No jokes here; just a simple guide to donating 100 lbs of food to the Greater Boston Food Bank, for free.
Go to this post, read it and leave a comment and Tyson Foods will donate 100 lbs of food to the food bank for each comment received. No strings, no coupons, no mailing lists.
Thanks to Beth Kanter for passing this along. I’m cross-posting this at all my blogs today and suggest you do the same.
Oft have I been asked of the perspective of the blogger vs the civilian. And, frankly, YES, you have just as much to fear from us as you’ve always worried.
Well, it IS!
To be quite frank, it’s been quite some time since there was jizz or, in fact, anything but me, in my pants, unless someone’s gotten up to something I don’t know about in the laundry room.
Ew.
Lyrics from thelonelyisland:
Lock eyes from across the room
down my drink while the rhythms boom
take your hand and skip the names
no need here for the silly games
make our way through the smoke and crowd
the club is the sky and I’m on your cloud
move in close as the lasers fly
our bodies touch and the angels cry
leave this place go back to yours
our lips first touch outside your doors
a whole night what we’ve got in store
whisper in my ear that you want some more
and I
JIZZ IN MY PANTS
This really never happens you can take my word
I won’t apoligise, that’s just absurd
Mainly your fault from the way that you dance
and now I
JIZZ IN MY PANTS
don’t tell your friends or I’ll say your a slut
plus its your fault, you were rubbing my butt
I’m very sensitive, some would say thats a plus
Now I’ll go home and change
(JORMA) I need a few things from the grocery
do things alone now mostly
left me heart broken not lookin’ for love
surprised in my eyes when I looked above
the check out counter and I saw a face
My heart stood still so did time and space
Never felt that I could feel real again
But the look in her eyes said I need a friend
She turned to me thats when she said it
Looked me dead in the face, asked “Cash or Credit?”
And I
JIZZED IN MY PANTS
It’s perfectly normal, nothing wrong with me
But we’re going to need a clean up on aisle 3
And now I’m posed in an awkward stance because I
JIZZED IN MY PANTS
To be fair you were flirting a lot
plus the way you bag cans got me bothered and hot
please stop acting like you’re not impressed
One more thing, I’m gonna play by cheque
Last week – I saw a film
As I recall it was a horror film
Walked outside into the rain
Checked my phone and saw you rang and I
JIZZED IN MY PANTS
(JORMA)Speeding down the street when the red lights flash
need to get away need to make a dash
A song comes on that reminds me of you and I
JIZZ IN MY PANTS
(ANDY) The next day my alarm goes off and I
JIZZ IN MY PANTS
Open my window and a breeze rolls in and I
JIZZ IN MY PANTS
When Bruce Willis was dead at the end of sixth sense I
JIZZED IN MY PANTS
I just ate a grape and I
JIZZED…IN…MY PANTS
JIZZED…IN…MY PANTS
Ok seriously you guys can we…ok…
I JIZZ RIGHT IN MY PANTS EVERY TIME YOU’RE NEXT TO ME
AND WHEN WE’RE HOLDING HANDS ITS LIKE HAVING SEX TO ME
YOU SAY IM PREMATURE I JUST CALL IT ECSTASY
I WEAR A RUBBER AT ALL TIMES ITS A NECESSITY
Cuz I
JIZZ…IN…MY PANTS
(I jizz in my pants, I jizz in my pants, yes I jizz in my pants, yes I jizz in my pants)
yes I JIZZ…IN…MY PANTS
(I jizz in my pants (AKIVA!), I jizz in my pants)
ANDY & JORMA
AKIVA as the DJ
JT as the Janitor
Molly Sims & Jamie Lynn Sigler
So there it was.
White. Bright. Practically dewy with freshness, dated Monday, December 8 2008 (I quadruple-checked the year)(which the literal-minded will note was not even technically the case in my time zone when I encountered it) sitting there on my monitor for all the world as if it were a regular article waiting patiently to be read, with a perky, amusing author bio in the sidebar looking as normal as all get out.
TMN Contributing Writer Leslie Harpold is a writer and designer with a long list of publications she’s marred with her work. She is working on a novel and dreams alternately of an über urban or ultra rural future, as she is not one to do things by halves. After misspending her 20s in New York City, Leslie now lives in Grosse Pointe, Mich. She makes pie crust from scratch.
Only, it wasn’t.
Normal.
Leslie Harpold, you see, has been dead for exactly two years today. [thanks to Wendie for the correction; I had it at one year. Freakouts are so fresh!] I remember her death particularly, because for several years friends had been telling me how much I, the Christmas nut, would love her annual online Advent Calendar. Which I’m sure I would have, only by the time I finally clicked around to it December 14th of 2006, it was frozen at the 7th. Which date it has been frozen on ever since, because December 7th was the last full day she was alive. She was found by friends several days after her death, in part because of curiosity generated by the failure to update her famous Advent Calendar.
So, naturally, the appearance of a brand-new and highly chipper-sounding article by the aforesaid deceased, most particularly exactly two years after her death and seasonal at that, rather freaked me out.
Mind you, it’s not the first time someone has blogged from beyond the grave.
I just wish they could manage it without:
raincoaster 