HIKE HO, HIKE HO. IT'S OFF TO SWEAT I GO.
You know what I think about you? I think you're going about your life assuming that the summers in Arizona are "dry." You've heard the phrase "dry heat" and figured that the high temperatures of Arizona are somehow more tolerable because they occur during dry conditions.
If I were an educated lady, I might be able to say "this is true." But since I am just a step above common carnival trash and cannot read or write (I have monkeys who type for me, because I'm really rich and everything, too), I'll tell you I have no idea if it's scientifically considered a dry (or moist) heat. The one thing I do know without a doubt is that it feels hot and my face is constantly dripping with some kind of salty, clear water. My hair, long and billowing in the wind for photographs, tends to stick to my scalp and make me look like an ordinary schlump. The summer is not kind to me, my face, my hair or my inner folds, for that matter... it's a mess that's better off left undiscussed. So let's move on.
Summer is almost over here in Arizona. Well, according to the calendar, anyway. In truth it won't be cooler out for about another month or so. We hit a record high temperature last week: 322 degrees Fahrenheit! Can you believe that? (I hope you can't believe that, because it's not true. It really hit 117 degrees.) I'm tired of the high electric bills and my own sluggish nature, which I like to blame on The Heat. "It's too hot outside to do anything," I whine. "I better have a donut and take a nap." Waaaaah. (I'm such a jerk, right?)
Here's a list of things I am excited for once AUTUMN arrives in the Valley of the Sun:
* Cooler evenings
* Cooler days
It's going to be shit-kicking incredible, as you can see.
I plan to go hiking again once it's not so hot my face slides off my skull within three minutes of leaving an air conditioned space. I'll go to South Mountain, and do my usual hike, which I lovingly refer to as "The Hike Under the Power Lines." I'll also go to Piestewa Peak, which is where my finest hour occurred two years ago: I hiked too soon after eating Streets of New York pizza and a salad, and the aluminum water bottle made my water very warm, and I threw the fuck up all over the trail on the way down. That was a wonderful time. Especially because a hot guy and his adorable, rescued pit bull happened to be coming down the trail behind me, and he saw the whole thing... and insisted on walking me down to the parking lot the rest of the way. I had puke on my pants, in my hair, all over my iPod and earbuds, my sneakers... I was incredibly attractive at that moment, to say the least. This guy was so overcome by my natural beauty, saying he admired a girl who had the confidence to vomit in public like that, that we had sex right there in the parking lot once we got back to my car. He's my husband now, and we have an adorable child.
There is a part in the story above where the lying part of me took over again. Bet you can't guess where it came in! Come on, take a guess. That's right-- our child is far from adorable. It's a little fucking Sasquatch baby that eats dirt, and we are very ashamed of our loin-fruit.
ANYWAY. Hiking here in the valley is a strange undertaking. It's not like hiking in a place with trees or something. In fact, hiking in the valley's pretty much straight-up torture. There's no shade, it's hot as fuck even in the winter, snakes could come out and murder you, you could get stung by Africanized bees or get stuck helping an out-of-town tourist who thought it was a great idea to hike up a mountain in platform sandals and not bring any water. Everyone knows this hiking is torture, too, so you'll often see some gimps slinking along the trails in their pleather slave outfits; more often than not, the masochists can only be spotted by the ball gags... they dress like you or I, really.
I'm excited to get back out there and see "what's what." Maybe by then my camera will be functional again, and I'll be able to share some photos of what I find out there. So, stick around. You won't want to miss my amazing photos of barrel cacti and sandy dirt.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
A PICTURE OF ME, OVER 10 YEARS AGO
You know, I wasn't always this amazingly beautiful, poised and successful business woman you know today. I didn't always have "the world on a string"; there was a time when I didn't have at least $500K in the bank at any given time. I rose through the ranks of the corporate world, it's true... today, I'm admired by my peers all around the world. I'm a jet-setter. I'm stylish, the life of the party, and my home is impeccable.
But, as I've said...it wasn't always like this.
Ten years ago, times were very difficult.
You see, back then, the world was set upon by a terrible financial blight. The stock markets dropped and entire families were forced from their homes because they had no money, and there were no jobs. After a few years of this hell, some people even resorted to moving out West, where they thought they could live off the land and do their best to raise their families.
They were wrong. Turns out? God sent a fucking thing called The Dust Bowl.
So, there we were. Me, and my two moppet-children, Florence and Joey. We were living out of some horrible tent my then-husband pulled together from some old tarps and burlap sacks he took from the feed and tack store on our way out of St. Louis. We had to fight off roving gangs of starving people pretty much, like, ALL the damn time. They'd creep up and try to steal our potatoes.
Do you know how many people I had to smash over the skull to keep my family's potato-sacks safe? A lot. Thank goodness for that sturdy old tire iron. Ol' Sally, I called her. Yes, me and Ol' Sally saw a lot of hobo brains together in those days.
But a person can only live in this kind of squalor for so long before you go a little bit out of your head. It was late August. By this time, my husband was nearly dead of tuberculosis... or so he said... I knew it was really spotted-dick-disease he'd gotten from that one hooker he messed around with one night while hopped up on moonshine, that bastard... and so, without him working in the dust fields, we had nothing.
I began to feed the children dirt. Yes. Dirt.
I'd sift the pebbles and as much animal waste from the dirt as I could by running it through an old pair of nylons, but it was still DIRT. The children hated it. They'd cry. "Please, Momma...we don't want to eat anymore dirt!" they'd wail, clinging to me like I was the shelter from the dirt storm.
Eventually, I had enough. I politely asked the children to leave.
So, Florence found her fortune with a nice family heading to California to work in the gold mines. Joey was a hanger-on, though. I had to beat him with what was left of one of my shoes to get him to go away. "Go find a job, Joey, GO!" I would holler, and he'd cry and say he was but four years old, but I knew damn well there was work for boys of that age. When he still refused, I took him to the nearby railyard, slipped him a "Depression Mickey" (no, you can't have the recipe, LOL!) and left him sleeping in some tall weeds next to a conductor's station.
I do wonder how those children fared, sometimes.
Mostly, though, I'm just relieved to be rid of them, and that stupid, depressing Dust Bowl. I moved back to The Big Apple and by then, the market had recovered, I went to school, and one thing led to another and, well... here I am.
Life sure changes a person. Sometimes for the better. I mean, I looked absolutely dreadful back then! And those children were honestly such a hindrance.
(Sometimes I say I miss them, but it's not true. I don't miss them.)
You know, I wasn't always this amazingly beautiful, poised and successful business woman you know today. I didn't always have "the world on a string"; there was a time when I didn't have at least $500K in the bank at any given time. I rose through the ranks of the corporate world, it's true... today, I'm admired by my peers all around the world. I'm a jet-setter. I'm stylish, the life of the party, and my home is impeccable.
But, as I've said...it wasn't always like this.
Ten years ago, times were very difficult.
You see, back then, the world was set upon by a terrible financial blight. The stock markets dropped and entire families were forced from their homes because they had no money, and there were no jobs. After a few years of this hell, some people even resorted to moving out West, where they thought they could live off the land and do their best to raise their families.
They were wrong. Turns out? God sent a fucking thing called The Dust Bowl.
So, there we were. Me, and my two moppet-children, Florence and Joey. We were living out of some horrible tent my then-husband pulled together from some old tarps and burlap sacks he took from the feed and tack store on our way out of St. Louis. We had to fight off roving gangs of starving people pretty much, like, ALL the damn time. They'd creep up and try to steal our potatoes.
Do you know how many people I had to smash over the skull to keep my family's potato-sacks safe? A lot. Thank goodness for that sturdy old tire iron. Ol' Sally, I called her. Yes, me and Ol' Sally saw a lot of hobo brains together in those days.
But a person can only live in this kind of squalor for so long before you go a little bit out of your head. It was late August. By this time, my husband was nearly dead of tuberculosis... or so he said... I knew it was really spotted-dick-disease he'd gotten from that one hooker he messed around with one night while hopped up on moonshine, that bastard... and so, without him working in the dust fields, we had nothing.
I began to feed the children dirt. Yes. Dirt.
I'd sift the pebbles and as much animal waste from the dirt as I could by running it through an old pair of nylons, but it was still DIRT. The children hated it. They'd cry. "Please, Momma...we don't want to eat anymore dirt!" they'd wail, clinging to me like I was the shelter from the dirt storm.
Eventually, I had enough. I politely asked the children to leave.
So, Florence found her fortune with a nice family heading to California to work in the gold mines. Joey was a hanger-on, though. I had to beat him with what was left of one of my shoes to get him to go away. "Go find a job, Joey, GO!" I would holler, and he'd cry and say he was but four years old, but I knew damn well there was work for boys of that age. When he still refused, I took him to the nearby railyard, slipped him a "Depression Mickey" (no, you can't have the recipe, LOL!) and left him sleeping in some tall weeds next to a conductor's station.
I do wonder how those children fared, sometimes.
Mostly, though, I'm just relieved to be rid of them, and that stupid, depressing Dust Bowl. I moved back to The Big Apple and by then, the market had recovered, I went to school, and one thing led to another and, well... here I am.
Life sure changes a person. Sometimes for the better. I mean, I looked absolutely dreadful back then! And those children were honestly such a hindrance.
(Sometimes I say I miss them, but it's not true. I don't miss them.)
Monday, June 27, 2011
PROJECT CHALLENGE: 1980-83
When I was in elementary school, I was labeled "gifted."
I know what you're thinking. "Gifted" in what, exactly? That's the thing: I was never sure. All I know is that being told you are "gifted" meant you were put into this group called Project Challenge. You got to leave class for an hour or so every week to go do extra school work and/or science projects. (I found this link that explains what the NJ Project Challenge thing was all about...and apparently, still IS in Mahwah, NJ!)
I was in Project Challenge from the second half of kindergarten until 4th grade. I don't remember too much about it except that we got a lot of dittos. Remember dittos? Those copies with the purple ink? We'd have coloring assignments, and I had to put together an "All About Me" book one year. Here's a taste of what my kind of "gifted" looked like:
(That's my future house. And apparently, I planned to sing with Michael Jackson. SPOILER: That didn't work out.)
Sometimes we did stuff like light a lightbulb using power from a potato or something, or watch film strips about the migratory routes used by some ants in the Congo. It was all random, and kind of fun, so I didn't mind being in this group.
One of our assignments was to make a computer. In 1983.
And this is what amuses the hell out of me. I had no clue what components went into making a computer. I knew there was a screen, and a box with all kinds of magic stuff that made things happen. There was only one computer in the school at the time, and it was in the principal's office and no one ever really saw it unless you were called in to the principal. So I had never seen it. I just heard about it. I think I saw it from afar, through a doorway. Little did I know those things, those computers, would be such a huge part of my life when I grew up.
I decided to make something called the Pre-School Computer(TM). My sister was in preschool at the time and I think that's what inspired me. I devised a little idea of something that would help her learn to read and do basic math. I wish I could be more specific about what I'm talking about, but my memories are foggy on this and what I do recall is almost impossible to explain.
In my mind, I'm sure I thought my computer would look a lot like this:
(Little girl not included.)
I liked those books with the little moving tabs; you know, where a word or picture would be "hidden" until you pulled the tab on the outside edge of the page to "reveal" the hidden item. You know what I'm talking about? Anyway, my Pre-School Computer had sentences with "hidden" words and math problems with hidden answers. It was by no means a computer, really. I mean, what kind of computer just gives you the answers by pulling on a little strip of paper on the outside edge of the "screen"? If you answered "no computer that I know of," you are correct.
Here's the real idiot part of my Pre-School Computer: I also wanted to make the electronic, internal components that made the computer work. How did I do this:
1) I had a small rectangular plastic basket, and I put a bunch of STICKS from the yard inside. [Pictured: High-tech outer shell for a cutting-edge PCU]
2) I broke an old light bulb and stuck the filaments in a little block of Play-Doh and set it in the middle of the sticks. [Pictured: The Thing That Powers The Whole Thing:]
3) I took the green twist-ties my Mom kept in the kitchen junk drawer and connected all the sticks together-- these were of course, the wires that sent signals from the sticks to other sticks. [Pictured: Sophisticated fiber optical-electronic computerization-ready wires.]
4) I believe some wheels from the Lego set made it in there somehow. [Pictured: Several VIDs, AKA Very Important Doo-hickies.]
5) To finish my computer, I added the thing that ALL computer engineers use in the manufacture of high-tech computers: BABY POWDER. [Pictured: Magic power in the form of talc!!]
Yes. I sprinkled the whole mess with baby powder. Then I taped the paper "screen" that had my sentences and math problems on it to the top of the whole thing.
By God, I'd done it. I'd made a computer!!
I was so excited about my invention. I mean, it took me a couple of hours overall. Lots and lots of work. My Pre-School Computer was going to wow the hell out of the Project Challenge teacher! I mean, my computer even had the correct guts to power it. I bet the other kids didn't think of that, or figured out how to make all that circuitry.
I showed my Mom, and she kindly explained that the real working part of my Pre-School Computer was the top part, the paper "screen." She told me I didn't really need the plastic basket filled with sticks and baby powder, and she did it in a way that didn't piss me off. I'm impressed and I really wish I knew how she did it. I removed the top of the Pre-School Computer and left the plastic basket-part home in my room when I went to school the next day to turn in my computer for...a grade? An award? I don't know what they did in Project Challenge to reward us. Maybe nothing. It might have been a progressive "we're all winners" kind of thing.
I was a winner, all right.
The next part I remember is that my Pre-School Computer went over well. No one made fun of it, so that was a win right there. I was pretty happy with it. I brought it home that day with me on the bus.
And I dropped my Pre-School Computer on the wet, muddy floor of the bus. I guess it was a rainy day. All I know is that forever after, the Pre-School Computer had a muddy boot-shape stain on it. My sister didn't want to play with it, after all of my hard work, either! Probably because it was all muddy and gross when I put it down in front of her.
(Of course, when she did finally play with it, she "solved" all the problems in seconds by pulling on the tabs.)
So, even if in the end my computer was stripped of its "controls box" and marred by schoolbus floor mud, and my sister didn't enjoy using it, the important thing was that I HAD MADE A COMPUTER.
Me! Wow, I really *was* gifted. I mean, how many other kids in my school could build a computer...? Besides the other 5 or 6 who were in Project Challenge with me, I mean? Answer: NOT THAT MANY.
Interestingly, the following year I was not invited back to Project Challenge. They also changed the name to "Gifted and Talented" which everyone just called G&T. I guess after the mess of the computer-building, the teachers in charge decided they'd better clarify the name to get the "right" kids in there, instead of a bunch of dorks who couldn't even build real, working computers like the ones in the principal's office.
So, what did I do after being snubbed by G&T? I organized a CLASS TALENT SHOW.
And it was the best talent show that school had ever seen! But sadly, my friends, that is a tale for another day.
When I was in elementary school, I was labeled "gifted."
I know what you're thinking. "Gifted" in what, exactly? That's the thing: I was never sure. All I know is that being told you are "gifted" meant you were put into this group called Project Challenge. You got to leave class for an hour or so every week to go do extra school work and/or science projects. (I found this link that explains what the NJ Project Challenge thing was all about...and apparently, still IS in Mahwah, NJ!)
I was in Project Challenge from the second half of kindergarten until 4th grade. I don't remember too much about it except that we got a lot of dittos. Remember dittos? Those copies with the purple ink? We'd have coloring assignments, and I had to put together an "All About Me" book one year. Here's a taste of what my kind of "gifted" looked like:
(That's my future house. And apparently, I planned to sing with Michael Jackson. SPOILER: That didn't work out.)
Sometimes we did stuff like light a lightbulb using power from a potato or something, or watch film strips about the migratory routes used by some ants in the Congo. It was all random, and kind of fun, so I didn't mind being in this group.
One of our assignments was to make a computer. In 1983.
And this is what amuses the hell out of me. I had no clue what components went into making a computer. I knew there was a screen, and a box with all kinds of magic stuff that made things happen. There was only one computer in the school at the time, and it was in the principal's office and no one ever really saw it unless you were called in to the principal. So I had never seen it. I just heard about it. I think I saw it from afar, through a doorway. Little did I know those things, those computers, would be such a huge part of my life when I grew up.
I decided to make something called the Pre-School Computer(TM). My sister was in preschool at the time and I think that's what inspired me. I devised a little idea of something that would help her learn to read and do basic math. I wish I could be more specific about what I'm talking about, but my memories are foggy on this and what I do recall is almost impossible to explain.
In my mind, I'm sure I thought my computer would look a lot like this:
(Little girl not included.)
I liked those books with the little moving tabs; you know, where a word or picture would be "hidden" until you pulled the tab on the outside edge of the page to "reveal" the hidden item. You know what I'm talking about? Anyway, my Pre-School Computer had sentences with "hidden" words and math problems with hidden answers. It was by no means a computer, really. I mean, what kind of computer just gives you the answers by pulling on a little strip of paper on the outside edge of the "screen"? If you answered "no computer that I know of," you are correct.
Here's the real idiot part of my Pre-School Computer: I also wanted to make the electronic, internal components that made the computer work. How did I do this:
1) I had a small rectangular plastic basket, and I put a bunch of STICKS from the yard inside. [Pictured: High-tech outer shell for a cutting-edge PCU]
2) I broke an old light bulb and stuck the filaments in a little block of Play-Doh and set it in the middle of the sticks. [Pictured: The Thing That Powers The Whole Thing:]
3) I took the green twist-ties my Mom kept in the kitchen junk drawer and connected all the sticks together-- these were of course, the wires that sent signals from the sticks to other sticks. [Pictured: Sophisticated fiber optical-electronic computerization-ready wires.]
4) I believe some wheels from the Lego set made it in there somehow. [Pictured: Several VIDs, AKA Very Important Doo-hickies.]
5) To finish my computer, I added the thing that ALL computer engineers use in the manufacture of high-tech computers: BABY POWDER. [Pictured: Magic power in the form of talc!!]
Yes. I sprinkled the whole mess with baby powder. Then I taped the paper "screen" that had my sentences and math problems on it to the top of the whole thing.
By God, I'd done it. I'd made a computer!!
I was so excited about my invention. I mean, it took me a couple of hours overall. Lots and lots of work. My Pre-School Computer was going to wow the hell out of the Project Challenge teacher! I mean, my computer even had the correct guts to power it. I bet the other kids didn't think of that, or figured out how to make all that circuitry.
I showed my Mom, and she kindly explained that the real working part of my Pre-School Computer was the top part, the paper "screen." She told me I didn't really need the plastic basket filled with sticks and baby powder, and she did it in a way that didn't piss me off. I'm impressed and I really wish I knew how she did it. I removed the top of the Pre-School Computer and left the plastic basket-part home in my room when I went to school the next day to turn in my computer for...a grade? An award? I don't know what they did in Project Challenge to reward us. Maybe nothing. It might have been a progressive "we're all winners" kind of thing.
I was a winner, all right.
The next part I remember is that my Pre-School Computer went over well. No one made fun of it, so that was a win right there. I was pretty happy with it. I brought it home that day with me on the bus.
And I dropped my Pre-School Computer on the wet, muddy floor of the bus. I guess it was a rainy day. All I know is that forever after, the Pre-School Computer had a muddy boot-shape stain on it. My sister didn't want to play with it, after all of my hard work, either! Probably because it was all muddy and gross when I put it down in front of her.
(Of course, when she did finally play with it, she "solved" all the problems in seconds by pulling on the tabs.)
So, even if in the end my computer was stripped of its "controls box" and marred by schoolbus floor mud, and my sister didn't enjoy using it, the important thing was that I HAD MADE A COMPUTER.
Me! Wow, I really *was* gifted. I mean, how many other kids in my school could build a computer...? Besides the other 5 or 6 who were in Project Challenge with me, I mean? Answer: NOT THAT MANY.
Interestingly, the following year I was not invited back to Project Challenge. They also changed the name to "Gifted and Talented" which everyone just called G&T. I guess after the mess of the computer-building, the teachers in charge decided they'd better clarify the name to get the "right" kids in there, instead of a bunch of dorks who couldn't even build real, working computers like the ones in the principal's office.
So, what did I do after being snubbed by G&T? I organized a CLASS TALENT SHOW.
And it was the best talent show that school had ever seen! But sadly, my friends, that is a tale for another day.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
CAT BENEFITS
If you own a cat, you probably know how helpful they can be around the house. You probably also know how much their poop can stink.
My cat's a pretty decent hunter, for an indoor pussy-cat. He kills bugs for me. Tonight, a big roach came walking across the tile out of nowhere because I have yet to weatherstrip my back door. I called to the cat, and told him to "GET IT!" and he just sprung into action. Of course, he took his time murdering it. In fact, as I write this, I have no visual proof that the thing is dead. I have to go check. But I'm lazy, and scared. He took it and ran down the dark hallway to do the murdering. He's like a tiny serial killer, with his own special routine and everything.
He also keeps me from leaving important little items around in the open. I know that he'd just show me a lesson by taking the things away into the ether. Thanks to him, I keep things that I care about hidden. I also wonder why my cat has access to the Victorian-era drug ether, and why he would put my things into that ether, but that's neither here nor there.
He keeps the dog entertained. He springs into action and grabs onto Hurley's fur, and sometimes I see little slivers of cat-claws in Hurley's coat. He hides under a blanket and startles the dog as he walks past. Hurley has a big smile on his face all the time and pounces on him whenever he feels like it. All this dog-on-cat, cat-on-dog action means I have less work to do when it comes to keeping them occupied and out of trouble. They're no longer demanding I read them fairy tales and drive them to pet-soccer practices. It's such a weight off my wide shoulders.
And finally, the cat keeps evil trolls from killing me in my sleep. Before I had a cat, I was pretty much under constant attack from the evil trolls. It was always wake up, smack them off my bed, throw the magic packet of kill-powder and then sweep up the mess in the morning. Yadda yadda. Now, the cat just rips the trolls limb from limb, and all I need to worry about is a little noise as he does the troll murdering. Problem solved with earplugs.
Cats do a lot of murdering.
The tradeoff in having your own personal lil' murderer is the fact that they shit in a box in your house. I'm fortunate, because my cat isn't as stinky as some other cats out there, but whew... if you smell that foul odor, you KNOW you're smelling cat shit. No doubt in your mind. It's awful. I think they have intense-smelling colon excretions because they eat things like dead bugs, dead trolls and in the case of my cat, dog hair. When I smell my cat's feces I feel like I'm gonna swoon, like an old-timey broad. A terrible scenario would involve one of those evil trolls climbing up on my bed as I sleep to deposit a little cat-shit on my pillow, as a joke. So, I hope that my cat acts fast and murders any and all trolls without hesitation, always.
Because when you stop to think before murdering an evil troll, that's when the troll has a chance to murder YOU.
.jpg)
This message has been brought to you by a first-time cat owner with what the court-ordered social worker calls "issues." Thank you.
If you own a cat, you probably know how helpful they can be around the house. You probably also know how much their poop can stink.
My cat's a pretty decent hunter, for an indoor pussy-cat. He kills bugs for me. Tonight, a big roach came walking across the tile out of nowhere because I have yet to weatherstrip my back door. I called to the cat, and told him to "GET IT!" and he just sprung into action. Of course, he took his time murdering it. In fact, as I write this, I have no visual proof that the thing is dead. I have to go check. But I'm lazy, and scared. He took it and ran down the dark hallway to do the murdering. He's like a tiny serial killer, with his own special routine and everything.
He also keeps me from leaving important little items around in the open. I know that he'd just show me a lesson by taking the things away into the ether. Thanks to him, I keep things that I care about hidden. I also wonder why my cat has access to the Victorian-era drug ether, and why he would put my things into that ether, but that's neither here nor there.
He keeps the dog entertained. He springs into action and grabs onto Hurley's fur, and sometimes I see little slivers of cat-claws in Hurley's coat. He hides under a blanket and startles the dog as he walks past. Hurley has a big smile on his face all the time and pounces on him whenever he feels like it. All this dog-on-cat, cat-on-dog action means I have less work to do when it comes to keeping them occupied and out of trouble. They're no longer demanding I read them fairy tales and drive them to pet-soccer practices. It's such a weight off my wide shoulders.
And finally, the cat keeps evil trolls from killing me in my sleep. Before I had a cat, I was pretty much under constant attack from the evil trolls. It was always wake up, smack them off my bed, throw the magic packet of kill-powder and then sweep up the mess in the morning. Yadda yadda. Now, the cat just rips the trolls limb from limb, and all I need to worry about is a little noise as he does the troll murdering. Problem solved with earplugs.
Cats do a lot of murdering.
The tradeoff in having your own personal lil' murderer is the fact that they shit in a box in your house. I'm fortunate, because my cat isn't as stinky as some other cats out there, but whew... if you smell that foul odor, you KNOW you're smelling cat shit. No doubt in your mind. It's awful. I think they have intense-smelling colon excretions because they eat things like dead bugs, dead trolls and in the case of my cat, dog hair. When I smell my cat's feces I feel like I'm gonna swoon, like an old-timey broad. A terrible scenario would involve one of those evil trolls climbing up on my bed as I sleep to deposit a little cat-shit on my pillow, as a joke. So, I hope that my cat acts fast and murders any and all trolls without hesitation, always.
Because when you stop to think before murdering an evil troll, that's when the troll has a chance to murder YOU.
.jpg)
This message has been brought to you by a first-time cat owner with what the court-ordered social worker calls "issues." Thank you.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
BACK TO THE OLD BLOG CABIN
Um, hello again. I missed you, Blog. Sweet, weird and wonderful old Blog. You're looking a little dusty, worn around the edges from neglect and frankly, you DO smell a bit gamey. However, there's never been another like you, and you are mine. I went away, gave you your space for awhile, and now, I have come back. Please tell me you're cool with that. I don't want to force my way back into, Blog. I know when a Blog says no, it means NO.
Why come back now? I don't know. Maybe because I'm old now. Life has thoroughly masticated me and expelled me from its metaphorical mouth. Time to get back to the weird, the things that amuse me, the things that belong nowhere else BUT on Blog.
In the near future, a lot of content on this blog is going to be transferred to a new, shiny Site. I'm going to have my own Site, with my real name firmly attached to it. But for now I am happy to just do this again, and see what new weird things come about.
I cannot Blog at work, and at night I am often writing my real stuff, so don't be surprised if I am not Blogging a whole lot or as frequently as I once did. Oh, like you really care. You're not even really reading this. You're just scanning this post looking for photos of Nic Cage, aren't you? Sigh. Well, there WILL be more Nic Cage to come. Until he is eradicated once and for all, we need to discuss this fool so we know our enemy. I'll also be writing new REPORTS because those are just fun for me.
Goodbye, my pee wees. I will be back soon with a new post. Until then, take care and take my advice: you should really consider switching to the clinical-strength deodorant. Please trust me.
Um, hello again. I missed you, Blog. Sweet, weird and wonderful old Blog. You're looking a little dusty, worn around the edges from neglect and frankly, you DO smell a bit gamey. However, there's never been another like you, and you are mine. I went away, gave you your space for awhile, and now, I have come back. Please tell me you're cool with that. I don't want to force my way back into, Blog. I know when a Blog says no, it means NO.
Why come back now? I don't know. Maybe because I'm old now. Life has thoroughly masticated me and expelled me from its metaphorical mouth. Time to get back to the weird, the things that amuse me, the things that belong nowhere else BUT on Blog.
In the near future, a lot of content on this blog is going to be transferred to a new, shiny Site. I'm going to have my own Site, with my real name firmly attached to it. But for now I am happy to just do this again, and see what new weird things come about.
I cannot Blog at work, and at night I am often writing my real stuff, so don't be surprised if I am not Blogging a whole lot or as frequently as I once did. Oh, like you really care. You're not even really reading this. You're just scanning this post looking for photos of Nic Cage, aren't you? Sigh. Well, there WILL be more Nic Cage to come. Until he is eradicated once and for all, we need to discuss this fool so we know our enemy. I'll also be writing new REPORTS because those are just fun for me.
Goodbye, my pee wees. I will be back soon with a new post. Until then, take care and take my advice: you should really consider switching to the clinical-strength deodorant. Please trust me.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, November 09, 2008
A LONG TIME
I started this blog on June 23, 2003. It's hard to believe that it's been more than five years already! So many things have happened, and I wrote so many fun little things that made me smile. I know that blogging like this might seem like an exhibitionist kind of thing; that bloggers do it for the attention, the validation, the desire to have an audience.
You know something? I think I did do it for all of those reasons.
And I'm not sorry about it. Far from it. This blog has served as a way to keep me writing, during a time in my life when I felt the creativity draining out of me because the writing for my job took it all out of me. Nothing was better than logging on to add a new post in the middle of the day, right when I needed it. I've always been kind of a daydreamer, and I seem to free-associate all day long and come up with inner conversations that, until the blog, had nowhere to go. I guess I wrote some of those little nothings down from time to time in odd places, but it was never anything organized or even something I did on a regular basis. I have journaled for years and years now, since high school, but that's different, and private. I've written fiction for years (and struggled with not-writing for years, too) and that, also, was relatively private. So what about all those other thoughts I had? Was there a place I could put those?
Yup, the blog. I feel good about blogging, and being brave enough to share my weirdness with whoever feels like reading about it. It was rewarding to know it made people laugh. It still is when I think about it. Thank you for saying so, if you are in fact one of the people who said it. :)
Plus, the blog came with one other very important bonus: friends. Real, actual friends that have come to mean so much to me.
I never expected to get to know you guys. I had no idea I'd make friends in places as varied as Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, NJ, Nevada and Washington state among other places, and that those friendships would grow over time. I'd never have met any of you without this thing that we all do. What started as fun little comments morphed into emails, phone calls, gifts sent in the mail, IM conversations... and in a few cases, the opportunity to meet and hang out in person.
I even shared chapters of my book with some of you. And you gave me critiques and feedback that have helped me tremendously. And I have really loved hearing from you, encouraging you, laughing at your stories, crying over the sad ones; and witnessing some of you go through pregnancy and now seeing your kids getting bigger all the time. It's amazing and I'm thankful for it.
This sounds like a farewell post, doesn't it? That's because in some ways...it is.
I haven't been posting here very much anymore, and while I'm still visiting all of your blogs, I haven't felt the need to write on this blog as much. I don't know, interests change and priorities shift. It's happened for me. And it's OK.
I will never STOP blogging! So I am not writing this to end the blog. I may come back to it. Could be next week, could be next year. I just figured I'd explain why there won't be much going on here for awhile. I won't delete it, since it has meant so much to me and been such a cool part of my writing (and friendship) life. And besides, I need somewhere to go to post my Reports when I write them. This will always be the perfect place for that.
And those of you who are now friends, you always know where to find me. And I hate to tell you this, but I always know where to find YOU, too. You're not gonna have much luck shaking me off. I'm like a bro-rape guy on a case of Nattie Ice, right (lengli) bro? ;)
Thanks for reading my blog!
I started this blog on June 23, 2003. It's hard to believe that it's been more than five years already! So many things have happened, and I wrote so many fun little things that made me smile. I know that blogging like this might seem like an exhibitionist kind of thing; that bloggers do it for the attention, the validation, the desire to have an audience.
You know something? I think I did do it for all of those reasons.
And I'm not sorry about it. Far from it. This blog has served as a way to keep me writing, during a time in my life when I felt the creativity draining out of me because the writing for my job took it all out of me. Nothing was better than logging on to add a new post in the middle of the day, right when I needed it. I've always been kind of a daydreamer, and I seem to free-associate all day long and come up with inner conversations that, until the blog, had nowhere to go. I guess I wrote some of those little nothings down from time to time in odd places, but it was never anything organized or even something I did on a regular basis. I have journaled for years and years now, since high school, but that's different, and private. I've written fiction for years (and struggled with not-writing for years, too) and that, also, was relatively private. So what about all those other thoughts I had? Was there a place I could put those?
Yup, the blog. I feel good about blogging, and being brave enough to share my weirdness with whoever feels like reading about it. It was rewarding to know it made people laugh. It still is when I think about it. Thank you for saying so, if you are in fact one of the people who said it. :)
Plus, the blog came with one other very important bonus: friends. Real, actual friends that have come to mean so much to me.
I never expected to get to know you guys. I had no idea I'd make friends in places as varied as Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, NJ, Nevada and Washington state among other places, and that those friendships would grow over time. I'd never have met any of you without this thing that we all do. What started as fun little comments morphed into emails, phone calls, gifts sent in the mail, IM conversations... and in a few cases, the opportunity to meet and hang out in person.
I even shared chapters of my book with some of you. And you gave me critiques and feedback that have helped me tremendously. And I have really loved hearing from you, encouraging you, laughing at your stories, crying over the sad ones; and witnessing some of you go through pregnancy and now seeing your kids getting bigger all the time. It's amazing and I'm thankful for it.
This sounds like a farewell post, doesn't it? That's because in some ways...it is.
I haven't been posting here very much anymore, and while I'm still visiting all of your blogs, I haven't felt the need to write on this blog as much. I don't know, interests change and priorities shift. It's happened for me. And it's OK.
I will never STOP blogging! So I am not writing this to end the blog. I may come back to it. Could be next week, could be next year. I just figured I'd explain why there won't be much going on here for awhile. I won't delete it, since it has meant so much to me and been such a cool part of my writing (and friendship) life. And besides, I need somewhere to go to post my Reports when I write them. This will always be the perfect place for that.
And those of you who are now friends, you always know where to find me. And I hate to tell you this, but I always know where to find YOU, too. You're not gonna have much luck shaking me off. I'm like a bro-rape guy on a case of Nattie Ice, right (lengli) bro? ;)
Thanks for reading my blog!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
MADE OF WIN NIGHT
It's funny how excited I am that my candidate won. Seriously...! I love how happy Democrats are on all the broadcasts; I love hearing about all the young people who came out to vote...I love the feeling of actually voting for someone who WON. This has never happened for me before. With the exception of Napolitano's re-election, I guess... but still. It's cool to have done my part and made an educated decision, and have that be the winning decision. I can't help it. It feels good. Now I am so curious and fascinated to see how this will play out from here. I have my fingers crossed.
Although, I must say, it SUCKS that bigotry wins again tonight in AZ. Proposition 102passed, which basically throws a roadblock in the way for gay couples in the state to be married in the future. I just don't see how politics has a place in this discussion, sorry. Well, one day, I hope... people will wake up and be a little more accepting and loving towards their fellow men and women. I feel like my position on this issue is indicative of my own Christian beliefs. Yet the majority of "Christians" in this state saw it differently, and that makes me sad. I was raised to believe that Christians took care of those less fortunate, those who are oppressed. What about the whole love thy neighbor business? Ah, hell, I'll only make myself annoyed again if I continue thinking about this tonight.
Because in the end, it's really about a bigger victory tonight, and while I do feel sympathy for McCain as an individual (he did seem like a decent guy, he did have several ideas that I didn't think were all that bad, and he's really not as old-school Republican as most of them) that he lost, I'm personally savoring this feeling of actually being part of a majority. It's a new feeling, I have to say. And it's kind of nice!
It's funny how excited I am that my candidate won. Seriously...! I love how happy Democrats are on all the broadcasts; I love hearing about all the young people who came out to vote...I love the feeling of actually voting for someone who WON. This has never happened for me before. With the exception of Napolitano's re-election, I guess... but still. It's cool to have done my part and made an educated decision, and have that be the winning decision. I can't help it. It feels good. Now I am so curious and fascinated to see how this will play out from here. I have my fingers crossed.
Although, I must say, it SUCKS that bigotry wins again tonight in AZ. Proposition 102passed, which basically throws a roadblock in the way for gay couples in the state to be married in the future. I just don't see how politics has a place in this discussion, sorry. Well, one day, I hope... people will wake up and be a little more accepting and loving towards their fellow men and women. I feel like my position on this issue is indicative of my own Christian beliefs. Yet the majority of "Christians" in this state saw it differently, and that makes me sad. I was raised to believe that Christians took care of those less fortunate, those who are oppressed. What about the whole love thy neighbor business? Ah, hell, I'll only make myself annoyed again if I continue thinking about this tonight.
Because in the end, it's really about a bigger victory tonight, and while I do feel sympathy for McCain as an individual (he did seem like a decent guy, he did have several ideas that I didn't think were all that bad, and he's really not as old-school Republican as most of them) that he lost, I'm personally savoring this feeling of actually being part of a majority. It's a new feeling, I have to say. And it's kind of nice!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
FUNNIEST SLOGAN
I don't know why this is in my head tonight...I haven't even had any chicken today... but I think one of the most ridiculous advertising slogans ever written was for Perdue Chicken:
"It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken."
It just sounds really gross, too. I get all kinds of inappropriate imagery in my head. From Frank Perdue donning some boxing gloves and a wife beater to slap the crap out of some poor chicken, who ends up crying in the corner... to something dark and atrocious that borders on, well, you know.
Human-on-chicken sex.
By the way, watch the video in that link above, and at the 9 second mark, see if you laugh at the audible THUD of the chicken being tossed onto a table out of camera. Because I did. Especially because immediately prior to this THUD, he is talking about how the chicken has "hairs." Oh, man. Good stuff.
And look at the Perdue family patriarch in THIS scary commercial. He even has the old-man whistle as he speaks that reminds me of Herbert on Family Guy. But dude... what the hell was going on in the Perdue family??
I don't know why this is in my head tonight...I haven't even had any chicken today... but I think one of the most ridiculous advertising slogans ever written was for Perdue Chicken:
"It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken."
It just sounds really gross, too. I get all kinds of inappropriate imagery in my head. From Frank Perdue donning some boxing gloves and a wife beater to slap the crap out of some poor chicken, who ends up crying in the corner... to something dark and atrocious that borders on, well, you know.
Human-on-chicken sex.
By the way, watch the video in that link above, and at the 9 second mark, see if you laugh at the audible THUD of the chicken being tossed onto a table out of camera. Because I did. Especially because immediately prior to this THUD, he is talking about how the chicken has "hairs." Oh, man. Good stuff.
And look at the Perdue family patriarch in THIS scary commercial. He even has the old-man whistle as he speaks that reminds me of Herbert on Family Guy. But dude... what the hell was going on in the Perdue family??
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
PLEASE HAMMER (Shades), DON'T HURT ME
I am doing this meme because I fear what Shades might do to me if I don't do it. She works out...a LOT...and could totally take me out if she decided to fly out here to git me. So in order to stave off a potential blogger-beating, I present the following:
1. Post the rules on your blog
2. Blog 6 random things about yourself
3. Tag 6 people at the end of your post
4. If you're tagged, DO IT and pass on the tag
1. Strawberry and grape Nerds candy is a personal downfall of mine, and I prefer eating them out of the tiny boxes they sell (by the bag) around Halloween, rather than the regular sized boxes at the checkout. So right now, yes, there is a bag of Nerds in my kitchen. I love this time of year.
2. When I was in high school, I had a pair of Nikes I refused to part with, even after they started to stink beyond anything washing or airing-out could remedy. So I kept them; and when they reached a certain point, the stink turned into a scent I didn't mind all that much. It kind of smelled like chicken pot pies. So I can say that I once secretly liked the smell of my old, stinky sneakers.
3. I am looking at my Girl Scout sash right now. I have a lot of badges!
4. I used a straightening iron on my hair for the very first time this morning and I am pretty sure I liked the results. So I might have to buy my own iron (since my sister is lending me this one). The only thing is, I am proud of not doing anything damaging to my hair and I worry about the heat from that iron. So if I continue with this, I have to buy that protective hair stuff you spray on beforehand. And I am not excited about buying another hair product. But I am sort of excited about looking decent, I guess, soooo... who knows. What problems.
5. I am having trouble coming up with random things right now. But I do have a new song in my head: A Table Forgotten by Faun Fables. The more I listen, the more it grows on me. I found out about it last night by being Neil Gaiman's MySpace friend.
6. I had the combination for this kid's locker when I was in 8th grade because he was in my homeroom and when they gave out the locker combinations on the first day, he wrote his combination in huge block letters on a sheet of notebook paper and I could clearly see them. I copied it down, even though I didn't have a plan or anything, and I had no quarrel with the boy in question (nor did I like him). I then used it to play harmless mind tricks on him. One day after school, I was going to throw out a pair of pantyhose that had a bad run in it, and instead I soaked them thoroughly with water and hung them inside his locker. The next morning I watched nonchalantly as he opened his locker. He looked startled, but then calmed down quickly, got his books out, and closed his locker like nothing was weird in there. Another time I left an empty Barbie box on top of his books. I wonder if that kid ever thinks about that year when random things were showing up inside his locker.
I am not sure who to tag, since so many of us are giving up the frequent-blogging-habit or have already been tagged, so I will say Martha Plimpton, Stevie Nicks, Sarah Palin, Adam Carolla and Nelson Mandela wearing a Michael Jackson.
I am doing this meme because I fear what Shades might do to me if I don't do it. She works out...a LOT...and could totally take me out if she decided to fly out here to git me. So in order to stave off a potential blogger-beating, I present the following:
1. Post the rules on your blog
2. Blog 6 random things about yourself
3. Tag 6 people at the end of your post
4. If you're tagged, DO IT and pass on the tag
1. Strawberry and grape Nerds candy is a personal downfall of mine, and I prefer eating them out of the tiny boxes they sell (by the bag) around Halloween, rather than the regular sized boxes at the checkout. So right now, yes, there is a bag of Nerds in my kitchen. I love this time of year.
2. When I was in high school, I had a pair of Nikes I refused to part with, even after they started to stink beyond anything washing or airing-out could remedy. So I kept them; and when they reached a certain point, the stink turned into a scent I didn't mind all that much. It kind of smelled like chicken pot pies. So I can say that I once secretly liked the smell of my old, stinky sneakers.
3. I am looking at my Girl Scout sash right now. I have a lot of badges!
4. I used a straightening iron on my hair for the very first time this morning and I am pretty sure I liked the results. So I might have to buy my own iron (since my sister is lending me this one). The only thing is, I am proud of not doing anything damaging to my hair and I worry about the heat from that iron. So if I continue with this, I have to buy that protective hair stuff you spray on beforehand. And I am not excited about buying another hair product. But I am sort of excited about looking decent, I guess, soooo... who knows. What problems.
5. I am having trouble coming up with random things right now. But I do have a new song in my head: A Table Forgotten by Faun Fables. The more I listen, the more it grows on me. I found out about it last night by being Neil Gaiman's MySpace friend.
6. I had the combination for this kid's locker when I was in 8th grade because he was in my homeroom and when they gave out the locker combinations on the first day, he wrote his combination in huge block letters on a sheet of notebook paper and I could clearly see them. I copied it down, even though I didn't have a plan or anything, and I had no quarrel with the boy in question (nor did I like him). I then used it to play harmless mind tricks on him. One day after school, I was going to throw out a pair of pantyhose that had a bad run in it, and instead I soaked them thoroughly with water and hung them inside his locker. The next morning I watched nonchalantly as he opened his locker. He looked startled, but then calmed down quickly, got his books out, and closed his locker like nothing was weird in there. Another time I left an empty Barbie box on top of his books. I wonder if that kid ever thinks about that year when random things were showing up inside his locker.
I am not sure who to tag, since so many of us are giving up the frequent-blogging-habit or have already been tagged, so I will say Martha Plimpton, Stevie Nicks, Sarah Palin, Adam Carolla and Nelson Mandela wearing a Michael Jackson.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
DOGS INSIDE ELK
This is one of the funniest things I've read in a long time. My friend D sent this URL to me today and even though I read it awhile ago, it's still making me giggle like an idiot.
DOGS IN ELK
I'm pretty grateful for the lack of elk in my neighborhood right about now. Because if it ain't my dog, it would be someone else's dog hanging out inside the ribs. And no one wants that kind of business going on in their neighborhood.
"Leave me alone. I like it here in this elk."
This is one of the funniest things I've read in a long time. My friend D sent this URL to me today and even though I read it awhile ago, it's still making me giggle like an idiot.
DOGS IN ELK
I'm pretty grateful for the lack of elk in my neighborhood right about now. Because if it ain't my dog, it would be someone else's dog hanging out inside the ribs. And no one wants that kind of business going on in their neighborhood.
"Leave me alone. I like it here in this elk."
Friday, September 19, 2008
INFRINGEMENT ME TIMBERS!!
Hold on kids, I want to break some shit down for you.
According to the Business Software Alliance, copyright infringement of software takes several forms, which include the following.
"CD-R infringement" is the illegal copying of software using CD-R recording technology.
"Commercial Use of Non-commercial Software" is using educational or other commercial-use-restricted software in violation of the software license is a form of copyright infringement.
"Counterfeiting" is the duplication and sale of unauthorized copies of software in such a manner as to try to pass off the illegal copy as if it were a legitimate copy produced or authorized by the legal publisher. This is also often a violation of trademark laws.
"Hard-disk loading" occurs when an individual or company sells computers preloaded with illegal copies of software.
"Internet infringement" is the illegal uploading of software on to the Internet for anyone to copy.
"OEM infringement/unbundling" is known as OEM (original equipment manufacturer) software, is only legally sold with specified hardware. Whether misappropriating OEM software constitutes copyright infringement is subject to interpretation - a software publisher would have a difficult time prosecuting a person who has successfully purchased a genuine OEM copy but who, according to the license agreement, would have been supposed to purchase a retail copy. This is because a court must also consider laws relating to the commercial sales of goods such as the Uniform Commercial Code in the United States, which are more established in law and which can be interpreted to prohibit or nullify licensing terms that negate the established nature of a common sale transaction.
*******
Oh, I'm sorry. I think I misunderstood something. I thought today was Talk Like a Software Pirate Day.
My bad.
ARRRRRGGGHhhhhhhhhhhhh.
{I have no idea who this IT-looking guy is, but he seems like he'd have some weird, Pringles-esque body odor. Just like I imagine a real pirate would smell.}
Hold on kids, I want to break some shit down for you.
According to the Business Software Alliance, copyright infringement of software takes several forms, which include the following.
"CD-R infringement" is the illegal copying of software using CD-R recording technology.
"Commercial Use of Non-commercial Software" is using educational or other commercial-use-restricted software in violation of the software license is a form of copyright infringement.
"Counterfeiting" is the duplication and sale of unauthorized copies of software in such a manner as to try to pass off the illegal copy as if it were a legitimate copy produced or authorized by the legal publisher. This is also often a violation of trademark laws.
"Hard-disk loading" occurs when an individual or company sells computers preloaded with illegal copies of software.
"Internet infringement" is the illegal uploading of software on to the Internet for anyone to copy.
"OEM infringement/unbundling" is known as OEM (original equipment manufacturer) software, is only legally sold with specified hardware. Whether misappropriating OEM software constitutes copyright infringement is subject to interpretation - a software publisher would have a difficult time prosecuting a person who has successfully purchased a genuine OEM copy but who, according to the license agreement, would have been supposed to purchase a retail copy. This is because a court must also consider laws relating to the commercial sales of goods such as the Uniform Commercial Code in the United States, which are more established in law and which can be interpreted to prohibit or nullify licensing terms that negate the established nature of a common sale transaction.
*******
Oh, I'm sorry. I think I misunderstood something. I thought today was Talk Like a Software Pirate Day.
My bad.
ARRRRRGGGHhhhhhhhhhhhh.
{I have no idea who this IT-looking guy is, but he seems like he'd have some weird, Pringles-esque body odor. Just like I imagine a real pirate would smell.}
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
WHIPPER THE SHADE IS A LONELY GOOBER
OK, this radio station out here has GOT to stop playing Red Hot Chili Peppers about five times every hour. This has been going on for at least a year or so; the programming includes everything from their debut album back in the late 80s to the last album, the name of which I could care less about. This is just ridiculous now. I can't hear anymore of this junk. I CAN'T! I am going to FREAK OUT.
Why can't I just change the station? Oh, I do... it's simply that the other stations out here seem to always be playing commercials right when I switch channels (if you live in AZ, you probably are familiar with the horrible "The Shane Company" diamond store commercials that are on 24/7, no matter what), or, even worse...they are ALSO playing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. I can't tell you how deeply I am hating the RHCPs right now. Their songs just suck. Sorry if you're a fan, but thats just how I feel.
And their lyrics are often incomprehensible. Just now, that song Scar Tissue was on. I think this song is about something called "whippers" and how they are "lonely goobers."
My MP3 player might have finally died. It's very sad. I need a new something-or-other and might just go for a small 2GB something-or-other that I can just put the top songs of the moment on, since I can't afford a fancy one right now. I got so accustomed to listening to that thing in the car that without it, the radio has been my only companion, and I HATE my companion in this case. I would slow down and shove my radio out of the car and speed off again, if I could.
"Scar tissue, men you knew you saw, bad trees Mister Know-it All..."
OK, this radio station out here has GOT to stop playing Red Hot Chili Peppers about five times every hour. This has been going on for at least a year or so; the programming includes everything from their debut album back in the late 80s to the last album, the name of which I could care less about. This is just ridiculous now. I can't hear anymore of this junk. I CAN'T! I am going to FREAK OUT.
Why can't I just change the station? Oh, I do... it's simply that the other stations out here seem to always be playing commercials right when I switch channels (if you live in AZ, you probably are familiar with the horrible "The Shane Company" diamond store commercials that are on 24/7, no matter what), or, even worse...they are ALSO playing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. I can't tell you how deeply I am hating the RHCPs right now. Their songs just suck. Sorry if you're a fan, but thats just how I feel.
And their lyrics are often incomprehensible. Just now, that song Scar Tissue was on. I think this song is about something called "whippers" and how they are "lonely goobers."
My MP3 player might have finally died. It's very sad. I need a new something-or-other and might just go for a small 2GB something-or-other that I can just put the top songs of the moment on, since I can't afford a fancy one right now. I got so accustomed to listening to that thing in the car that without it, the radio has been my only companion, and I HATE my companion in this case. I would slow down and shove my radio out of the car and speed off again, if I could.
"Scar tissue, men you knew you saw, bad trees Mister Know-it All..."
SCRAP GOLD!!
Every time I see this, I still laugh even though I want to load the gun and blow my brains out from seeing it so much.
She looks like Tracey Ullman had a stroke.
And turned to selling her "scrap gold" through the mail.
Seriously, "scrap gold"? What the hell is scrap gold?
Don't tell me what it really is. I know what it is; I'm just being a wise-n-heimer.
I picture a big junkyard with scrap gold all over the place. Except it isn't shiny yellow gold. It's blackened and beaten up by life. Just sitting there, in the gold junkyard, waiting for someone to come by and recycle it.
Also, scrap gold doesn't sound like we are talking about gold made into jewelry. It sounds like the shit the Nazis pulled out of the teeth of concentration camp victims. And if you have THAT kind of scrap hanging around your house... I don't want to know you.
If I come across some scrap gold, I am not going to mail it off in the special pre-paid envelope. No way. I am keeping it to smelt.
I SMELT GOLD.
It smelt good.
Every time I see this, I still laugh even though I want to load the gun and blow my brains out from seeing it so much.
She looks like Tracey Ullman had a stroke.
And turned to selling her "scrap gold" through the mail.
Seriously, "scrap gold"? What the hell is scrap gold?
Don't tell me what it really is. I know what it is; I'm just being a wise-n-heimer.
I picture a big junkyard with scrap gold all over the place. Except it isn't shiny yellow gold. It's blackened and beaten up by life. Just sitting there, in the gold junkyard, waiting for someone to come by and recycle it.
Also, scrap gold doesn't sound like we are talking about gold made into jewelry. It sounds like the shit the Nazis pulled out of the teeth of concentration camp victims. And if you have THAT kind of scrap hanging around your house... I don't want to know you.
If I come across some scrap gold, I am not going to mail it off in the special pre-paid envelope. No way. I am keeping it to smelt.
I SMELT GOLD.
It smelt good.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
TAPE TALK: 2008
So I have a ton of cassettes that date back to the mid-eighties, and I can't seem to get rid of them. Not because no one wants them, or I drop them off somewhere and they keep finding their way home even though they have no legs to speak of. I mean, I can't part with them, emotionally.
Fraulein N just wrote about transcribing lyrics to songs back in the day by recording them off the radio and playing the tape over and over, and this reminded me of the big stash of tapes I have in the closet right now. I definitely recorded songs off the radio to memorize later; I'm the type of person who learns things by writing them out or tying a visual memory to the thing in question. So this means I had a lot of loose-leaf paper covered in my crappy handwriting and why, to this day, when I hear "Right on Track" by The Breakfast Club I picture a rooster because they had a picture of one on the sleeve of the 45rpm single I had; which I would sit and stare at as the record played, like I'd had a stroke. I think anyone spying on me would have considered me a very, very dull child. Besides, what kid really wants a 45 of THAT particular song?
I have my entire collection of mix tapes. Well, there are probably a couple that I got from school boyfriends that I threw out after we broke up. But for the most part, any mix I made or was made for me by my friends is still with me. What am I supposed to do with them? I can't just toss them into a landfill, or risk someone else finding it and listening to MY MIX TAPES, damn it. Sure, I don't even have a tape deck at the moment to listen to the mix tapes, but that's not the point. They have sentimental value. Besides, in some cases, the only place where I have a particular song is on a mix tape. (And I am apparently too stupid to track down the MP3s or even the CDs.) And one day I will get another tape deck, and I WILL sit and listen to all my mix tapes.
I think that I sincerely believe that, sometimes.
...That my life will come to that: sitting down and listening to old, probably rotting, cassette tapes with nothing else to look forward to.
But no, WAIT, there's more! I have a whole collection of VHS tapes to go through. As soon as I get a VCR again, that is. But where else am I going to find all the home "movies" (yeah, I am using that term very loosely) my sister and I made, or the vacation videos, the only real footage left of my dog Sam and sweet Granny and Pop-Pop? Nowhere, that's where. They only exist on VHS at the moment.
I do have plans to transfer all the VHS stuff I care about to DVD one of these days, though. Some of that stuff is just irreplaceable. Also, I have certain friends (coughcoughLEEZERcoughcough) who need to have their own copies of certain hard-to-find Chris Elliott specials from the 80s, so I have to get crackin'.
I'm gonna go now and look for another favorite of mine: the video for the Fat Boys' cover of Wipeout. See you around, tapeheads.
(FOUND IT! Now I don't have to regret not fighting Hector Commacho. What?)
So I have a ton of cassettes that date back to the mid-eighties, and I can't seem to get rid of them. Not because no one wants them, or I drop them off somewhere and they keep finding their way home even though they have no legs to speak of. I mean, I can't part with them, emotionally.
Fraulein N just wrote about transcribing lyrics to songs back in the day by recording them off the radio and playing the tape over and over, and this reminded me of the big stash of tapes I have in the closet right now. I definitely recorded songs off the radio to memorize later; I'm the type of person who learns things by writing them out or tying a visual memory to the thing in question. So this means I had a lot of loose-leaf paper covered in my crappy handwriting and why, to this day, when I hear "Right on Track" by The Breakfast Club I picture a rooster because they had a picture of one on the sleeve of the 45rpm single I had; which I would sit and stare at as the record played, like I'd had a stroke. I think anyone spying on me would have considered me a very, very dull child. Besides, what kid really wants a 45 of THAT particular song?
I have my entire collection of mix tapes. Well, there are probably a couple that I got from school boyfriends that I threw out after we broke up. But for the most part, any mix I made or was made for me by my friends is still with me. What am I supposed to do with them? I can't just toss them into a landfill, or risk someone else finding it and listening to MY MIX TAPES, damn it. Sure, I don't even have a tape deck at the moment to listen to the mix tapes, but that's not the point. They have sentimental value. Besides, in some cases, the only place where I have a particular song is on a mix tape. (And I am apparently too stupid to track down the MP3s or even the CDs.) And one day I will get another tape deck, and I WILL sit and listen to all my mix tapes.
I think that I sincerely believe that, sometimes.
...That my life will come to that: sitting down and listening to old, probably rotting, cassette tapes with nothing else to look forward to.
But no, WAIT, there's more! I have a whole collection of VHS tapes to go through. As soon as I get a VCR again, that is. But where else am I going to find all the home "movies" (yeah, I am using that term very loosely) my sister and I made, or the vacation videos, the only real footage left of my dog Sam and sweet Granny and Pop-Pop? Nowhere, that's where. They only exist on VHS at the moment.
I do have plans to transfer all the VHS stuff I care about to DVD one of these days, though. Some of that stuff is just irreplaceable. Also, I have certain friends (coughcoughLEEZERcoughcough) who need to have their own copies of certain hard-to-find Chris Elliott specials from the 80s, so I have to get crackin'.
I'm gonna go now and look for another favorite of mine: the video for the Fat Boys' cover of Wipeout. See you around, tapeheads.
(FOUND IT! Now I don't have to regret not fighting Hector Commacho. What?)
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
HAMLET 2
Here it is, the song that WILL be in your head the rest of the day. Enjoy!
(And see the movie because it's not only hilarious but it has Elisabeth Shue playing herself. That's right. And they make reference to her work in Adventures in Babysitting, arguably the best movie ever made about babysitting.)
Here it is, the song that WILL be in your head the rest of the day. Enjoy!
(And see the movie because it's not only hilarious but it has Elisabeth Shue playing herself. That's right. And they make reference to her work in Adventures in Babysitting, arguably the best movie ever made about babysitting.)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
ICON-ME
Here's an icon that my friend Dot made for me. Something about it makes me laugh a lot.
I look neat and angular, when in real life I am supremely messy and lumpy.
So last night, I had a dream that we were renting office space out to the Jonas Brothers. My company decided to give them an office and a couple of cubes. I don't know who each of those Jonas Brothers guys are, but one with a 'fro was sitting on the floor by the water cooler, sorting through a stack of vinyl LPs and getting in everyone's way. At one point, there was a visitor to our office and they were like, "Oh my God, are those a couple of Jonas Brothers?" and I answered, "Yeah. They rent space here." I don't remember what happened after that. I just know that no one in my office was phased by their bizarre popularity, and in fact, no one really knew what they were even famous for.
A current annoyance of mine is the cigarette-lighter AC power adapter in my car. I'm talking about the one I plug in and then connect to my mp3 player so I can keep it charged. Well, the cord is starting to frag out because of overuse, I guess. I'm not getting a steady charge to my player, and this is no good because I lost the wall power unit, so the car is the only way I can charge it at the moment. I want to buy a replacement power adapter but they cost way too much. The cheapest I've seen is about $15, and for some reason the idea of paying $15 for one of those things just offends my sensibilities. I'm thinking of hitting up the dollar stores to see if they have them there. Dollar-store car power adapters = bad idea? Eh, whatever. Who cares.
This blog is quite exciting. I should tell you all about the car that slowed down in front of the house yesterday, and the 100 year odl grandmother who was shoved out of the car, where she rolled to a stop against the curb. You'd love to hear about how she was whining and hollering out there in the hot sun, saying something about her "broken hip" and how "hot" the pavement was. In fact, you might thrill to hear how about how I dragged her under a tree and fed her poison berries to hasten her exit from this world... but really, is this the sort of thing you really want to hear about? You don't come here for excitement, after all.
You come here for this:
(Just some picture of a very sad sandwich that I found someplace.)
Here's an icon that my friend Dot made for me. Something about it makes me laugh a lot.
I look neat and angular, when in real life I am supremely messy and lumpy.
So last night, I had a dream that we were renting office space out to the Jonas Brothers. My company decided to give them an office and a couple of cubes. I don't know who each of those Jonas Brothers guys are, but one with a 'fro was sitting on the floor by the water cooler, sorting through a stack of vinyl LPs and getting in everyone's way. At one point, there was a visitor to our office and they were like, "Oh my God, are those a couple of Jonas Brothers?" and I answered, "Yeah. They rent space here." I don't remember what happened after that. I just know that no one in my office was phased by their bizarre popularity, and in fact, no one really knew what they were even famous for.
A current annoyance of mine is the cigarette-lighter AC power adapter in my car. I'm talking about the one I plug in and then connect to my mp3 player so I can keep it charged. Well, the cord is starting to frag out because of overuse, I guess. I'm not getting a steady charge to my player, and this is no good because I lost the wall power unit, so the car is the only way I can charge it at the moment. I want to buy a replacement power adapter but they cost way too much. The cheapest I've seen is about $15, and for some reason the idea of paying $15 for one of those things just offends my sensibilities. I'm thinking of hitting up the dollar stores to see if they have them there. Dollar-store car power adapters = bad idea? Eh, whatever. Who cares.
This blog is quite exciting. I should tell you all about the car that slowed down in front of the house yesterday, and the 100 year odl grandmother who was shoved out of the car, where she rolled to a stop against the curb. You'd love to hear about how she was whining and hollering out there in the hot sun, saying something about her "broken hip" and how "hot" the pavement was. In fact, you might thrill to hear how about how I dragged her under a tree and fed her poison berries to hasten her exit from this world... but really, is this the sort of thing you really want to hear about? You don't come here for excitement, after all.
You come here for this:
(Just some picture of a very sad sandwich that I found someplace.)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
PORTIA AND ELLEN
Yay! One of my favorite celebrity couples just got married! They're so cute together. They're always smiling. Smiles are just the coolest.
I wish Ellen (who will always be on my favorites list thanks to the underappreciated hilarity of Mr. Wrong) and Portia (LINDSAY BLUTH for Christ's sake!!) a happy marriage with lots of dogs and fun. :)
Yay! One of my favorite celebrity couples just got married! They're so cute together. They're always smiling. Smiles are just the coolest.
I wish Ellen (who will always be on my favorites list thanks to the underappreciated hilarity of Mr. Wrong) and Portia (LINDSAY BLUTH for Christ's sake!!) a happy marriage with lots of dogs and fun. :)
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
AUGUST IS GLOOP
I'm not dead, I have just been busy and not blogging as a result. It's not you...it's me.
I went to Chicago for work last week and it was so very lovely. I liked imagining them filming The Dark Knight there. We had great, cool weather and the hotel was very nice. I met lots of decent professional-type-motherfuckahs who can help me in my job, and learned many new and exciting things. I took notes. Lots of notes.
The last night there, they took us on a dinner cruise on Lake Michigan. What a nice time it was, too... drinks out on the deck as we slowly cruised past the skyline during sunset; and then a fancy sit-down dinner inside a beautiful cabin with a live piano player providing ambience that made me mellow out and smile more than I expected to smile than night. I slowly drank a glass of wine and snapped picture after picture of the ever-changing scenery. Sunset is the best time for photos, and minute by minute the look of things transforms...I thoroughly appreciated the simplicity and beauty of that.
Here are a few photos from my trip. There are more on my Flickr page, linked over there on the right side of this page. But here are some of my favorites:
BY the way, I admit to wanting to find a Crowley's bar while I was there, because I am really enamored of that show My Boys. I want to hang out with that gang of friends quite a bit. Almost as much as I want to hang out with Mac, Dennis, Dee and Charlie...but at least the My Boys people wouldn't steal my wallet or kick me down any stairs!
Awww look, it's Sweet Dee and D.B.*!
(*Dumpster Baby)
I'm not dead, I have just been busy and not blogging as a result. It's not you...it's me.
I went to Chicago for work last week and it was so very lovely. I liked imagining them filming The Dark Knight there. We had great, cool weather and the hotel was very nice. I met lots of decent professional-type-motherfuckahs who can help me in my job, and learned many new and exciting things. I took notes. Lots of notes.
The last night there, they took us on a dinner cruise on Lake Michigan. What a nice time it was, too... drinks out on the deck as we slowly cruised past the skyline during sunset; and then a fancy sit-down dinner inside a beautiful cabin with a live piano player providing ambience that made me mellow out and smile more than I expected to smile than night. I slowly drank a glass of wine and snapped picture after picture of the ever-changing scenery. Sunset is the best time for photos, and minute by minute the look of things transforms...I thoroughly appreciated the simplicity and beauty of that.
Here are a few photos from my trip. There are more on my Flickr page, linked over there on the right side of this page. But here are some of my favorites:
BY the way, I admit to wanting to find a Crowley's bar while I was there, because I am really enamored of that show My Boys. I want to hang out with that gang of friends quite a bit. Almost as much as I want to hang out with Mac, Dennis, Dee and Charlie...but at least the My Boys people wouldn't steal my wallet or kick me down any stairs!
Awww look, it's Sweet Dee and D.B.*! (*Dumpster Baby)
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
IT'S NEWS TO ME
Each and every day, our world is slapped hard in the face with the strong and clammy hand of the NEWS.
And I'm going to write about some recent stories that have interested me enough to click beyond the initial headline to find out what's behind it; I wanted to know the full scoop, if you will. Allow me to begin with Monday Movie Buzz: Bale's Batman Voice Too Much?
I loved Batman Begins and the Dark Knight, but I did always feel like giggling a little over that raspy, deep voice. So it's nice to know that it's not just me. Other people noticed it, too, and thought it was distracting. It sounded like someone replaced Batman's tonsils with shale. Ha ha, Christian Shale! I like it. Anyway, since these are great films on their own, the fact that this one laughable aspect is even there sullies the experience, and they need to fix it. I'm serious, Christopher Nolan. Get your ass back in the editing studio and do some new mixing. Do it for the children, at least.
Next topic: Highest Traces of Cocaine Found on U.S. Bills
This was surprising, since I figured by now a forward-thinking, progressive country like ours would have developed some new technology for snorting blow. I'll be the first to admit I'm not quite down with coke culture, so I don't know what the latest trends are, but I can't be alone in thinking that special straws have been created just for this purpose. We have incredibly advanced cell phones, so why not nasal accoutrements for the coke-abusing hipster? I'm picturing flashy colored straws made of space-age titanium for the hard-core user... disposable paper straws with pop culture characters like Hannah Montana and Spiderman for the youngsters... straws made to look like olde-tymey phonograph cones for the classy weirdo... You mean to tell me this isn't going on? So people here in the United States are still just rolling dollar bills for this purpose? Also, I feel the science shouldn't have been so concerned with just the cocaine-residue they were finding-- remember where the one end of the bill is inserted. Shouldn't we be more terrified and concerned with what nasal secretions are left on the edges of our dollar bills? Gah! I know I'm not going to handle cash today with the same devil-may-care attitude I always have, now that I'm thinking of THAT.
Thirdly: Fla. Man Dials 911, Complains Sub Has No Sauce
Who among us has not thrown a fit when our sub sandwiches are not prepared properly? I challenge you to point me to one person who has not flipped their proverbial lid when mayo was smeared on bread even though it was clearly noted in the instructions that no mayo should be added to that particular sandwich concoction; or pickles were left off and they only noticed it once they got home and unwrapped the paper? Yeah, it's true that we all suffer this indignation a few times too many in life. But to call THE POLICE (not the band, although that would be funny, too) to complain is taking it a little too far. This guy not only called 911 once to report the condiment crime, but he called a second time when the police didn't respond quickly enough! He wasn't screwing around, he wanted his effin' sauce, god damn it! Even though it's funny, I admit I kind of admire his dedication to a decent sandwich. Personally, my subs require extra vinegar, all the time. Many sub shop workers don't interpret that correctly, and assume two fast splashes of red wine vinegar as opposed to the "normal" one splash equates "extra" vinegar. I always have to say, "Just a little more. A little more. Yeah...um, can you put it on the bread, too?" Sometimes, if I am in a hurry or at a shop where they prepare the sub behind a counter and not right behind plexiglass in front of me, I can't monitor the vinegar application and have to settle for some sub-maker jackass' interpretation of the "Extra Vinegar" order later on. That's why I always have a bottle of red wine vinegar at home, ready to supplement any sub in an emergency. If I'm out at a restaurant, I often return to the counter and ask for a small container of extra vinegar, and give them the stink-eye as they hand it to me, because shit, dude: you should have believed me when I said I wanted the extra vinegar when I ordered. Now you have to fill a little cup with vinegar for me. Stupid idiot sub shop worker.
Anyway, now I am wondering if we should develop a government department equipped to handle sandwich emergencies like this. Because we can't abuse 911 like this. But what if we had, say, 822, and that would connect you to the Sandwich Police Squad and they would triangulate your position and dispatch a truck filled with the sandwich fundamentals and a team of trained ESTs (emergency sandwich technicians, of course) could quickly and efficiently correct sandwich errors and omissions? If more advanced reconstructive work was necessary-- like if they gave you tuna salad when you wanted dry turkey, thereby ruining the bread itself-- they could take you and your sandwich back to the store and force them to perform emergency sandwich surgery before you became any more famished. I bet we could save so many people from aggravation and prolonged hunger in this country if we were to re-allocate some tax money so we could do this.
There's one common string that connects all three of these stories together, and it's this: We live in the United States of Fuckin' America, people. Let's get out of Iraq! And let's use that money MUCH more judiciously:
1) Allocate money to correct Christian Shale's voice as Batman before more people are harmed by the distraction;
2) Fund industry that will help create new and advanced blow straws so that our currency can stay where it belongs...in our hands and wallets... and out of the nostrils of disease-riddled junkies; and
3) Create the Sandwich Police Squad, ASAP. And, much like a good garlic-mayo sauce, spread the word. Together we can defeat the scourge of crappy sandwiches.
I have to go. I am getting severe cramps from all this news.
Each and every day, our world is slapped hard in the face with the strong and clammy hand of the NEWS.
And I'm going to write about some recent stories that have interested me enough to click beyond the initial headline to find out what's behind it; I wanted to know the full scoop, if you will. Allow me to begin with Monday Movie Buzz: Bale's Batman Voice Too Much?
I loved Batman Begins and the Dark Knight, but I did always feel like giggling a little over that raspy, deep voice. So it's nice to know that it's not just me. Other people noticed it, too, and thought it was distracting. It sounded like someone replaced Batman's tonsils with shale. Ha ha, Christian Shale! I like it. Anyway, since these are great films on their own, the fact that this one laughable aspect is even there sullies the experience, and they need to fix it. I'm serious, Christopher Nolan. Get your ass back in the editing studio and do some new mixing. Do it for the children, at least.
Next topic: Highest Traces of Cocaine Found on U.S. Bills
This was surprising, since I figured by now a forward-thinking, progressive country like ours would have developed some new technology for snorting blow. I'll be the first to admit I'm not quite down with coke culture, so I don't know what the latest trends are, but I can't be alone in thinking that special straws have been created just for this purpose. We have incredibly advanced cell phones, so why not nasal accoutrements for the coke-abusing hipster? I'm picturing flashy colored straws made of space-age titanium for the hard-core user... disposable paper straws with pop culture characters like Hannah Montana and Spiderman for the youngsters... straws made to look like olde-tymey phonograph cones for the classy weirdo... You mean to tell me this isn't going on? So people here in the United States are still just rolling dollar bills for this purpose? Also, I feel the science shouldn't have been so concerned with just the cocaine-residue they were finding-- remember where the one end of the bill is inserted. Shouldn't we be more terrified and concerned with what nasal secretions are left on the edges of our dollar bills? Gah! I know I'm not going to handle cash today with the same devil-may-care attitude I always have, now that I'm thinking of THAT.
Thirdly: Fla. Man Dials 911, Complains Sub Has No Sauce
Who among us has not thrown a fit when our sub sandwiches are not prepared properly? I challenge you to point me to one person who has not flipped their proverbial lid when mayo was smeared on bread even though it was clearly noted in the instructions that no mayo should be added to that particular sandwich concoction; or pickles were left off and they only noticed it once they got home and unwrapped the paper? Yeah, it's true that we all suffer this indignation a few times too many in life. But to call THE POLICE (not the band, although that would be funny, too) to complain is taking it a little too far. This guy not only called 911 once to report the condiment crime, but he called a second time when the police didn't respond quickly enough! He wasn't screwing around, he wanted his effin' sauce, god damn it! Even though it's funny, I admit I kind of admire his dedication to a decent sandwich. Personally, my subs require extra vinegar, all the time. Many sub shop workers don't interpret that correctly, and assume two fast splashes of red wine vinegar as opposed to the "normal" one splash equates "extra" vinegar. I always have to say, "Just a little more. A little more. Yeah...um, can you put it on the bread, too?" Sometimes, if I am in a hurry or at a shop where they prepare the sub behind a counter and not right behind plexiglass in front of me, I can't monitor the vinegar application and have to settle for some sub-maker jackass' interpretation of the "Extra Vinegar" order later on. That's why I always have a bottle of red wine vinegar at home, ready to supplement any sub in an emergency. If I'm out at a restaurant, I often return to the counter and ask for a small container of extra vinegar, and give them the stink-eye as they hand it to me, because shit, dude: you should have believed me when I said I wanted the extra vinegar when I ordered. Now you have to fill a little cup with vinegar for me. Stupid idiot sub shop worker.
Anyway, now I am wondering if we should develop a government department equipped to handle sandwich emergencies like this. Because we can't abuse 911 like this. But what if we had, say, 822, and that would connect you to the Sandwich Police Squad and they would triangulate your position and dispatch a truck filled with the sandwich fundamentals and a team of trained ESTs (emergency sandwich technicians, of course) could quickly and efficiently correct sandwich errors and omissions? If more advanced reconstructive work was necessary-- like if they gave you tuna salad when you wanted dry turkey, thereby ruining the bread itself-- they could take you and your sandwich back to the store and force them to perform emergency sandwich surgery before you became any more famished. I bet we could save so many people from aggravation and prolonged hunger in this country if we were to re-allocate some tax money so we could do this.
There's one common string that connects all three of these stories together, and it's this: We live in the United States of Fuckin' America, people. Let's get out of Iraq! And let's use that money MUCH more judiciously:
1) Allocate money to correct Christian Shale's voice as Batman before more people are harmed by the distraction;
2) Fund industry that will help create new and advanced blow straws so that our currency can stay where it belongs...in our hands and wallets... and out of the nostrils of disease-riddled junkies; and
3) Create the Sandwich Police Squad, ASAP. And, much like a good garlic-mayo sauce, spread the word. Together we can defeat the scourge of crappy sandwiches.
I have to go. I am getting severe cramps from all this news.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)