I’m having the worst time falling asleep tonight. I suspect that has a lot to do with getting totally shitfaced at 3 p.m. and then passing out at 6, only to wake up and lounge around, still fairly tipsy, until bedtime. I laid down at 1:30, read a bit, then turned out the light and tossed and turned through a series of dream-limbo misfires — the kind that put you in such unpleasant scenerios so…
[for May 20] I’m not sure there’s a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than at the ball park, drinking pinot grigio, munching on barbecue nachos, and then going home and passing out on the couch. I’d forgotten how much I love baseball. I used to be positively obsessed with it, which may shock those who are familiar with my current attitude toward sports. As a tween and teen, I subscribed to Baseball Weekly…
My aunt runs a port-a-potty business. When I went home for Mother’s Day last weekend, I saw my aunt and uncle’s new (okay, it’s two years old, but I don’t get to visit them that often) house, and came away with a big bag of half-rolls of toilet paper. Turns out my aunt collects what’s left of the clean rolls when she collects the units, and saves them to use in her own home. But…
But this one’s more than just annoying and stupid. Win a ringtone if you can click your mouse button fast enough to unravel this coy hottie’s sweater. Note how both of the unravelers look like your stereotypical unhinged, dark-alley rapist types, and marvel as (you can’t see it here, as this is just a screenshot) the rapidly exposed hottie demurely covers up her bikinied crotch as her sweater dress is removed by said unhinged rapist…
I live near a Catholic school, which has a little grotto out in the courtyard. I never see any kids hanging around it. [Insert clumsy religion-related segue here.] I’m reading Christopher Hitchens’ God Is Not Great, a rambly manifesto on the ways in which all religion — from arbitrary, black-cat superstitionist spirituality to Christianity to Islam — makes people think and do outrageous and harmful things in the name of pleasing/impressing/sating the sky fairy of…
It’s not spelled right, but I’d chuckle to myself each time I got to tell someone my address. Project 365
It seems macabre to take a photo of a dead woman’s closet, but there is an irrepressible streak of sentimentality running through me, and sometimes I do macabre things to satisfy it. Today my father spent his first day of vacation finishing up cleaning out my dead great-grandmother‘s house. She has been gone since February of ’05, so this process has taken more time than you might imagine is ideal. My dad called my mom…
You must be logged in to post a comment.