I'm a bad person...

A badass person...'cause I want to do this.

Oh, come on - you don't think that would be fun? Yes, it's glorifying violence, and how do you know the person knows they're being marked for assassination, and it's just wrong, I know, but come on, people. I would totally feel like a really cool movie character and that's way better than feeling like a fat frumpy suburban mother of two.

Plus I would totally kick ass at this assassin thing. Heh.

I got your hate group right here....

Bastards.

Curling hurts.

And would someone please explain curling to me because, sweet (insert deity of your choice), I just can't come up with anything except speed...sweeping? With a stone? On ice? But they don't wear skates? And...help me, my BRAIN IS CRAMPING NOW.

Can't. breathe. Must. reach. books.

I sat and read last night. This is a MIRACLE, people, as it wasn't a text for grad school or the newspaper. Lately I've felt very unsettled and stressed out and realized it's due to lack of reading. I've read daily since the age of five up until the past few years, when my reading has been limited by things like kids, jobs, and school. But I finally realized that reading for me has never been "recreational"; it's essential. So after feeling like my breathing has been hampered for a few years, I finally made the connection and have started drawing in long, deep, satisfying words on a page. Ahhhh....that's better.

So I've decided that it's like my life is an airplane that's losing pressure, and instead of an oxygen mask, a book has dropped out of the ceiling. So I'm pressing it to my face to ensure my own survival first, so then I can turn and help the small children with theirs. Lately I've been pressing books to their faces first and leaving myself gasping. Apparently I'm not good at listening to flight instructions. Or creating effective metaphors.

My heart's desire

Edited: Well, this is annoying. It's supposed to show a little candy heart imprinted with "Stop Bush". I made it here. Apologies for the frustration.

Lucky, fortunate me

Tonight I get to bask in the presence of none other than Jagosaurus.

We are going to dinner and might perhaps have a recreational beverage. And I have a present for her. Which is significant because, while it is a small trifling present, I am typically a horrid friend who does not think to do small gestures. But I am slowly learning late in life to do small gestures. I might create a list of things to do this year that involves sending lovely small trifling presents to you, my in-the-computer friends, if you wish. Let me know.

Jagosaurus, on the other hand, is thoughtful. Exceedingly so. Case in point: while today I am not sporting the fabulous pink pig necklace, most days I do wear it because it is fabulous and thoughtful and of Jagosaurus. And don't even get me started on the Extruded Native American.

And I realize that last paragraph makes us both sound like freaks.

So tonight, tequila and talk of blogging and books and families and my dog, whom she covets and CAN'T HAVE. (Jagosaurus *hearts* Rudy). Rudy is not a small trifling present, and I'll never be that thoughtful.

Oh. Well. Really.

Overheard in the ladies' room at PlaceIWork:

"Ow! Dammit! I hate a dry tampon!"

Damn straight

I have vowed never to use the phrase "You go, girl" in conversation, but....it burst out of me after reading this - sorry, apparently I haven't mastered the intricacies of a simple LINK yet. You have to read past the part about the zombies (how's that for a teaser?)

So cut and paste away...both of you.

http://www.metrotimes.com/editorial/story.asp?id=8853/.


And in breaking news, it snowed so I baked. A lemon-berry shortbread tart. And a meatloaf. Because, I? Got it like that.