Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
I don't think I could fit a Portuguese water dog into my lifestyle. I'm really busy doing stuff and they need a LOT of attention and activity, so they really should be in a home where they can have a family that's really dedicated to taking care of a dog and doesn't have a lot of other distractions and stuff.
Yeah, I think it's a shame about Bo. I'm afraid he's been set up to fail.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
This is not the rant you think it is. There's nothing new to say about how reprehensible Chris Brown is, or how misguided his victim Rihanna may or may not be.
No, I'm just sayin' that you can't pay me enough to listen to Rihanna's nasal warbling, nor Chris Brown's pop-tart "hip hop" dance crap. Er, I mean, music. It's all terribly bad. Yuck.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
I seriously debated wasting pixels on this slimy piece of garbage. She isn't psychic. She isn't kind-hearted. She isn't well-meaning. She takes advantage of vulnerable people by taking their money and telling them lies. I would not want to be in the same room as this repulsive swindler.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Y'know, I wouldn't have been able to work up some snark about this, but every time I update Firefox, the topic comes up again. "Install Yahoo Toolbar?" No. No, no, no, and NO. I do not want a Yahoo toolbar on my desktop. Stop asking!
It's been a year and eight months since I quit smoking. I still miss the smoking pit camaraderie, even though I don't miss the cough, the upper respiratory infections, the high blood pressure, the stench of the smoke permeating my life, and the expense of the cigarettes themselves. I smell divine, but just because I quit doesn't mean I don't remember. I still consider myself a smoker -- just a non-practicing one. So I can't cast aspersions on smokers who stand around the grocery store door and furtively suck down one more drag before entering the clean air zone. There, but for the grace of Chantix, go I.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Oh! The spider stories I could tell. Most of them are not mine. Why? Because I do not play with spiders! I do not toy with death! Spiders are tasteless slobs! I will not hang out with them, nor will I join any club in which spiders are members or even members-at-large.
Because I am not stuppid.
Well, OK, I will tolerate the spiders that make pretty webs in the autumn. But those are the only ones! The rest of 'em shouldn't be allowed to live in nice neighborhoods. Put that in your HOA rule book and smoke it.
[Also, the biggest screams I ever heard in my entire life were when Amy -- yes, our Amy of this blog -- was about 13 years old. A spider found Amy at the breakfast table and was taking a stroll up Amy's arm to say hello more closely. Amy did not appreciate this overture. Amy can really, really scream.]
Well, I was just looking at this...wait. Ahem. Can I have some water?
Oh, no, don't worry. I'm sure I'll feel better in just a...hrrmph.
Wait. Oh, dear. I'm going to...
pant pant pant
pant pant pant
get it together, Amy
OK, I can finish the post n...GAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Miley Cyrus. Victim of pimp daddy Billy Ray. Only he really is a pimp, and the girl he's got on the street is his own daughter. Makes you wonder why people are still allowed to procreate without a license.
Anyway, I swear I will not contribute to this poor girl's giddy trek toward a Britney Spears-like breakdown. I will not watch the show, I will not listen to the caterwauling they call music, and I will not, not, not see the movie[s]. Enough is enough.
Honest to goodness. She picked our President. Does she really have to give us instructions on what to read?
Actually, I first became irritated with Oprah's Book Club when she put Toni Morrison's fabulous The Bluest Eye on the list. Years before, when I told the local librarian that she needed to get a copy of that book for the library, she declined. But when Oprah picked it? Oh, that librarian couldn't run to the card catalog fast enough, now, could she?
Stupid book club!
I loathe with a passion Apple's stuck up, holier than thou "Genius Bar" concept. The very name is condescending and vainglorious. If I had a Mac (which I did once but don't anymore, thank heaven), I would never in a million years go to any counter with that sign behind it. Genius, my ass. I'd like to take that iPod on a string (is that the modern day mittens pinned to the coat sleeves?) and wrap it around his...oh, never mind. If I want to talk to someone who's a genius, I will not look for one with a sign proclaiming her as such.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
OK, my house is nowhere near as dirty as those houses they show on Clean House. Still, I would never in a million years let cameras into my house to show the world the little bit of clutter I have lying around. What possesses people to let that crew in to photograph their dirty, dirty houses? I'm not judging those who let the clutter get away from them. Been there, done that. I'm judging those who let in TV crews to share it with the world...and comedians to point out the most embarrassing parts of it!
Whether you're in a theme park or strolling the floor of the Las Vegas Convention Center, you should eschew cruel shoes. Here's a hint: If it hurts, the attractiveness quotient is moot.
By the by, BadShoe.com used to be a place where all sorts of painful or painfully funny theme park shoes were cataloged. It's worth a look if you would like to laugh at yesteryear's footwear.