Today's dose of Jack Kerouac:

"This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."

...to be honest, I don't think that's such a bad thing.

Things are always better in the morning, so goodnight.

...I got nothin.

ouch

Pending Ada's analysis, maybe I should go to the doc?  I don't want to overreact or anything though.

Let's see what the Silver does.

In other news, I don't like mushy fruit.

I gotta loosen up...I gotta loosen up to get my grip

This is going to be a jumble...I can tell already.  Usually my writing reflects how I think/talk.

The very sudden, drastic changes in my life recently have been hard, but empowering, yet I'm still spinning wildly as to my timeline and priorities.  I'm experiencing this weird fusion of panic, excitement, fear, and peace...sounds impossible, but it is what it is.  

I have this habit of focusing on small details when I need to look at the big picture.  Like right now all I can think about is the job/benefit situation, when/how I'm going to get out of here and what to take with me, and what to do about my current lease.  With all the stress, I need to focus on staying healthy, happy, and surrounding myself with people who care about and support me.

I really like my job here in Philly, but it's one of the only things that's keeping me here.  I admit that while I'm impatient to get back to Colorado, I'm scared about leaving a job where I'm happy, successful, have pretty much the best benefits you can get, and in which I have a lot of security...in order to dive headfirst into the shoddy job market.  Yikes.

It's going to be liberating but bittersweet to step out of my comfort zone and start to shed the life I've (uncomfortably) known for 6 years, but I'm also ready...and really excited. 

The most important thing to keep telling myself when I start to lose my nerve is that I'm strong enough to do this, and my future is very bright (and getting brighter).  If you think of it...feel free to give me reminders, encouragement, and reality checks like that too.

This song always makes me feel so chill:

Press Play - Stone Temple Pilots

I love my sister for countless reasons...one very small one being that when I'm in a jam, she writes prescriptions for one of our pets that are secretly for my use.  PSA to you nasty hand burns: prepare to experience the wonders of Silver sulfadiazine and incur the wrath of my Ada if you get infected/don't heal. Faboosh.

Off to CVS for a hot minute to get my supplies!

I like this:

Late night tonight...

...but most definitely worth it :)

As Sarah said: "there are big changes afoot." 

I'm not posting a song in this entry because I'm enjoying the sound of the rain.

If you have the right of way, TAKE IT

...courtesy of 1001 Rules for My Unborn Son.

Background on the conversation below: I burned my right hand a little bit on some sparklers Monday night, so now Sparkler is my new nickname at work.  Frank and Kim came up with it and then it spread like wildfire (ha. ha. I'm sooo punny).

Travis: Sup, Sparkler? So Kim told me about how you effed up your hand. I can't believe you didn't show anyone yesterday. Let's see it.

Me: Ok...I can't take the bandage off this one finger though.

Travis: HOLY SH**!  Why are those parts black? And are those two entire fingers blistered? Aren't sparklers supposed to be harmless?

Me: Yeah, it was miserable at the time but it's pretty cool to look at now. The bandaged one cracked last night and all this stuff came out, and...I'll spare you the details but it was sweet.

Travis: Sher, you're such a dude. OH! Uhhhm...that's meant to be endearing, of course.

Greeeat.  So I'm a dude.

Today started off way better than yesterday...first, I woke up really early without my alarm and actually felt rested and in a good mood.  So I had time to relax in the shower, make a pot of freshly ground coffee, and listen to some music.  Plus, Kim agreed to helping me get dressed in my gear tonight, including tying my skates, so I plan to play :).

My car needs a good wash.  It occurred to me yesterday that I really miss my 4Runner, but a Corolla is definitely more sensible in the city.  

Is it weird, given my deep love for Edward Cullen, that I don't think Robert Pattinson is very attractive?

It would have been nice to go to Hogwarts for school.

I require some chapstick.  I'm trying really hard not to pick my lips...I've been lip-pick sober for 4 whole days and already they're smoothing out.  Love it.

I saw a little blonde girl yesterday decked out in pink and totally cute, until her mom said her name and she corrected her very solemnly: "Mommy. I told you, my new name is Paris." Then her mom handed her a couple pretzels "here you go, Paris" and the little girl said "That's hawt." Jeebus. Kids and their parents these days. I'd never encourage my daughter to worship Paris Hilton (or to not say "thank you").

Why can't I find a star garnet ring? Durf. Oh well...one will make itself apparent in good time. Now watch I find one 5 years from now in a pawn shop on some dusty side road in Albuquerque or something.

Maybe I'll continue my recent trend and post whatever song I happen to be listening to at the moment I finish each entry.  I saw Joshua Radin in concert (headlining for Vanessa Carlton and Alexa Wilkinson) and it was amazing...I've been really into singer-songwriters lately.  This is one of my favorites by Joshua Radin, and what I'm listening to:

This one is a goodie too, come to think of it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19IVl7kbNFY

hockey vs. burns

I have a hockey game tomorrow night...to play or not to play?

I want to skate, but I don't want to get my hand infected on account of busting the blisters and sweating in my gloves or anything.  One blister cracked open today, so hopefully the skin closes over by 7:30 tomorrow night.  Maybe I'll neosporin and lidocaine the crap out of my fingers, then put on the little finger cots or whatever they're called (the things that look like tiny condoms...I definitely got crap for that at work today).  I also don't know how I'll tie my skates or put my knee braces on...I'm sure if I ask her, Kim will help me.  I'll probably get jobbed big time for having someone else tie my skates, but that doesn't really bother me...it's all in good fun.  I'm glad I have a designated space in the Gold Team locker room so I don't have to worry about packing and unpacking tons of sweaty gear, plus carrying sticks.

I'll probably suck it up and play anyway.  I've played through way worse...maybe I'm getting soft in my old age :P.  If it hurts I guess I can just get off the ice, change, and then go coach my ladies on the Red Team who will be playing on the next ice sheet over.

So I guess that's settled.

The early part of today was pretty rough but turned around in the early afternoon.  Since then it's been good...topped off by a huge win by the Penguins over the Hurricanes.  We're headed to the Stanley Cup Finals (wooo) most likely facing the Red Wings (grrr).

You'd better start eating your Wheaties, 'guinos.

In other, unrelated news: the opening part of "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band makes me melt, no matter how many times I hear it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMLn42V1pFU

Mercy's eyes are blue

On my way home from work last Friday, I pulled over after seeing a particular graveyard I drive past every day (referenced here as the place that contains something that makes me both glad and sad).  It's a peaceful graveyard - not at all restless; well kept and obviously full of people who were - and are - very much loved in life.  What stopped me in my tracks this particular day was the veterans' section:

I was so moved.  Can you imagine the time, respect, and tenderness it must have taken to decorate like this?  

I parked illegally when I pulled over.  The bike cop in the area totally saw me do it and must have noticed that it was in order to go into the graveyard, because when he rode by, he looked at me then indicated to my car then to the No Parking sign.  I nodded and indicated to the flags...he smiled, waved, and rode on.  No ticket for me.

I was hanging out in my yard yesterday morning, and noticed these delightful things growing in the grass...I think they're wild strawberries:

I love spring.  And strawberries.

Pete Yorn is recording a duets album with Scarlett Johansson.  Sigh.  I love me some Pete Yorn but I'm not really sure how I feel about this collaboration.  Who knows...maybe it will be good.

This is what's playing on my iPod's random mix right now:

Regina Spektor - US
Uploaded by reginaspektor - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

I won't let this be me.

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

it's true

Look down from your tower on high / And take in the night / Look her right in the eye / She'll listen

Sean, Abby, Allison, Dexter, Dante and I all went to brunch at the General Lafayette today.  I'm a huge fan of brunch.  Anyway, Sean and I have joked around for a year or two around about how he's going to teach me how to play the guitar, but today, we resolved to actually get together and follow through.  He came over around 5:30, and we played guitar straight through until 8:30 and it was fantastic.  The fingertips on my left hand are raw and blistered, but I can't stop playing the stuff Sean taught me.  I'll probably regret it tomorrow but for now, I love that I'm making music and am savoring every strum (and finger picking...because I learned some of that too).

A large, light tan spider dropped down from the ceiling very swiftly and an exceptionally short foot in front of my face about an hour ago.  I'm by myself in the apartment, so after squealing, squishing my ear against my shoulder, running outside, and a few almost-tears, I came back inside and crushed the bastard.  No matter how karmic I am in my efforts to coexist and avoid killing spiders, they still stalk me.  It sucks being bullied by arachnids, so maybe it's time to take the offensive.

I'm looking forward to having the day off tomorrow.  Last week at work was killer due to having to do two weeks' worth of work in one, plus not being on top of my game because I was a 'tard and forgot my meds.  Anyway.  The holiday should be pretty relaxing other than finishing moving stuff/cleaning the old apartement, then a BBQ at Megan's in honor of Memorial Day.  This has been one of my "hermit" weekends, but tomorrow will be cool and low-key.  

I need a haircut...maybe I'll wait until my trip home approaches so I look nicer for Kev's wedding.

I purchased the first dog accessory, a lovely large pillow, yesterday at Sam's.  I put it on the floor and went out to my car to get more purchases, and when I came back I was met with this:

A very satisfied Kiki breaking in the new furniture...that I obviously purchased for her.

Ike came up to investigate (and share)...

...but her majesty would have none of it.

Silly cats.  Before we adopted them, I totally wouldn't have pegged myself as a cat person, but I guess I am, seeing as I'm an animal person overall.  They're useful too.  For example, Kiki is an extremely effective sleep aid.  She stretches out on my chest and starts to purr pretty much every night...it knocks me out in no time flat.

Speaking of sleep...I need some.  Until tomorrow, folks.  I'm out like a fat kid in dodgeball.

Kronwall v. Havlat

Last night in the Blackhawks v. Red Wings game, one of the most unreal hits I've ever witnessed took place in the first period.  Niklas Kronwall of the Red Wings (ughh) took out Martin Havnat of the Blackhawks.  Kronwall's check seemed to be totally clean - amazing I can admit that because I loathe the Red Wings - but epic enough to totally clean Havlat's clock.  I don't think Kronwall left his feet until after he had already initiated contact, and from the films I've seen I can't tell whether or not he actually took three steps before hitting Havlat.  Anyway...what a gross hit...here's the photo taken from the camera inside the net.

From Blogger Pictures

I think one could debate that the call should have been "charging," but the refs called it "interference," which it most definitely wasn't.  Whatever.  I might have ruled it "intent to injure," but the officials had to call it something to justify kicking him out of the game and interference is probably the most generic way to go.  From another perspective, I guess it's good that Kronwall got tossed for his own safety as well...if he had played the rest of the game, no doubt the Blackhawks would have been headhunting him the whole time and certainly wouldn't have refrained from getting down and dirty.  Look at how they swarmed on him after he obliterated Havlat...imagine 50 more minutes of that.  

Even if you're not into hockey...my (openly biased) opinion is that you should watch this anyway:

Post-check was nervewracking because Havlat was blacked out in the middle/under the mayhem and wouldn't have been able to protect himself from all the skates thrashing around his body/head.  He could have easily taken a blade to the neck or face or wrist.  Secondly...after he woke up, I've never seen anyone awake and that effed up following a hit.

I realize that very few of my friends who are not my teammates and/or play for me are that into hockey at all (but very kindly humor me when I get all excited about it) so if you made it all the way through this, let me know and I've give you a huge hug next time I see you.

I'm really freaking hot.  It's actually only like 85, but with the humidity at 32482% I feel like I'm melting.  I know that my discomfort is mostly because my lupus is aggravated by the humidity, but it's annoying because by nature, I'm not used to feeling at all fragile.  I miss the dry, yet complex climate in Colorado.  What's worse is that it's only May; it's just going to keep getting hotter and there won't be relief until Septemberish. 

Back to hockey briefly: I just found out that Colorado now has two professional CHL teams.  When I get home and make enough money, I'd like to get season tickets to one because I absolutely love hockey games...the Rocky Mountain Rage play out of Broomfield, and the Colorado Eagles who play out of Loveland.  The Rage was established in 2006 so I guess they're still not very good, but the Eagles have a great record. 

I went to the library today to look for a particular book ("Ham on Rye" by Bukowski) and was shocked to find that it's not in the catalogue.  wtf, honestly?  This is only the second time I've ever not been able to find a book there...it's so weird because the system is so huge, but I will get my hands on it somehow.  Vicki loaned me "The Historian" so I'll read that for now, to further indulge my vampire reading habits.

Joe Galloway: A day to remember the price of freedom

Below is something I strongly feel deserves a moment of consideration. I got it from Michael Yon's blog (http://www.michaelyon-online.com/)...check it out if you get the chance.

Have a safe and happy holiday weekend!

 

 

Sent to you by Sherri via Google Reader:

 

 

Joe Galloway: A day to remember the price of freedom

via Michael Yon - Online Magazine on 5/22/09

22 May 2009

By Joseph L. Galloway
McClatchy Newspapers

Memorial Day is upon us, and for most Americans that means the first holiday weekend of a new summer. For most, it's time to dust off the barbecue pit or head to the nearest beach or hit the mall for the big sales.

For those who wear, or have worn, the uniform and those who love them, however, it means something different: It's a time to remember those who've fallen in defense of our country in the 234 years since the first American soldier died in a rebellion against a king.

During this time, some 43 million Americans have served under arms in our wars, 655,000 have died in battle and more than 1.4 million have been wounded in combat.

Our two ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have claimed the lives of 4,963 American troops, and 34,000 others have been wounded in combat.

Those are just the numbers, the statistics. Every one of those numbers has a face and a name. Every one leaves behind someone, often many someones, whose hearts are forever broken and whose lives are forever changed.

For those who've served and are of a certain age, Memorial Day is also a time to think of comrades and brothers-in-arms who answered their last roll call during the past year.

For our remaining World War II veterans, the days dwindle down to a precious few. Some of their veterans associations held their last reunion this past year; too few are left to gather again. Fewer than 5 million are left of the 15 million who wore the uniform between 1941 and 1945, and they're disappearing from among us at the rate of 30,000 each day.

The passing years also take their toll among veterans of the Korean War, the forgotten war, and they've begun to thin the ranks of those who served and sacrificed in Vietnam.

Two who died this past year left holes in the ranks of my own small brotherhood, the veterans of the battles of the Ia Drang Valley, fought in Vietnam at the dawn of our war there in November 1965.

Maj. Ed (Too Tall to Fly) Freeman died last August in his hometown of Boise, Idaho. He belatedly earned a Medal of Honor in 2001 for flying his Huey helicopter through a storm of enemy fire 14 times in one hot afternoon, bringing in ammunition and taking out wounded Americans.

His wing man and boss, Lt. Col. Bruce (Old Snake) Crandall, who received the Medal of Honor in 2005, was beside Ed's hospital bed that last week saying his goodbyes and continuing their half-century argument over which of them was the "second-best pilot in the world."

Early this year, Medic Randy (Doc) Lose, one of the survivors of the "lost" platoon of Bravo Company, 1st Battalion 7th U.S. Cavalry in the Ia Drang, was buried in the National Cemetery in Biloxi, Mississippi.

Doc Lose earned a Distinguished Service Cross for his actions in saving the lives of a dozen wounded men who were trapped behind enemy lines for over 24 hours. He was wounded four times as he crawled from man to man, plugging their wounds with C-Ration toilet paper after he ran out of bandages.

Doc never got over the experience. The Vietnam War killed him just as certainly as it did the 79 other men of his battalion who died during those three days in the valley of death. May God rest his soul and grant him peace.

Yes, for the 20 million living veterans of America's wars, old and new, and for the families and friends of the fallen, Memorial Day has a very special meaning, and it is a time for reflection and silent tears.

This Memorial Day, 2009, America is mired in two wars. The one in Iraq is supposed to begin winding down this summer, even as the other, in Afghanistan, is building toward a new crescendo.

We have a new President, Barack Obama, who was elected on a promise of change. For those few who wear the uniform of our country, however, nothing has changed. They continue to serve and sacrifice in wars in distant lands whose purpose and goals and eventual end are as fuzzy now as they were when they began in the dawn of this new century.

However you celebrate Memorial Day this year _ however happy or solemn the occasion _ spare a thought and a moment of silence in memory of all those who purchased your freedom with their lives, and of all those who defend it still.

If you are given to prayer, pray that one day our soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines will know true peace somewhere short of the grave.

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If you want to destroy my sweater...

I don't even really like that song, but the inspiration came from when the dryer chewed up my sweater last night:

Blargh.  It's one of my favorite shirts to wear to work and only like a month old!  Anyway...it's extremely trivial, just annoying.

Speaking of trivial...this is probably going to be boring and this entry contains an angry rant so heads up.

I got lavender deodorant which is lovely (and paraben- and aluminum-free!) but apparently bugs think it's lovely too.  Last night I was playing football in the front yard, and I practically got eaten alive.  When I was really young and would get covered in skeeter bites, my mom used to say it was "because you're sweet they're kissing you!"  Being a constant 5yo at heart, maybe I'll just tell myself that that's what it is.  Ha.

Weird night last night - I was on the phone until the wee hours.  I don't understand why people (twice my age no less) claim to "just want peace" then commence to create unnecessary drama, complain about hating said drama, yet refuse to meet in the middle because neither will admit playing a part in it...it usually takes two to battle, right?  Especially when strong personalities are involved.  Even if you honestly believe you did nothing wrong after much self-examination, the least you can do is make an effort to see the other person's point of view and try to identify with how s/he got offended in the first place.  Ugh.  Everyone is a jerk sometimes and I can be stubborn and a serious hardass, but preventable problems are such a pet peeve of mine (especially when they're my fault and due to simple miscommunication).  Why wouldn't you want to talk about it?  It can be humbling but at least it would help prevent similar confusion in the future, which is well worth feeling like an asshole for 30 minutes.  Last night was basically a series of palm-to-forehead moments; particularly when I, the innocent by-listener, was bristled at for not agreeing with everything the venter was saying.  I was not about to blow sunshine up anyone's ass, which the venter knows full well.  Whatever.  The issue at hand is maddening because it can be easily remedied, but it's developing into a war.  There comes a point when you just have to bite the bullet, accept people as they are, and compromise even if it means going a little out of your way.  

I admit: part of why I'm annoyed is just plain selfish too.  I was a dolt and left my meds on my kitchen counter in Colorado so went a day and a half without them.  I haven't been well or feeling like myself since I got back to Philadelphia.  It always takes a few days of being back on my entire cocktail of drugs after a missed day or two, so I was finally feeling pretty normal by last night.  Now I feel back to square one because I got approximately two hours of sleep last night over something incredibly stupid.  Granted, I could have hung up, but that wouldn't have been very supportive; even though I didn't agree with the venter, it's still shitty to shut down someone I love who opened himself up to me in a time of apparent need.  Basically, I'm not allowed to feel sorry for myself for feeling like crap because not only is it not my style to do that, but also because I'm the one who left my meds on the counter, and I'm the one who allowed the conversation to go on.  However, I will allow myself to be annoyed over dumb stuff once in awhile (case in point: sweater) because it's not hurting anyone else.  I'm not even going to read back over this particular paragraph because I'm sure it's a syntactical nightmare and just going back over the arguments is exhausting.  It helped to get it off my chest though.

Ok I'm pretty sure my fragile soapbox just collapsed so I'm going to step off the poor thing now.

Now, given the hour, I know those of you who read this have been dying to hear about my lunch so I will oblige.  I accidentally left my lunch at home today (durf) so I went to Chick-fil-a with Kim and got a salad.  If you're reading this, you probably know me well and are thus familiar with my firm belief that humans didn't claw their way to the top of the food chain for tens of thousands of years to eat greens, soy, and roughage exclusively.  I like salad and everything, but it has to be pretty boss for me to consider it suitable as a meal.  That being said, and you will be shocked...the salad I got is bangin and leaves nothing to be desired.  It's romaine, shredded carrot, shredded cheese, grapes, strawberries, gala apple cubes, mandarin oranges, grilled chicken strips (eet moar chikin), honey roasted sunflower seeds, granola, and berry balsamic vinaigrette dressing.  Boner.

I just reread what I wrote, and sometimes I wonder if my entries should be more substantial.  Oh well...it's my blog and I can close detailed paragraphs about salad with "boner" if I want to, right? Why do I even try to censor my own blog that approximately 5 people read in the first place?  Sheesh.  It's been a long couple weeks and I'm fried.  But it's almost Friday!  Followed by a Monday off!  And the people rejoiced.

Counting down to Colorado again: 28 days!

Cath...

Em turned me on to this song a few months ago; I've listened to it probably a hundred times, but for some reason when I listened to it today it was especially heartwrenching and made my eyes prickle.

Death Cab For Cutie - New Music - More Music Videos

I read Wuthering Heights a long time ago, and let me tell you: it does a number on the reader.

In the morning through the window shade / When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade / I could see what you were reading

I seem to be approaching a crossroads.  It became apparent to me very suddenly while I was at home.  It's never easy to leave, but this time was especially hard.   The opening of Dante's Divine Comedy (Hollander's translation, in particular) comes to mind whenever I think about my current frame of mind: 

Midway in the journey of our life

I came to myself in a dark wood,

For the straight way was lost.

I'm working on finding my way, but I can't rush it.  I'm trying to be at peace with letting things fall into place, waiting for the thick forest mist to clear before I can spot an opening between the trees.  From there I'll find the path I need to take.  I'm antsy, but for now I just need to enjoy my juicebox.  

I turned off mobile updates for twitter.  I feel kinda overwhelmed by technology right now, especially since the Blackberry was forced into my life and has to be on me during business hours.  Don't get me wrong, it's so convenient and has helped get me out of many a jam, but when I'm not at work I usually make an effort to stay away from the digital world.  It bugs me when people violate smartphone etiquette (i.e. so addicted to blackberry/iphone/sidekick that they can't even put it away to enjoy a meal or have a conversation with a real human being) and I refuse to become one of them.  Aside from the value I place in good manners, my humble opinion is that people today don't have as many authentic experiences anymore; so much time and focus is frittered away on the internet and mobile devices.  I'm totally guilty of it sometimes, but I like to make changes when I realize that I might not be going outside as much and stuff.  It's also a geographical thing for me.  I'm definitely not as active here in Philly as I am at home in CO.  I know anything can happen anywhere, but I think part of it is that I feel safer in CO.  Of course, it's not smart to do things like go on long excursions alone in the wilderness, but at least in CO I'm not constantly looking over my shoulder for someone who might pull a gun on me or run a red light and hit me with their car whilst riding my bike (both have happened).

One of my dreams since I was a little kid was to write a book.  I used to write little novellas crafted from notebook-paper-pasted-on-folded-construction-paper with my trusty purple glue stick; the earnestly scrawled stories were usually of the paranormal or fantasy genre.  Imagine that.  Anyway, I've been thinking more and more about it, and have a notebook full of years' worth of material scribbled in it so I might start soonish.  Why wait on dreams?

Joe and I decided that we should translate 30 Rock to LOLspeak and make it a play:

Joh: Did you ever watch Season 2 of 30 Rock?

Me: Not yet.  Although I'm tired of waiting for Dante so I might just go ahead and read it.

watch*

lol

Joh: You should read it!

Perhaps even perform a play of it.

30 Rock - The one woman show. 

Starrying Sherri Long

with guest cats

Me: guest cats.  n tranzlaytid 2 LOLspeak

fur ur enjoimintz

Joh: zomy

Me: wutchu fink?

Joh: Sounds like a good idea. tracy jordan almost already LOLspeeks

Me: tappy dansin awn teh bubblrap

fur teh grand fanaleez

Joh: dat maeks kool noyses

Me: u maeks teh artz. theetr poestrs? pro...porgams?

Joh: I halp wif set desighn

maeks teh seenuree

Me: teh lufflee streats of teh big appl?

Joh: new yawk new yawk

Me: I fink weer awn 2 sumfing.

Joh: Firty Rawk Da Mewsikle in lolspeek

...so it's settled.  Apparently before I write my own book, I need to come up with a stirring rendition of 30 Rock for the stage.  Not for the faint of heart, but I think we can hack it.

Stay tuned for attempted translations of German into LOLspeak (LOLspeek owf Doitch).  Should be interesting considering German is already in LOLspeak to an extent, which Joe pointed out.  Anyway here's a sneak preview:  

Joh: Ish kann einen Cheezburgr?

Me: shmekt nom, urnst

Riveting, no?

Here's a pic from the wedding, where my dad is flanked by my brother and his best friend/former classmate Dewey (Duane).  My pride in them, their service, and just the image itself of my dad and Eric being in Mess Dress and fully decorated together for the first time makes my heart swell.

kthxbai, y'all.

Be like a duck. Remain calm on the surface and paddle like hell underneath.

Michael Caine knows his stuff.

Not quite sure what to say other than I feel like something happened that changed everything.  In a progressive way.

I'm back from beautiful, colorful Colorado.  It gets harder and harder to leave every time.

I have a brand new family-in-law; they're great and my brother is happy, which makes me happy.

I have some stuff to do, but I miss blogging, so hopefully I can get back to write more after I get done grocery shopping and whatnot.  Ciao.

What is even going on here?

This made me laugh out loud...best Monday morning FUP ever.

 

 

Sent to you by Sherri via Google Reader:

 

 

What is even going on here?

via Fuck You, Penguin by bza on 5/4/09

Here we go. The silky fucking hen. What is this thing thinking when it goes outside every day? It's like David Bowie meets Tim Burton meets Colonel Sanders. Did you just step out into the light after a night of clubbing? CHICKENS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO COCAINE, SILKY HEN.

I'm just going to be honest: I'm terrified of you. I don't know if it's the pom-pom specifically or just that I didn't know it was possible to get whites that white, but something about your look says "I'm coming to steal your dreams." So stay away from me, you dream-stealing poultry devil.

 

 

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So tired...

...but made a lot of progress today.

I'll try to post tomorrow; Kim gave me the password to her wireless, so now I have the means!