Pretty is as pretty does

Totally bunk

Hey look, somebody just emailed me a phone pic of me checking out a bunk bed. Nice bunk bed. Nice bunk bed.

Various questions arise here: Why do I look seven months pregnant? Why is there a life buoy on the bed? Do people actually buy bunk beds?

Widgetization

Because I'm a person who can't leave well enough alone, I'm sort of playing around with some of the widgets that come free with my blog thingamajig. What you see today may not be here tomorrow, so I'm just saying, deal. It will partially depend on the response I get but will mostly come down to me and my needs preferences, you know what I'm saying?

So don't get all bent out of shape, calling me at 3 in the morning hollering that the archives list is in a whole other place than you're used to. I'm liable to give the phone to Minnie and let her handle your grievances. And that will probably consist of her licking the phone for a while and then lying back down.

If you call me at 3 in the morning, at least have something nice to say about me. I'll listen to that kind of thing.

So anyway, there's a whole lot of crap you can put on your blog these days. It used to be a place for me to run my mouth about why we shouldn't care about Britney's shaved head, but I figure if I can get other people to do some of the work for me it might a) be more interesting to the put-upon people who actually read this thing and b) help me become a more balanced, less rant-oriented person. Seriously, I mean who cares what I have to say if it's not connected to something.

Plus I figure if you've got a blog it might as well do something other than warehouse your Own Personal Opinions for whoever the hell cares. Less ranting, more things that do stuff.

So enjoy your cocktail of the day, holler if something looks wack, and for God's sake nobody shave their head. (If you do, send me a pic...I will post it here.)

This rules.

Major props to Sarah C, my Debunkism and Conspiracy Theories editor, for sending this along. Day officially off to a joyous start.

Killer title: Over 400 Years of Deception Exposed: The Bible Told the Truth All Along!

Ah yes, was it Habakkuk 14:6? "Science be-ith evil! Woe to ye metallurgists and ye stargazers and ye blasphemers, for ye shall surely be told to cut thine own switch from the Tree of Knowledge and be beaten senseless with it! Lo, this hurteth the Lord more than it hurteth thou."

Check it out.

While you're there, see if you can find an e-mail address for the guy so I can compliment him on his awesome web design skills...

All right, Home Depot, you and me. Outside. Right now.

I'm curious to know if this has happened to any of you...

I went to Home Depot at lunch to get some big-ass trash cans for my yard, and there were NO cashiers--everything was self checkout. There was one guy manning the help desk, which I at first thought was a register, but when I got up there he informed me that I'd have to ring up my big-ass trash cans myself.

So I went away to make sure he wasn't just being a jerk, and sure enough--none of the at least dozen registers were open. So I went back to his little station and asked why there wasn't one single solitary person available to help me with my big-ass trash cans.

"Well I'm a person," he said. "A very busy person, but  a person."

He then went over to the nearest scanner thingy and scanned my trash cans for me and then walked away. What is that about? I thought Home Depot was supposed to be this nice cheery place where you can buy 800 pounds of sheet metal and some concrete blocks with no hassle?

Dude, even Wal Mart has a couple of registers open in the middle of the day. Call me irrational, but when I walk into a store, I want to know there will be a surly, unknowledgeable, unhelpful teenager with scary fingernail art waiting there to ring me up. Is that too much to ask?

In happier news: look, it's lots of piglets...The one in the can of pork 'n beans looks happiest...

You can all suck it

I just paid $300 for a $4,000 couch.

Now here's a video of a kitty playing the piano.

Overheard

"I, like, love art. It's, like, so cool. God, I gotta pee."
~giant girl from the elevator

The fun in fundamentalism

I thought I would have nothing to live for today, and then someone sent me this...

My dear home state of South Carolina is responsible for this mess of crazy. It's called the Application To Date My Daughter, concocted by some crazies at an organization that apparently thinks it's the 1970s.  My favorite question: "Do you have access to a van or waterbed?" 

I also enjoyed "Do you have one MALE parent and one FEMALE parent? Are they normal?" That's why the fundies rule, see. They can take out gay people and single parents in one fell slur.

Sundry points of bidness

1. Check this out. It's a trailer for When Harry Met Sally, recut as if it were a horror movie. Hysterical!

2. Today's word is conbobberation (I know this thanks to the Forgotten English calendar Brett B. gave me for Christmas). It literally means disturbance but also "the tall talk of the backwoods." I can only assume it's something like when you're at Wal Mart and the rednecks behind you are talking about, I don't know, NASCAR and shooting things, but you have no idea what the hell they're saying.

On a related topic, while shopping in Kohl's the other night I over heard a strange conversation between two sales ladies. One lady had apparently gotten into a wordfight with a customer who, I don't know, wanted service or something:

"I swear. Next time I'm just going to haul off and pop them. You know? It's no skin off my nose to pop somebody. Kohl's can just get itself a lawsuit."

Or. You could, maybe, not assault someone. Save yourself some trouble. I'm just thinking out loud here.

3. I mentioned conbobberation because according to the calendar it appears often in Mark Twain's writing. It's been a while, but sounds right. Today is the date Samuel Clemens started using M.T. as his pen name. The thing quotes him:

"I want to sign my articles...Mark Twain. It is an old river term...signifying two fathoms--twelve feet. It has a richness about it. It was always a pleasant sound for a pilot to hear on a dark night. It meant safe water."

I rather like the sound of it.