Tuesday, April 27, 2004


Well, it seems Leotarded is making the Leotard watch his tardness a little more, so I don't have much to report from these last few days, but here's a scant update.

Leslee reminded me that Leo thought the reason his pillow was so much dingier than mine was that his hair is brown. There is still a heated debate about whether he was joking when he said this. I firmly believe he was not, but he insists he was, so take from it what you will.

That reminds me of one of Leo's habits. Whenever he says something leotarded he tries to deflect attention (either mine or his own) by suddenly talking to the dog. A typical conversation goes like this:

Leo: "I can't believe they didn't have any lamb at Super Saver. What kind of self-respecting grocery store doesn't carry lamb? Of course, they had adult lamb, but no actual lamb."
Me: "I didn't even see that they had mutton."
Leo: "No, not mutton. Goat."
Me: "GOAT? You think goats are adult lambs?"
Leo: "Yeah. Male ones. The female ones are sheep and the male ones are goats."
Me: "Are you kidding me? You have to be kidding."
Leo: (Softly this time.) "No.... Lambs are baby boy goats..."
Me: "Then where do you think goat cheese comes from?"
Leo: "Aww, Arthur's a good dog. Aren't you? Aren't you? Yes. Yes you are! Yes you are!"
Finally, here's the wittier, evil side of the Leotard. For the past few weeks he keeps saying things like "I like Godiva truffles, in case you ever want to get me anything" and "I like Le Creuset saucepans, in case you ever wonder what to get me." Finally I said, "Christmas is 8 months off and your birthday is 10. Why are you telling me this?" He said, "In case you ever want to get me an I-love-you present." I thought long and hard for several minutes, and said, "Besides the time you bought me a 'welcome home' flower, when have you ever given me an I-love-you present?" And he said, "Well, I knocked you up didn't I?"

Friday, April 23, 2004


My Dad works with some people who unironically read the Weekly World News, home of Bat Boy among other things. One day they had a copy at work, and the cover announced that a woman had given birth to a litter of puppies. One of the guys my dad works with said, "That is just wrong." My Dad assumed momentarily that he was referring to the stupidity of the doctored photo until the guy clarified, "Why would a woman make love to a dog?"

We can all laugh at this guy and think of such people as somewhat removed from our daily lives, but I am here to remind you, ladies and gentlemen, that the Leotard is among us.

Leo has roughly the same beliefs about the human body and science in general that a fouteenth-century physick would have held. To wit:

1. He believes that snot is phlegm that the lungs push up into the head. This is corroborated for him by the fact that whenever he has a runny nose he usually has chest congestion. I have given up on this one. We even talked to a medical student (which was ridiculously unnecessary) who laughed at him, but he is still not convinced.

2. A couple of days ago he was looking at his wrists and turned to me and asked, "Why are my veins blue?" I told him that it was because blood in the veins is oxygen-deprived and becomes bluish, while arterial blood is red. Now, in fairness, I have since learned that this is only part of the reason-- it also has to do with how Caucasian skin filters that bluish color. But, anyway, Leo seemed to think this concept-- blood getting its oxygen used up and returning to the heart for replenishment from the lungs-- was completely far-fetched. He over and over said, "You're trying to trick me!" and "This is a trick!"

3. A few months ago we were making fun of people who take fertility pills and give birth to seven babies. I made a joke about how if you think twins are hot, you should take a look at those septuplets in Iowa (or wherever they are). Inexplicably, Leo said, "Yeah, I get really turned on by septuplets who range in age from seven to fifteen." It took him a moment to realize that septuplets are typically closer in age than that. I still don't know what he was getting at in the first place.

In other news, the Leotard has become frightened of this blog. Every time he says something leotarded he either sneers, "Ooooh, what, are you going to put that on LEOTARDED?" or says, "Please don't put that on Leotarded!"

Tuesday, April 20, 2004


Here are some leotarded moments from the past couple of days that you might appreciate.

What Leo said yesterday while we were in the car and I squirted the windshield with fluid: "It's raining!"

A conversation from earlier today:

Leo: "So, can I tell you what I want to make for dinner?"
Me: "No. I don't want to talk about food."
Leo: [Groan.] "This morning sickness thing isn't fun for me anymore."
Me: "Fine, what are you going to make?"
Leo: "I'm going to put some gnocchi in a gratin [pronounced grauTAN] pan and--"
Me: "A what?"
Leo: "A gratin pan." Me: [Glare.]
Leo: "A baking pan."
Me: "So what are you putting it in?"
Leo: "A baking pan."
Me: "What are you not putting it in?"
Leo: "A gratin pan."

And here is a classic L-tard moment from a couple of years ago.

Leo and I were sitting on the porch one night, and my chair was blocking the few steps leading up to the porch. Leo was looking toward the stairs, cooing, and saying, "Aww, look at the kitty. What a cute little kitty. Here, kitty kitty kitty! [smooch smooch smooch]"

I looked down and right at my feet was a large, pink-tailed, teeth-baring opossum.

Friday, April 16, 2004


Okay, I understand that this blog is new, and maybe you guys don't quite get it yet, so let me make something perfectly clear. This s NOT a pro-Leo blog. It is not acceptable to sympathize with or defend the Leotard in my comments section. Howard obviously needs to keep his child-birthing comments to himself, since he was raised by a right-wing militia of Florida swamp people who probably think the women folk should go squat under a mangrove tree and squirt out the youngun' without hollerin' so loud as to interrupt the cock fighting, and if she is so weak as to die in childbirth she better make sure she floats downstream so as not to attract gators to the hut.

And, Eric, I must admit that "work" and "live" are not transitive verbs except in phrases like "work your milkshake" or "living la vida loca," which are not what I was going for with "live, work, and chauffer Leo I." However, I must remind you that the purpose of this site is not to nitpick my grammar. You are distracting my readers from the object of the blog. So, focus, please. To help, I am posting below a list of linguistic leotardisms, all of which are available for further discussion here.

Type 1: Cutesy, seventh-grade girl vocabulary terms

DIFF = difference: "What's the diff whether I say 'paper towel' or 'paper towels'?" CAZH (as in 'Zsa-Zsa') = casual: "There's nothing wrong with 'diff,' it's more cazh." DISS = dissertation: "I can't be so cash when working on my diss." ZA = pizza: "Did you hear Clayton say that he wants some 'za'? That guy needs to stop being so cazh with the slang. There's a bif diff between 'pizza' and 'za.'"

Type 2: Problems with plurals

PAPER TOWEL = paper towels: "Please pass me some paper towel." MILK BONE = Milk Bones brand dog treats: "Arthur is getting low on Milk Bone."

Type 3: Tut tut, Guvner! Mum said to ring for a lorry! Or, Pretensious Britishisms

PRAM = baby buggy TAKE THE PISS OUT OF = to deflate someone's ego [ There are many more of these. I will update later.]

Type 4 = Alex Trebek's Wet Dream of Pronunciations

EHHCHKKLAIR = eclair KKKKKKORDO BLUH = cordon bleu HOT OFF THE PRESS! The Leotard was offended by this last entry because I did not enough emphasize the French pronunciation of the 'N' in "cordon."

Wednesday, April 14, 2004


Welcome to Leotarded. I hope that this site will become a comfort to those of us who live, work, and chauffeur Leo I. I encourage you to send me your thoughts, inspirational ideas, or even ventings regarding Leo. I truly believe that if we all come together we will find strength in each other and can handle our emotions more effectively.

While I've toyed with the idea for this site for quite some time, I was finally prompted to take action by the fact that I recently learned I am carrying a Mini-Leo. As you can imagine, this has been a troubling time for me.

I think I'll get the ball rolling by reminding you of a few things:

1) Leo is a 34-year old man with no diagnosed mental or physical deficiencies, yet he only got his driver's license a few months ago. I was so happy when, on the third attempt, Leo finally passed his exam, and I proudly watched him beam as he stood in line among the 10th grade girls waiting to have his picture taken. However, in the months since, he has altogether stopped driving, and has wondered whether the hospital is close enough that I can get myself there when I go into labor.

2) Speaking of 10th grade girls, he watches high school romance movies at every available opportunity. He also made me rent and watch Bridget Jones's Diary, and spent the night of Valentine's Day watching Kangaroo Jack.

3) And, speaking of labor, he has several times "wondered aloud" about the necessity of his coming with me to the hospital at all, and thinks he would be out of the way and not "creeped out" if he spent the time at a neaby bar, which I would presumably have to drive him to on my way to the emergency room.

4) He plays chess between 30 minutes and nine hours a day-- I'd estimate about four hours on average. While playing, he sits at the edge of his seat and writhes around, occassionally grunting, and once in a while yelling out chess shit-talk, which is sort of like machismo at a Star Trek convention.

5) He sincerely, unironically loves the song "One Night in Bankok."

6) He thought until recently that lambs grew up to be sheep if they were female and goats if they were male. He did not know, when asked, where goat's milk came from.

7) In colder weather, he snores like a bullhorn. Sometimes the snores are rapid and rhythmic; sometimes they are infrequent, spasmodic explosions. He does not appreciate being turned over or nudged when snoring, claiming that such activities "wake him up" and are "mean." Occassionally, the snores are replaced with convulsive yells, such as "THAT WOULD BE A GOOD JOB!" When pressed, he clarified that the job he was thinking of was forensic scientist.

Well, I hope these will get you started.