We are re-tiling our kitchen counters.
Well, maybe not re-tiling. Re-tiling implies that they have been tiled before. These counters have always been mind-numbingly dull and extremely uninspiring and VERY VERY BEIGE Formica (with Colonial Blue floral-patterned tile back splash).
But now their Reign of Mass Revulsion is at an end. Soon we shall have relief!
We are 'forcefully re-clothing' our counters.
Forcefully.
With force.
And lots of screwdrivers.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
The End of The Evil, Deranged, Troublesome, Very, Very Adolescent Remote
...And why? Because we now have a New Remote.
You may laugh, but this is very exciting to me. After two years of batteries falling out, buttons not working, and general remote-related aggravation, we now have a New Remote.
Monday, January 14, 2008
I have been having a really good time lately, for no real reason at all, except that I am happy, and being happy usually makes me look happy (I can't help it), and looking happy usually makes me feel happy, et cetera.
The only mar in this circle of continuous happiness is that...(deep breath) ...My tall, skinny, Wonder-bread white brother has...(deep breath)...received seven stitches...(deep breath)...for a split chin...(deep breath)...that he got while he was break dancing.
(Falls about laughing uncontrollably).
And in case anyone accuses me of being callous, I would like to point out that my stitches were far greater in number, and the lacerations themselves were inflicted under slightly less ridiculous circumstances.
On the upside, I might persuade him to take up a less dangerous hobby. Like bungee-jumping.
The only mar in this circle of continuous happiness is that...(deep breath) ...My tall, skinny, Wonder-bread white brother has...(deep breath)...received seven stitches...(deep breath)...for a split chin...(deep breath)...that he got while he was break dancing.
(Falls about laughing uncontrollably).
And in case anyone accuses me of being callous, I would like to point out that my stitches were far greater in number, and the lacerations themselves were inflicted under slightly less ridiculous circumstances.
On the upside, I might persuade him to take up a less dangerous hobby. Like bungee-jumping.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
List of Exasperating, Exhilarating, and Just Plain Weird Things That are Happening in My Life Right Now, in No Order Whatsoever, as told by Myself:
1. Was turned down for a job at the Library because of my infernally fabulous choir.
I will admit that the library is not the most exciting place to work, and the salary is all of six bucks an hour, but hey. My first job. It was important to me.
2. I found out that Geisha girls' formal makeup used to be a lead-based mask, but they switched to rice powder after skin and back problems. I thought that was extremely cool. And I must now get some rice powder.
3. I dyed my hair blue. It was rather nice for the first day or so, and then it started fading out, and now it is greenish at the ends. (I sort of thought it looked like Peacock feathers, but I have also heard that it is reminiscent of Ducks and Black Australorpe chickens. Maybe I am just vain.)
4. Mum has started cooking with coconut flour. It is very odd to be eating something white at our house. Normaly, anything that isn't soaked or sprouted or fermented (unless its meat or leafy green veggies, grown by folks two hours away, maximum), isn't eaten at home. White things are barred.
1. Was turned down for a job at the Library because of my infernally fabulous choir.
I will admit that the library is not the most exciting place to work, and the salary is all of six bucks an hour, but hey. My first job. It was important to me.
2. I found out that Geisha girls' formal makeup used to be a lead-based mask, but they switched to rice powder after skin and back problems. I thought that was extremely cool. And I must now get some rice powder.
3. I dyed my hair blue. It was rather nice for the first day or so, and then it started fading out, and now it is greenish at the ends. (I sort of thought it looked like Peacock feathers, but I have also heard that it is reminiscent of Ducks and Black Australorpe chickens. Maybe I am just vain.)
4. Mum has started cooking with coconut flour. It is very odd to be eating something white at our house. Normaly, anything that isn't soaked or sprouted or fermented (unless its meat or leafy green veggies, grown by folks two hours away, maximum), isn't eaten at home. White things are barred.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
A Safe Comment About the Weather
It is gray, and sad, and stormy. The rain alternately pounds the windows and drizzles abjectly down on our bedraggled chickens.
It's one of those days that usually makes me feel warm and cozy, eager cuddle up with a hot water bottle, to read a good book and sip a cup of something.
Today, however, is a day to be grouchy, pessimistic, and cynical (the last two are NOT the same, just conveniently similar). A day to wear lots of black and eye makeup and talk in a slow, defeated voice.
Even my cat has taken refuge indoors, no doubt confused by the very confusing weather: Yesterday, it was sunny, slightly humid, and 69 degrees in the shade (though there wasn't a lot of it). Today, it is thoroughly dismal and dreary, forlorn and 42.
What ever has happened to our sub-tropical climate? Has El Ninio finally moved against us? Have the Snow Gods had a change of heart? Or maybe we'll wake next morning to find that it was just a fluke, or maybe a nasty trick played on us by those Floridians...
It's one of those days that usually makes me feel warm and cozy, eager cuddle up with a hot water bottle, to read a good book and sip a cup of something.
Today, however, is a day to be grouchy, pessimistic, and cynical (the last two are NOT the same, just conveniently similar). A day to wear lots of black and eye makeup and talk in a slow, defeated voice.
Even my cat has taken refuge indoors, no doubt confused by the very confusing weather: Yesterday, it was sunny, slightly humid, and 69 degrees in the shade (though there wasn't a lot of it). Today, it is thoroughly dismal and dreary, forlorn and 42.
What ever has happened to our sub-tropical climate? Has El Ninio finally moved against us? Have the Snow Gods had a change of heart? Or maybe we'll wake next morning to find that it was just a fluke, or maybe a nasty trick played on us by those Floridians...
Saturday, December 22, 2007
This is a historic day in world history.
In a good way.
On this cold and blustery Saturday in December, 2007, at 3:10 in the afternoon, it was found that EVERY SINGLE CHICKEN WE OWN IS LAYING!!!
Now, I know that we only have nine girls, but five of them are pullets.
And four of them are old, crabby ladies.
Green eggs, brown eggs, speckled eggs, big eggs, small eggs.
And the rest of Dr. Seus' books.
And ALL OF THEM ARE LAYING!!!
In a good way.
On this cold and blustery Saturday in December, 2007, at 3:10 in the afternoon, it was found that EVERY SINGLE CHICKEN WE OWN IS LAYING!!!
Now, I know that we only have nine girls, but five of them are pullets.
And four of them are old, crabby ladies.
Green eggs, brown eggs, speckled eggs, big eggs, small eggs.
And the rest of Dr. Seus' books.
And ALL OF THEM ARE LAYING!!!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Today's news was earth-shattering, to say the least.
It was completely and totally unexpected. I have lost all faith in the human race. There is just nothing to believe in anymore.
And yet, it is true.
Somebody had apparently forgotten to tell our poor, naive radio networks that there are STEROIDS IN BASEBALL.
Shocking. Absolutely shocking.
Yes, the Mitchell Report has now been released.
Perhaps people will go back to eating the Red-Hots that are served at Baseball stadiums. It looks like they have fewer artificial ingredients than the players.
It was completely and totally unexpected. I have lost all faith in the human race. There is just nothing to believe in anymore.
And yet, it is true.
Somebody had apparently forgotten to tell our poor, naive radio networks that there are STEROIDS IN BASEBALL.
Shocking. Absolutely shocking.
Yes, the Mitchell Report has now been released.
Perhaps people will go back to eating the Red-Hots that are served at Baseball stadiums. It looks like they have fewer artificial ingredients than the players.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Fame can be so tiring. Someone discovers that under your pretense of mediocrity, there lurks an undiscovered Above-Average Person, and then it's nothing but work, work, work. That's why I'm usually an under-achiever: give them mediocrity all the time, and they'll be much more interested when you eventually display your true Above-Average Qualities. Alas, my dear masses, I have been displaying Above-Average Posting Habits for far too long, and just look at what's happened: Above Average is what you now expect.
After much petitioning from the Above-Average masses, I have decided that it is in my best interests to write an Above-Average post.
Mediocrely, of course.
My choir sang at Duke Chapel on Sunday, and it was very beautiful, and the acoustics were incredible, and the preacher-man had lots of very pretty white hair. We sang our Christmas Concert Repertoire and what felt like the entire hymnal, but it was a nice hymnal, so. That was good.
There is a podcast on the Duke Chapel website of us singing, and it is almost perfect, except that you can't hear Alicia's harp. So for some of the songs, there is silence where it is not supposed to be silent, but it sort of works.
After Duke, my dad drove me downtown, where there is a tour of historic houses every year. This year, most of the houses seemed to be as yet unfinished, but there was 411 Oakwood, with it's French Doors flanked by upside-down Christmas trees, and 523 Bloodworth, the Art Deco house with a bathtub set on illuminated blue glass cubes.
My mum sang with her a Capella group, Domestic Harmony, and they were lovely. I felt like I should be dressed in period costume and sipping tea.
That evening, my friends came over, and we had some Serious Soup, and Kasha-nut loaf, and Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie and Mulled Wine.
Today, I have been looking at different college websites, and growing steadily more depressed as I think about what the requirements are, what they will be, and what I will be able to get
done.
Are you masses appeased yet?
After much petitioning from the Above-Average masses, I have decided that it is in my best interests to write an Above-Average post.
Mediocrely, of course.
My choir sang at Duke Chapel on Sunday, and it was very beautiful, and the acoustics were incredible, and the preacher-man had lots of very pretty white hair. We sang our Christmas Concert Repertoire and what felt like the entire hymnal, but it was a nice hymnal, so. That was good.
There is a podcast on the Duke Chapel website of us singing, and it is almost perfect, except that you can't hear Alicia's harp. So for some of the songs, there is silence where it is not supposed to be silent, but it sort of works.
After Duke, my dad drove me downtown, where there is a tour of historic houses every year. This year, most of the houses seemed to be as yet unfinished, but there was 411 Oakwood, with it's French Doors flanked by upside-down Christmas trees, and 523 Bloodworth, the Art Deco house with a bathtub set on illuminated blue glass cubes.
My mum sang with her a Capella group, Domestic Harmony, and they were lovely. I felt like I should be dressed in period costume and sipping tea.
That evening, my friends came over, and we had some Serious Soup, and Kasha-nut loaf, and Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie and Mulled Wine.
Today, I have been looking at different college websites, and growing steadily more depressed as I think about what the requirements are, what they will be, and what I will be able to get
done.
Are you masses appeased yet?
Friday, November 23, 2007
There's Just Gotta Be A Morning After...
Hello, dears! Having fun nursing your post-thanksgiving turkey-induced stupors?
It is tradition in my family to go down to Kinston (only we pronounce it kein-stun) and be embraced in the bosom of our family (or, well, our Kin) while a pig cooks in the grille, and eat Cole slaw (with sugar), marinated bean salad (with sugar), cooked down greens (with sugar) and various "sugarless" deserts (with Splenda).
The day after Thanksgiving, we eat our Turkey, our Cranberry-Onion Compote, our Sweet Potato Casserole with lemon, our stuffing and our dressing, and (O, glory of glories! O most perfect perfection!) the Pumpkin Pie.
Then we watch M*A*S*H, entertain ideas of watching Home for the Holidays, and think about what we ought to do next Thanksgiving.
All that to say, the pilgrims probably didn't know what they were getting us into when they boarded the Mayflower.
But I can think of a dozen Turkey dinners that would mean a lot less without them.
Happy Thanksgiving!
It is tradition in my family to go down to Kinston (only we pronounce it kein-stun) and be embraced in the bosom of our family (or, well, our Kin) while a pig cooks in the grille, and eat Cole slaw (with sugar), marinated bean salad (with sugar), cooked down greens (with sugar) and various "sugarless" deserts (with Splenda).
The day after Thanksgiving, we eat our Turkey, our Cranberry-Onion Compote, our Sweet Potato Casserole with lemon, our stuffing and our dressing, and (O, glory of glories! O most perfect perfection!) the Pumpkin Pie.
Then we watch M*A*S*H, entertain ideas of watching Home for the Holidays, and think about what we ought to do next Thanksgiving.
All that to say, the pilgrims probably didn't know what they were getting us into when they boarded the Mayflower.
But I can think of a dozen Turkey dinners that would mean a lot less without them.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Falling thoughts...
1. One year from today, a nation-wide presidential election will take place, employing all of America's favorite pastimes: bribery, gain of power, prestige, and status, and, of course, Political Scandals. For yea! We must uphold the Noble American Way of Life.
2. It's hunting season.
Again.
Time to thin the Union of Non-Edible Animals, which have grown WAY to big for this town, thanks to the overpopulation of Here, the next China.
And besides, dead animals make lovely Thanksgiving centerpieces. Just think of those conversation-starters, "yeah, so I was driving down the street one day..."
And the terror you shall inspire! "Hey, kids! Guess what were having for dinner this year!"
3. It's time to turn those clocks wacky for an hour, just like we did last year. Unless of course, you live in Arizona or Hawaii. A pox upon thee. You people who live in warm, tropical places know nothing of the cold darkness we poor, semi-northern chaps and chapettes are forced feel for six out of every twelve months. Fie to thee, I cry! May a thousand frosts plague your black coral and bolo ties!
4. I believe that it is a manly instinct brought on by the cold weather that awakens the urge to grow a beard (even though your wife hates facial hair), chop loads of firewood (even though it's 75 out and you've had gas logs since you moved in), and hunt deer (even though you'd only shoot yourself in the foot and scare away the game).
My dad has similar testosterone-induced urges, but they verge on sanity, a fact I attribute to all the estrogen my mum and I produce: wearing flannel, brewing beer, and napping with a wool blanket on Sunday afternoons.
2. It's hunting season.
Again.
Time to thin the Union of Non-Edible Animals, which have grown WAY to big for this town, thanks to the overpopulation of Here, the next China.
And besides, dead animals make lovely Thanksgiving centerpieces. Just think of those conversation-starters, "yeah, so I was driving down the street one day..."
And the terror you shall inspire! "Hey, kids! Guess what were having for dinner this year!"
3. It's time to turn those clocks wacky for an hour, just like we did last year. Unless of course, you live in Arizona or Hawaii. A pox upon thee. You people who live in warm, tropical places know nothing of the cold darkness we poor, semi-northern chaps and chapettes are forced feel for six out of every twelve months. Fie to thee, I cry! May a thousand frosts plague your black coral and bolo ties!
4. I believe that it is a manly instinct brought on by the cold weather that awakens the urge to grow a beard (even though your wife hates facial hair), chop loads of firewood (even though it's 75 out and you've had gas logs since you moved in), and hunt deer (even though you'd only shoot yourself in the foot and scare away the game).
My dad has similar testosterone-induced urges, but they verge on sanity, a fact I attribute to all the estrogen my mum and I produce: wearing flannel, brewing beer, and napping with a wool blanket on Sunday afternoons.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
My little-little brother is going down the street to collect free candy from strangers.
My big-little brother is trick-or-treating with a Scarlet-French-Maid-Woman of the Evening. (And that will only make sense to you if you have a reliable thesaurus and a twisted imagination.)
And me? I am sitting at home, with my mum, filling up the house with lots of nice Estrogen, and wondering why in heavens' name my parents let my brothers out of the house while they were still minors.
Why, oh why, did my parents have to have boys?
I think I'll make some hot chocolate...
My big-little brother is trick-or-treating with a Scarlet-French-Maid-Woman of the Evening. (And that will only make sense to you if you have a reliable thesaurus and a twisted imagination.)
And me? I am sitting at home, with my mum, filling up the house with lots of nice Estrogen, and wondering why in heavens' name my parents let my brothers out of the house while they were still minors.
Why, oh why, did my parents have to have boys?
I think I'll make some hot chocolate...
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Well, it's time.
Time to finally bite the bullet. Time to get it done and out of the way.
Homicide lawyers, be at the ready.
I have never been at the receiving end of this particular peice of advice, so I'll be quick, so as to damage my cringing reputation as a non-licensed personage little as possible: all you innocents out there, stay off the sidewalks.
I'm doing Driver's Ed next week.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Time to finally bite the bullet. Time to get it done and out of the way.
Homicide lawyers, be at the ready.
I have never been at the receiving end of this particular peice of advice, so I'll be quick, so as to damage my cringing reputation as a non-licensed personage little as possible: all you innocents out there, stay off the sidewalks.
I'm doing Driver's Ed next week.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
I know I haven't been writing very much lately, but that is simply the cross I bear for theatre. Now that the most recent of Fabulous Productions is over, I can once again give you my undivided attention! Aren't you lucky!
'What's in a Name' was stupendous. It was more of a musical review, rather than a play, and the songs were fantastic!
I won't say it was perfectly perfect, but considering that we had all of fourteen rehearsals, it went really, really well.
I was a little nervous at first, since this production was also at Franklin Academy (and we all know what happened last time), but after a few rehearsals of not walking into anybody and hitting my notes every time, I was sufficiently relaxed to do the great and wonderful job I have always done.
(Oh, yeah.)
And this Saturday (the 13th) from about 12:30-1:00, down by the gazebo in downtown Wake Forest, the Theatre Maniacs will be performing selections from 'What's in a Name', including mum's rendition of 'In Buddy's Eyes', Gilly's 'Rose's Turn', and Morgain's 'Notice Me, Horton'.
(And-horay!-ME!!)
I know this post isn't up to my usual standards, but I'm a busy dame, and I've simply got to see a man about a dog...
'What's in a Name' was stupendous. It was more of a musical review, rather than a play, and the songs were fantastic!
I won't say it was perfectly perfect, but considering that we had all of fourteen rehearsals, it went really, really well.
I was a little nervous at first, since this production was also at Franklin Academy (and we all know what happened last time), but after a few rehearsals of not walking into anybody and hitting my notes every time, I was sufficiently relaxed to do the great and wonderful job I have always done.
(Oh, yeah.)
And this Saturday (the 13th) from about 12:30-1:00, down by the gazebo in downtown Wake Forest, the Theatre Maniacs will be performing selections from 'What's in a Name', including mum's rendition of 'In Buddy's Eyes', Gilly's 'Rose's Turn', and Morgain's 'Notice Me, Horton'.
(And-horay!-ME!!)
I know this post isn't up to my usual standards, but I'm a busy dame, and I've simply got to see a man about a dog...
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Today is Rachel's 14th birthday.
Well, okay, today is Rachel's 14th birthday party. I really don't know when her birthday is. (Which is a really rotten thing, seeing as I've known her for so darn long.)
We are going out to the Eno river to wade and swim and feast on Carob Chews and probably catch hypothermia, but blast if we aren't going to have a fabulous time!
In other news, Mum, Eamon and I are slated to perform in the Theatre Maniacs (a name to inspire confidence) new musical review, What's in a Name, at Franklin Academy on October 6 and 7 at 7:00, and October 8 at 1:00 and 7:00. Judging from my EXTREMELY abused knees, it shall be quite a show. Eamon and I don't have any solos, but we do some cute chorus parts, and Mum does a solo piece.
Everyone: please, please, PLEASE come, or Koko will unleash her wrath. She claims to be very wrathful. I don't know how she does it with a name like Koko, but I've been told that actors can be deceiving, and I can never face wrath unless I have a full house.
Well, okay, today is Rachel's 14th birthday party. I really don't know when her birthday is. (Which is a really rotten thing, seeing as I've known her for so darn long.)
We are going out to the Eno river to wade and swim and feast on Carob Chews and probably catch hypothermia, but blast if we aren't going to have a fabulous time!
In other news, Mum, Eamon and I are slated to perform in the Theatre Maniacs (a name to inspire confidence) new musical review, What's in a Name, at Franklin Academy on October 6 and 7 at 7:00, and October 8 at 1:00 and 7:00. Judging from my EXTREMELY abused knees, it shall be quite a show. Eamon and I don't have any solos, but we do some cute chorus parts, and Mum does a solo piece.
Everyone: please, please, PLEASE come, or Koko will unleash her wrath. She claims to be very wrathful. I don't know how she does it with a name like Koko, but I've been told that actors can be deceiving, and I can never face wrath unless I have a full house.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Happy Autumn Equinox!
Today is supposedly the only day of the year that you can balance a raw egg on its pointy end. (However, it should be noted that you really can do this any day of the year, if you have the patience for it.)
Today also happens to be the day that the earth's tilt toward the sun causes static to all the satellites in orbit. So we can all say what we really want to on the phone! Yay! Isn't that exciting?
Today is supposedly the only day of the year that you can balance a raw egg on its pointy end. (However, it should be noted that you really can do this any day of the year, if you have the patience for it.)
Today also happens to be the day that the earth's tilt toward the sun causes static to all the satellites in orbit. So we can all say what we really want to on the phone! Yay! Isn't that exciting?
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Yesterday, it was a balmy 79 degrees. The sun was shining, the birds were twittering, I was wondering when I should get my Winter Wardrobe out of the attic, and contemplating a glass of iced coffee.
Today, it is a frigid 71, there is a cold sun out, my winter wardrobe is taking up the better part of my room, and the iced coffee I made is giving me hypothermia.
And so, fall is upon us. Whatever shall we do next?
I see it on the horizon, a Winter Season of faux-shearling-lined coats, insulated gloves, and J. Peterman's Le Chameau Rubber Boots (wellies with class. And lining).
Meanwhile, I am readying myself for the immanent delight of the following Winter must-haves:
1. Mincemeat. All right, I've never actually had mincemeat, but I really want some. It seems like it's a really great thing. I mean, why else would they make such a big deal of it in 'State Fair'? It just has to be good.
2. Bonfires. Or any kind of outdoor fire, actually. Heck, it can be a Chimeneya as long as you have The Token Guitar Player, hot cider/mulled wine, and a box of strike-anywhere matches.
3. Popcorn and hot chocolate. Which is good anytime of the year actually, but it is just one of those things you NEED any time from September through March.
4. Siting on the dryer with a good book. Something you can't do very comfortably in the heat of summer. And if there's a warm, fuzzy cat on your lap, so much the better. Note: not a good place to fall asleep.
Today, it is a frigid 71, there is a cold sun out, my winter wardrobe is taking up the better part of my room, and the iced coffee I made is giving me hypothermia.
And so, fall is upon us. Whatever shall we do next?
I see it on the horizon, a Winter Season of faux-shearling-lined coats, insulated gloves, and J. Peterman's Le Chameau Rubber Boots (wellies with class. And lining).
Meanwhile, I am readying myself for the immanent delight of the following Winter must-haves:
1. Mincemeat. All right, I've never actually had mincemeat, but I really want some. It seems like it's a really great thing. I mean, why else would they make such a big deal of it in 'State Fair'? It just has to be good.
2. Bonfires. Or any kind of outdoor fire, actually. Heck, it can be a Chimeneya as long as you have The Token Guitar Player, hot cider/mulled wine, and a box of strike-anywhere matches.
3. Popcorn and hot chocolate. Which is good anytime of the year actually, but it is just one of those things you NEED any time from September through March.
4. Siting on the dryer with a good book. Something you can't do very comfortably in the heat of summer. And if there's a warm, fuzzy cat on your lap, so much the better. Note: not a good place to fall asleep.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
I went to the Bodies exhibit at the mall on Friday.
I loved it. Really.
I don't know why, but a bunch of plasticized bodies and parts of plasticized bodies don't freak me out. I was a lot more fine with it than I thought I was going to be.
The only problem I had with it, was that the brain was beige.
I hate beige.
Think of it: we're sending the next generation out into the world with beige brains. Who would be so cruel as to award this center of reason the altogether loathsome color beige??
Perhaps it was juvenile of me (okay, it was definitely juvenile of me), but I had always cherished the dream that perhaps, in actuality, my brain was green, or blue, or teal.
Other than that, I found the entire thing enjoyable, informative, and entertaining.
My mum, on the other hand, went MIA the entire two hours we were there.
At least, that's what I was told. At the time, I was freakishly absorbed in staring at this brain with all the tendons and nerves coming out of it and the spinal cord hanging down, and the eyeballs popping out of it.
And then there were the veins: all the veins and arteries were injected with this plasticky stuff, then the rest of the body was chemically removed and all you had left was this fine, delicate network of brightly-colored plasticky stuff, floating around in tanks of water like day-glo coral.
It wasn't just a piece of a body anymore. It was art.
I loved it. Really.
I don't know why, but a bunch of plasticized bodies and parts of plasticized bodies don't freak me out. I was a lot more fine with it than I thought I was going to be.
The only problem I had with it, was that the brain was beige.
I hate beige.
Think of it: we're sending the next generation out into the world with beige brains. Who would be so cruel as to award this center of reason the altogether loathsome color beige??
Perhaps it was juvenile of me (okay, it was definitely juvenile of me), but I had always cherished the dream that perhaps, in actuality, my brain was green, or blue, or teal.
Other than that, I found the entire thing enjoyable, informative, and entertaining.
My mum, on the other hand, went MIA the entire two hours we were there.
At least, that's what I was told. At the time, I was freakishly absorbed in staring at this brain with all the tendons and nerves coming out of it and the spinal cord hanging down, and the eyeballs popping out of it.
And then there were the veins: all the veins and arteries were injected with this plasticky stuff, then the rest of the body was chemically removed and all you had left was this fine, delicate network of brightly-colored plasticky stuff, floating around in tanks of water like day-glo coral.
It wasn't just a piece of a body anymore. It was art.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Dear person or persons whom I have irrevocably failed and/or disappointed,
Facebook is evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.
I really did try to sign up. I really did. My very best. You won't hate me forever, will you?
See, it just rejected me. I think it's because I'm a confessed member of Autodidacts Anonymous. They just hate homeschoolers. The System is trying to bring me down!...In fact, it's succeeding!
Facebook is evil. That is just all there is to it.
With too many apologies,
Me
Facebook is evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.
I really did try to sign up. I really did. My very best. You won't hate me forever, will you?
See, it just rejected me. I think it's because I'm a confessed member of Autodidacts Anonymous. They just hate homeschoolers. The System is trying to bring me down!...In fact, it's succeeding!
Facebook is evil. That is just all there is to it.
With too many apologies,
Me
Thursday, August 23, 2007
The Summer has come.
It has come up to terrorize our gardens. It has bred many thunderstorms, but not nearly enough. It has evaporated our pools, fogged our glasses. It has dried up our reservours, killed our chickens, and gunned down many a resolution for Summer Fitness with its tempting array of cold and frozen sugary treats.
And the Summer has gone.
And with it, every friend I have over the age of 18.
I wish every one good luck for the coming year. And the nicest and most understanding of roommates, and very good cafeteria food, and very nice dorm rooms and fridges and professors and classrooms and whatever else you need.
Till next time...
It has come up to terrorize our gardens. It has bred many thunderstorms, but not nearly enough. It has evaporated our pools, fogged our glasses. It has dried up our reservours, killed our chickens, and gunned down many a resolution for Summer Fitness with its tempting array of cold and frozen sugary treats.
And the Summer has gone.
And with it, every friend I have over the age of 18.
I wish every one good luck for the coming year. And the nicest and most understanding of roommates, and very good cafeteria food, and very nice dorm rooms and fridges and professors and classrooms and whatever else you need.
Till next time...
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