Now Playing -
Letterman.
Now Eating -
drinking...Sunkist.
Now Feeling -
like I'm about to cough up what's left of my lungs.
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
Weird Search Hits of OhIdunnoit�sbeenawhile. . .
k@ren ann quinl@n pictures
"S'iz bashert"
turtles having sex
mr bill bobblehead
Wonder Woman and Isis
tom waits bumperstickers
traditonal jewish wedding
death's head revisited
BONELESS SHANGHAI WINGS
mel's base glaze
"Lori Anne" car show
fl@shing your penis to your mother
"theme to brian's song"
gap button fly jeans
hula+h00p+sha+b00p
househusband + hose
"phonograph record with a peanut" (We�re #1! Yay!)
Fl@shing breasts
Jack Tripper middle name
I'll plant my own tree
bed bath and begone
fl@shing nudity
World War II Vets medical help
lace-up granny shoes
unhappy birthday ecards
life olivia hussey
The pre-Election Day trash talking snail mail flyer pile was taller than the Actual Mail pile today. Next Tuesday cannot come fast enough. I don�t remember it being this bad in years past. . . even big capital-E Election years.
The Lawn Guyland branch of my alma mater's Alumni Association is having a scholarship dinner. At a local country club. There will be a "Business Card Exchange to Connect with fellow Alums." Kill me now.
And now, An Encapsulation of the Past Few (Sick) Days:
Cough. Cough some more. Not dainty little delicate coughs, but deep, soul wracking, Alien-is-about-to-emerge-from-my-chest coughs. Hydrate. Hydrate some more. Decide to go to bed. Decide to check email before going to bed. See Mom sign on to AOL. Pray she doesn't contact you to ask if you're feeling better/have you been to the doctor/are you taking antibiotics/you shouldn�t take them so often you�ll get resistant/is Huz sick/how is his mother/is your show still on Sunday/I'm bringing a friend/did you ever meet her? Attempt to keep IMs with Mom blissfully brief with monosyllabic replies. Finally wash up and get into bed. Sleep. Get up to pee at least six times during the night. When finished peeing, remove yourself to a far corner of the living room to cough your guts up so as not to wake The Huz from his restful sleep. Fall back to sleep immediately, thanks to the lingering effects of the Tylenol PM. Sweat like a racehorse in your sleep. Get up, pee, cough, hydrate and return to bed. Flip your pillow looking for a dry corner. Lather, rinse, repeat 'til the alarm goes off. Call in to work. Discover that The Partner in Crime is there. Sound pitiful. Ask if you can stay home. Get permission, and flop back into bed. Get tucked in by The Huz, roll over and immediately fall back to sleep for a few more hours. Wake. Surf. Eat nonstop, because the saying is something like, "Starve a cold, feed an upper respiratory infection," isn't it?
I'm feeling much better, and may be up to snuff by The Big Anniversary Dinner Saturday. Huz has made reservations, but will not even tell me which direction we�ll be going. The punk.
Ya know, just when I think I'll never look like Meg Ryan, suddenly I do. No, I don't look like someone's just stuffed my lips with Swedish Fish, I just suddenly have In The Cut hair. Minus that incredible caramel color. Yum. I could live with that color. But her hair's blunt cut all around, and I'm still craving those long layers. Anyway, the only reason my hair looks like hers is because after two days of non-attention, my bangs suddenly need trimming.
The Toasty keeps popping up in my Amazon Gold Box. Oh, the Toasty. The cutest damn toaster oven evuh. Incredibly impractical (can't fit a frozen dinner in there unless you chop it in half), and once considered a fire hazard (I'm assuming they've remedied that by now), but look at it! Look at it! So damn cute!
Yep, I'm an impulse shopper from waaaay back.
I'd like to leave you on a serious note, m'dears. Cosmicrayola has a page on her site that she calls "A Word to My Younger Readers". Basically, she explains that no-one on the Internet is as anonymous as they think they are. Which is damned important to keep in mind. I have a number of younger friends, people I have worked with in theatre, who are in their first and second years of college. Nothing upsets me more than to Instant Message one of them and see, as her Away Message, "Out and about � call the cell (XXX)555-1212!" DO NOT POST YOUR PHONE NUMBER ONLINE! Yeah, so it's not a landline, and not as easily traceable, but still! Any jerk trolling the AOL Members Area could give you a ring should he choose. And don't post your whereabouts. One friend wrote, "okay.... off on a date with Professor X, my Humanities professor. Let's hope to GOD I don't get raped tonight. If I'm not back by midnight, please contact UP and have them track us down on a gator. Thank you. Pray for me. Love you all dearly." Within a minute I was able to track down what college Professor X taught at, and find a bio and picture of him (odd in that he got his degree in the late 60s but from his photo looks to be maybe five years older than I am). But who on Earth needs to know that you're going on a date with him? Why not put the name of the restaurant down, too? And don't don't PLEASE don't bandy about the word "rape." I knew way too many girls who were raped in college. It can change your life in ways you can't even fathom. It is not a laughing matter. You need to be careful. Especially when I see your messages about how wasted you're going to get. Yes, it's college, and your first taste of freedom and all that. I've been there. So I'll stop preaching now and just say one last time, be careful.
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a very fine cat indeed - Friday, Jan. 17, 2014
happy new year! - Thursday, Jan. 24, 2013
this is where i am - Saturday, Jun. 30, 2012
this is how it is - Friday, Feb. 24, 2012
a very late last year's wrap-up - Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2012
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