Raw, idiom: b. Informal. in the nude; naked: sunbathing in the raw

So I ripped up my calf running today in spite of the fact that I am supposed to be "resting it" after straining it two weeks ago (it was 85 and sunny, I had no choice) and now I am pretty sure it will have to be amputated so I am here at my favorite rustic cafe in Russian Hill for my last two-legged jaunt up Polk Street before losing the leg. And luckily there is this dreamy hot dude sitting across from me at this very moment in his golden locks and smart-guy tortoise shell glasses and tattooed bicep reading John Locke and generally being sexy-beautiful RIGHT THERE and I am drinking an iced coffee and hiding under what I fondly refer to as my pink lotus hat while pretending that I am not surreptitiously checking him out.

Point of all that is, I can't focus on a goddamned thing, especially the three chapters I was planning to write this afternoon, since I am highly caffeinated and my future ex-husband is sitting across from me and also my leg is about to fall off. So hello, blog!

Anyway, good shit going on at Salon again. Check out Louis Bayard's review of Dagmar Herzog's new book on the fucked-up evangelical response to sex and sex education in Bush-era America. Abstinence-only crap and "hot monogamy" and homophobia up the wazoo. Ugh, shoot me in the face. This all feels particularly blasphemous to me right now because lately I've been re-reading all of my amazing Systematics shit from grad school on queer theology and radical sexuality and sacred destabilization and bringing the margins to the center and all of this delicious life-giving subversive shit rooted in the Christian tradition. And then I read this shit about fundamentalists and I want to shake someone upside down. Preferably James Dobson, but anyone might do at this point. Though I guess I'd better do it before I lose the leg.

Jesus Loves You - and Your Orgasm (Salon.com)


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