The meme may now be retired; this roundup of decayed lolcat corpses will never be bested. From Heart on a Stick, via Gawker. Warning: NSF Lunch. Or cat people. Is this how god kills a kitten when you…hmmm, much to think on.
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and, I think, comes out the winner. The woman may be batshit insane, but she does look both fabulous and happy. This is what Edgar Alan Poe wanted to grow up to marry or become, I think.
Wrenched from the delicate grasp of the Manolo, who got it from Gala. At some point, Perez Hilton was involved, and that always ups the drama factor.
“This is the best thing to wear for the day, you understand, because I don’t like women in skirts, & the best thing is to wear pantyhose or some pants under a short skirt I think, then you have the pants under the skirt, & then you pull the stockings up over the pants underneath the skirt, & you can always take off the skirt & use it as a cape, so I think this is the best costume for the day. …I have to think these things up, you know? …Mother wanted me to come out in a kimono so we had quite a fight.” — Little Edie
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For those of you who, unlike me, do not speak Alliteration, here is the great alliteration speech from the film V for Vendetta, where V introduces himself to Evey, SUBTITLED!
Hmm, bit of a surprise here, as I was expecting cyberpunk (does serving lattes to William Gibson for a solid year count for NOTHING?) but then, I have no more faith in technology than I do in human nature!
In A Post-Apocalyptic World, Who Would You Be?
You are a Bounty Hunter
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Also, how does that synch up with this:
Which heroic sword fighter are you?
You are Joan of Arc, maid of Orleans! You are a born leader. Your strengths include a sharp mind and determination, your weaknesses include a certain degree of self-righteousness and difficulty compromising. You would rather die than betray your beliefs. You are more popular than you realize.
Oh, yeah… you are also quite possibly insane.
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I’m kind of disappointed my blogging diploma isn’t from Miskatonic, but that’s nothing a little hacking won’t fix.
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Blogging Degree
From Go-Quiz.com
And this reminds me, it does, of the time my mother wanted to buy me a Doctorate from Harvard.
She was living in Saudi Arabia, as one does, shacked up with a CIA agent whose job it was to teach battlefield communications to the Saudis. As one does.
Islam was the bane of his existence, as five times a day no matter what they’d all pull out their rugs and face mecca and present a nice, juicy target to the Israelis. No indeed, this did not take him to his happy place, for yea, he was a very conscientious battlefield communications instructor. Over and over he lectured them, over and over he proved that the Israelis could wipe them all out at any of those five, widely known and unvarying times of day. And over and over they happily replied “if the Israelis kill us we will go straight to Paradise as martyrs,” and I believe one of them even made a reference to that bugger, I can’t kill him when he’s praying scene in Hamlet, obviously stretching to try to find some common ground with Jerry the Baptist, out in the wild Arabian desert.
As a sideline, Jerry ran the local casino and house of ill repute, which brought in several times his salary, and which he was allowed to keep because what his bosses were truly interested in was the blackmail material gathered by the tiny cameras placed strategically around the premises. He also had the local distribution rights for Johnny Walker, which was as the mines of King Solomon in terms of putting out the gelt.
Where was I? Oh yes, about to get to the religious police.
Naturally, Jerry was quite conscious of the activities of the religious police. The main trouble with the religious police was, as you can imagine, that they tended to be quite…well, there’s really no way around this, I’m just going to have to come out and say it… quite religious.
And the whole living-in-sin-with-a-Canadian-and-a-socialist-at-that thing was exactly the sort of thing with which they were Not Cool.
At. All.
Now, Jerry and my mother were by no means originals in their living arrangements, which did tend to give a rather louche reputation to even the primmest Mormon that the Yanks sent over, and so, as always happens where there are problems and lots of money around, a man materialized with a solution.
He materialized at the same time every year, swinging through the Middle East like an olden days tinker would swing through, say, Simcoe County, offering his wares.
He was a Filipino forger, and he was a very busy man.
They took one of the American marriage licenses for $250, which is really cheap for a piece of paper that you show the religious police and they don’t have you stoned, when you think about it, really, and my mother pondered long over the very tempting Harvard Doctorate, but decided that even she was not overpaid enough to spend $500 and besides, what would she get my sister, eh? Answer me that!
That year she got a camel saddle and I got a silver veil. Gee, I guess Mom DID love me best, even if she thought I was ugly.
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raincoaster 