Don't blame Canada, blame American television!
Growing up I obviously couldn't decide which of these two to use as a role model and so used them both, ending up the mixed-up bitchfest of luv that I am today. No, seriously…do you know me? And does this not explain all?
No wonder I turned out like this:
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?
that Overheard in New York is being gamed by out-of-towners. The horror! The horror! Here's what Gawker's intrepid (can you imagine, she was noting things to blog about while vacationing! we certainly don't know anyone like that around here) not-offically-a-reporter-but-rather-a-blogger discovered last week.
So we caught up with our old college friend Ben while we were on vacation last week, and he excitedly informed us they’d he’d recently made it onto Overheard in New York…
He’d been in New York and hadn’t called? No, Ben explained, it was actually Brian’s story; Ben thought it would be good for Overheard and so submitted it. Brian lives in New York now? No, Ben continued, Brian lives in Florida. So how did Brian’s story, not-actually-overheard in Florida by Ben, make it onto Overheard in New York.
“Oh, said I heard it in Central Park.” Ben smiled.
I guarantee that all Overheards (over)written in these pages…uh, pixels, were actually overheard. By me. Here. Unless I say they were there. Like, not New York there, but elsewhere there. You know what I mean and don't get existential with me young man!
Perhaps He would wear this spiffy Flying Spaghetti Monster Crocheted Hat. Self-referential, sure, but great for keeping the ol’ strands cosy and dry.
The Flying Spaghetti Monster Hat
The Pope has a special hat. Rabbis have special hats. Rastafarians have special hats. Why not Pastafarians?
This hat is crocheted (I assume you could knit something similar). Unfortunately, I don’t how to write patterns — my grandma taught me how to crochet in a rather freeform manner (she also made the best spaghetti and meatballs, EVER – coincidence?). So here’s a very rough guide…
Now put on your hat and waggle your noodly appendages in His name — you’re warm, blessed, and look like a complete dork. AMEN.
I’m sure she meant to say RAmen.
Meanwhile, I think we can see in this video an unheralded, early sighting of FSM Himself. His vengence is terrible: I miss the Swedish Chef so much…
You know you've entered the insane levels of the No Green M&Ms Concert Rider/spending most of the party in the bathroom with Nicole and Lindz celebutasticism when you check your stats at ten in the morning and are crushed – CRUSHED – to see you're only at 498 hits so far. And only #50 in the top 100 blogs on WordPress.
CRUSHED, I say!
Today
101 bottles of diet coke, 523 mentos 197
Linkie o' the Day: Beautiful Agony 31
Clay Aiken Michael Sandecki Flashdance 24
Shiloh shocker photo exclusive! 15
Watch the World Cup on your computer 9
Operation Global Media Domination: Egg Day 8
Hottest Pickup Lines of the Fourteenth Century 7
The 100 Most Influential People in History 7
Meaning. Yeah, the meaning of all this is that cool science trumps sports, ourdoorsiness, and sex. At least, for those who spend their lives online; but is this exactly news?
raincoaster 