Well, y’all, this is more or less what I’ve looked at all day long. It’s just been me and Fay, or maybe Fay’s bitchy little sister, not sure which, flirting for hours and hours along Highway 64. Sunshine, rain, sunshine, rain. Then mostly rain. And while I would have perhaps preferred a blue afternoon sky filled with nothing but those overweight clouds we enjoyed in abundance back in June, I can’t really complain about the…
My vacation starts in just a little more than two days. I’m doing mental fist pumps right now just thinking about it. I suppose I could do actual fist pumps, but I rarely have the gumption to follow through on a good fist pump once I’ve started it. They’re always better in theory, or when other people do them. That’s my thinking, at least. This vacation should be pretty interesting, I think. I’m taking it…
His name is Todd. He likes to play Family Guy and other television shows, as well as what sounds more or less like music, at very extremely ridiculously loud volumes in the middle of the night. Like, now. At nearly 1 a.m. I am hoping, at this point, that he is hearing impaired, and not simply fucktarded.
Only it’s really my Thursday. Harumph. Somehow I managed to escape a post-election hangover, despite all the tequila I befriended last night. I was so jittery by the time I left work at midnight that I needed the stuff just to help me sleep. Election night can be especially unkind to newspaper folks, but this one went more or less smoothly on our end, and went according to script (and yes, I mean that in…
Things I have done today: • Warmed up leftovers • Ate said leftovers • Read some essays from Bitchfest • Put my hair in a ponytail • Took my hair out of a ponytail • Loaded the dishwasher • Snuggled my cats • Daydreamed • Napped … twice • Scoffed at Facebook profiles and photos maintained by people I don’t care much for • Watched Le Tigre videos on YouTube • Put my hair back in a ponytail Actually,…
I do love a good copy editing/grammar squabble, particularly when it gets blown up into profane e-mail declarations like this one. The gist: British restaurant critic Giles Coren became enraged upon seeing that the editors at his newspaper, The Times, took out the word “a” in the last paragraph of his column. He wrote a long, rambly, profane, bossy, mean-spirited e-mail to anyone and everyone who could have possibly allowed such an egregious error to…
On the drive back to Memphis yesterday, I cooked up the beginnings of what could have been a lovely post about the nature of clouds and religion. Yep. And then last night I got drunk and started talking ’bout clouds, using aborted bits of ideas from the drive home, and I ended up stumbling around and messing everything up. Like a klutz in a flowerbed. So, here’s a photo instead.
Dear world: Even I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about half the time. I was clearly intoxicated last night by not just the bottle of pink bubbly I bought, but the new computer I’ve got. Behold! This purty thing will make anyone speak gibberish.
You must be logged in to post a comment.