- Enjoyed a long display of over a hundred of mine host’s wedding photos, with detailed commentary, despite the fact that I was at the wedding and am, indeed, featured in about 25% of the photos. But the babies dancing are cute.
- Led an animated discussion on the merits of the elephant versus the rabbit vibrator, pointing out obvious advantages of the former, to which Metro replied, “You know why elephants don’t pick their noses? Because where are you going to hide a 30-pound booger.”
- Devoured at least 750 ml of Sauvignon Blanc, followed up with some kind of pilsner, which is the order in which one should consume them, as by the time the gas from the beer has hit, one and one’s entourage are far too drunk to actually care anymore.
- Hit the mall. Trust me, in this town, that’s a big deal. Blogworthy indeed.
- Acquainted mine hosts with the fact that one of the premiere scrapbookers in the U.S. of A. is Blair, from Facts of Life, blogger Lisa Whelchel herself. Her blog’s not half bad, by the way, if you can stand happy Christian housewife types.
- Missed the Gawker Kristallnacht entirely. Bugger. Jessica‘s a better writer than Jesse, and snarkier, but what they really need is a proofreader, not a co-editor. Unless they’re still hiring. HI, NICK! Darling…
- Had nothing more than a crust of bread for breakfast AND lunch this morning. Shocking, really. Metro and Master Cowfish have a lot to answer for. For which to answer. Whatever.
- I’ve finally had it with middle-aged men who want to get into blogging but who insist on having their assistants do the writing, and subsequently letting the post ripen in their email inbox for a week, after which it is run through a character and interest removal algorithm before being posted, because they want to be part of this “New Media Thang.” Bust a sphincter, post a first draft, and see if your world really is insecure enough to fall apart as a direct result. Surprise me; I don’t think your life is that interesting.
- Getting cranky, time for bed.
Category Archives: Blogroll
but is it a hybrid?
Title heartlessly stolen from a commenter on Gawker. Picture heartlessly stolen from Curbed, which is where Gawker stole it from.
All the best thieves leave pingbacks, you know.
In its own way, this is perfect today: on the way home from the library I passed an electric skateboard, an electric Razor scooter, and an electric bicycle. And here’s me, pirating an extension cord fulla volts to power the compy, blogging by the light of two coal oil lamps. But I can park my rollerblades anywhere.
Save Adam Sandler!
The Fuggers have done it again. Leaving alone Kate's horrific tit job stretch marks (nobody should have stretch marks there) they have gone straight for the freeze-dried jugular. I can hardly wait till their standards are lowered enough to cover Ann Coulter.
Adam: Dude, this chick is craaaaaazy.
Kate: Do you think her hair is prettier than mine?
Adam: I think she is from hell.
Kate: That outfit makes her knees look bloated. THAT is why the only liquid I eat is lemon juice.
Adam: You scare me.
Kate: I'm famished. Got any Tic-Tacs?
Adam: I have no idea why I am here.
Kate: Or, God, I'm so hungry I could even be really decadent and have a sugar-free Life-Saver.
Adam: I'm sure I could rustle up a cracker.
Kate: What? What kind of shit is that? A CRACKER? I'm supposed to eat starches now?
Adam: Seriously, I have no idea what I'm doing here.
Kate: What are you trying to do, fatten me up on the eve of my big movie release? BOLLOCKS TO YOU.
Adam: The rapping genie girl is starting to look better and better to me.
as the world turns…without me *sob*
I hate being sick. All the interesting shit in the world happens when I'm home, sick.
Proof: behold who Raj ran into on the last Vancouver Martini Tour. As for me, I was home in bed developing an intimate acquaintence with the Norwalk Virus.
Henry looks poleaxed in all probability because he knows I could not be there with him. Yeah, that's it.
Raj: Hey, would you kindly spit on my head?
Henry: What?
a shadowy influence
Wow, looks like someone has more pull with the literati than we thought: influencing headlines in the New York Times and getting posted to Gawker. Masterful. I resolve to suck up more.
raincoaster 