Al Franken had an idea: what if everyone in America that disagreed with Bushco’s agenda ran outside at the same time(10pm Eastern?) and shouted“Oh no ya don’t!” or equivalent local colloquialisms. In Chicago, this means we’ll run out and yell “You’ve got to be (fuckin’) kiddin’ me!” (suburbs) or “Don’t even go there” (downtown) or “Oh no you di’int!” (Southside). In New York, they’ll apparently holler “Fuggedabouddit!”
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I had a dental appointment earlier this evening to do something or other to an area between two back molars. This involved some drilling and physical effort on my dentist’s part; he all but had to put a knee on my chest to get the leverage he needed to install something that felt like the world’s largest popcorn hull between the two teeth. Then there was some mysterious tinkering with liquid ceramics (huh?) and catalyzing hardeners and half a hardware store’s worth of grabbers and wrenches and long pinchy hemostatmajiggers. This process is repeated several times. Every time he sets…
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It’s official. Colin and Christie are my new favorite TAR team to despise. More taxi shenanigans, and boy did sweet karma bite him in the Xtreme ass: a flat tire, a tantrum in which he attempted to short the hapless taxi driver, and very nearly, a stay in the Kilimanjaro International Airport hoosegow. And still this team came in first and won a trip to the Caribbean. However, the laggards finished up most satisfactorily; the idiot twins drove right into the gate of the location of the skydiving stunt, but in spite of a big honkin’ red and yellow flag…
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No need to water the lawn or shrubs for at least 3 days now. There was flooding in some areas; fortunately, not around here.
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This was one of those drop-everything-and-find-this-on-Amazon tunes: a group called Whirligig. The CD is called Spin. The tune was “Wink.” It was supposed to be in the New Acoustics channel, but it was this loopy Celtic/Klezmer romp. And here’s another one: Celtic Cafe by Karen Ashbrook and Paul Oorts. The song: “Style Musette.” This time it’s Celtic mashed up with a gypsy waltz. Jeez, I’d better get to bed, but this channel’s a good find.
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Two more of Miss Alli’s TAR recaps from TWOP: The amazing brothers get Philiminated out at the Egyptian “archeological dig,” because Lance just plain threw in the trowel. The amazing cousins end their bid to make Desperanto the lingua speak-o of the world, after Charla performs one more eating Roadblock that her cousin Mirna pushed off on her. Mmm! Yummy scrambled Tanzanian ostrich eggs!
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I’m not quite as “angy” as I was last Friday – but today was another non-stop fun-filled whirl as I tried to get the one group locked down. Still waiting for the “disorganizer” (the secretary responsible for the crapload of inconsistencies otherwise known as the group file) to get back to me with the final travel dates and plans of a couple of people. I did get some relatively final lists (with cancellations I’d never heard about before today) faxed to the hotels and talked to some actual human contacts at each hotel. International wasn’t so bad – two more…
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The new gallery for the recent trip to Napa Valley and San Francisco is here. I didn’t tinker with some of these images, hence they were uploaded fairly quickly. Some of them could use some cropping and at least one needs to have some artifacts Photoshopped out, which I may do later. However, there’s no hope for the one with the big fuzzy red hair right in the middle, so I left it in for now. It was taken by aiming the camera straight down from a balcony, which is why the hair got into the act. Ah, well. The…
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We have a priest, finally. His first Sunday was last week when David and I were out of town, so today was my first chance to meet him. His last church must have been much, much larger and unmiked – he has a very big preaching voice. Don’t know if he’ll conduct a sung service or not – I can hear the he has a very nice baritone for the hymns (even from Choir Country along the back wall) but he chose to give a spoken service today (probably because it’s the doldrums of August; Marion always sang the service,…
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ginmar wonders if her service in Iraq for this country matters, if the people in her life at home can’t be bothered to take care of things for her and keep her pets safe while she’s off getting shot at in a hot distant country in a post titled ” O. Henry and me.” Would someone please publish her blog as a book? Please? It matters.