forcibly awakened

When the alarm went off this morning (accidentally jarringly loudly), this is what I'd hoped was its source.

It was not.

onto something

KR says I have a borderline-disturbing focus on blogging these days. Meanwhile, my fleenterveb has been down and I'm on KR's laptop. It's been over 24 hours since last online. No shakes kicked in but it may be a sign of 'something' that when I started typing in 'blogger.com' to the address bar, it truly baffled me that I had to type more than 'blo' before the address automatically filled in. Imaging looking at a sleeping alien for the first time. I'm guessing that was the expression, because that's about how it felt.

zatch

Zach Galifinakis on Conan O'Brien

Add to My Profile | More Videos

hjeart hjealth

"Principal researcher Michael Miller, M.D., director of the Center for Preventive Cardiology, recommends 15 minutes of daily laughter."

Or else.

valid question

Yes, myspace. It's not like he's moving in and I'm pretty sure he's too old to be much of a threat.

Plus, if he gets rowdy, we'll just run him down with a shopping cart. Maybe a Big Wheels.

a lump

4πr(sq'd) = hairea

You know how obese people's skin isn't as sensitive, presumably because the nerves can't cover that much real estate? My hand just went to my head to retrieve a headband...that I'd already taken off. I just couldn't tell the difference! [sobbing]

godka

I've had enough Lemon Zinger in my day to know what it should and should not taste like; predominantly, it should be lemony. It should not taste of a potato or rye byproduct.

"Anne, try this. Isn't this some serious zing?"
The corners of her mouth mapped the Five-point Exploding Heart move. Then she spake,"That tastes like it has alcohol in it! Like vodka."
"Ohmygod. I can do magic. It can be summoned."
"Accidental mindcontrol. Awesome."


Or was it?


[Tangential hilarity:
The first written record of vodka in Poland dates from 1405 in the Sandomierz court registry. These early spirits were used as medicines. Stefan Falimierz asserted in his 1534 works on herbs that vodka could serve "to increase fertility and awaken lust."]

l'oscars: red carpet

It's a big night for eyebrows!

Favorite comment thus far? Jodi Foster.
Ryan S.: This dress looks amazing with your eyes.
Jodi F.: Ya, thanks. I had them dyed special, to match [my dress].

Second favorite? Cate Blanchet appears on screen. We gasp in awe...kind of like at the thought of chocolate facial exfoliator. (Mon dieu!) Then, AP sayeth, "Cate Blanchet. No eyebrows, but still so beautiful."

Most coveted dresses worn by:
1) Cate Blanchet
2) Rachel Weiss
3) Gwenyth Paltrow (although AP guns for Nicole Kidman's as well; we agree in our mystification over her eyebrows)



Sauron thinks:
Oh man. I hope nobody picked up on that pun. BOY, do I feel like a ninny. Totally un-intentional.

But I tink dey missed it. Pheewy.

the line's right there

Yesterday I made a joke about infant burlesque, funny to: only me. There was cartoon berby wriggling its eyebrows, making Betty Boop-y faces, with pacifier pasties (in my mind). Complete silliness.

This morning I wanted to toy with this in PhotoShop, but just wound up remembering 1990s talk shows with parents saying how proud they were of their stripper or centerfold daughters.

Just READ. It doesn't make you fat.

So, do they start looking at them in this light as babies, or is there such a whopping disconnect in their feeble brains that they actually aren't putting it together that the naked adult jiggling around is, in fact, the same one they birthed and raised?

dear cosmos

Please suddenly present RT tickets to Granada, Spain for a mere two weeks in April.

Spanks (excuse me, 'thpankth'),
you know who

(Don't knock the method. It worked for getting on Sopranos.)

khafhist med vámonos

I totally know I misspelled the Farsi word above but (I looked up the Spanish and) I nailed the Swedish! And I know how much everyone loves nailing anything Swedish. Hah cha cha cha. [Frown.]

But enough with any other word that means to hurry, now, or even beloveds, "Mach snell," or "Move it, Buster." From now on it's straight "Statim!" for me.

"Stat" in medical parlance is actually not an acronym; it's short for statim, the Latin word for immediately.

Statim Cologne. Strong enough for a Roman, but...you'll do.

toilies/tubs ='d terror

This was a distinct possibility, as far as I was concerned.
Such a good thing we didn't have a bidet.

shallow nerds unite

Back in 1999-2000, we were texting fools in Italy. Took a while to catch up here. Technology...teen pregnancy...not strong points.

America.

So far behind. See.

adulthood

Mapquest.com + a cold, rainy day - oxygen to brain = slightly less than mystical discovery

There is no Satyr, U.S.A. There is a Dragon, Mississippi.

Fairyland is in Tennessee. The only Centaur was in Missouri, and it was swallowed ('incorporated') by the city of Chesterfield.

I found photos of Unicorn, Maryland, and Unicorn, Pennsylvania. They fared as well as Phoenix, Arizona:

i rub yew.

If rubbing yew is wrong...then they're probably rubbing yew wrongly. We'd all be better off if everyone rubbed yew.

izzard & isolde

It really would be fun to have a Pop-up Izzard. That way, when watching movies with shoddy writing, or even just generally acceptable comforting thoughts, dialogue could happen such as wished for last night while watching the beginning of Tristan & Isolde.

Scene: young Isolde looks on as her mother is buried, and turns - teary-eyed - to handmaid, who seeks to console the child.

Handmaid: It's fine, love.
Isolde: What took her?
Handmaid: Vapors. It
was evil vapors what got your mum.
Isolde: No, it wasn't. It was her heart.
Eddie: [shrugs 'likely true']
Handmaid: She's in a better place now.
Eddie: [wincingly
smiles, shakes head 'no'] Is she?
Isolde: [sighs]
Eddie: No, no, sure
she is. [emphatically mouths 'no'] You shouldn't worry. [face of 'eeks',
emphatically nods in the affirmative]
Handmaid: You'll see her again
someday.
Eddie: [one eye closes tight, expression of extreme doubt] Ya,
sure, maybe. I mean it could happen. [confidingly leans forward and whispers
"Probably not."]

And...scene!

here's looking at you, pants

I just spent five minutes trying to locate a pair of pants - that I'm wearing. This realization preoccupied me until I heard this in the background.

"My name is Pierre. I have come from Paris. I have come to have sex with your family." - Eddie Izzard, Dressed to Kill

comforting thought from margaret atwood

When you miscarry, just be glad that your body is only aborting the invading cell cluster. It could be worse, just aborting bits for the sake of aborting.

"M'eh. Diaphragm? NOT the kind I care about. Abort! KidneyS? Plural? Who needs two of those? Let's lighten our load here...ABORT."

That would be senseless.

[Form and function: My body did away with its expendable organs some time ago, these being the gall bladder and appendix. It knew the tonsils are actually useful. Still, can't say the others 'ave been missed. Bit lighter in the step is all. Not so bad, really.]

another lie i tell myself

You know how sometimes you're in a crowd and something terrible happens, like someone says something vicious to someone and you look over to see the other person look stricken? or a roof collapses? or they start playing "My Humps" and there's no way to escape?

Picture this.

It may help.

mardi gras not cure-all thought to be

I finally saw Good Night and Good Luck this weekend. It makes me heart Edward R. Murrow all over again, and grudgingly consider at least the intentions of George Clooney as above solely Facts-of-Life-starter-cum-playboy. Why can't the media be media again? Real media. The kind that thinks. I WANT A THINKING MEDIA, even in an unthinking nation.

The movie? It made me remember why many years ago I'd wanted to be a journalistic superstar, championing the calling-out of hypocrisy, furthering tolerance, and progress.

Biggest news being Britney's shaved head, though, and such astonishingly stupid headlines as "Despite Mardi Gras, Life in New Orleans Still Tough For Some," it helps me remember why I opted to enjoy my life rather than beat my head against a wall.

I mean, really? Even though Mardi Gras is happening, life isn't a big, shiny fishbowl of joy? But there are boobies! Boobies GALORE, and you're in New Orleans...where boobies have been distracting from caring about abject poverty, illiteracy, and general depravity since possibly its inception.

Since I've solved our extinction problem, though, we probably should figure out something to do with New Orleans. And its general mentality.

emi, he's going to have to live

I might cry of cuteness.
"When the males encountered cotton swabs dunked in female mouse urine, they broke into song. " But it's okay - these males are mice, too.

Also...

a note on today's world, as determined in an image search for 'mouse ears':

Little something to put in a time capsule, no?

bio-engineering, i click my heels for thee

Can we please isolate this gene and take whatever measures necessary?

No one should ever, ever have to think of Alan Thicke in the copulatory act, let alone what it might produce.

gmail is a strange mistress

Look what I just learned:

If you type 'douchebag' into gmail and SpellCheck, one of the offered word choices is 'Toshiba.'

And yes, I was composing a very academic email.

lone temptation

These are, so far, the only thing tempting me away from my (accidental) diet of late, consisting of: dark chocolate, sushi (not this - yet), spinach, and grapefruit juice. Good thing hashbrowns are nowhere to be found! [Furrowed brow, shaking head no, dour expression.]

Yup, I'm really just writing about hashbrowns. I'm even making it one word. I don't know what 'hash,' in this context, would mean - or 'browns,' for that matter. I'll try ordering just browns though and see what happens. Except this makes me want to write a bad blues song.

But HEY, New York! Ya, YOU. These are hashbrowns. Note: they are not potato lumps. No. They are shredded and beautiful to behold. That is all.

space rock on space rock action

So you know that asteroid that's AHHH! Headed Right For Us!!, ya? Thought I'd check to see how much time we have left, so I can schedule my week accordingly and whatnot.

CNN showed this image as an illustration of how it might look from space, noting this as "an artist's impression" of the asteroid hurdling its giant self towards Earth, drunk with its own power. Seems a bit serene, though...dreamy even, doesn't it?

Whereas my impression is something more akin to this.

Not that there's any need to worry. Some of the world's top scientists are on the case.

As am I.

And I know what I have to do, for at last I know why I was placed on this green Earth, and born with this head.

Just know: I am not afraid. I shall go willingly.

Of course, I'm probably this calm because I keep looking at that artist's impression. Wow. He's really good! That guy totally looks like an asteroid. But I'm also pretty sure there's a subliminal image embedded of floofy pillows by a roaring fireplace, "Go into the light."

pirate checklist

Okay, so it's more than six years old and everyone hearts pirates now, and some of the other former writers for Sweet Fancy Moses will recognize it from days of email past BUT, har she be:

• I find myself trying to make others walk planks.
• Raping and pillaging sounds ho-hum to me.
• ‘Argh’ finds its way into my vocabulary on a daily basis.
• All I value is buried.
• ‘Bootie’ has multiple meanings for me, all of which are pleasing.
• My maps all have at least one large, hand-drawn X on them.
• Peg-legs and patched eyes are aesthetically appealing, even if the two combined on one individual seem like overkill.
• My best friend is a foul-mouthed parrot. [Two points if it curses bilingually.]
• When I look at clouds, I often see skulls, treasure chests, and the Queen’s Navy.
• You call it superstition. I call it experience.
• Society has a reverse view of what I consider 'dreams' and 'nightmares.'
• Forcibly tattooing friends is an expression of love. (Am I right, Queequeg, or am I right?)
• Men who don’t have both ears pierced I know to be both poor seamen and faint of heart.
• The people I care most about I caution to, “Be sure to have plenty o’ lime, or yew’ll be gettin’ the scurvy.”
• My Freudian slips usually involve large metal hooks, flesh, and gold.
• Land pisses me off.

books for dummies book

Thanks be onto ye, Mama.

ever the romantic

Alternatively: "Always with the flaming poop heart! I'm so sick of this!" [see: our comments]

[bell rings][salivation]

Someone of Import to Me (SIM) was uncharacteristically quiet yesterday. I reasoned away concern, proud of this conquest over worrywartdom. Anxiety Incarnate was twiddling its thumbs, though, sitting in the shadows by a roaring fireplace, comfortable in its wrought splendor.

SIM was stuck in an unmoving car (its performance lacked depth or dimension; I just didn't care whether [it] lived or died...perhaps under better direction?) for 16 hours in rural PA, in extreme cold and blizzardation, rabid Amish scouting for fresh and untraceable meats, and cell phone MIA. The only good points: the driver having less cannibalistic tendencies than some people (mainly, cannibals), and it being a full-tank'd Audi A3.

Anxiety states, while sitting back in its supple leather chair, hands folded together - uncharacteristically calm, "You see? Just come sit on my lap. I try to teach you and am patient. But stop trying to be 'sane' and 'reasonable' and deal in 'probabilities.' Chaos is my best friend. Trust me. You should worry."

That Bobby McFerrin song is in my head, only the internal editor keeps cringingly changing the punctuation:

Here's a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note (I don't but can't stop.)
Don't worry? Be "happy?" (Voht iss deez 'hohppiness' auf vich you singk?)
In every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double (So now I have to worry that I worried, because the cosmos will strike twice as hard and justify worries two-fold as a result? You're not really selling me on this, Bobby.)

iheart

You might as well. We all know this will be the most enduring relationship, right up until the battery flubs kaput and - on principle - you refuse to pay the additional $85 for a new one.

In this way, however, your iPod is your own Silverstein-ian Giving Tree, sacrificing itself to demonstrate that effort (or batteries) is necessary for Love/iPods to continue. You, oh you fool, do not see this. Never will.

kali ma and i offer you(r) ___

If you love someone, naturally you want to give them body parts...sometimes your own - still attached and functional, sometimes from an unknown source.

But do we have to be unrealistic? Aren't they making eyeballs candy for kids these days? (When you grow up, they take the 'balls' away, doe'an'cha know? That's Love. And eye candy.)

Happy Strangely Bastardized Pre-Christian Holiday!

s & m for witches

voltron. again.

Click on the 'MAKE' part. There's a gingerbread Voltron. No lie.

hotsexy to toddler self

I've pretty much held all males in my life against the measure of Cartoon Tarzan. And myself? Yes. The kindly she-ape.

"This is my domain. And I protect those who come here." [Tarzan call.]

obama may be sunshine

Here's the Illinois State Capitol on Saturday and then today (via beloved fire-tennis-ball-launcher-cum-legal-eagle friend's office window).

wee pine

We pine, but not for the wee pine.

(muscular) universal definition

The first three things I learn to say in every language:

• Hello.
• Thank you.
• Don't touch me.

They seem to 'feel me' in Japan - where your feelings and your gluts get defined, in one fell swoop. It's perfect.

no good could come of it

So I, for once, am not using PhotoShop for ill.

While showering, I realized I'd told people last night I'd send them info on two things. You know, to solve such nagging questions as:

1. What was Samantha Fox's big song?*
2. How exactly is necrosis defined beyond 'dead skin' and how broad are its causes?

Any further combination of those doesn't appeal even to me.

* Answer: "Touch Me". You see how strangely appropriately it ties in with the second.

thought 5:54pm

New poli site:
Been Franklink

(Also: try to sinc computer clock with blogger time)

disinfect life

The secondary focus of this ad depicts a giant bottle of Clorox bleach and other disinfecting agents.

The caption (something like):
"Let their smiles be contagious, not their germs."

Conclusion: bleach your babies.

humor is art

Because these both highlight serious societal issues...making Bertolt Brecht* proud.

Two of SNL's best fauxmmercials in a while: Mom Jeans and Homocil.

*"Art is not a mirror with which to reflect reality, but a hammer with which to shape it." - Bertolt Brecht, 1898 - 1956

i's luves ma girls

"It tastes like a dead person's cum, but it works." - AP on Zicam

"Anna Wintour. Sheeeee's thin." - KR

"Oh, you knoooow. He does installation pieces, creates space." [Magic dust in eyes. Goody! What's happening in there?] "Creates space." [Pregnant pause.] "And time. His name's Zorg." - JS

happy 4pm start to weekend

Here you go. [For context, click here.]

Happy Friday!

love it like it were my own

You're right. That was a bit arbitrary. My commands of vulgarities lack precision. (See? That sentence: awkward.) It's a real problem.

You never let me slide, and I love that about you.

good golly, miss molly

So Molly Ivins dies (true loss) last week, now Anna Nicole. It seems we have a more unusual Death Trifecta of Fame than usual, as it is associated with Texas. So who will be the third Texan of some notoriety?

not responsible for my id

"Hey, Strippers! Remember - it's not just your self-respect you'll save; it may also be your life."

Signed,
Anna Nicole
(she draws a smiley face, with big boobs)

pineappio

LZP's profile image brings sad yet fond memories - of dear pineapple, who wanted to be a real boy.

Last summer for my birthday, Kristin (she's from Iceland, to help explain)(also, thanks again Miss B, for serious) brought a pineapple with her for my Actual Birthday. (We'd had a party for the House of Roebling already, themed: Great Gatsby Devolving into Lord of the Flies.) But I digress...

Sitting at the bar at Schiller's, drinking many a drink provided by kind and supportive bartenders, Pineappio came to life. In something of a Frankenstein spirit, said bartenders let me stick cucumber slices and cherries for eyes, and an apple slice for a mouth, into our cradled-as-baby tropical fruit. He was so expressive! Turning the cherry stems evoked such mood, it was surprising - yet...beautiful.

All night he accompanied us. We loved him. He was Ours.

Right up until I got home and realized he wasn't with us, and we were too drunk to realize we'd simply left him at the last bar. Two blocks from home.

O! Pineappio! I didn't love you once. I love you still.

you read me?

I've been keeping track of just a few of my favorite 'word verification codes' required to post comments on blogs.

Still, only one really makes me laugh: qxqxqlrx.

It looks like duck smut symbolism. [Smarmy voice somewhere between B-level sci-fi narrators and the junior high teacher arrested for kiddie porn at your school (possibly the same guy)] "Hot triple-x quacking action."

pulling a chain, of sorts

Is it wrong that we just told Jenny spina bifida is when someone pulls so hard on a baby's umbilical cord that its spine comes out?

'Cause it felt right.

It did.

the humanity

I bet TrimSpa is eating a corporate-sized serving of double-fudge-marshmallow-lardcake-bankrupt-banana-split sundae ice cream over this one. (Hold the cherry.)

Geez. Where does one begin to plot the course of tragedy in the life of Anna Nicole?

The baby's C of T can more definitively be pinpointed: conception. But seriously, poor thing.

don't waylay my craycray

Why is so much energy expended trying to keep old people from the mental retirement that is lunacy? It makes more sense to just 'steer' the insanity, so - you know - it isn't full of acid- or other traumatic event related-flashbacks. We spend our whole lives plugging away and in the end we just wind up stuck sitting there alone with Reality? Fug that.

I've been mapping [constraints: none] my own private Crazyland for some time, and I better get to go there. Someday.

"Toodles, Reality. Don't let the door hit you in the arse on the way out!"

mad skillz

I don't just illustrate psychology textbooks, but - in some instances - appear as a case study.

See: twisted squib-lobia, delusions of pleasure, disassocia...dis? a so she's a WHA?

needles o' fury

Not the cover for our forthcoming book, but still. Fixing what God hath failed to conjoin togezzah...

touching, minus the human sacrifice

...but that's only a theory. Maybe these two are the original Romeo and Juliet. (Although the couple that story is based on is soooooo much more impressive - and the source of the legend of the Gardens of Persia. Ah, Romance.)

Also, we watched Moulin Rouge again last night. Ewan, all we have to say to you is 'swoon.' (Not as a command, though.) To everyone else - it's TRUE: The greatest thing there is to learn is to love and be loved in return. (Really. I do think that.)

(But knowing not to run things into your eyes is helpful, too. I mean, the more success you had, the more challenging it'd become - like a 'learning' video game. But that's not what A. Eye. stands for.)

shitestorm solution

Nice Mike and I are having an especially productive e-morning. (I miss these.)(And, yes, 'Nice' it is. So it is written! So shall it ever be!)

Ever one to posit truly relevant and thought-provoking notions, he asked if I would marry this man. But how could I, when I want his accomplice (also living in Gibraltar) to divorce and - in a very modern compromise - both change their names? To Mr. and Ms. Dikshit Parasol.

While I'm being five years old...

Yes, Nice Mike, there is also one thing worse than being [a squirrel] stuck with a bunch of dogs.

Having to nurse from one of them.

Enjoy your hot chocolate!

maaaaanfred

Manfred von RichtHOTen: Doll?

Doll: Yes, Manfred?

Manfred: How do you call your loverboy?

Doll: Come 'ere, Red Baron!

Manfred: And if he doesn't answer?

Doll: Ooooh, baaaron.

Manfred: And if he still doesn't answer?

Doll: (I don't shoot him.) I simply say, "BaaAAaaby. OooOOoo, baby. My sweet baby. I wish you weren't long dead. And far too old and all that stuff." [bumpity bump, bumpity bump]

But I'll bet this guy felt damned, damned, g.d.'d lucky.

woolly mm-mm's

Motion for Ice Queen sleigh surrounded in protective, wind/cold-proof bubble pulled by woolly mammoths, please. Plus: little monkey. I'll need someone to run out and fetch things. And monkeys make everyone smile.

(Little wiggle-room on the sleigh. It doesn't have to be the queen's, per say.)

snoop didgeri-done

In answer to an earlier question (thanks to Muse Aron):
Yes, I CAN play a didgeridoo, though I bet that pales in comparison with what Girls Gone Wild: Australian Special can/do do with a didgeridoo. (Hit song in the making!)

Snoop: Let me see you play dat d-thang, bizzitchel. Gonna blow it 'til it sings?
Girl: HHAAAARRUUUUUUUUUMMPPPPHHHhhhh...
Snoop: Damn, girl.
[Later: In a little something Snoop likes to call post-prosuction, he invites her to his hotel room, asking her to do him like she "done dat stickadick befo'".

She does.

Snoop dies.]

psychologically suspenseful hair

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling crappy enough, and not just because it was Monday (this time - don't get all happy, Mondays...we still have some things to 'talk about'), but then had thoughtlessly looked up into the mirror. [1930s movie trailer piano and cymbals] The shock! [clangittyclang!] The horror! It was like a five-inch-tall Calvin and Hobbs had been building a fort in the forest formerly known as my hair. All. Night. Long.

This morning, employing former years as way beyond blind without glasses/contacts (hooray lasered eyeballs!), I used my Spidey-sense fingertips to calculate the damage. It all felt fine, in texture. Things seemed to be going smoothly, literally. But that's just what it wanted me to think.

No joke - the stuff was straight, smooth, shiny even - and sticking a good four inches up, essentially levitating.

It's still up there. And I can't guess what its next move will be.

On the upside, at least I didn't look like my cousin. [ACTUAL COUSIN]

Yes, someone who's the biggest Mac-snob just got himself a spanking-new laptop and this is his attempt to fill me with envy of its capabilities.

Foolish cousin, I have PhotoShop. Long have my people been warping faces. But we believe in compassion, and bid thee well. Go now, in peace.

seesters

Waaah. Flatmate KR came home this evening to the sad lump on the couch that was me. She gave me a shoulder/neck/scalp massage as we chatted. (Love. Such love.) In the hour since, the world has seemed a brighter, better place.

Better yet, tomorrow she gets to sever ties with the bane of her theatrical existence, Ms. Namedropthenbackstabsaidname. Claaa-haaas-ssy.

This. Theees eez gooot, ahhl.

mban, amb i mbiserable

It's a sinus/cold thing. We know this. A doc visit isn't necessary, BUT if I were to go to one, the conversation might go something like this today:

Helpful Doctor: What symptoms do you seem to have?
Me: All.
HD: For what? It says upper respiratory...[consulting what I think is the paperwork I just spent 20 minutes completing, myself, squinting, because my monkey is totally selfish and said he doesn't want to catch what I have - yet, really, it's not the paperwork at all but a golf-themed connect-the-dots][I never know this.]
Me: Sure.
HD: When I press here [temple squish] how does it feel?
Me: Like a little slice of heaven.
HD: How about here? [pressing over uppercheeks, steadily harder]
Me: Like my head is a giant grool-filled balloon and my brains are about to be violently expelled through my ears. Ever seen a baby blow out a diaper? [Look in eye. Response: irrelevant.] That is how that feels.
HD: Okay. Won't push there anymore. Don't need to. [Forced jovial demeanor.] (But if I did, Subject DNM, you couldn't move fast enough. There'd be no running. Tommy would have your ass strapped down before you could sneeze.)
Me: ACHOOOOO! Ugh. Sorry. Ugh. And. Ack. [Wipes nose with hand. Waits for tissue.] (Aren't they supposed to lecture/care about germs? I want my mom. I want hugs. Huuuugggsssss.) [whimper]
HD: Lots of pressure in your head?
Me: I think some of it's coming from the outside, too.
HD: [suspicious - read: disassociative - silence]
Me: Okay, I'll expand upon that. Elucidate. Radiate. Compensate. Try not to hate. Love your mate. Youth's irate? [Still no reaction.] Mediate? [yawn] Um, ya, so my eyes are all puffy, like I want to take them out, irrigate my eye sockets and hopefully also my entire sinus cavity, let a warm summer breeze run through it, then - and only then - return my chamomile-soaked and cucumber-essence-cooled eyeballs back to their proper sockets. It would be noticeable if they were turned around, right? Not that it matters. Don't look at me like that.
HD: Strange. You don't have a fever.
Me: Stranger, you don't know what I have. You don't know what you have. Right here. But what don't I have that's been missing all these livelong years? I know there's something, but...what, doc? What?
HD: There's no Oracle space in the billing. Sorry. Think you're set.
Me: Can you do one of those breast cancer exams, the nice one, when you sort of walk your fingers all over them? That feels like warm butter. Seriously. I think it'll help. No takers? Can we get someone else in here?
[HD exits.]

I think how clean my hair feels. So light. So unfettered with care of its appearance, and leave. The bill: $480. The futility: endless.

Time to make the donuts! And disinfect my keyboard!

what people did before photoshop, photoshop'd

...a little something, intended as something else* entirely, which I like to call udder chaos.

*Auðumbla (also spelled Auðumla, Auðhumbla or Auðhumla) is the primeval cow of Norse mythology. And, give me a break. It's too cold outside for brunching.

Tangent: Viktor Rydberg's posing the theory of a Norse/Zoroastrian/Vedic shared origin is interesting. There's tons of crazycool things the Vedic and Egyptian cultures were aware of which we're just now realizing ourselves (Thanks again for that, Church. Knowledge? M'eh. You're right. It gets in the way.) - and when you take into account trade routes, advanced astronomical understanding, and the unknown extent of the Seapeople's reach/influence (Egyptian, Phoenicians, Viks, Southeast Asia, etc.) then...well...it's a fun course to mentally plot. The time thing can be an issue, but there is such thing as oral tradition. There's also that maybe everyone just drank a lot of milk. And the Milky Way looked like, um, milk to everyone forevah and evah. Amen. Or Amun. Or A'mhun.

flish flash flush

Flash Gordon identifies woefully well with that Johnny Cash "Boy Named Sue" song.


"Well?! What did you expect? I didn't mean anything by it - you just do look Flashier now."












[But love me for me. I'm not a slab of meat. I'm just not. Not, er, just...I'm really fast meat!]

two letters

...isisisisisisisisisisisisisisi...?

The Egyptian Goddess of Affirmation

snark control

[Context: my friend said he was going hiking in the Appalachians for the last few days. Stating concerns after hearing 'Appalachia' is redundant, let alone the time of year. Worse: he did it - - - but he's lived to tell the tale.]Myspace (or Ourspace, prrrr) needs to enable a function so we can 'lock' whatever profile image next to our comments. The above won't be the same with a baby-Medusa or flying martini-bearing Grover next to it, for example.

most depressing day of the year: a party

It's been a week. I'm ready to talk about it. And make the collage to the right which has little-to-no import to anyone living outside [this head].

(Farg. Wait a minute. Really? Just one week? But it feeeels, dahhrlingk, an absolute eternity!)

Highlights:

• again, the opposite of depression was achieved, except for our dear Brian who was horribly trapped across the pond - which he says actually did depress him - sorry, Boo! (Really, it isn't the same without him.)


• having more fun with masking tape than one would previously have believed possible


• lots and lots, like really a lot, of food


• pretending KR's wooden turtle was being up-lit as part of a sacrificial ceremony


• private dancing, we dance-oh fo' (no) money, and any old music will dooooooo

soft(head)ware

Who has Illustrator and Flash (PC)?

Why can't I just mindlink to programs and close my eyes?

it's proenza schouler, shhhhh-ouler

A woman last night was running around picking up as much loot as she could, and saying how she just loves Proenza Sk-ooler.

"If you can't pronounce it, you can't buy it. That's the law, ma'am. I'm sorry. I didn't make the law."

(No, okay, I did. What a lark! But making up laws is capitol-F-u-n.)

sniffles

My feet are bare and cold, yet sweating.
I'm wearing my friend's Flashdance-esque lavendar shirt and
have Swedish germs on my cheek
which makes me want lemony desserts
but there aren't any here.
There are some across the street
which would require putting my sweaty feet into shoethings and a bra under the thin shirt
but at least not having to dance under water -

not having to.


.

'lord'

how our 12% [proposed] rent increase makes me feel

wormhole afterall

That wallpaper really was inspiring. Hooray for time travel.

Meet Inspector Wartbottom.

Those boys at The Yard weren't so bad once shaved up a bit. This was the first leg of the journey, but as is always the case, had to push it.

Next stop was the Elizabethan Age, which really made Victorian corsetry seem like a snap. I was a bit less fond of it, but when the queen was pushing me to have my bottom ribs removed, that was enough.