And we women say, “Puuuull oooout noooow!”

January 31, 2007

Well, that’s just rude.

I don’t think these Code Pinkalicious women ought to be bossing people around about how to practice birth control.

I mean, honestly.

Mean People Are Ugly

January 30, 2007

“Don’t sweat the small stuff” means

… a person shouldn’t freak the hell out when random, apparently illiterate people post super rude, wildly inappropriate comments at said person’s YouTube site because, seriously, while said person is obviously podcasting purely for the fun of it– and doesn’t really care what her hair looked like that day, couldn’t care less whether or not she “turned you on,” and has no idea what “you sound like ur in high school, in the valley” means anyway– those commenters have absolutely no excuse for their obstinate eschewal of the fundamentals of grammar coupled with a surprising lack of imagination. Plus, they’re obviously stupid. And probably very ugly.

So why sweat it? I say bring it ON. Everybody knows that God (and YouTube) invented the “Delete Comment” function for just this type of “small stuff.” That’s right, biznitches!

CLICK.

Why I’m An IDIOT #26

January 29, 2007

Reason #26:

I set up a contact form, and forgot to insert my email address. I know, right?! Me? MORON. I’m a trial to my friends and family. A burden on an increasingly technologically savvy society. Deal with it.

So– apparently– anyone who has tried to take advantage of my oh-so-generous invitation to, you know, drop me a line or sumthin’, well, I just NEVER GOT THE LINE. Or LINES. Of which there were several. That were sent out into the World Wide Web. NOT to ME. The person to whom they were intended. Gone forever. Because I have only just found them. Or– more accurately– the remnants of them, because my server is all, “FAILURE NOTICE! FAILURE NOTICE! Deeeeee-LETE!” Which in Server-ese means, “Wow. You are an IDIOT. NoEmailForYou!” [/Soup Nazi]

Or sumthin’.

That being said, feel free to drop me line sometime! Because this time? The line may actually be delivered to me.

Fooyah!

Time.

January 24, 2007

I had the house to myself. I decided to do a little meditating—indulge in quiet contemplation, if you will—before Alli came home from school and disrupted the stillness, so I lay back on my bed enjoying the view of the small patch of grayish blue sky I could see while staring through the slightly parted curtains of my bedroom window. It was soothing feeling the soft down duvet under me, and the smooth expanse of well-worn cotton against the palms of my hands while my thoughts were drawn upwards and out. Unfortunately, my thoughts never will stay elevated for any great length of time, and soon I lost myself in smug contemplation of my developing Guitar Hero skills and wondered if I ought to try out a new song before any of the kids came home. Frustrated, I closed my eyes, which I usually find particularly helpful in shutting out the inane. Peace. Gradually, however, my thoughts slipped into imagining what I would buy if I won the lottery—not that it mattered as I never play. I bought TGIM that American Stratocaster he’s been eyeing—after buying myself a snug little six-bedroom cottage with a large wraparound porch, naturally—and had almost settled on the widescreen LCD television for our bedroom…

I opened my eyes. The clock across the bedroom stared at me with silent condemnation: “Look at the time you wasted! LOOK!” It was time to join the line of parents at the elementary school Kiss and Ride. One second I was redecorating my newly purchased lottery home, spacious yet somehow tiny enough to feel safe and snug, much like a cathedral at the holidays; the next instant I was looking at my own little bedroom, small yet somehow big enough to hold all five of us on the bed, eating popcorn and watching cartoons.

Smiling ruefully, I rolled myself off the bed, cast one last wistful glance out the window, and went in search of my keys.

Veronica Mars REWIND: Spit and Eggs

January 20, 2007

Veronica catches the Hearst rapist(s). Logan has a run-in with a police cruiser’s windshield. The Dean causes Keith to feel really, REALLY guilty about that whole Harmony thing. Veronica Mars makes infidelity, GHB druggings, and cold-blooded murder FUN!

Even if you don’t watch Veronica Mars, watching me and Paige get a little crazy on camera (not like THAT, pervs! GOSH!) equals good times for all. Especially when Piznarski’s Dance Grooves and Stabby Unicorns are involved. So CLICK HERE. Because each time you click over, we get closer and closer to the Veronica Mars swag we’ve been eyeing. MUST. WIN. VM. SWAG. Or snickerdoodles. Whatever.

Apparently, some mysterious person is accusing me of copyright infringement. I’m all, “Who in the what now?!” So VEOH pulled my video, but there is no word as to exactly whose copyright I’m supposedly infringing upon.

Help! Help! I’m being oppressed! Do you see VEOH oppressing me?!

I mean, RUDE.

Yay! The Man is no longer holding me back, y’all. Click away!

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