Pet Shop Boys medley
I’ve been listening to a mix of the PSB for the last hour or so, and while my co-workers might not be so thrilled, it’s been perfect music to work to. I started with my favorite song (“The End of the World“) and have been moving onwards from there…
Kenneth Cole Reaction Oxfords, Starting Block Moc Toe
I got these shoes on sale (for half off!) last week, and I love them so much that I would’ve felt I got a great deal at full price. They are super-comfortable and sturdy; I’m someone who normally wears sneakers every day of the year if I can get away with it, and I’ve been wearing these instead for the past few days. Love, love, love them.
Plans to Bike Ride on Sunday
I haven’t taken my actual bike out since, well, last year. It’ll be a lot of fun to head out there with a friend and see how rusty I am. (And how well those spinning classes have done me.)
Dinner Reservations for Volt, Tonight!
I was a huge Bryan Voltaggio fan when his season of Top Chef aired, and I am ultra-eager to finally eat at his restaurant. A perfect surprise from Charlie.
The best kind of news article? I’ve decided it’s the kind where there’s a hidden surprise halfway through. It’s like one of those movies with the surprise twist halfway through, just when you think you know where it’s headed. (Although hopefully better than the last few M. Night Shyamalan movies. The only surprises left there are how much you’ll feel like you overpaid to see the film. But I digress.)
Take for instance, this lovely article from DallasNews.com.
Veteran Dallas County jail guard fired over comments
07:26 AM CDT on Tuesday, March 16, 2010
By KEVIN KRAUSE / The Dallas Morning News
A veteran Dallas County jail guard has been fired for making offensive comments about his religious beliefs to co-workers, including his contention that gays should be “put to death,” sheriff’s reports show.
At this point I’m thinking to myself, “Oh look, another boring article.” And as I read along, at first it seems fairly run-of-the-mill. Hates gay people, hates non-white people, and pulls out the whole “the Bible says slavery is all right.” Now to be fair, I am impressed that he pointed to the Bible’s pro-slavery passages, because normally people just go for the anti-gay stuff in that section. (Funny how no one ever goes for the “God says you may beat your children” and “mixed fibers are a sin” passages, but that’s another story.)
But then? Suddenly, with no warning…
“I believe that all dinosaurs were born of Satanic angel who has sex with woman and the animal kingdom that created ungodly reptilian creatures none of these were on the Ark,” Johnson said.
As if to make you think you just mis-read that paragraph, the next two paragraphs are back to boring anti-gay, you’re-going-to-get-fired everyday material. But then we go back to the motherlode of awesome.
“He continued making statements which included his belief that God had sex with angels, and that dinosaurs were destroyed because man had sex with them, as well as his belief that the Devil had sex with humans,” the report concluded.
This is now, officially, the best news article ever. Also, I am going to write up a book proposal involving God having sex with angels, humans having sex with dinosaurs, the Devil having sex with humans, and Satanic angels giving birth to dinosaurs. I will sell a billion copies. Possibly more.
Also, I want to know just what it would look like to see a (Satanic) angel giving birth to an apatosaurus (the dinosaur formerly known as brontosaurus). Maybe someone could please computer animate this for me? If I ever have children, I am fairly certain I could show it to them to make them do… well… anything I want. “Brush your teeth or this might happen to you.” “Clean your room or you’ll give birth to a dinosaur.” Just think of the possibilities.
It’s that time of year. The most evil time of year. The time when Girl Scout cookies are on sale.
I freely admit that I am powerless when it comes to those little bites of deliciousness. Especially the Thin Mints and Samoas, although Tagalongs are a close third. (Or, if you’re in a different part of the country, those latter two might be called the boring names of Caramel DeLites* and Peanut Butter Patties.)
Every year, I tell myself that I’m not going to buy any. I don’t need them. (My waistline certainly doesn’t.) There are other snacks out there I can buy instead. And yet… and yet… Well, so far I’ve only bought one box of Thin Mints. I actually picked it up a week and a half ago as I was leaving the grocery store. The Girl Scouts were out, I walked past them, and then was almost to my car when I turned around and went back and bought the box. Their siren call was hard to ignore.
As soon as I got home, though, I threw them into the back of my freezer. Frozen Thin Mints actually taste better than regular ones, but it also means that I can promptly forget about them. This is a good thing because otherwise I run the risk of eating half a box in the space of about 20 minutes. And so they sat there, completely forgotten about, until someone on Livejournal mentioned selling cookies. *sigh*
So far, I’ve eaten five of them. Three at first, then two more a couple of minutes later. I’m hoping that by writing this up I can push past the craving. And I suddenly have sympathy for people trying to quit smoking.
That said, there is one kind of Girl Scout cookie that I can always pass by, and those are the nasty shortbread Trefoil cookies. I think I’d rather just eat sawdust. Bleah. Bring those into my house all you want, they are about as exciting as watching paint dry. At least I have immunity to one variety, I suppose.
How long until Girl Scout cookie season ends?
* — I don’t know who they’re fooling, there’s absolutely nothing “lite” about them.
At my job, when we put together training there are often still images used to accompany the text on the screen, to help get the idea across. Rather than shoot all of these images ourselves (although we do that at times, plus depending on what the course is about we often get photos directly from our clients), sometimes we go to stock photo services. One of these places is Photos.com, which back in the day used to be a huge boon to our work. They had a great photo library and we found a lot of good selections.
Now, I’m not saying all the photos were good. Even back then there were some rather questionable images. But we’ve noticed lately that some images don’t quite fit what you’re asking for. (I won’t even get into the nudity that crops up when you least expect it. I think we’re all still a little dazed by the naked guy holding a bunch of bananas next to—but not in front of—his crotch.) Take, for example, today. I typed airplane and eating into the search box, told the website that it had to match all of the search words, and clicked on submit. What I wanted was a photo of someone (preferably a family, but I’d take what I could get) eating food on a plane. Perhaps even a meal provided by the airline. What I got… well…
Ok, which of the three do you think showed up in response to the words airplane and eating?
A shirtless man holding a bottle for a baby?
A pile of crabs?
Or a hummingbird eating nectar from a flower?
This is, for the record, a real conversation I had earlier tonight.
Charlie: Ooh, that’s a great name, we could name a child that.
Greg: No, we already have a name picked out for our mythical child, remember. Huggybear Batman.
Charlie: But that’s for a boy. What if we have a girl?
Greg: Huggybear Batman.
Greg: Ok, Huggybear Batwoman.
Charlie: What about Huggybear Batgirl?
Greg: Well, Batwoman is a lesbian.
Charlie: Hmmm. Interesting. But we don’t want to pigeonhole our child. Let nature take its course.
Greg: True. Although Batgirl got shot by the Joker and put in a wheelchair for life.
Charlie: Well then, it’s paying tribute to Batgirl’s strength.
Greg: Good point. Huggybear Batgirl it is.
Charlie: Wait, what was the last name we decided on?
Charlie: Huggybear Breadtangle.
Greg: No no, you have to always say the first and middle names together, like my friend Sarah Grace. Huggybear is just “eh.” Huggybear Batman is awesome and rolls off the tongue.
Charlie: Then maybe we should make the last name Batman? Huggybear Breadtangle Batman?
Greg: Um, only freaks change their last name to Batman.
(And then Charlie started laughing so hard that we had to stop the conversation so he wouldn’t rupture something.)
I am also fairly certain that, should we ever get a child, social services would take it away within a week once the neighbors found out.