Forgive me, LJ. It has been three months since my last confession.
Time has really slipped past me. I’ll spare you some of the Christmas whinging as that is so last year…
1 in 200 Women Say They’ve Had a Virgin Pregnancy: http://yhoo.it/1dPsJwS Ooookay.
It wasn’t something I needed, thought it a bit extravagant, but I will admit that I sure enjoy my new latte maker. Best part? It was a gift!
More structural rewrites are in my future. I had so hoped this one was good to go.
If only my name was Felicia. Then I could change my Twitter handle for the season to Felicia Navidad.
So now of course I’m earworming Feliz Navidad.
My new most-hated phrase: “Clear all the jelly!
So beautiful! Worth sitting through the annoying ad.
Having occupied my office chair for 4 hours I will now go to lunch. 4 hours after that I will be off for 9 blessed days.
Ooookay. Candy Crush has now moved beyond divertissement to obsession.
My cousin’s Christmas gift to me: coming to take care of Mom while I have knee surgery. God bless you, Francie.
Note from March: there’s an unhappy ending to this story.
I still think the Miami Heat’s logo looks like a flaming butternut squash.
One half of the gay couple who married on the Rose Parade float was a former hair dresser of mine. I’m thrilled for him!
I hate cutting characters out of stories even when I know it’s necessary. I feel like I’m denying them there chance at the limelight.
You know that thing where you’re unintentionally full of shite, where bad memory and public pronouncement collide? That thing.
This guy! who flew his plane under the Eiffel Tower to chase and shoot down a Nazi:
Mom had some issues at dialysis last night so we had an outpatient procedure this morning. Home again. Everything’s fine.
Michael Easton on General Hospital always reminds me of Dr. Drake Ramore.
Back in the ER again. This week is a clusterf*ck.
Mom’s CAT scan was OK so the hospital kicked her loose late yesterday afternoon so I could take her to dialysis. I was not pleased. We didn’t get home from dialysis until after 10 and Mom was hurting. I had to do two hour watches on her all night long to make sure the head wound didn’t go south. But she’s doing much better than we had any right to expect. She’s got a 4 cm cut on the back of her head and 10 wee. She fell in the street when the transport guy came to pick her up to take her to the clinic.
I used to live 2 blocks from here in 79 (and other inane facts)—Venice Beach, 1979: http://twitter.com/History_Pics/status/421099026046808064/photo/1pic.twitter.com/i6p2z7Jwoy ”
A vivid and profound dream last night. Clearly a message from Self to self, but I haven’t quite figured out all it was trying to tell me.
A belief which keeps you prisoner in a life you hate should be done away with. It is not a thing of the Spirit, it is an aberration of Man.
All Ma wanted to do today was watch football and all I wanted to do was read philosophy. What a ridiculous conundrum.
I think Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber should date. Then the gossip media mill would implode and none of us would have to listen anymore.
So I says to my friend, “If the Apocalypse comes, I’m going to shelter in place and let it get me.” I’m not cut out for dystopia.
I’ve getting so tired of manufactured crises. I’m tired of the real ones, too, but the manufactured ones are really wearing thin.
I’m a committed mediocritist. It’s exhausting trying not to do better, but I can’t compromise my principles.
It’s official: I get my bionic knee on March 20.
Note from March: As previously stated, this may not be true.
CCF is one of the most decent people in FSF. RT @Catrambo Charles Coleman Finlay produces some tips for rejectomancy. http://ccfinlay.com/blog/nectar-for-rejectomancers.html … …
If you believe in the possibility of a fair trial in Italy, read The Monster of Florence by Preston & Spezi. Their legal system is a joke.
I think my cat is as likely to answer to “You little t*rd” as she is to Min.
RIP Philip Seymour Hoffman. Stunning. Heartbreaking.
Actually, I’m not really having knee surgery in March, I’m headed here.
Note from March: In fact…
The rages come out of nowhere like they always have. Why do they still have the power to surprise me?
He’s so cheerful all the time he gives me the creeps. No names please.
RIP Maxine Kumin, one of the best. http://tpr.ly/1ddOkBz
Both beautiful and sad. Help take care of Baby Iver: http://yhoo.it/1lxsoTZ
Daily Mail article on sitting down: “those who sat more than six hours a day were 37 per cent more likely to die” NEWSFLASH: everyone dies
If you MUST read it for yourself:
People assume that because you aren’t ambitious in the same way or for the same things as they are that you have no ambition.
Pussy Riot is brutalized by Cossacks while trying to protest, then Livejournal goes down. Probably not a coincidence.
So I won’t be getting my bionic knee after all, not for awhile. My cousin can’t stay with Mom. Not her fault, just life. She got sick herself.
Ah, farewell Harold Ramis. One for the ages.
So Der Weinerschnitzel is using a tiki motif to advertise their new chili cheese dogs which have no tiki motif that I can tell. ?? I’m a big fan of tiki so I don’t mind, but…
At home sick and watching too much TV I suspect.
Dear Marketers: If you make me create an account to shop at your site I won’t be shopping at your site.
My cat answered to “Farthead” today. In other news, I’ve been home since Tuesday with an awful cold. Am sick of being sick.
I watch my mother destroy a vintage pattern I bought her so she could make something from her past. Things don’t matter, just what they mean to people, and she is so present and content recreating that past. And I am content.
In Braveheart it always sounds to me like Mel Gibson is saying, “You may take our wives but you will never take our freedom!”
Watching the Oscars, Mom is confused. Spike Jones and Steve McQueen are not who she remembers.
Dear Nekkid Girl with “Individuals” emblazoned across your nekkid picture: all nekkid girls are exactly the same.
They’re getting Social Security and Medicare now—New Year’s Eve party, c.1960:
She has no pattern recognition left since the stroke. She was a crafter/artist. This was key to her identity. Life is a cold-hearted bitch.
If I start receiving ads in my car as some bright sparks are proposing I’ll drive my car through the front door of the first ad agency I see.
And sometimes a miracle occurs and the way becomes clear again and the universe seems a warmer place. You just never know what Life will do.
OTOH, Miley Cyrus still thinks she’s the only person ever to discover S-E-X.
My latest Etsy obsession:
and a continuing one:
In my Twitterfeed I saw a story about shamans bilking relatives of those on MH370 claiming they can find the plane, followed by another claiming the loss of the plane was a giant government conspiracy. These seem to be the inevitable exploitive accompaniments to all tragedies these days.
Mirrored from Better Than Dead.