Hiroshima ghetto fashion

The other day, Hiroshima walked into the kitchen wearing a graphic tee which said, "Jesus is my Homeboy!" Jesus was smiling and giving me the thumbs-up. I'm still convinced she doesn't know what it means.

In other fashion news, I wore a super-soft red knit top with giant kimono sleeves in honor of the cooler weather and as part of my renewed refusal to dress like I'm 19 again. 14 people told me that they loved it and profesed admiration for my sense of style. But 1 person told me that I could hide chickens in my sleeves. Nevertheless, I'm chalking it up as an overall sartorial success.

In totally unrelated news, I was made to measure the scrotal circumference of a 2-year old black Limousin bull the other day. We estimated his weight at about 1600lbs. Stepping tentatively behind him, I ran my hand down his rump, his inner thigh then got hold of his sac and slipped the measuring tape around it, praying all the while that he wouldn't take umbrage and kick me in the head. The other members of my group watched with what I imagined with breathless anticipation of seeing my brains splattered across the floor. That was when the demonstrator told me that I should pull down to get a better measurement. "You want me to pull on his balls?" I squeaked. I guess I deserved the disdainful look I got for that. Just so you know, his testicles measured 35 cm in circumference.

Opposite my bull was a gigantic Murray Grey bull that weighed in at least 2200lbs, with a scrotal circumference of 50 cm.

Now, think about all the stats I just threw at you and consider why perhaps I did not muster up the appropriate amount of awe when The Boy told me they caught a 10kg fish in the Maldives.