Internet, I almost don’t want to tell you this story because it is so gross. I mean, I have no problem talking about lost tampons or vomit, but this? This pushes my boundaries. But I’ll soldier on. The other night I was hanging out at home, G-chatting with Tamara, when I went to make myself a sandwich. I pulled out a piece of bread (wheat, in case you’re going for a complete mental picture) and…
And by “it,” I mean The Crazy. Behold, some of the notes left around my parents’ house while they were out of town for the weekend: I kid; we’re not crazy. We just adore words and really like leaving incredibly long, detailed notes and voice mail messages. She’ll kill me if she finds out I’m broadcasting this stuff on the internet. Krissie, no snitching!
It rained on my grandmother’s parade. “Story of my life,” she said as we huddled under the church awning Saturday afternoon, watching the rain thin the already light crowd. River Day isn’t like it used to be. I have these (probably embellished) memories of huge crowds of people in sweatshirts and jackets (they used to have it in October when it was cooler) set against a backdrop of autumn leaves and damp blacktopped streets, milling…
Let the meta blow your mind. Friday morning I woke up and saw this post at Mediaverse in my Google reader and instantly had a mini-heart attack. What I had been working on late at night here at T&G had somehow shown up on the local media watchdog’s blog, where said watchdog had shared the following: And yesterday, CA designer Lindsey Turner posted a likely template design for what appears to be a new CA…
My friend Tamara and I geeked out on band memories while chatting tonight and somehow this video came out of it. Our high school band played “Purgatorio” (Robert W. Smith) our junior year. (I found the CD and set the song to random pictures of flowers and fruit and the sky; don’t get too excited about production values.) Purgatorio from Lindsey Turner on Vimeo. Here‘s what this piece should sound like. I recall having several…
I’m dinking around with some template designs and will be periodically activating them to see how they look. So if you see something you think you weren’t supposed to see, cover your eyes, back away, and never ever tell anyone what you saw. We’ll be back to the regularly scheduled orange and blue goodness before you know it.
More evidence that my mom is a comedian just waiting for her big break: 1. “When I finally get Alzheimer’s, I’m going to get the good kind. I’ll just be laughing all the time!” 2. “I know you can’t stand watermelon, but it’s good for you! It makes you pee. Anything that makes you pee has to be good for you.”
I spent some time in the kitchen today, performing an alchemic miracle that resulted in this modest dish (I’ll pause so you can ooh and ah and gasp at the sheer brilliance that is supper bake in a box), which contains chicken, which means that I have roughly eight to forty-eight hours before the gnarly teeth of salmonella poisoning consume me. I mean, I cooked it ’til it was nice and white but still, I’m…
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