Good googly moogly. Was this really three decades ago? Judging by the hairstyles, uh, that would be a big 10-4, good buddy. We've got a convoy of big big hair only possible with enviro-terror CFC-packing hairsprays, bless 'em. So what if it dates me horribly? This still sounds really good to me. :)
Points to the classy drummer in pearls and platinum pageboy. Fun.
No matter what anyone thinks of the IRS, that was a singularly horrible thing to do, and, sadly, one man in the building was killed along with the deranged pilot.
Now the wife of the deceased IRS employee is suing the wife of the dead lunatic pilot. In the lawsuit, widow Valerie Hunter asserts:
“[Sheryl Stack] was threatened enough by Joseph Stack that she took her daughter and stayed at a hotel the night before the plane crash,” the suit says. “[She] owed a duty to exercise reasonable care to avoid a foreseeable risk of injury to others..."
Let's review: the guy was crazy and could have done anything (oh, say, shot up a Luby's, had a field day from a certain bell tower in Austin, marched nude up the Capitol steps-- the possibilities were endless), and his unfortunate wife is accused of being in part responsible for his actions because she removed herself and her child from his presence? Living with the man recently could not have been a picnic, but the poor woman may have thought the worst was over when she finally got away from him. My heart goes out to her, as it looks like there's no end in sight for the bullcorn.
Seriously - I know Mrs. Hunter is grieving, but to lash out at the other widow from the sad affair is sheer dementia con carne. I could understand if she sued the IRS for being the author of maddening degrees of asshattery, but this is beyond the pale. The nicest way I can say it is that Mrs. Hunter must be an absolute intercoursing c-word. Her and the lawyer she rode in on.
I hope they are duly shamed in court, as they should be.
In other news, someone remind me why they call them killer whales?
Didn't Morticia and Gomez dance divinely?
I decided the commenter who suggested I purchase shoes to celebrate landing a job was on the right track. Last weekend I got the most adorable pair of Mary Janes with about a 3" sinuously curved heel worthy of a tango dancer. I was tickled to find them at about a quarter of their original retail price. Sweet!
Actually, if you think a pair of shoes would look right in a tango setting, well, it's a safe bet I'd like them. Here's a pair I'm drooling over currently.
By the way, these are full size dinner plates in the classic Spode tradition, so objects on plate may be larger than they appear in photograph. DELICIOUS.
Said BFvS: yea, I want the one who has tasted human flesh, right
Shibui makes a body butter bar that is fantastic for dry skin. It's in a container like a deodorant stick, but is shea butter and is sooooo good for your skin. The one I use has a very light scent of lemon grass and this one is lavender.
I've been searching for the perfect moisturizer for absolute yonks, and this is the only one that has seemed to not simply coat my skin with a greasy film, but actually makes my skin moist and softer. Yays!
Maybe you're a freak of nature and not suffering dry skin in all the heated air we enjoy indoors in a winter like this one, but if you're like me, you'll love this stuff. Srsly.
After his girlfriend is tragically killed in a lawnmower accident leaving only her head behind, a budding young scientist harvests body parts from hookers to bring his girlfriend back to life. Some assembly required.
Or just healthcare needs.
This coming Monday will mark my first day as official employee of Big Corporation. March 1 I'll have health insurance coverage with no preExisting waiting period. And vacation days. Paid. And sick leave. Paid. *giddy*
This must be a mark of sashaying into middle age-- I give a crap about the healthcare benefit. Then again, I am an habitual pneumonia-getter, so the medical coverage definitely rates...
Funny thing was I was mistaken about when I went on break Thursday morning. Thought I'd left at 9:50, but I'd actually left at 9:45. So I was back at my cube, goofing off and my boss called me and said "You've been on break for 19 minutes. I need to see you in my office. Immediately."
Liqui-poo. Seriously. I could have soiled myself right there. She never gets mad at me and today she sounded really pissed. Crap! I got over there and she told me the temp service wouldn't be employing me any more because the company was hiring me permanently. In a scene which was actually much less rife with cliche and gooey sentiment than you'd imagine, there were tears and hugs.
She told me that she finally was at liberty to tell me that people all over the building (especially some of the folks in quality) were demanding that she find a way to get me hired. She said they were all saying "we can't let her go!"
I didn't tell you at the time, but there were a couple tiny issues (resolved in my favor) that happened at the worst possible moment-- when they were considering bringing the temps in as permanent employees. I was still on a probationary program (along with the others), but they offered jobs to all of those people at the end of October. Since November, I've been the only temp in customer service at the company, and I've just been trying to fly under the radar and not call attention to myself, in case they should decide to let me go. The irony was that most of the quality hiccups of mine were overturned, and I made it off of the probationary program around the beginning of the year with very high marks, and I know that some of the people they'd hired were on the probationary program well after I'd gotten off of it. One of life's little ironies, I suppose.
Anyway, the good news is that things feel much more secure in the employment arena, and that's a nice feeling. I've earned this.
Labels: yay me
Isn't it supposed to be unhealthy to breathe air in a room with open containers of mercury, though?
From 1908 to 1940, Sears sold about 70,000-75,000 of their kit homes. It's actually really, really cool to think how many old houses you drive past daily may have been someone's mail-order dream house. On this page, you can click on 5 different year spans which showcase some of the different houses available in that period. What was really cool is that people could design their own house, send their ideas off to Sears and Sears would ship them the plans and all the materials. Interesting to think how people were encouraged to customize the plans, isn't it? Sears had affordable financing options for people, and they guaranteed they'd ship you enough materials to build the house except for brick, cement or plaster.
For now, here's a swimmy interlude. Ricardo Montalban was not just another pretty accent. Here he frolics in the pool with Esther Williams.
James Anderson tells paper both were cleared in in Massachusetts pipe-bomb
investigation and that Bishop's brother died in accidental shooting.
Wow. I didn't know about the pipe-bomb thingie. Why didn't he just say "my wife's not a nut, they never proved anything."
I clicked on the link because I sort of expected him to express surprise at the shootings because she was adamantly opposed to firearm use of any kind, or somesuch, but I didn't see a statement to that effect.
I believe in second chances for people-- truly I do-- but I wonder how anyone who accidentally shot her brother could be deemed fit to be schoolin' the fruit of others' loins. Apparently, she shot her brother in the gut a few times with a 12-ga so she already had her second and third chances.
Frankly, I think she went on a murderous rampage due to a lack of personal cuteness. That shit's deadly. Pretty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.
Click here for info.
Anyhoo, I was a kid when this came out and didn't appreciate it so much, but through the years, Al Stewart's The Year of the Cat has ultimately enthralled me with its lovely bones and virtuouso piano line, and an appreciation for another song about a mysterious dame in the film noir tradition. Here's a video from the period of its release,
and then one from 1991 Al recorded live with just his guitar and Tori Amos noodling on the pi-anny. The sound is not impeccable here, but I love the performance, nonetheless.
Chinese calendar peels a leaf to the year of the Tiger today. Have a nice one. Sharpen your talons. Preen your whiskers. Paw litter all over the place.
A patty melt is chopped, caramelized onions mixed with ground beef and cheese, sort of a sloppy Joe consistency festooned between two buttery slices of Texas toast. I like to think of it as a Sloppy Bubba.
Anyhoo. Sloppy Bubba does bad, bad things to my innards. Yes, I know this is a phenomenal overshare, but I'm writing this Friday night and thinking this weekend will probably bring occasion to go down to the local greasy spoon [The Feed Bag] and get my recommended daily allowance of Sloppy Bubba.
And now for a palate cleanser I give you a picture of a tree I took Thursday:
Found this lovely little pie vent for just a few measley dollars at Tuesday Morning. Now I'm going to have to bake a full-crust pie and put the little warblers through their paces...
Apparently, you set them on the bottom of the crust and build the pie's innards around them, including the crust on top. Then when the gooey goodness inside gets all steamy and molten, the gases can escape through their upturned beaks.
LA Coroner has listed pneumonia as a contributing factor in Brittany Murphy's death.
This set me to wondering that if salt as a folk remedy was widely known, I could surely read about it and other homey, folksy canker sore cures on the internet, right?
I haven't mentioned it in a while, but I started my temp job for Big Corporation in May, and I expected it to be about a 6 month long job interview. It has turned into 10 months of sometimes spirit-crushing interview, but yesterday began the process to screen me for offical employment with the company. I have to take a[nother] drug test and pass a[nother] background check, and then it'll be official. I've only known about this news since Tuesday afternoon. Then, like clockwork, Wednesday morning, someone from a company with a job I really want called to offer me a job, but the offer was about 30% lower in pay than I'd hoped for, and would be a cut in pay from present job, at that. Then, 30 minutes later, another job I applied for called to ask me to come in for some testing for the job.
The pity of it is that at the end of the day, I have to choose which job based on money and health benefits, rather than which I would most prefer, necessarily.
Whatever I do, I'm resolved to feel I made the best of choices and move forward with it. It's kind of a strange moment, though, for them all to happen at once. I interviewed for the other job offer nearly 2 months ago, so it's really ironic they should come in with an offer AFTER Big Corporation finally ponied up and asked me to go to the Prom with them. If they'd offered me that job a week ago, I'd have been sorely tempted, but the drop in pay is probably going to be the dealbreaker.
My puppies have to eat. I'll keep you posted, and thanks for the crossed fingers. I love you people!
Have a great day!
"Coming, Captain!" shouted Nobby. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his battered and stained desk and took out a packet of chocolate biscuits, some of which he arranged daintily on a plate.
"Does me no good at all to seeyou acting like this," Stronginthearm went on, winking at the other dwarfs. "You've got it in you to be a really bad copper, Nobby. Breaks my heart to see you throwin' it all away to become a really bad waitress."
It's been too long since I made this, but I'll be making it again very soon. The puppies were losing their minds as I cooked it- hopping from foot to foot. At the end of the meal, I took the heel of a bread loaf and soaked up all the yummy goodness from the electric skillet and cut it into wee bits and divvied it betwixt their foodbowls. Lucky hounds.
This recipe comes from a book a friend of mine got when living in Scotland in the early 70s, and i can't find a recipe on the net which parallels it, so in a week or two I will cook it again, take pictures before it gets nommed to death, and will post the recipe. Toe-curling goodness, I promise.
This is going to be a good week. Make the most of it!
A Keyboard and a .45
Adventures of Mauser Girl
Attila the Mom
Baby Troll Blog
Bad Tempered Zombie
Bayou Renaissance Man
Better and Better
Brown Valley Kingdom
Chris Ex Machina
Every Blade of Grass
Exile in Portales
Fat Hairy Bastard
Fat in Indiana
Flying Flo's Forum
I Aim To Misbehave
If the Creek Don't Rise
In Jennifer's Head
John Shirley's Wandering Thoughts
Katie Puckrick Smells
Lawyer With A Gun
Mausers and Muffins
Mulligan Do Over
Myron's Mind Meanderings
Papa Delta Bravo
Ready, Fire, Aim, Apologize
Searching for Oz
Silver The Evil Chao
Something to Say
View From the Porch
Holding our noses as we go.
Sunday, Puppy Sunday: it's laundry, and I helped!
Fall in full swing.
Ray of light.
Happy birthday, Dad!
Sunday, Puppy Monday: slow on the draw
First attempt cleaning old textile: Venice Tapestr...
Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Chuy in crisis
TheCornered Cat * A MUST read
Gallery of the Absurd - wickedly delicious
Independent Woman - Elbow
Robin Guthrie: Weblog
Arkansas Travel Site