I forget what 8 is for

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Thursday, July 20, 2006
linky linky linky : some unrelated nonsense serving as a link delivery device.

I look back at some of these recent posts and I seem either half-crazy or enraged which doesn't feel exactly... representative. For instance, I'm hardly ever actually filled to the top with rage. David Bowie doesn't like it, and who wants to make him upset? Not me, that's for sure! (that almost overwhelming desire to punch random idiots in the head is perfectly normal, right? Don't look at me like that, David Bowie!)

In other news, soy protein hates me. What did I ever do to you, multi-use plant? Sure, I may have said unkind things about the so called soy "meat" in a can at camp, but it was the 80's and I was a lot more sarcastic then. And to be honest, you really hadn't come into your own. Those days are over. We're both older, wiser and one would think less vindictive -- is it really necessary to AFFLICT ME now with your evil itchy boob-rashes? Or to mock me two hours after a delicious (but EVIL) mango/soy smoothie with a swollen eye? I THINK NOT. but you seem to think differently. Soy, we are so done. (except for soy sauce which I will love 4evah!)

Perhaps I can find an anti-Soy (except for soy sauce) god to SMITE YOU Soy, here at the very interesting, educating and entertaining Godchecker. It's a pretty specific request, but if anyone would have a listing, godchecker would. They proclaim "We have more Gods than you can shake a stick at. Godchecker's Mythology Encyclopedia currently features over 2,850 deities. " , and encourage us to "check back for more godly goodies." Who could resist an invitation like that? Not me. Maybe I can learn to forgive soy. Or read up on the smiting.

My sister gave me an iPod shuffle for my birthday. She correctly noticed that my 10G 3rd Generation iPod was full, and that every time I wanted to load something new on, something old had to come off. (I do find a sort of perverse enjoyment being compelled to make tough space related choices. I am the Solomon of my iPod, only instead of cutting babies in half I judge whether or not I really need 5 songs from The Darkness.) I can already tell that the shuffle is going to be great for facilitating musical obsessions. You know the kind where you only want to listen to, say... Bubblegum. (Or possibly other things like vetting the Ultimate Bathtub Mix CD candidates.)

They've gone Walken Mad over at Shakespeare's Sister. (lots of other good stuff too, of course!)

And here's just the thing if you've perfected your Victorian Time Travel machine (you've been working on one, right?) and want to do a quick bit of research before you go and inadvertently screw around with history and make it so your great great greats never meet and thereby ensure that you'll never be born and so on until you get a headache. It's The Victorian Dictionary, which allows you to explore maps, advertisements, and to find out what diseases you should look out for. Fun! (really!)
3 comments on "I forget what 8 is for"
  1. Doh, sorry about the rash, but I'm glad you enjoyed the deliciously evil mango smoothie at least for a moment. I still think you could do it with regular milk. It just wouldn't be as creamy tasting as using non-dairy. Tee hee.

    Oh, and love the Victorian link. It makes me want to pick up my ghosty novel project again. I really appreciated the slang section, the corset ad that claimed to cure everything from poor posture to hysteria, and the advice that "A virtuous woman has a repugnance to excessive luxury in her underclothing. She does not like too much lace or embroidery or ribbons and bows. She has them trimmed, of course, but with a certain sobriety which speaks in her favour..." Armed with this knowledge, I feel extra virtuous having long ago eschewed undergarments completely. Who knew I was so morally superior? As an added bonus, the time saved doing the extra laundry is allowing me to slowly replace my squared off, mannish fingertips with girlish ones by following a faithful daily regimen of squeezing and pinching the tips until they become elegantly tapered.

  2. I'm glad you liked the victorian link, although now I am worried about my mannish fingertips...

    and you should TOTALLY start up your ghosty novel project again.

  3. Maybe if you slept with clothespins on them it would speed up the process. (No need to thank me, btw. You know I live to help.)


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