I dunno, I thought it was funny... Archives | Page 1 of 4
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Monday, April 14, 2008
I can only laugh because it wasn't [shudder] a centipede
(Seriously, just typing that subject line is making my body feel funny. I'd go delete it but then I'd have to look at it.)
This afternoon we were taking the dog on our usual stroll to the mailbox (which, sadly, DOES NOT COUNT as exercise, even though it's a quarter of a mile each way) when we noticed that Smokey had a lizard. Now, we live in the country, hope to have a garden, and possess fruit and nut trees. Hence, there are a few kinds of small animals whose consumption by Smokey we at least ignore, if not actively encourage. (Gophers, I am looking at you.) But all lizards are protected species as far as we are concerned, and they're also bad for cats, so I got Smokey to let go of the poor thing, and it promptly disappeared. I was ruffling the grass trying to make sure that it got far enough away before I let go of the cat, when I felt a suspicious... tickling sensation... on my shin. Which was and is covered by my jeans. No way, I thought. That only happens in movies.
And, apparently, in my front yard.
I don't mind reptiles; except for venomous ones, I actually really like them. This doesn't mean, though, that I didn't yelp a little bit at this point while engaging in a very silly-looking one-legged Lizard Dislodging Dance, to the immense amusement of my children. The lizard made good his escape (at this point, he probably wished the cat had just gone ahead and finished him off), fortunately before I had to resort to the removal of any clothing, which would have traumatized everyone concerned including the lizard, the cat, and the dog. Not to mention any neighbors who might have happened to drive by.
Moral of the story: This is why tapered jeans with (artfully mismatched) socks over the zippered cuffs should have stayed in fashion.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
conversation at my house, ca. 1996-2001
xkcd: nerdy. hilarious. (and frequently way over my head.)
Monday, February 04, 2008
four things
Thing one:
Crate training proceeds apace. I can see a tiny light of sanity at the end of the tunnel. (This dog, T points out, has cost us more than a vacation to the beach would have. More than we spent on our first child in his first, oh, three or four years of life. More than I could have reasonably spent in an absolutely dizzying expedition to a bookstore. Or, to get all practical and also to tie in a reference to my other current obsession, possibly more than it would cost to have our driveway graded. She had better plan on saving someone's life, Lassie-fashion, at some point.)
She has just emerged with a very guilty expression from my bedroom. I had better not find any dog-logs in there, missy.
Thing two:
C is sick. She is puky, and flushed but so far not feverish. Poor princess. Here's hoping it's a 12-hour bug. (And also that I don't get it, because tomorrow is a Very Important Night in history class, and also who would take the dog out to poop?)
Thing three:
looklooklooklooklooklooklook:
Not even a single solitary chance of rain. BLISS. I am no longer a person who loves winter. I cannot wait for spring. Heck, I cannot wait until I'm taking the dog for a walk at 8:30 in the evening in a tank top and capris, instead of freezing my toes off in my jammies, jacket, and canvas shoes taking her out for her morning potty. (seriously, we will need some more moisture before the annual drought sets in or we'll all catch on fire around Labor Day. But a break is going to be very very nice.)
Thing four:
HEE.
Monday, November 12, 2007
letting other people write the jokes for me
Whenever I'm short on blog material, I can always turn to my search stats. Behold a small sampling of the ways in which people accidentally find themselves at my webpage. I am sorry, accidental webpage-finders, for the terrible disappointment that must have confronted you when my page loaded.
what is the name of the school that goose wants the phone number of in top gun?
Oh, now that takes me back. I haven't watched that movie in years. T has it on VHS; maybe I'll watch it the next time the kids aren't around. Which is -- oh. Never. (I don't actually know the answer to this, but I can picture the scene in my head. Most people associate Anthony Edwards with whatever medical drama show it was that he was on; I still picture him as Goose. Also, Patrick Dempsey will always be that cute little nerd-boy in Can't Buy Me Love. I live in a popular-culture time-warp bubble, people.)
boring blog
Hey, at least this person found what s/he was looking for.
terminology for cough whizzing
I think they meant 'wheezing'. But I must confess, since having babies and reaching my 30s, I'm not entirely sure.
crochet marijuana
This phrase is always popular in my search stat listings. Do people crochet... with marijuana? Or are they hoping to crochet a replica somehow? [scratches head.]
how do you spell subtly
very, very quietly.
what do u call the white puffy thing you put on a cooked turkey
I... do not know. I have no clue. I can't even picture this.
izzy willy nilly cheat essay
Well, at least they're upfront about it. Come on, people, do your own homework! It's not that hard.
mr.collins repulsive
My thoughts exactly.
im going crazy over you wile your locked up poems
Words fail.
craving the smell of gasoline
and again.
how straighten icicle lights
Good luck. You might google "how solve mideast crisis"; you'd have more success.
embarrassing stuff
YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
three things
Thing I don't understand: Knitted food. I mean, more power to you and no offense intended if you're into that sort of thing, but for me personally, well, I'd rather make real food. Which I can then eat. It just seems like forty years from now, the grandchildren of this generation's knitters will be going through their grandmothers' attics, find knitted bagels with lox, and laugh uproariously. (note: LT says it would be nice for a centerpiece, instead of just using fake fruit. Not that you'll see a centerpiece any more complicated than a Styrofoam cup of wildflowers at OUR house -- in fact, I'm having a hard time figuring out where he has ever seen a fake fruit centerpiece -- but I digress. And I stand by my attic statement, regardless of LT's opinion.)
Thing that annoyed me: T went to a going-away party last night for one of his coworkers. It was held one of the two swanky restaurants in town, all California cuisine, and balsamic vinegar and olive oil for your bread instead of butter, and $15 for the very absolute cheapest thing on the rather limited menu, and such things. We ate there once a few years ago when it was new, and pretty much made a solemn compact never to return. Roped into violating this compact, T ordered the aforementioned least-expensive item on the menu and drank water. Which ended up being a complete waste because the other people ordered filet mignon and wine and who knows what all else and then dumped everything into one check and divided it up. So T ended up paying $42 for his $15 item. Oh well, it's only money. It's not like there's a shortage of that or anything.
Thing that made me laugh uproariously and yet also as subtly as possible: C's latest poem. I'm pretty sure she would short-sheet my bed if she knew I was sharing this with all of you, and I may delete this bit later once my regular readers have had their opportunity to enjoy it, but I just can't resist. This is what comes of C riding home in the car whilst thinking about recent history lessons on the French and Indian Wars, I guess.
Seat Belts (And the Indian)
by C
If you were in a car
and in that car you were driving far
If you did not wear seat belts and you stopped suddenly
out you would fly
the world flying by
An Indian comes out of a cave
And says I'll scalp you to the grave
(A) You just play and have fun
(B) You run
Answer (B), you run and yell
that Indian will surely go to Hell
Seat belts are important
Especially for infants.
This public service announcement brough to you by the "Wear a Seatbelt Or Get Scalped" ad campaign. No Indians were harmed during the production of this poem.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
hee!
Sometimes funny things happen when you alphabetize your playlist. I swear this was not staged at all.
Maybe it's the kind of thing whose humor is more evident late at night.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
The parable of the lost... filters?
Which of you, if she have a thousand-dollar camera and a very nice flash and spare batteries and also four lenses, and who have photographic filters in three different sizes, and compact flash cards and a cleaning kit and a spare camera and a large camera bag, and if she lose three of the filters which hath a cash value of approximately $120 and which fit thy precious wide-angle Tokina lens and also thy spare camera, will not wail and bemoan thy wretched stupid carelessness for many weeks, and who will not mourn at thy inability to take proper pictures of clouds or darken a scene, and will not look in every nook and cranny and also check several lost-and-found boxes for the filters which have gone astray?
And which of you, if after many days of mourning thou shouldst find the filters tucked away safely in thy spare small camera bag, will not leap gleefully in the air and shout, "YES!", touching thy head against the ceiling fan (which, thanks be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, was not turned 'on') in thy joy?
Verily I say to you, likewise shall be the joy in heaven over a sinner who repents, even more than the camera bag full of sinners who were not lost.
Monday, August 29, 2005
School poem
This is the result of our Crazy Lib for today. (Mad Libs are a huge part of the reason that I ever learned parts of speech; what better tradition to carry on in my own personal private school?)
Without further ado:
by Alfred Noyes
(with a little help from the students of Liberty Christian Academy)
The clock was a torrent of pain among the thin trees,
The fork was a squeaky tank tossed upon stinky seas.
The book was a ribbon of moonlight over the pink moor,
And the garbage gatherer came flipping,
Flipping, flipping,
The garbage gatherer came flipping, up to the heavy inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his skull, a ton of paper at his chin,
A steak of the claret velvet, and breeches of windy doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His bombs were up to the thigh!
And he ran with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilts a-twinkle, under the slippery sky.
And over the stairs he clattered and melted in the silly inn-yard.
And he cuddled with his horse on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the boy, and who should be falling there
But the landlord's black-eyed warrior,
Herbert, the landlord's warrior,
Pushing a dark purple toy into [his] long lavender hair.
-- Corrupted excerpt from "The Highwayman," by Alfred Noyes.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
a pleasant little surprise
Remember a couple of weeks ago I mentioned in a post that our school had had these "substance free" signs, and taken them all down before I got a picture of one? Well, I was walking through the elementary school tonight, and lo and behold, there one was.
Not only does it cast a bit of doubt on the depth and scope of elementary education, it's also another great example of why not to use double-negatives.
Also, just across the street from the school, there's this:
What I think is especially funny is the sign over the door that says "Grandpapa's Place". Um, how sweet!
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
things about today
- T was off work yesterday because his back was (is) out. This means that I keep forgetting that it's Tuesday -- which is not only the day I pay bills, but also, in this particular instance, my mother's birthday; good thing that I remembered long enough to at least have C call her at work.
- I really feel like going for a walk, except
- it is so hot out that the cooler is barely keeping up at 9:00 in the morning. Way to go with the abrupt change of seasons, there, God. I'm sure you have a fantastic reason for it. We'll adjust. Thanks.
- My feet still hurt from wearing high heels (yes, the cute black-and-white ones) at a chorus concert last night. This is the closest I ever get to feeling the effects of hard partying in the morning. Whew, yeah, that was a wild one.
- C, who says she is "Anakin's little sister", is taking apart the works from her light-up-vibrating-head-song-playing duck. Or actually, it's my duck. She has itty bitty screws all over the couch and she is really intent on fixing the head-vibration function. I'm kind of hoping she messes the whole thing up, since I got tired of the "squeeze here for a computer-chip rendering of a familiar song" stuffed-animal gimmick about three seconds after it was invented. Chances are, however, that she'll actually fix it. Drat.
- We are thinking about renting out the apartment we use for school and guests (but not the garage underneath it). Eek! This is because we are also thinking about buying this house, and that would enable us to do it. Double Eek! No, wait, triple Eek!
- I am a bad, bad girl, because I'm on the computer without having done my Bible reading first. Someone smack me.
- OK, while you're at it, smack me for all the other days I've done that too. Which is, these days, pretty much every day. Sigh.
- I am shuddering in disgust already at the google hits I'm going to get from having "smack me" and "high-heeled" in the same paragraph. GO AWAY SCARY GOOGLERS. NOTHING TO SEE HERE.
I dunno, I thought it was funny... Archives | Page 1 of 4
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