Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

First of all, if you’ve emailed me or called me or anything in the last week, I’ve probably ignored it. Jo’s had a 102+ fever for almost a week now, and it’s not a happy time.

Second, the most horrifying thing happened to me last night. It’s been shorts weather here since early December. The ramifications are such as this:

Hub brought in the mail. I plopped it down on top on my laptop (which is in my lap) and proceed to sort through it. I get to the last circular, move it aside, and there is a half-crushed and wiggling adolescent frigging cockroach stuck to the wrist-rug on my laptop (which is in my laaaaaaap!).

The horror. The horror.

Have you been searching for blinker fluid or a left-handed screwdriver for years? Today’s your lucky day.

Conversation with my husband:

Him: You know what they say… if it flies, floats, or f—s, it’s cheaper to rent it.
Me: And just what exactly are you trying to say about me?
Him: Oh don’t worry, Honey. You’re cheap.
Me: …

*whack*

Battle 1978 Chevy truck vs. 2005 Prius. Guess who won.

Tampa Bay plays “Rock You Like a Hurricane” during Saints game. Whoops.

Elderly man has unexpected pet.

Find Flickr photos by shape.

First of all I can’t imagine what the families in West Virginia are going through right now. It must have been a horrible night.

I did find it really strange that the mine president is a West Virginia Hatfield and the lone mine survivor’s name is Randal McCloy. The patriarch of the McCoy clan was named Randel McCoy.

The problem with puppetmastering is that most of the time if I do something, or see something cool, I’m hesitant to discuss it because it might become a puzzle or a plot point someday and I would hate to ruin any surprise.

Preface: my mother died in 1987.

I was being held captive in a school bus by an old religious freak. I wasn’t supposed to use my computer, but decided to do it anyway. My phone was almost out of batteries, and my husband (who was 12 years old and not my husband in my dream) was keeping the charger in his backpack. I went to his seat on the bus to get his charger and noticed my captor standing there with his idol, some other religious freak. I then told him off, ending with, “You are just a sad and ugly little copy of who you want to be” (meaning the other guy). I heard them talking about how to punish me as I left, but I knew that all the things I’d said to him had struck him so deeply he wouldn’t do anything.

I didn’t know who to email, now that I had my computer. Finally I settled on my mom since I hadn’t talked to her in a while. I had no idea where to even find her email address. I looked in the phone book and she just happened to be listed there in a listing of Compuserve users. Her address was melangerie101@cs.compuserve.com. I mailed her, and tried to message her, but got no response. I found her street address and went over there to try to find her but it looked like she’d just left. The radio was still on and dishes were out. I left a home-made Christmas decoration (a lamp with “MOM” carved into the post) and went away.