As published in Godey's Lady's Book January 1850
"We may as well mention here, for the sake of the other sex, that loud thumping with canes and umbrellas, in demonstration of applause, is voted decidedly rude. Clapping the hands is quite as efficient, and neither raises a dust to soil the dresses of the ladies, not a hubbub enough to deafen them. "
Agreed.
30.7.08
29.7.08
25.7.08
Cutest Things in the World
* Miniature Saltine crackers
*Sparkly pony stickers
*Babies who wear legwarmers
*Kermit the Frog (especially when you get to see his little Froggy legs dancing)
*My doggy when she rests her head on my shoulder
*The stapler on my desk that is in the shape of a chicken
*Paperclips in fun shapes
*Duckies (JUST LOOK AT THIS LIL' GUY!!!)
*Hoodies (and the songs that are made up about them)
*AMAZING Poetry by AWESOME people (That's right I'm talkin' about you, Trizzle)
*Tiny plastic mermaids
*Bunnies snuggling with puppies
*My robin's egg blue iPod Nano
*My purple faux crocodile wallet
*When my grandpa tells me to drive safe at the end of all phone chats. Regardless of if I'm going to be driving any time soon
*Baby bears
*When my dear friends Mama and Papa Watson hold hands, wear pimp hats and sing karaoke
Feel free to add on to my list! It's good to appreciate the cuteness in this world.
17.7.08
Rapturous
Do you ever worry about what will happen to all of your unsaved friends and family just after the Lord lifts the rest of us GOOD people up to heaven? Got an extra $40 layin' around? Aren't you just aching to send them one last email about the glory of Christianity, but are afraid you'll be too busy frolicking in the clouds and playing your harp on the good side of those pearly gates to even think about logging onto your Yahoo account? Thank goodness we're not the only ones worrying about such pressing matters. Here's your chance to let them all know that, "Yes, in fact you've been left behind."
I am particularly impressed with the fail-proof system they have in place for determining when the Rapture has in fact occured. Five dedicated Christian representatives from around the country (because who even cares about the rest of the world) have been selected to log in to the website every three days. If three of the five fail to do so at this predetermined frequency, the Rapture has indeed occurred. Ya know...or they were on vacation. Or the power went out. Or their computers broke.....so basically, most likely the Rapture has occurred.
This will prompt a message full of apocolyptic scripture (God's honest truth) to be electronically delivered from beyond to 62 of my most heathenistic friends and family members telling them to repent immediately.
Let's face it. It's probably too late for those sinners to convince God to save them from the fire and brimstone, but as a GOOD Christian, you want to make sure that you get one last chance to let them know that you were right and they were wrong. BIG TIME. Neener-Neener.
I am particularly impressed with the fail-proof system they have in place for determining when the Rapture has in fact occured. Five dedicated Christian representatives from around the country (because who even cares about the rest of the world) have been selected to log in to the website every three days. If three of the five fail to do so at this predetermined frequency, the Rapture has indeed occurred. Ya know...or they were on vacation. Or the power went out. Or their computers broke.....so basically, most likely the Rapture has occurred.
This will prompt a message full of apocolyptic scripture (God's honest truth) to be electronically delivered from beyond to 62 of my most heathenistic friends and family members telling them to repent immediately.
Let's face it. It's probably too late for those sinners to convince God to save them from the fire and brimstone, but as a GOOD Christian, you want to make sure that you get one last chance to let them know that you were right and they were wrong. BIG TIME. Neener-Neener.
16.7.08
8.7.08
Story hour
Our campus hosts conferences during the summer, so oftentimes our cafeteria is packed full of odd combinations of people like barbershop quartets and nurses, basketball players and quilters, and my favorite, cheerleaders and mormon pre-teens.
Today, the cheerleaders have taken over, so my seating options were limited. I chose a table with 8 chairs around it, which is just asking for strangers to join me. Sure enough, two elderly gentlemen in shortsleeves and ties asked if they could sit at my table. I commented that it can be difficult to find a good spot.
The man to my left said, in a polite southern drawl as he gestured to a ridiculously adorned chili dog, "Well, I'll tell you somethin' Miss. As soon as I take a bite of this, it'll have no trouble finding a good spot." And then he chuckled and patted his belly.
From what I can tell, they sold insurance for a living and were simply on a little jaunt over to our cafeteria for a snack. They spent their (and my) lunch hour telling all sorts of gruesome tales.
"I knew a woman who ran over her son with a lawn mower. It ripped all his insides out onto the grass. He lived, but he's kind of slow, and I bet his mom feels pretty bad."
They thanked me for sharing my table and went on their way.
Good times in higher education.
Today, the cheerleaders have taken over, so my seating options were limited. I chose a table with 8 chairs around it, which is just asking for strangers to join me. Sure enough, two elderly gentlemen in shortsleeves and ties asked if they could sit at my table. I commented that it can be difficult to find a good spot.
The man to my left said, in a polite southern drawl as he gestured to a ridiculously adorned chili dog, "Well, I'll tell you somethin' Miss. As soon as I take a bite of this, it'll have no trouble finding a good spot." And then he chuckled and patted his belly.
From what I can tell, they sold insurance for a living and were simply on a little jaunt over to our cafeteria for a snack. They spent their (and my) lunch hour telling all sorts of gruesome tales.
"I knew a woman who ran over her son with a lawn mower. It ripped all his insides out onto the grass. He lived, but he's kind of slow, and I bet his mom feels pretty bad."
They thanked me for sharing my table and went on their way.
Good times in higher education.
This is my dance space.
I have a genetic predisposition towards getting stuck in close proximity to less than desirable individuals. They may be smelly, touchy-feely, or any other version of annoying. At the movies, they are loud-talking, seat-kicking adults who should know better. Or even worse...confrontational pre-teens.
In fact, I'm on a plane right now and my preciously limited space is seriously being encroached upon. The man next to me would most certainly be offered a lude public bathroom stall service, judging by the wideness of his stance. His arm is slowly but surely creeping past his fair share of the arm rest, which I have chosen to not even touch. When he first sat down he gave me a dweeby smile that said "Hey new friend. Are you ready for some fun?" No. No. I'm not. We're not friends. Here, have some bitch-vibes.
Then he flipped the arm rest between us up and leaned into my space. Oh hell no. I require that barrier. I like to envision a germ-blocking forcefield directly separating my dance space from whatever strange human's I am unlucky enough to be assigned next to. If this man deactivates it, I will probably cry, sissy slap him until he scoots over, and then develop a severe case of whatever disease I happen to imagine him having.
I looked at the man like, "Uh. No." and then flipped it back down. We eyed each other awkwardly. Awesome. Now we get to share this yard of airplane for the next hour. I can't wait. Now please move your effing elbow back to your side. Thanks.
In fact, I'm on a plane right now and my preciously limited space is seriously being encroached upon. The man next to me would most certainly be offered a lude public bathroom stall service, judging by the wideness of his stance. His arm is slowly but surely creeping past his fair share of the arm rest, which I have chosen to not even touch. When he first sat down he gave me a dweeby smile that said "Hey new friend. Are you ready for some fun?" No. No. I'm not. We're not friends. Here, have some bitch-vibes.
Then he flipped the arm rest between us up and leaned into my space. Oh hell no. I require that barrier. I like to envision a germ-blocking forcefield directly separating my dance space from whatever strange human's I am unlucky enough to be assigned next to. If this man deactivates it, I will probably cry, sissy slap him until he scoots over, and then develop a severe case of whatever disease I happen to imagine him having.
I looked at the man like, "Uh. No." and then flipped it back down. We eyed each other awkwardly. Awesome. Now we get to share this yard of airplane for the next hour. I can't wait. Now please move your effing elbow back to your side. Thanks.
3.7.08
Here Comes the Sun, Doo Doo Doo Doo....
This past weekend was absolutely gorgeous, which meant it was time to break out the summer dresses, flip-flops, sunglasses and a ridiculously high spf sunscreen.
On my way to a lovely outdoor cafe where I planned to meet up with Yvanka to enjoy the loveliness of the day, I realized my car was pretty much devoid of all gas. Whoops. I pulled into the station, which was highly populated with other weather-appropriately clad folks.
Full sunshine is a rare commodity here, so when it graces us with its presence, our vitamin D deficient brains turn us all into silly, jolly, grinning fools. I love it.
One dude at the gas station, who on any other gloomy day is probably a badass motherfucker, was practically frolicking he was so drunk on sunshiney goodness. Picture cornrows, wifebeater, prison tatts, and a big dopey grin. He exited the convenience store with a spring in his possibly gang affiliated-Nike shoe wearin' step. He was so smiley in fact, that I had to return the kindess with a little "hello" and a wave. He began filling his junker of a car, which was blasting the scary kind of hip-hop. Something about "smackin' yo' bitch on the way to the club where you're gonna do it with a ho on the bar after layin' a five on it (which apparently has something to do with drugs)." Whatever. Have I mentioned how very, very white I am?
"Gonna go enjoy this nice weather we're having today?" says Snoop Double Jizzle
"Why, yes, I certainly am!"
"Me too. I'm gonna go out on my yacht right after I take a shower."
"That sounds nice."
"Yeah...and then I'm gonna get fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked up."
"Well.....enjoy!"
Happy Summer!
On my way to a lovely outdoor cafe where I planned to meet up with Yvanka to enjoy the loveliness of the day, I realized my car was pretty much devoid of all gas. Whoops. I pulled into the station, which was highly populated with other weather-appropriately clad folks.
Full sunshine is a rare commodity here, so when it graces us with its presence, our vitamin D deficient brains turn us all into silly, jolly, grinning fools. I love it.
One dude at the gas station, who on any other gloomy day is probably a badass motherfucker, was practically frolicking he was so drunk on sunshiney goodness. Picture cornrows, wifebeater, prison tatts, and a big dopey grin. He exited the convenience store with a spring in his possibly gang affiliated-Nike shoe wearin' step. He was so smiley in fact, that I had to return the kindess with a little "hello" and a wave. He began filling his junker of a car, which was blasting the scary kind of hip-hop. Something about "smackin' yo' bitch on the way to the club where you're gonna do it with a ho on the bar after layin' a five on it (which apparently has something to do with drugs)." Whatever. Have I mentioned how very, very white I am?
"Gonna go enjoy this nice weather we're having today?" says Snoop Double Jizzle
"Why, yes, I certainly am!"
"Me too. I'm gonna go out on my yacht right after I take a shower."
"That sounds nice."
"Yeah...and then I'm gonna get fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked up."
"Well.....enjoy!"
Happy Summer!
1.7.08
Religious Complexities
I work at a church. I am in the very regular habit of questioning EVERYTHING the moment I step through the doors of "God's house." It takes every ounce of my will power to not roll my eyes and let out big 'HARUMPH" noises during the service.
I'm an awful heathen.
I remember the paycheck and the appreciation of all of the devout old folks in the congregation and muster up just enough grace to behave appropriately.
And then the pastor says the most ridiculous crap!!! He's testing me! How long can she keep a straight face? How long before she completely loses her shit, takes her shirt off and screams profanities all the way out the sanctuary?!
Not long folks, not long.
But really...
"Reason is the devil's whore." He actually said these words on Sunday. How do I apply that to my life? What am I supposed to do with that? I mean, other than repeat it to everyone I have ever come into contact with, preach it from the mountaintops, and tattoo it on my ass?
No joke, I am ridiculously tempted. It's just too good.
I am not there for God, the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost. I am a little there for the money. And a lot there for the golden nuggets of absurd wisdom. Amen.
I'm an awful heathen.
I remember the paycheck and the appreciation of all of the devout old folks in the congregation and muster up just enough grace to behave appropriately.
And then the pastor says the most ridiculous crap!!! He's testing me! How long can she keep a straight face? How long before she completely loses her shit, takes her shirt off and screams profanities all the way out the sanctuary?!
Not long folks, not long.
But really...
"Reason is the devil's whore." He actually said these words on Sunday. How do I apply that to my life? What am I supposed to do with that? I mean, other than repeat it to everyone I have ever come into contact with, preach it from the mountaintops, and tattoo it on my ass?
No joke, I am ridiculously tempted. It's just too good.
I am not there for God, the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost. I am a little there for the money. And a lot there for the golden nuggets of absurd wisdom. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
