Apparently the average is only $225.82 per hour. Strangely, this is quite a lot more than most of the prostitutes I know earn, but then I do live here.
Stolen from Stiletto
Hmmm, looks to be quite a lot more lucrative than mommyblogging. Being an agoraphobic, chubby, monitor-tanned old Goth must be more enticing than I’d ever imagined!
I ask, not for the first nor the last time, Does anyone have Steve Jobs‘s number handy?
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Crossville, Tennessee welcomes its newest resident, the universally-revered Flying Spaghetti Monster. Recognized as a living god, he dwells now outside the Crossville courthouse among his pirate worshippers, spreading the doctrine of Pastafarianism among all peoples.
Ramen.
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via Valleywag and cross-posted to TeenyManolo
So that’s twice in my life. I think that’s a respectably low number of times, and I still owe AA for the first one. That’s not Alcoholics Anonymous (where would *I* ever encounter such people?) it’s Aquarian Angel. As with many of my good friends, I don’t know her actual name; well, I know 50% of it, but I also know she’s both extremely closety about her online life and armed with a shotgun she calls “Betsy.” Why do they always give them girl’s names? Is it like hurricanes or something, where you just look at it and know it’s a “Louisette” or “Martha” or something?
Where was I? Oh, yes: on painkillers.
Mention should be made (today I was out at a client’s, teaching them all about blogging and you just KNOW that mention was made of avoiding the passive voice) of the fact that today my fine heinie is featured over at the Grassy Knoll Institute. Where he got the photo I have no idea, but what can I say? After the winter we’ve had, the tramp stamp needed to be let out for some fresh air.
And this concludes our coverage of April 1, 2008.
I don’t like Peeps. They remind me of those noxious, spongy banana candies that taste like the dandruff on Satan’s shoulders, only with artificial banana flavouring, corn syrup solids, and yellow dye #42. When I say I don’t like Peeps, I mean I actually and actively despise them. And I have never let one near my mouth.
But that could all change if only I could find these:
Do you know where Peeps come from?
And do you know how Peeps end up? As with the characters in a Bruce Springsteen song or any other entity whose marketability depends on freshness and whose freshness the very processes of marketing degrade, they first detour into “art films”:
And this is where they end up:
Or, even more pathetically:
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raincoaster 