I don't know what I'd do with it...

...but I'm sure I could think of something. If I had vast sums of cash to blow on wots-its, I'd totally get one of these:

music expresses what's best in us.

I truly believe that. Beautifully crafted songs are eternally fresh, and this kind of sincerity is hard to fake. Lovely sounds. Fall At Your Feet be Neil Finn of Crowded House, accompanied by Graham Gouldman of 10cc and Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera.

I promise this won't turn into a-pup-a-day, but...

It's been really cold here, and the puppies have been curled up and shivering on the sofa for two days. I decided I wanted them closer, so I set them up a little nest on a chair next to mine, and they curled up and snuggled. Was very cute and a very soothing effect to have them near at hand for occasional petting as I was on the phone all day. Am quickly discovering that in light of my workaholic tendencies, I'm going to be working a whole-whole-bunch. Will be good for the bank account, and I'm getting a lot accomplished, and helping out the new folks who have hired in the last month or so. The day flies by when I'm at home, and I'm near windows and not cooped up in a fluorescent veal pen. Much better, this way. I promise I'll blog about something besides pups and work sometime soon-- there's always school! I'm actually looking forward to going back to bellydance class this summer when the semester is over. :)

Wow. One quarter of this year is already over. How???

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Behold, the stately Chiweenie:

Let's face it-- Taco Schnitzel is so WINNING!

I'm loving being home with the babies, and I'm doing much better work without the chaos of the office. The pups seem very pleased, too. Why does it not disappoint me that I'm out of the loop on the office gossip? :)- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Are you tired of the same old movies?

Apparently a bit of Christine got away. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this trailer. If the movie is terrible, I'll be disappointed. Or not.



h/t to Tolewyn

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: mommy works from home now

Here's where the pups spend most of the day perched, power- napping.


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Sexy Librarians?

Damn skippy!

Of course we all know how totally hawt librarians are. :)

The divine folks at Sublime Stitching have come out with a whole raft of Sexy Librarian embroidery patterns. These patterns are on sale for 50% off now, too. Also, there's Meaty Meats which shows a little love to bacon, which has been woefully neglected in the annals of embroidery. The vital organs one sort of vexes me because I stitched a heart about 8 years ago and never went anywhere with that, but I had grandiose plans for stitching a visceral body of work. Ah well. Pirates!

OH, and weenie dogs! Weenie dog embroidery? What could be more fetching? Well, Chiweenie embroidery, but nobody's perfect.

Yes, it's sublime. Me likey!

plumb tuckered out.

First day working from home started with a hiccup, but it was a good day. It took nearly two hours for the tech guy to get it all up and running, but then I worked steadily and the quiet and calm of the house had a great effect on my ability to concentrate and resolve issues, and the day was great. At lunch, I walked down to the post office and over to downtown, and came back and munched a salad, then got back on the phones. The weather was incredibly beautiful, and the day seemed to pass very quickly.

It was a very good day. :)

House keeping.

Thanks to all you lovely people who gave me information on Napier's Number in previous post. Turns out (as you well know) you were exactly right. :) Being an adherent to the loosey-goosey arts, I certainly appreciate the toothsome symmetry of the exact sciences, even if I can't entirely wrap my brain around same. Thanks again!

****************

I'm up into the wee hours tidying up the house. An IT guy from work will be here mid-morning tomorrow to get my computer all set up for working from home. *cautiously optimistic squeeing here*

****************

Strangely, on the eve of starting to work from home, I interviewed yesterday for a promotion. I think I'm unlikely to land the job, but I was complimented the interviewer said he was pleased I applied. I won't be hurt for someone else to get the job-- I only care that they give it to someone who knows our department, and I think they've got a great field of candidates from which to choose. Still, it was nice to feel like they were excited about me as a candidate.



I'm excited about working from home. :)

Okay, this may be the teeniest bit whiney, but...

I've been working diligently on my homework. Tuesday was 3 hours, and Monday was 1. I'm averaging something like 5 hours' work for each class session. When I get something wrong (I check my answers in the back of the book), I go over it again and again until I know how to come up with the right answer. I've done very very well with calculating interest rates. So how's come I can't get it right with the continuously compounded rate? Every single time, I get just a smidge off (like 11 to 13 cents off). I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong.

I blame Texas Instruments. Or I'd like to. This is how the machines take over, right? A bunch of pocket calculators, bored with the sheer inanity of their under-use, start talking to one another about how idiotic their handlers are and soon they'll be herding us into cattle cars or somesuch and whacking us on the palms with sapient pearwood slide-rules.

Okay. I know it's completely anal of me, but I want that last .25 percent of a point on my grade for my online homework. I'm scared later in the semester something will come along that's harder than what I've done so far, and then I'll need every jot and tittle of points to hold on to my A.

Can anyone tell me what I'm doing wrong? *vexation*

Bonus hounds: naptime mit puppehs

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Who says all is fair in love and war?

I was dismayed to see the news article about American service personnel posing a la hunting trophy poses with dead (alleged) civilians in Afghanistan. I'm not making an excuse for what looks downright tasteless and disappointing. I say looks, and not only that, this is such a tiny fragment of what our armed forces are doing overseas. In our if-it-bleeds,-it-leads media culture, perception is reality and someone very desperately wants everyone to see how ugly Americans really are.

Since the camera was invented, it has been used to document the demise of ne'er do wells. It was common in the old west for former bad guys, pining for the fjords, to pose for formal photography, sometimes with solemn lawmen redolent of the gravity and dignity called for on that occasion. This practice was carried well into the 20th century. Google images bonnie, clyde and dead and see what you find.

Further, just yesterday, I read a news article in the British press about gallows humour, and that-- however tasteless-- humour is and was ever thus a method for dealing with having experienced (or heard about) unimaginable horrors.

In that vein, I will say this: I don't know what the men in the photos experienced that led to that moment, and I am heartsick at the atrocity of it all, but I'm also not going to judge them where I don't know the whole story.

I will, however, be awaiting the spittle-flecked vitriolic harangues from the Village Voice decrying the president because he knew, he knew he HAD TO HAVE known! He was IN on it! He encouraged them to behave thusly.

Yeah, I know: *crickets*

Will Cindy Sheehan be flying to exotic locales to protest outside whatever posh hotel is hosting the Great One? Somehow, I think not.

Meanwhile, I remember images of thronging masses of Somalis celebrating in the street as the mangled corpse of an American was dragged through the village nearly 20 years ago. The locals cheered and celebrated. Meanwhile, we're supposed to be the good-natured, slow-to-anger, grin-and-bear-it sort. Somehow, a corpse block-party and step show looks far more barbaric to me than a few instances of an individual posing with long-pig that has given up the ghost. In scale of atrocity, these are light-years apart, in my book.

War is an ugly thing wherein people are assigned the odious task of breaking things and killing people. If we send men and women to go about the business of carrying on a campaign, then I think we need to stay out of the way and let them do their job.

Am I dreaming???

Test #2 results. *squeeeeee!*


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I be lovin' this SO HARD!

Over at The Smoking Gun, they've got these wonderful match-up games. No lie, I can fiddle with these endlessly. There's match the perp mugshot to the article they allegedly stole. Then there's match the perp to the crime they are accused of having committed. Then there's match the perp to the article with which they allegedly assaulted someone. Then there's my personal favorite - match the mugshot to the tattoo(s). FUN!

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: is it time for brekkie yet, mommy?

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A true story from not so long ago...

The company I work at takes pains to inform people at orientation that the company frowns upon cleavage of the boob- and butt- varieties.

A prudish, drab creature came up to me one day and anounced, scandalized, that she could see my bra (the merest hint of which was peeking out from the neckline of my top). I looked down and said "ah. Okay. That's alright."

She blinked at me expectantly and for an instant reminded me of my terrier who speaks NO Engrish. Seeing I made no effort to cover up, she fairly hissed "this is a Christian company."

I said "it's okay. These are Christian breasts."

*bafflement*

...lest anyone think Lady GaGa is original...




I hardly know where to begin. Marianne Faithfull sounds like she's channeling Greta Garbo. I dunno - tuneless droning in a spangled wimple? Bee-zarre!

And Bowie shaking his chest feathers is very, well, Bowie. Or was. Um. Did he invent manorexia? *sheesh*

Is it just my imagination or do they look a littled hopped-up?

a little dose of The Pogues

I think London Girl is my favorite of their music, but this little reel rates very high with me. Quite jolly!

Remembering Grandparents on St. Patty's Day

I know we all miss our grandparents. We're blessed to know the old people whence our parents came, if only for a little while. Sometimes the weight of the loss seems horrendous, but then my heart is lifted because the memory of them actually liberates me. I can be a bold, daring and fearless person because I saw the old timers who walked boldly through their quiet lives being simply extraordinary. Here's to every Danny Boy to every one of us.

Here's to my Great-Grandpa Smith who sang at church to the end with a voice you could hear a mile up the road.
Here's to Great Granny Smith, ancient and walking in from the garden as we drove up, laughing as she carried a 5' cottonmouth snake draped casually over the end of her hoe, having dispatched the offending creature for trespassing her garden.
Here's to my Dear Grandpa Smith and his abysmal fiddle-playing-- he loved it so, and I could never have imagined it would turn into such a delightful memory!
Here's to Grandma Smith with her quiet grace. Such an angelic woman. Heaven will not be worthy of the name if they don't have her green beans and fried potatoes there.
Here's to Grandma Bertie who was so free with the love that I did not know until I was about 7 that she was not my natural Grandmother, and she doted on me to the very end. Oh and her buttermilk biscuits and gravy will be on the heavenly buffet, also.
Here's to my Grandma Kent who I only know from portraits of her since she died when my mom was a girl, but I see flashes of her in my mom, and I know she's in me, too.
Here's Grandpa Kent with his brilliant, natural gift for music and for warmth of spirit. I can't think of Danny Boy without thinking of him.

You are always in my heart. Thank you for being worthy of grieving. I am rich and blessed because you made such wonderful parents for me.

Bless all our darling loved ones--present and departed-- on this and every day.

Another adorable Little Old Lady story.

Friday morning I saw the dreadful news of the earthquake in Japan and kept thinking of that. Lunchtime rolled around and Himself came to pick me up and I suggested we go to the larger of the few local Japanese eateries for lunch. Line spilling out the door, we drove on, the minutes of my lunch ticking away. We moseyed over to a Red Lobster, and there were curiously few cars in the parking lot.

A little old lady flagged us down as she walked from the front of the store, Himself lowered the window as she approached and launched into a little blurt session in which she scarcely drew breath. I would put her at about mid-80s, and she had that crinkly, powdery soft complexion where the skin is gently ebbing to the tide of wrinkles that will not be denied. She was grinning big, and her short but unkempt hair lifted gently in the wind, like cornsilk and her round-cheeks, sparkling eyes and pleasantly-set chin gave her that tweetie-bird look some fortunate little old ladies get.

Meanwhile, Himself did that funny police thing they do(this is true!) where he was saying "uh-huh" every 40th word or so, as he must have done millions of times throughout his illustrious career. I think it's meant to express interest while not interrupting in hopes that this very loosely-wound thread will soon find its terminus.

"They are not open. You can't eat here today. May be closed until Tuesday." Here she reached up self-consciously and patted down her hair. "I can't warsh my hair on account of shingles. Do you know anyone whose had shingles? Booooy, I tell you, it's something else. If you ever wanna wish something bad on someone, you wish 'em to have shingles." Here she made a twisting motion with her hand on the end of her nose. "I was at the airport, and we were late getting onto the plane because an old lady -- She was about 93-- on the flight before ours had diarrhea and fouled herself and they had to sanitize and deodorize the plane before we could get on, and my head was broke out in the awfulest rash and the flight attendants were worried I was having a reaction to the chemicals but I said no, it was just these shingles. I used to work for a company but then I started my own business and I would have every Friday off and that was my treat-- to take myself to Red Lobster for my lunch on Friday. They have a gas leak and I went in there and I was sitting at the table and they said we all had to leave and I said 'you can just bring me my seafood' but they said I had to leave and I've been working around gas all my life. A little gas isn't going to bother me, and if the whole place was just gonna blow up, well, I'll just grab my crableg and hang on."

Another truck pulled into the parking lot and she lit up like a used car salesman at a new prospect. "I'd better go tell him they're closed."

She said all that in about 30 seconds and it all seemed over too soon, but in my heart, that kooky, adorable conversation will live on. I feel like I've seen the elusive purple yak. Someday, in a desolate parking lot, the chatty little old lady may find you, too. Give her leave to speak, and you will be delighted, and she'll quickly drift away, drawn by the siren call of the next short-term friendship, snuffed out by the last gasp of the breath whence it was born.

Involuntary collaborations

This guy takes landscape paintings done by other people and puts monsters in them. LOVE IT!

h/t to Blowfuzzy von Sassy

Ikea tech graduate

This thing took HOURS to put together. When I got done there were 2 extra screws.


I'll prolly start working from home sometime Wednesday. Yays!!! No more cube!!! And I've already started decorating. Dogs in wigs are always a delight.


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I am in awe of the respectful dignty of the Japanese

Maybe they're out there, but I haven't heard a single story about looting, or gangs running about, menacing people in the wake of the quake and tsunami.

I did see this story about two dogs, left behind, that survived the tsunami by running to the highest point in their family's home. Their people came back two days later and found their pups had weathered the crisis. The family must stay in a shelter, but they are leaving the pups at home, and come back daily to care for them. From the article:

Mr. Kikuchi and his daughter said they will come back every day to look after the dogs, but they are not going to bring the dogs to the shelter.

"There are lots of people dead and it's too much to ask to bring the dogs," said Mr. Kikuchi. "It would be inconsiderate to other people's sadness."

I am touched and in awe. Bless 'em.

Obama is black-balled in British royal wedding invite snub

Barack Obamas is said to be fairly incandscent with indignation at having been snubbed when invites to the upcoming wedding of Prince William were being doled out. Apparently, this is dubbed a semi-state occasion, and there is only so much room for folks at the ceremony. Add to the Obamas the complement of handlers/security who would add to the bodies in attendance, and it makes sense they wouldn't be invited. Not being dear personal friends of the British Royal family, I don't know why the Obamas should feel snubbed.

Were they just festering to bring more inappropriate gifts to Brits on that most important occasion?

Perhaps the Brits have somehow gotten the notion that the Obamas feel no particular closeness to them?

As an American, I don't feel snubbed, and I think it's a little bit funny.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: mit squeaktoys

Enthusiasm con carne!

Grieving for a friend's mother...

I met her one time only, and that was enough for me to get a Cliff Notes version of the lady she was, with all her hilarious, infuriating and delightful complexity. That night, she told me and her daughter and grand-daughter a bawdy story from her own history that even they had never heard before(ask me or Holly in person-- for I won't repeat that one here!). Her eyes danced and sparkled with mischief, and all who met her must have recognized her for the rugged individualist she was.

I think my favorite story about her is that when angered by other motorists, she was never content to give them the finger. She gave them the whole hand. You've got to see the motion in person to really appreciate how hilarious it is. :P Lesson learned: don't go half-way when returning an insult.

I didn't know her at all, really, but by extension, I know the most remarkable and wonderful thing she ever did. She gave the world my beloved Holly, and I can tell you a lot about the mother by describing her daughter. Holly is a trailblazer, a one-of-a-kind, one who never tests the winds or someone else's pulse to know her own thoughts on things. Holly is not one you can label with the usual pat, politically correct method of describing people. She is a complex and delightful person herself, and one whom I admire tremendously. Holly's been a pillar of strength to me at moments I felt most bleak and also at my happiest moments. Holly's fierce sense of justice has led her to work in fields where she could be a true and very present help to others. Her knowledge is vast and she is ever ready to bring her expertise to bear when friends or loved ones are in need.

Holly is, well, she's a lot like her namesake, the Ilex plant of the family Aquifoliaceae. Holly, no shrinking violet, comes equipped to arm itself and its gorgeous berries are the winter sustenance to many varieties of bird. The jaunty, defiantly pointy leaves carry with their beauty a thorny discouragement those how would crush its form, and its vibrant green and red in the dead of winter is a reminder that warmth will again return and is always present deep within its fiercely beating heart.



I don't have to know her mom very well to grieve her passing. I just have to look at Holly to know I know all the very best of her life, and I am so, so very thankful every day that she lived.

My dear sister Holly:
I hope you are comforted by thoughts and memories of all your finest moments with your mom. I hope you are comforted by knowing how very dearly I hold you in my heart and how very much I love you.

the interpretive dance stylings of David Armand

You may remember his brilliant rendition of Natalie Imbruglia's Torn.

This made me laugh madly. And so did all the other BBC dance videos from this show. I had a hard time choosing just one. I hope you get a giggle.



my favorite bit is the "trussed in the good times."

*hyuk!*

Good on Google

Google reacted to the Japanese earthquake by creating a personal finder tool. Good on them. I know the greatest anxiety of such an event is wondering if one's dear ones are safe.

In my heart and aloud...

I'm praying for all the folks affected by the earthquake in Japan and the tsunami it generated.

working from home...

I've always thought I'd do well working from home. Whatever my job is, I'm very energized for my tasks. Problem with my job lately is that the office is getting so noisy that it's-- if I'm honest-- getting so loud that it sets my teeth on edge. About 6 weeks ago I began to heavily lobby for setting up a workstation so I can telecommute.

I got word Tuesday this can be done as soon as I have the phone and internet in place, so I got on the horn with the phone company to get that set up. Thursday night, for the first time, I had a doubt. I'm a very social creature-- will this be bad for me-- to stay home and not get out amongst people? I kind of think not, but it's definitely a consideration. Then again, in January, I received 1004 calls and made 1440 calls. Somehow, I do believe that counts as human contact. Some of these calls go on for as long as an hour. It will be nice to not feel self-conscious about the sounds of a block party breaking out behind me when I'm talking on the phone.

There's a bit of pressure in this regard, too, because if I don't do well, then this will bode ill for others who would like a crack at telecommuting for our company. I feel a little pressure, but I think I'll do well. I vow to get out of bed more than 5 minutes before my shift starts. I vow to eat out in restaurants less at lunchtime. (YAYS!) Perhaps most importantly, I vow not to stay in pajamas for 3 days in a row.

Whatever the case, it's going to be different. I'll do my best. Wish me luck.

skuh- skuh- skuh- WHEEEEEEEEEEE!

That was a 3-dimensional squee, in case you didn't know.

Killing Joke is playing the Granada Theatah in Dallas on June 3.

I don't know if I'll go, but for a very, very long time, they were a big personal favorite. What may tip the balance is that for the first time in 20 years, Big Paul Ferguson is on the drums again. I was sad Raven died last year, but it would be sweet to see what remains of the original lineup.

Some chick at MSNBC and Michael Moore say Wisconsin is fine

Just when I think Michael Moore's doucherie quotient could not be ratcheted up another micron, he goes and kicks it up a huge notch. You may or may not want to watch him have a doo-doo hissy, but the comments are rather delicious.




People talk about belt-tightening, but no one wants to be the one who has to take a pay cut. Well, m'dears, your unions are screwing you right out of a job entirely, and that'll fix your little red wagons, right? You'll show them, right? Baby, if the money is not there, then someone's going to have to compromise. Union pensions effectively scuttled the ability of most of the American automotive manufacturing industry to be competitive with cars produced in places where folks were grateful for a steady job. I think the AFL-CIO is in large part to blame for the coming failure of the US Postal Service, and I think that's a damned shame.

Here's a novel concept: management and union bosses meet and face the budget realities and seek a compromise in which the workforce is simply reduced by attrition and wherein any future hires come in under a different framework of pay and benefits? I'll tell you why they won't: unions would never agree to this because they are like our federal government-- they exist only to ensure their own future existence, no matter who else is damaged in that process. They are on the teat as much as any crack-addict welfare woman with 12 Trojan poster-children. Time for some weaning. A little potty training, too, perhaps.

I know whereof I speak. About 25 years ago, I accepted a job here in Texas-- an open-shop state-- where there was immense pressure to join the Postal Worker's Union. In fact, at orientation, all the management and trainers left us alone for a while with the union goons, and we were made to understand that it would be foolish for us to not sign on and fork over an hour equivalent of every paycheck to support the cause. Our union dollars at work meant that at election time, I received very pointed propaganda (which I ignored) telling me for whom to vote. Certain people in the workplace got big support from the union, and others, not so much. From what I saw, the union people were every bit as licentious and corrupt and exploitative as the worst of the management.

I know I'm not the only one who feels personally burned by a union. Why aren't more people describing them as the thugs they are? Maybe they are afraid? Unions have had their day. I don't think they are entirely bad, just pig-headed like a greedy child with no maturity or foresight. It is abhorrent to have absolute job security no matter how poorly you perform. What good is winning the current golden egg when you've killed the goose? You may not have noticed, but that goose is a rare bird, and getting rarer still.

eyes on stalks, smoke roiling from ears...

I'm sorry. If I seem a bit vacant, a bit like my brain is fried, well, it is.

Among the other hours and hours of homework I have from this one maths class, we are working on factorials(!) I've never heard of factorials in my life. I was wondering if this concept was formulated in the intervening 20-something years since I was in high school. Apparently not. Apparently, factorials have been around for a couple centuries.

I'm sort of getting a grip, but I have a major test tonight. I hold little hope of earning another 100, alas. I feel like my brain is a little fried, honestly. I don't know how young adults do all this crap and still manage to pull all-nighters with booze and other recreational activities. I have one class and I'm barely holding it together. This is discouraging, as I'd begun to hope I might actually pull off an A.

Still hoping for that, but let's face it: I'm tired.

Not just guns. Dogs AND guns.

And chickens.

An intruder calls 911 from the Portland house he's broken into, because he's afraid the owner has a gun.

The call from the homeowner is pretty entertaining. She's laughing. Her chickens were inside the house with the intruder. She needs her coat and her slippers. She seems not at all worried. Then come the officers, a woman, a guy, they have uniforms and really nice flashlights!

My guess is she's not packing. It's too bad her dog Tanna was asleep on the job. My puppehs would have lost their tiny little minds if someone entered our home.

Oregon must be a whole 'nother world.

Pauper's pesto

Or redneck, or whatever.

My version:

1 c fresh coriander (cilantro)

1 c fresh flat italian parsley

2 cloves garlic

1/4 c pine nuts

1/2 c parmesan

1/4 to 1/2 olive oil

Grind up ingredients in food processor.

This is great stuff. I realized I could get oodles of cilantro and parsley for less than half one bunch of fresh basil, and since I don't have any herbs going yet this year, well, I decided to try a cheapie version.

Served on freshly baked spaghetti squash. om nom nom! The puppy wanted some, alas.

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Unjust desserts? The Lady (?) doth protest too much

Lady Gaga may be planning legal action against an ice-creamery in England that's been selling an ice cream made of human breast milk. I enjoyed the banter about the dessert product over at the Nerds' place. I don't have a problem with other people enjoying human milk ice-cream-- it's just not an appealing thought for myself. If other people want to splurge on vats of the stuff, that's their business. Apparently, though, Lady Gaga takes great exception to the product having been named Baby Gaga, and says this is some form of copyright infringement. From the article:

...accuses The Icecreamists of "taking unfair advantage of, and riding on the coattails of" Lady Gaga's trademarks in a manner that is "deliberately provocative and, to many people, nausea-inducing".

Um. Right. First of all there's the name. "Gaga" is a nonsense word associated with the human baby since long before I uttered it. I think the best thing Lady Gaga can do on that score is to issue a public statement denying any association with the product and let it go. That said, if she pursues legal action against the ice creamery, it would be a toothsome thing indeed if David slew the Gagoliath. Really. It will be interesting if Madonna's heir apparent tries to crush the small business beneath her 12" heel. *aherm* This is a bit of a stretch. More likely, she's butt-hurt because she didn't think of it first.

More obnoxiously, I think it's interesting that she'd have legalese put about that she takes exception that someone might think she's associated with a product that was "deliberately provocative and, to many people, nausea-inducing" because I think that is precisely how a great many people would describe her music videos, if not her music itself. She done plumb broke the irony meter on that one.

Musically, Lady Gaga is an innovator and a stylist. Hers is not to my taste, but I can see the canny quality of her compositions and I do hear the appeal of her music. I've pretty much chalked her success up to a lot of hard work, natural musical talent and some very good instincts to mold herself after the savvy template forged previously by Madonna. I'm disappointed in this (can-only-be-mock) outrage, because she can't seriously believe everyone on the planet is trying to take a ride on her disco-schtick, can she?

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: naso- centric pupcake shot

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Edible Easter grass

But can it be fashioned into underpants?



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Four Darth Vaders walk into a bar...

.this video actually made my skin crawl.




Yes, I erupted in gooseflesh. Not good-gooseflesh, either. *shudder* Please, someone, pass the brain bleach?
Thank you.

ya gotta love Christopher Guest.

Obviously, he's wonderful if Jamie Lee Curtis would marry him, and hasn't he been knighted or something? His Nigel in This Is Spinal Tap made us all fans of stuff that goes to eleven.

He was a marvelous bad guy in The Princess Bride, but if I didn't already adore him, his turn as Corky St. Clair in Waiting for Guffman would have cemented my affection.




*snicker* Why that dance never caught on is simply beyond me.

chill out.

We're having another spate of chilly weather in this area of Texas, and I'm fine with that. I don't know to what I should attribute my penchant, but I prefer sleeping in a very cold room piled under lots of blankets(and, of course, with two little fur hot-water-bottles). I remember once sleeping at Great Granny Smith's little old house, bitterly cold and piled under mounds of her homemade quilts. That was magical.

I always look forward to winter and that big heavy pile of covers on the bed. If you get too warm, you can kick off the top layer or two. In summer, if you get hot, there's only so much you can take off, and then you're just hot. Misery!

Now there's stuff going around about how it's easier to insulate yourself than it is to heat up your house.

Welcome to the party. Time to cuddle teh puppehs.

meditations on mathy stuff.

more onion peelings of an unquiet mind.

I love my math teacher. He looks like a 60-something David Arquette, and in that way of math teachers, he's zany, but in a very sober and geeky way.

Unfortunately, I keep imagining him in a burlesque show with unkempt tuxedo swilling champers from the bottle whilst getting a lapdance from a midget stripper.

I've always had a hard time focusing in math classes, and this is not helping.

******************

There's an online lab for studies which has an address that includes "mathlab." Mebbe it's the people I hang out with or something, but I never go to the site to do my online homework without thinking of "meth" labs.

Ah, higher learning. *snort*