Sunday, Puppy Sunday: why teh puppehs can't have nice things...

The puppies have had a nice feather pillow in their basket in the kitchen for about 6 months. Every so often I'd wash the cover and the pillow separately, but generally they've seemed to appreciate the pillow as something more than just a chew-toy.

Until Monday. I came home from work to find the pillow disemboweled and feathers feathers everywhere.


Bad puppies. Bad, bad things.

So no more feather pillows for naughty pups.
Still, I can't stay mad at them for long, for some reason.

Bernice Jenkins

I can't stop laughing.

Prank calls can be so tacky, but this one is hilarity con carne.

On this date in 1836...

Samuel Colt made the first production-model revolver, the .34-caliber.

Of course, my wishes are modest. I'm not hoping to get some priceless relic from the man Himself. I'd just like a Colt of a more recent vintage, as I've mentioned. A nice little Python would suit me fine. 8" barrel is sweet, but I'd settle for 6". :)

cool commercial features Texas tank wave surfers

You may not be aware of this, but there are folks down on the Texas coast who will surf the wave in the wake of tankers for as long as 15 or 16 minutes. I'm sure if you're into things that are Zen, then this must be a very Zen thing. It's quirky, but it quite fits Texas, I find. True, there's a great tradition the world 'round for surfing, but these guys have probably done it in a cowboy hat, and I suspect at least one of them has played bongos naked. Yeah, very Texas, that.



This is a commercial for a sportswear label, but you get a good idea of tanker wave surfing. Good stuff. Also, if you have a little more time, you don't have to be a surfer to appreciate the superb surfing film Step Into Liquid.

When nice things don't happen to bad people...

A true story.


Several months ago, after applying and interviewing for several positions with local public offices, an imminently qualified candidate was offered a final interview for one of two positions in the local administrative offices. She was told she was one of two candidates who would be hired, but all that remained was that she have a final interview with local Big Kahuna who would decide which applicant was assigned which position. Naturally, she was very happy to hear this news, but did keep her powder dry. Many a slip, and all that...

Well, after Big Kahuna canceled one interview and stood her up on two others (as he was the very nadir of professional irresponsibility) he at last granted her an audience and did not ask her a single question about her qualifications for the position. He at last alluded to brass tacks and said "I think there's a place for you here. If not this one, I hope you'll keep applying, because we could use you."

After the interview, the silly dreamer called the person who scheduled the appointment and said "that didn't sound like I have one of those two positions." The lady at the office said "well, BK had some applications at the last minute."

Translation: Big Kahuna had a Big Political Race coming up on March 2, and someone important probably had a niece or grandkid or his wife's cousin's stepson's girlfriend Mabel needed work, so, Our Fair Lady did not get said job. The delicious bit of this is that in order to run for this big-flipping-deal job, Big Kahuna had to step down from his other elected position.

Well, Big Kahuna had his big night on Tuesday night, and the voters of the county informed him that, well, no, actually, they don't want to take him to the Prom. However, I'm sure they feel there's a place for him there and they hope he'll keep applying, because they could use him.

I hear there's a vacant dogcatcher position.

This is my panty. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

In case you were wondering, this will be a post about panties, so if you're embarrassed by such things, come back tomorrow for an earnest post about something doubtlessly less personal.

I am not ashamed to say that I have enough underwear that I could wear a different pair daily for more than a month without having to do laundry and without having to wear dirties. Perhaps two months, even. Anyway, nothing wrong with that. I think nothing cures the ills of one's ho-hum life like going to Nordstrom Rack and spending about $100 bucks on fabulous bloomers that would have originally cost about $500, or so. I actually do this a time or two a year. Anything to keep the back 40 happy, right?

Anyhoo. I've been pretty busy lately and I haven't, well, I haven't been keeping up with the laundry by a long shot. I'm keeping the frequent flier garments clean, and clean towels, but only just. Underwear, well I'll just say I've nearly run through the drawers drawer. Monday I pulled out an old favorite pair. Sumptuous, nudie-pink, a little sparkly, these were always the pretty/dressy go-to panties. Well, Monday, I pulled them on and they weren't quite the same, but I was bleary-eyed and not thinking about it too much. hmmm. Okay.

Got to work and sat at my computer. My jeans were cut below the waist, and my sweater rode up a bit and it felt strange. I reached back and felt, oh, 3 or 4 inches of panty sticking up over the waist of the jeans. And they were wrinkly/baggy. Egad! I've lost weight, but didn't realize how much I'd lost since those were the sumptuously perfect panties.

Naturally, I pulled out my little knife. From the cube catty-corner to me, I heard a shriek that told me I wasn't supposed to have a knife there, and then she started laughing at the five miles of panty flapping in the wind.

Here's where the story really starts. Next to her and directly across is a lovely lady who's been a great coworker. She's really tiny, and asked me what size panty I wore. I thought this was odd, but then again- we are pretty casual - so I told her and she said she'd lost some weight and had some nice underwear if I would like to have them.

What do you say to that? I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of hand-me-down undies, actually. I confess when I occupied lofts in the industrial nethers of Dallas, I knew bums went through our garbage on a regular basis, and I dreaded the thought of seeing my manky old undies festooned outside the slick-with-filth dungarees of some insane homeless person, or on their head, or-- who knew what a crazy person would do? Anyway, before throwing away old panties, I would pretty much cut them into 3 pieces so they would panty no more forever. THAT in a nutshell tells pretty much how I feel about recycled underwear. Unless we're talking about a vintage slip or brassiere, I find the thought of using someone else's underthings for my own to be less than appealing.

So-- how to respond? The lady across the cube was being kind and generous. I said "that'd be great!" and inside I was blanching at the thought. Then I thought maybe she would forget. I made my rounds at work and came back to my desk before lunch, and the lady across from me had already gone to lunch.

I came back from lunch to find a neatly tied plastic bag full of panties on my chair.

!

Horribly, horribly good fun...

I fully expect the film Burke and Hare (starring Simon Pegg and Andy Serkis in the ubiquitous roles) to be monstrously good fun. I'm squirming with delight that Tim Curry will also be in this film. *squeee* [yes, I-- had a flat, well-- how 'bout that???]

Set in the early 19th century, the film is a black comedy about Williams Burke and Hare, notorious graverobbers who procured fresh er, uh-- subjects for doctors to use for the study of the innermost workings of the human body. Apparently, they were serial killers and, well, didn't want to dig so deeply for fresh material, so the Irishmen created some corpses of their own for Edinburgh doctors.

This film also features Tom Wilkinson and John Cleese. Can't wait!

Oh, and I mentioned it before, but Andy Serkis was brilliant in the BBC production of Little Dorrit. He's manages to make diabolical delicious, somehow. Amazing how charismatic he truly is. Check it out.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Bean-Dip Stalker Edition

I will you to come to me, Bean Dip.

We were meant to be together.

Only I can help you fulfill your destiny, oh smooth and creamy Bean Dip. Those others will never love you as I do. You are the one and only true Bean Dip of my heart, with or without Fritos.

You will be mine!

You must!

My Precious.

Our Lips Are Sealed

The Go-Go's recorded this song in 1981, but I always preferred the Fun Boy Three version which they recorded in 1983. This song was written by GoGo Jane Wiedlen and Terry Hall of FBT and the Specials. Most likely, if you've ever heard Fun Boy Three before, it was on the Bananarama hit "Really Saying Something."

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.

I'll say it as nicely as I am able...

Remember when that crazy man flew an airplane into the IRS building last week?

Yeah: crazy.

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.

Not that this is funny, but...

shoppers in a Dubai mall were terrified when the wall tank holding back gazillions of gallons of water and [live! nude!] sharks cracked before their very eyes. I think they were silly to worry about that because I think most of them would have drowned in plenty of time before they got et by sharks.
******
In other news, someone remind me why they call them killer whales?

cara mia!

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.

Objects on dinner plate may be larger than they appear.

Bayou Renaissance Man and Wing did a quick road tour of neighboring states last week and passed through Texas on the way home. It was great to see them, and though it was gilding the lily, they passed along some steaks from Farm Family which I just had to cook up on Monday night.

As the steaks were thawing, I put them in a ziploc tub in the fridge, and it seemed only fitting that the Hellpups from Hades™ got to join in on the feast. so I let them drink up the juice from the thaw. They did not seem to mind helping with the cleanup.

I made a yummy side dish by toasting some sliced almonds and setting aside, then fried 3 pieces of pepper bacon. I took the bacon out of the skillet and then threw in thinly sliced new potatoes, fresh green beans and a single thinly sliced shallot and a little fresh cracked pepper and salt. Then I tossed it all together with the almonds and chopped up bacon stuff and a mix of romano, asiago and parmesan cheeses and fresh flat Italian parsley. This turned out to be a perfect side for the beef.

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.

Om nom nom. Thanks so much for thinking of us, FarmMom, FarmDad and FarmGirl. You are the loveliest set of folks, truly! And if you ever have a chance to nom on FarmMom's gravy, don't miss it. My toes are curling just thinking about it.

Thanks for everything, Mom, and happy birthday.

I love you.