Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Hero cabdriver returns purse with $5k cash in it. Compare to our NYC cabdriver in 2000 who nodded off at the wheel in some sort of drug stupor. Discuss.
Pope carves up old popes, sends pieces around the world. Anyone else think the old guy has completely lost it?
Yet another weird disability fetish.
Missle Command!
World’s smallest website

From pink to blue! Please leave a comment telling me whether you like the new format or not.

I’m sorry, but what a dumbass.
The Pillsbury Gasboy
Beatallica, ‘specially for M.S.
Blow your mind… this is really freaking cool.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig. That’s one of the things my mother used to say, along with “Oh dad, poor Dad, Momma’s hung you in the cellar and I’m feeling so sad”. I never claimed to come from a normal family.

So I came home to a full-fledged nursing strike, and I have a desperate call into my LLL Leader. (mini-update: got her latched on, film at 11)

The votes on the pink-osity of this site are stacking up, and it’s almost a 50/50 split between too-pink and not-too-pink. I’ll probably be diddling with the template soon, as well as joining some more webrings.

I watched part of that HBO 9/11 special tonight and I simply don’t understand 1) why one would be compelled to take a picture of a person who has just leapt 100 stories to his death and 2) why one would be compelled to show same picture on TV. Really uncalled for, really disrespectful.

Fun with Pong

This is a really interesting town. Where else can you walk down a street that’s 200 years old and within a block hear blues, Dixieland jazz, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (Winter), and a lone trumpeter playing a slow, mournful rendition of Summertime (and the Livin’ is Easy)? Despite all the city’s charms, however, I’m getting homesick. I miss the babies. I want full-body toddler cuddles and warm fuzzy babyhead kisses. My older daughter, when she was littler, always smelled like cookies. The younger smells like a furniture store… in a good way of course . My favorite is sweet vanilla baby breath. I tickle the baby until she giggles and lean over to smell her ice cream and cake breath.

Since some weenie was whining that there weren’t any links in my blog (duh, I’m on vacation, I have other stuff to do, apparently unlike said weenie who has no life), I’m staying up late just for him to find some links. I think the only thing that will help said weenie, however, was the bottled New Orleans Air for Deprived Yankees.

Charles Barkley becomes my new hero
Ann Coulter on how Democrats are never satisfied
Mainstream media finally picks up on the Ender’s Game movie. If you haven’t read this book, now is an excellent time to do so.
I can’t wait to see the kids
And speaking of adorable children…

P.S. Upperline was overrated.

Today was such a lovely day that it was cliche. It was the kind of day that you could bottle up and sell for outrageous prices to deprived Yankees. It was sunny and mild, and we took the St. Charles Streetcar through the Garden District. That’s where all the old Victorian homes live, sitting quiet, genteel, and grand. The streetcar goes up the ‘neutral zone’ of St. Charles – in actuality it’s the median. All the windows in the streetcar were open and letting in the breeze, which carried on it the smell of the blooming magnolias, the grape Jolly Rancher the guy behind us was eating, and a pleasant smell that was apparently from the streetcar which was just like a bonfire made out of cedar wood. The monumental live oak trees had Mardi Gras beads tossed up into them, festooning them with a kind of gaudy spendor. In the lower Garden District, the old buildings had an air of desperate elegance, belying their current purpose as hair salons or locals bars. We passed some truly majestic homes and I loved seeing them. If I ever had to move to New Orleans, I think I’d want to live in the Garden District.

Tonight we’re off to Upperline for dinner.

Welcome to my birthday. It doesn’t seem like a special day anymore, not like it did when I was a kid. Then, it would be weeks of build-up; first the potato chips would gradually have 5/23 as an expiration date, then it would be a real sign it was getting closer when that was when the milk expired. Finally the big day came and I felt like it was really important. Usually I’d have a slumber party to celebrate, and there would be 10 girls in sleeping bags in the living room watching movies on the Betamax. Carrie was always a favorite, because I could grab someone and make her scream during the last scene. I pissed off my friend Debbie so much when I did it that she called her mom to take her home.

Slumber parties and spending the night were the best. Up all night giggling and whispering, trying to prove that you can make someone pee by putting their hand in warm water while they sleep, putting bras in the freezer, putting on makeup while wearing pajamas, talking about boys. I miss those times. There are some times that I can recapture that spirit now with hub. We stay up late after the lights are off and just whisper and giggle.

I’m beginning to wish I brought tennis shoes with us on the trip. I brought 4 pairs of sandals.