Is this any less annoying than the Gangsta Name Generator?
Planning a comeback. Check back soon!
Is this any less annoying than the Gangsta Name Generator?
Planning a comeback. Check back soon!
And also, his shorts are not as short as they appear :::shiver:::
Yesterday, ‘job-with-added-responsibilities’ turned into job wherein I was told that I now have 17 direct reports [That’s 17 people that REPORT. DIRECTLY. TO ME.] So, heading home last night armed with that knowledge, coupled with various action items I was given to do but didn’t exactly know how to & wrapped in a sensation of being swept downstream in a swift moving current – also while wearing lead undies – I am not ashamed to tell y’all that I went home & my shit fell apart. And by fell apart I mean that I ate a bowl of cereal for dinner & instructed my family that if they wanted sustenance & nourishment that they should do the same. If they wanted to. It was ultimately their decision. Then I flopped down on the couch & proceeded to fall directly asleep. I’m talking the kind of sleep wherein you answer questions like a crazy person straight out of your everloving head. And you frighten the children.
H: “Honey, have you fed the dogs yet?”
L: “Clogs been shed yet?”
H: “Dogs been fed yet?”
L: “I want you to go to bed now.”
H: “I’ll take that as a NO.”
So, I was completely incoherent on the couch until 1:20 a.m. before finally dragging off to bed. And once there, I started thinking. About work. And ‘job-with-added-responsibilities’. And 17 direct reports. And I couldn’t fall back to sleep for what seemed like all the minutes that ever were. But then I did. And for another 4 hours I enjoyed sweet slumber. With no thoughts of work. Zzzzzzzz. Yeah, but then I woke up.
[Cut to ‘job-with-added-responsibilities’]
I had just gotten in & was sitting in my office dreading all that lay before me when my lovely friend Holly came in all, “You look very pretty today.” [Just … awwwwww!] And proceeded to toss a purple envelope at me. “What’s thi…?” “Hey, where are you goi… ?” “Um, ok.” And with that she was gone.
I opened the purple envelope. It was a card. JUST FOR ME! And it said,
“My Guide to a Happy Life
Pursue a passion.
Enjoy the simple things.
Have a wonderful friend like you.”
With a warm, personal sentiment about how glad she is that we’re friends!
Aw, you guys! Just … honestly. Wasn’t that so nice. Seriously?! WASN’T THAT NICE? I don’t deserve her! She is all rocking and kick ass and good looking and wise. And also TIMELY. It was just what I needed & I appreciated it so much.
So in conclusion, a little bit of friendship goes a long way. Go show some friend love today. To me if you want! And thanks, H for making my day.
In his most recent blog entry, John! had the following words of wisdom [along with a fun flashback] for us all.
Go back into the annals of beloved ’80s films, and you’d be hard pressed to find a movie closer to the hearts of thirty-somethings than The Goonies. I’ll spare you the synopsis, as you most likely already know it, but if you don’t, no need to worry – you’ve seen 20 other movies like it in its time. The template: nerdy but affable underdog(s) suffer unrelenting ridicule by jocks in varsity letter jackets but ultimately have their comeuppance, usually stealing a smoking hot girlfriend or two in the process.
In the case of The Goonies, a band of awkward, socially outcast kids set off to find a buried treasure, narrowly averting almost certain death and outrunning, among others, a popular high school jock named Troy. Troy is one of the classic cinematic archetypes of the 1980s; the jock. He’s good looking, rocks a period-relative badass Mustang convertible, and he’s a total prick. All we can do from the moment Troy enters the frame is to wait with baited breath to see Troy lose and the Goonies win.
And in that end, back in 1985 when the underdogs had their day, (and their bag of jewels), and the final credits rolled and we called our parents for a ride home, we realized something fantastic: It’s true, we weren’t Troy. But for the first time, thanks to The Goonies, we no longer wanted to be Troy. It was okay to be us, thank you very much.
Cut to present day.
What happened to the better part of a generation that once walked out of their local theater rooting for the Mikeys and Chunks and Datas of the world? They’ve turned into Troys. Troys who can’t accept the differences in others and condemn the things they don’t understand. Finger-pointing, shit-talking Troys.
Ask yourself: with whom do you identify more these days, Troy or the Goonies? And if you’re reading this and you happen to be an Internet shit-talker, could it be because you think I’m Troy? Because honest to God, I’ve always fancied myself a Goonie; the underdog who toppled over the narrow-minded naysayers and walked away with a treasure.
So maybe this whole thing is one big misunderstanding and it turns out we don’t need to go down as a generation remembered as having spent the ’00s wearing our asses like hats after all. Maybe it will turn out that we needed a little time to figure out that in the end we’re all just a bunch of Goonies.
Yes! I AM A GOONIE [to exactly noone’s surprise] Look! Just one more thing John & I have in common. I’m a Goonie. He’s a Goonie. Coincidence? I say destiny.
Beware of booty traps. You mean boobie traps? That’s what I said, booty traps. God, these guys!
Maddie: “What channel is ‘skiffy’ on?”
Maddie: “Yeah. Skiffy.”
Me: “Are you saying ‘skiffy’?”
Me: “I don’t think I know this ‘skiffy'”
Maddie: “Yeeessss, Mommy. That channel what has ‘Tales from the Dark Side’ on it what we watched yesterday?”
Me: “Oh, you mean SCI FI!”
Maddie: “Oh. [giggle]”
[Home sick with an ear infection, Maddie suddenly feels like she might be sick during lunch. Hanging over the garbage can …]
Me: “Uh-oh, do you feel sick-y?”
Me: “Are you done?”
Maddie: “Say pizza or something.”
Maddie: “Keep going.”
Me: “Cold pizza in a dirty ashtray. Ummm, shrimp covered in hair, dipped in mustard.”
Maddie: “Yeah. I’m done. Thanks.”
[Maddie got in bed with me at some point during the night last night & around 5:30 this morning, I was awakened by her talking in her sleep]
Maddie: *wimperwimperwhine* “Excuse me. Sir? *whine* I was trying to get a toy out of the toy box *sniff sniff* and my jacket fell in the mulch.”
Me: [???] “Awww, it’s ok.”
Maddie: [sitting bolt upright in the bed, looking at me in disbelief] “You could hear that?”
Maddie: [giggling uncontrollably]
Say it with me, people. SAY IT WITH ME AND FEEL THE LOVE. EYE! KEY! YAH! IKEA!
We’d been trying to get over to the new IKEA since it opened all the way last Wednesday and I’m not ashamed to tell y’all that the traffic situation, coupled with the half-crazed IKEA worshippers who had made their pilgrimage to the place, sort of had me scared senseless. So, I’ve been kind of waiting for the hype to calm down, and for people to … you know, go back to their jobs and families, so that I may go shopping in peace. And I kept thinking, well, I’ll just go at an “off” time. But, people, there is no “off” time at Ikea! Ikea is always On! On and CRAZY!
Finally on Saturday I mustered the courage. You know, driven by my need for housewares. And well! HERE IS THE THING! It wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was a zoo for sure but folks were pleasant enough. Because I mean, let’s face it … it’s not like they were thinking they were heading out for a leisurely trip to Ikea and got there and were suddenly all, “What the heck is going on here?” They knew going in that they were heading into a blood-bath & they were ok with that. So they were prepared for the involuntary grab-assing that was inevitable given the sheer volume of people squeezing through those rooms. So they were pleasant and not at all grumpy. Which was good.
So, I bet everyone is wondering what I bought. Are you? Are you wondering? Are you very sure that it is Swedish and made partly of particle board? Well, if so, then you’re maybe partly right. It was surely Swedish designed, but I have to tell y’all that I was more than a little disturbed to find that most of the items that I purchased, even though the Swedish artist was credited on the piece, were made in CHINA! That’s right, y’all. Even the Swedes have jumped on the cheap labor boat. And that, my friends, was disappointing. Oh, and I didn’t buy anything made of MDF. Yet. But let me tell you what was not disappointing. THIS!
Hello. I’m the Grundtal system and I’m here to free up desperately needed counter space in your kitchen.
and these dish towels
Five of these to be exact. Only .49 apiece, people!
Oh, and this to Swedish-ly coordinate with this.
Hi. I’m your daughters new bedroom textiles. She needed me.
[Which isn’t exactly true, since she already had this
but, I mean, clearly she needed another to rotate. Clearly.]
Then there’s this
and 2 of these
some of these and a pack of these & a one of these
[Which my family appreciates very much, because me & conventional knives makes them nervous. Jeesh, you cut a finger tip off one time.]
And finally, one of these
Magnetic strip. To hang up all of those knives my family would prefer I didn’t use.
And there you have it y’all! My Ikea trip. Are you wondering how much all of those fabulous goods set me back? Are you? Are you wondering? All of these things AND a Milkdunchocolad bar :::drum roll, please:::
Yup. That’s it. $170 little dollars. Can I fully express my Ikea love without using upper-case letters? NO! And seriously. Can you believe that it’s literally 5 minutes down the road? ME EITHER! And that my BFF works there? I KNOW!
Thank you Ikea for making fabulous, low priced homegoods and thank you for coming to my home town to set up shop. But can we just talk about that China thing?
And I don’t mean ‘rating’. [Not suitable for children, see].
I’ll be posting later with an update about my weekend, possibly even today. Probably, actually. But in the meantime, please find useful the below information that I ran across. A helpful find for all of those tricky situation when you’d like to wear that skirt that hits right below the hip, but don’t want to risk creating a potentially embarrassing situation by showing your girl business to the world [might also be referred to as a Britney moment]. Your problem is … ummm, … solved[!] Gee-awd.
2007 was all about showing your punany to the public. But now hoo-has are out. (Or should we say in?)
Thanks to Shibue Couture, you can still wear absurdly short, tight dresses without flashing your vadge to the whole world.
The panties go from your nani-nani to your bum-bum without wrapping around your hips. (Need some help visualizing? See picture.) They’re the first ever strapless G-strings.
Oh, sweet holy, why?
Made of soft, high-quality fabrics (unclear which kinds), each one comes with a liner and twelve adhesives, which mold to your special place. Yes, folks, they are reusable. Just remove the sticky stuff (the tape, people, the tape), rinse the fabric with mild soap and water, put on new adhesive, and you’re ready to whore out again.
[File under “absolutely absurd & unnecessary”. Article courtesy of DailyCandy.com]