That's the subject line of the email I just sent my advisor. I meant to send a quick note to the Little Womedievalist to the effect that she should spin her collection of inexplicable medieval marginalia into a blog of hilarious proportions ... but she shares the first letter of her Christian name with my advisor, and Outlook decided to send him the email I intended for her.
I caught light of my mistake as I tabbed to and smacked "Send." (What was it Saint Malkmus sang? "Type Slowly" [.mp3]? Maybe I should heed this shit.) By then it was too late.
So thank you, Mr. Cohen, thank you for forcing me to send an email to my advisor explaining that I hadn't sent him the final draft of my first chapter, but a link to a picture of a medieval "monkey butt trumpet." (I have no idea where the hyphen belongs there. It could just as easily be a "monkey-butt trumpet" as a "monkey butt-trumpet.")