in my car. It was in the car so I could buy a replacement and be sure to have the right size. I forgot it was there and moved the seat back. Apparently I have now been exposed to toxic mercury vapor. This is great, because all the fillings in my mouth haven't already poisoned me (and my child) for life. I try not to get alarmed about this kind of thing, but I seriously haven't been feeling well since I got to work (and before I did a "fluorescent bulb toxic" google search).

I'm not really sure what to do about the car. You're supposed to wear a mask and gloves to clean this stuff up. And I'm still nursing. Do we have any toxic waste experts out there? I won't do any more googling because there's a lot of alarmist shit on the internets, but I really don't want to expose my daughter to anything unnecessarily.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

Yes. Most shirts come in a broad range of sleeve lengths for each neck size. Pink has a narrower range of sleeve sizes for each neck size, apparently not believing men might have neck muscle. Or fat, if you're not being charitable a la flower.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

yelling rant in response to constructive criticism? good choice. It seems Mr. Rimslicker is gone for good.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

Carl Hiaasen's last book, Skinny Dip, is now out in paperback. I enjoyed it muchly.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

I'm not really that much a stickler for grammar, but this abomination even makes my head hurt.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

How derivative.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

Okay, guess I really wasn't paying attention. Well, welcome to the world of women's wear (though my one Pink shirt fits right).

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

That's one conclusion you could draw.

Another is that I actually have a neck because I have a modicum of upper-body strength.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

Alllllllllright, Not Bob! Before you "depose" Fugee, maybe you should spend your free time studying up on the kama sutra or something. I know Fugee's a wingnut and all, but here's the christian husband's guide to the mind-blowing "deposition." Maybe you can pretend to be her husband. Role playing and all that. Careful with the dirty talk, though; Fugee don't like the vulgarity.

p.s. will there be pegging involved?

Fuuuckk
 

There's not enough mercury vapor in one flourescent bulb to really worry about. I'd just pick up the big pieces and shop-vac the rest. Or you could do what many married women with young do and make Mr. Puppy do it.

As for the fillings, one of my current clients is involved in all kinds of litigation to stop people from spreading the vicious rumor that the mercury in amalgam fillings is dangerous. (It really isn't. The compound uses many substances that keep it inert.) I would really hate to have to turn you in to these jackbooted thugs, so please go back and delelte that post before their spies see it and we both get killed.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

I truly apologize for my earlier outburst. I am a bit sleep-deprived today. I offer this not as an excuse, but as at least a bit of an explanation. Even still, I am a bit taken aback by the vitriol and profanity of my response. I would edit it, but I want it to stay there on the board as an embarrassing reminder to myself of my dark side. Sorry to you and to the board for having had to witness that.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

I just finished Children of God, which is the sequel to Mary Doria Russell's The Sparrow. I'm having difficulty deciding which one I liked better. They're both sci-fi, sort of, but they don't really feel sci-fi. They read more like a historical novel from a time that hasn't happened yet. The basic premise is that the most logical group to organize an expedition to investigate the discovery of intelligent life in Alpha Centauri is the Society of Jesus. Russell was a paleoanthropologist before she turned to a life of novelist, and I loved her characters.

I also recently read Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age, which I think I like a lot better than I did Cryptonomicon, which I liked. It (The Diamond Age, not Cryptonomicon) is more solidly in the sci-fi genre (sub-genre: cyberpunk). I haven't started any of the Baroque Cylcle, though I have the first one sitting on my shelf.

My favorite non-fiction book that I've read this year is Temple Grandin's Animals in Translation. Grandin is autistic and she holds a Ph.D. in Animal Sciences. She's designed a good hunk of the slaughterhouses in the United States, and she thinks that her autism--specifically the way that she thinks in pictures rather than words--helps her understand animal behavior better than the non-autisic. The beef industry pretty much follow what she has to say religiously.

I'm in the middle of The Nautical Chart by Arturo Perez-Reverte right now, and so far so good. I've liked everything else I've read by him The Flanders Panel, The Club Dumas and The Seville Communication. If I had to pick a favorite, I'd go with the Flanders Panel, which is the first of his that I read. They're all sort of mysteries, but it's the personalities of the characters that make the books interesting.

Fuuuckk
 

Or, if you care about him, take it to an autodetailer.

And just don't eat tuna for a couple of weeks.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

You must have a huge friggin neck....or short arms

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

Uh, isn't derivative a swap confirm? or an ISDA?

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

What's left of your hair is pretty.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

This is good stuff. More please.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

guys who are buff don't use the word "modicum."

Fuuuckk
 

You're being a nutbag.

And you are nursing? Want any tips? I nursed for 7 months each child. Never supplemented.

So! What size are you post baby?

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

Get Jasper Forde's new one "The Fourth Bear"

Raahhhh, Burger's a T-rex
 

Burger should hijack Ty's T-rex avatar.

We all live in a yellow submarine.
 

Apparently they don't have Google or a decent dictionary at your highly prestigious New York City law firm. Perhaps one of your lustful 50-ish partners can explain the post?

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

That's just pathetic. Let's let Thurgreed be the judge.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

Here are some good, lightish reads that I've had on airplanes recently:

I recently read Christopher Moore's "A Dirty Job," about a man who becomes Death (sort of). Very funny, in a morbid and creepy way. I'm now reading Bloodsucking Fiends by the same author, which is also pretty enjoyable.

Read Johnathan Strange & Mr. Norrell over the summer, which I liked a lot but is LONG and a bit hard to get into. Read it only if you really like history and things magical. It ain't no Harry Potter, but it's not as hard on the brain as Eco or Pynchon. Good plane read, with the caveats above.

Read John Twelve Hawks' The Traveller last year, which was a fun, relatively light read (if you can ignore just how seriously the author takes himself.) That's worth a try.

If you haven't read Middlesex, I highly recommend it. I didn't read it on an airplane so technically it doesn't fit on this list, but it was recommended to me by a woman I met in an airport bar. (She was hot, and TOTALLY checking me out -- Whoo-Hoo!) I recommended Helen DeWitt's The Last Samurai to her, which she thought was wonderful -- but that's getting a little more into the high-fallutin that you want to avoid.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

Wonk's biography?

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

That was pretty entertaining, but Hiaasen's stuff always seems like it was written in 48 hours with little or no editing. It's definitely in the beach novel category.

I know this is probably not what you're looking for, but I finally got around to the second volume of Taylor Branch's history of MLK and the civil rights movement ("Pillar of Fire"). It's quite a bit shorter than Parting the Waters and covers a more limited period - 1963-65, I think. It's also not as mired in the intricacies of southern Baptist political manuevering (which made Parting the Waters a tough slog in places) and covers the rise of Malcom X as a national figure almost as much as King. All in all it is a great piece of history writing and brings the era to life from Lyndon Johnson all the way down to movement volunteers and voter drives in Hattiesburg. I. highly. recommend. it.

Fuuuckk
 

I've seen pictures of her with the baby. She is not chubby. It's possible that she has some residual flab in the abdominal/hip/ass area -- I couldn't tell from pictures. But overall her same bony-assed self.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

Yet, oddly, every other shirt maker I've purchased from can accomodate by Homerian proportions.

If I can count your ribs, you're sickly.
 

I was being as polite as I could.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

If you like history, this is one of the best books I've ever read:

http://images.amazon.com/images/P/18...CLZZZZZZZ_.jpg

It's beautifully written, relies heavily on primary documents, and gave me tremendous insight into what an incredible person Elizabeth was.

We all live in a yellow submarine.
 

Sure. one of our boys is a derivatives heavy hitter.

It was A JOKE WONK. How is that IRS circular 230 treatin ya

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

I, uh, actually read that. And saw the movie.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

What gave you the impression that Not Bob is a chick?

Fuuuckk
 

she's still a nutbag that is neurotic.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

It seems like it must be a sequel, set after the Devil either has died or has stopped wearing Prada.

The Not Bob phone just rang -- apparently, I have to depose Fugee next week.
 

God, you are so erudite. I wish you would come around more often and classy this place up a bit with your McSweeney's links and obscure European soccer references.

Fuuuckk
 

Who on here isn't?