U, riht now my keyboard is randomly skipping th cursor all around without ay iput from me, resuting in letters eing shunte to teh end of where I'm typing and lttle curls of smoke comign out my ears. It's a cordless keyboard, and changed the batteries, and it's silldoing it. This is m NEWCOMPUTER and I am NOT AMUSED. y tIidblnmnegm Be that ay, bitch. Ill go use my laptop, then.'w [Upstairs on my laptop, now.] Oh lord. If there is something wrong with my computer--on top of the recent events of Hairgate--I cannot be held responsible for my actions. I'm just sayin'. There's only so much a...
I should've known this was coming. I mean, it's karmic retribution for blithely tossing around the word "malapropisms" a few days ago. Stupid! I should've covered myself better. I should've known! Murphy is no friend of mine. Murphy comes up as "Unavailable" on the Caller ID and then tries to sell me aluminum siding during dinner, in fact. And yet, here I am. Victim of so many communication failures. It is to laugh, if only I can stop wailing and gnashing my teeth long enough to do so. Example 1: "No, Mama. I am TELLING you, they were talking about the LONG Ranger. He had to ride for a very...
A friend of mine called me early this morning to tell me to look at the front page of our local paper. I found this... odd. But I did as she said, and then I understood. My divorce attorney---whom I had hired both because he was a friend of a friend and because he seemed very genuine---is, um, well... he's in jail. Like, actually locked up, behind bars, being held on some ridiculous sum of cash-only bail. He is charged with embezzlement of a huge chunk of money, as well as tax evasion. Gah. I guess I should just be glad this didn't happen a couple of years ago while he was working for me. Of...
1) The duvet set is this one. It's so... girly. Very unlike me, really. It's the sort of thing I would never foist upon any self-respecting male. Fortunately no self-respecting male will ever be found in my bedroom! 2) I haven't made anything with the apples yet, but the votes were overwhelmingly in favor of crisp. That's my favorite, anyway; when I work with pastry dough, I tend to swear excessively and then ruin my creation with all the tears I end up crying into the helpless, overworked crust. 3) Okay, technically no one asked this, but in case you were WONDERING (and admit it, you...
It's time for a little-known factoid about Mir. Why? Don't ask why. Hush up. Here, have a cookie. (They are store-brand mint-creme-filled not-Oreos. Gross, but delicious!) I used to play the cello. I use the term "play" loosely. I loved the cello. I still love the cello; any time Yo-Yo Ma wants to come put on a private concert for me, I'd totally be down for that. Even if he wouldn't let me lick him. But if he DID let me lick him, that'd be even better. What was I talking about...? Oh, right. So. I took up the cello when I was 11. Within the first week of my lessons, I set my loaner cello...
I've had a busy day, and it's only 11:30. This is what I did right after my shower this morning. Then this happened. So I came home, and played compare and contrast. Come to think of it, this was different, too.
My ex can tell you (and just might, given the opportunity) that the first television show I ever became hopelessly addicted to was Iron Chef. Not the sucktastic Amercian version that they now have on The Food Network with Bobby Flay (Bobby knows his barbecue, yes; no offense meant), but the original show dubbed over from Japanese to very! perky! English!! Chairman Kaga was regal and kooky, the secret theme ingredient was just as likely to be turnips as an aquarium churning full of stingrays, and the guest tasters always included some insipid Japanese actress who looked and sounded like truly...
A few days ago, the kids and I were driving along the main strip on our way somewhere (yeah, that's right; here in boonieville a multi-lane road with lots of stoplights that spans from HEAH to THEAH is the main strip) when someone honked near us. At us? I wasn't sure. I turned to look and there was a white Honda Civic coming up from the rear, on our left. I didn't recognize the car. It was still a couple of car lengths back, so I couldn't get a good look at the driver, other than to see that he was an older man wearing glasses. Hmmm. Maybe he hadn't been honking at me. I faced forward again....
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens. --Carl Jung We were there for a vacation. We had been there a dozen times before and yet this was the first time. A fabulous getaway trip, where we would sleep and eat and play and shut out the world and nurture what was just ours. The house--really more of a mansion--was huge and opulent. Plenty of rooms to invite others to join us, once we were ready. But for now, just ours. That night we slept in a tangled heap while the sound of waves lapping the shore drifted through...
