It’s a naturally occuring virus commonly found in the vagina of a llama.
It’s the Master and slave. (Which was apparently said in reference to computer parts but I took the conversation in a whole other direction.)
Two phrases uttered (by my father) within moments of each other during Thanksgiving dinner at my house.
At this writing the cranberries are made (from scratch, thank you very much), the cranberry/blueberry pie is cooling (also from scratch), the stuffing is prepped and in the back fridge along with the turkey, just waiting for morning to come.
Husband will be home tonight, more than 12 hours earlier than expected. Yeah!
Tomorrow: roast turkey, make mashed potatoes, make gravy, and rolls.
Maids arrive at 8:00 am. OK, I know they’re odius, but at least I won’t have to vacuum.
Father is bringing the alcohol.
My sister is bringing the veggies (organic, of course).
I’m soooo ready.
But more about the sister. My sister is 41, single, and though I love her with all my heart, she is the most self-involved person I’ve ever met. About 18 months ago she decided to consult with a nutritionist who put her on a food program, the rhyme or reason of which still continue to elude me. This “program” involves lots of veggies, grade B maple syrup, and dietary supplements. While she isn’t as strict about the “program” anymore, she’s all about organic.
Any time you’re at her house and she offers you something, it is followed by the phrase, “it’s organic.” Last week she offered me a piece of chocolate, it’s organic.
I smoke a pack of cigarettes a day. I eat my share of junk food. Dr. Pepper is my beverage of choice. I live for chocolate. Do you think I give a shit if it’s organic? No. Give me a Cadbury Fruit and Nut bar and I’m your slave-girl. I know what I’m getting. Organic chocolate? Is it chocolate or mocolate? I don’t think so.
I got my turkey free at Ralphs. It was frozen. It’s been thawing in the back fridge. Here’s the thing: I fully intend to tell her that I got a fresh, free-range, organic turkey from Whole Foods. I will guarantee you that she will think it’s the most fabulous turkey she’s ever eaten in her entire “organic” life.
OK, so I’m a Thanksgiving Diva, and a bit of a bitch.
Oh, and Happy Turkey Day everyone.
After a short hiatus, it’s back:
Sydney:: P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way
Market:: rate account
As always, a big shout out to Unconscious Mutterings.
OK, so I’m all about a good quiz, and this one is no exception. After seeing it on my regular journal rounds I felt compelled to try it too. Here are my results:
|Your Ultimate Purity Score Is…
When I think about you – or anyone – I touch myself
Puts ‘em on the glass
I got needs, baby, you gotta unnastan’!
Knows the other body type like a map
Had that experience at camp
|You are 48.59% pure
Average Score: 72.6%
Just for the record, I am madly in love with Colin Firth.
I am guessing I’m one of the only people left in America who hasn’t seen the Paris Hilton video. Someone please send me a link.
OK, if you got here by “googling” please let me know what you were really looking for. I’m just a little bit curious.
First order of business: A big huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. It was a good one. I was fetted appropriately and thoroughly. And I will say that it is a very good thing that nothing you eat within five days before and after your birthday has any calories, because otherwise I would have easily gained five pounds.
Secondly: I rock. OK, beyond the fact that we all already knew this, I will now point out why I rock today. And I will give you that these items are small, but for me, huge.
1. I purchased and installed a new keyboard today.
2. I purchased and installed a new mouse today. And not only a mouse, but a totally cool trackball with DirectLaunch buttons. And not only that, but I programmed and labeled the buttons all by myself.
I can hear you all snickering under your collective breaths. But for me this is a giant leap. Cuz the thing is, I don’t have to know anything techno-, connection-, or computer-related because my old man is extremely handy at those things and he usually takes care of them for me.
Not very self-sufficient of you Beth….yes, well, I know that.
But knowing that my husband longs to, nay lives to, help me with these things I let him because I know it makes him feel more manly and important. So, in fact by not being able to do these things I am keeping the marital harmony.
Ut oh…next thing you know I’ll be cleaning the gutters out by myself.
Received an e-mail from a friend today. Subject line: Why Women Shouldn’t Have On-Line Affairs. Following was this photo:
(Click on the image to make it larger, but I think you might not want to.)