… have this in common: they are my enemies. Me no likey, in a rather huge way. So what is it about the movie with the scary-ass ventriloquist doll that turned into a clown that kept me glued to the tube? Until 12:30? And made me scurry up the stairs like a jackrabbit? Arghhhhhhh. Truly, at times my brain is that train wreck that you can’t look away from.
Jan
26
Good Lord I can’t spell anymore. I actually wrote ‘hugely humerous’. I suppose I could post about my large humerus, but am thinking that wouldn’t be too interesting.
The BFF sent me a link to this website Thursday morning. If it hadn’t been for the two meetings, one luncheon, house-training puppy, carpool, SAT-taking Boy (this morning) who required much sushi-stuffing, and an unfortunate AFD* episode that led me into three hours of creating icons for the drawers I want on my Leopard Stacks (yeah, I know, artist nerd = bad thing), my last 48 hours would have been nothing but bone-rattling hucks. Seriously. These people are extremely witty — check out the About them page to figure out who is saying what.My personal favorite so far is the bit about the statue of Britney giving birth on the bear rug – thank you again BFF. Oh all right — I’ll post the picture, but you have to go to the site and read the blog:
In other seriously funny news, local high school parents have their panties in a twist about their principal, who apparently objects to things like, say, SMOKE BOMBS in the halls. Dang. Sad to say it’s my alma mater. So, wondering what the parents at said high school are like? Well, here’s one — er, two. Don’t you wish your mom had dressed in that special slutty-dom way?
*AFD = Attention Focus Disorder, where one can’t disengage from an activity, particularly one involving computers or paints.
Jan
24
Sigh. I’ve always wanted a t-shirt like this one:
Yes, I did just have to run off and make that in Illustrator. Because that’s one of the things I’ve been doing (now that I remember) — trying to relearn Illustrator. Until the last two versions, I’d stopped it back in the 3.0 days, and just carried on with Photoshop. Soooo– from the looks of the fuzzy graphic, I could possibly be fibbing.
So here’s the thing: I was supposed to be learning Illustrator. Instead I’ve done some other things. Like for instance — learned QuickSilver (or at least started to-no lie); read and listened to a ton of books (no surprise there); had a gazillion family and folk here; folded 264 loads of laundry (okay, that’s always happening, but still…); cooked a ton (same same — always happening — but last night I roasted a turkey. A non-holiday bird. Oo– and a seriously yummy roast earlier in the week, and Winter Sausage Soup, and french bread – but incorporating whole wheat wasn’t a great idea so I’m back to my regular recipe — and can you say ‘ADD’?); and what else have I been doing? OH YEAH! Loving on my Christmas present!
This is Bailey — my little angel puppy –
and here she is with Clarence, who quite loves his little sister.
no, really, he loves her. really.
Oh yes. I’m a happy mama.
***the amamgets alter ego. cousin to Bill the Cat.
Oct
01
Have you noticed that women are less happy that they were 35 years ago? Personally, the only women I really registered at the age of nine were my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Lowther, who was the total bomb, and my mom, who had two older kids and was mostly just vague.
Anyway, the Freakonomics guys, whose ideas I find quite fascinating, have referenced a study in their blog today, which claims that women are less happy than they were 35 years ago. I’ve only had time to skim the first part, but am interested to go back and see what ‘kinds’ of women they’re talking about.
The supposition is that women should be happier, post women’s movement, the pill, widespread sales of ildo-dayes, and so on. (So yes I made that last bit up. And yes it’s hard to read — but if the plural calls for an ‘es’, then one should carry the ‘es’ to the end of the pig latin translation, yes? Monkman, please feel free to weigh in).
If we’re talking only about women in Western industrialized nations, then you could assume that reforms had touched the lives of most. But the whole world of women? I can’t imagine trying to quantify and compare happiness between me, for instance, and a mom in Africa whose surviving children are starving. There just isn’t any chance of happiness when your kids are hungry and ailing.
