Saturday, February 28, 2015
Internet dress controversy
Because paying attention to the
government's secret internet power grab is too hard for most folks.
"Feel good" story of the day
From rob:
"The 27-year-old had been using her Nokia 3310 to pleasure herself.
"The 27-year-old had been using her Nokia 3310 to pleasure herself.
But it slipped too far inside her and she was unable to remove it.
When she realised it was stuck she had no choice but call her gynaecologist and say she had an emergency.
While sat in the doctor's waiting room the woman's phone began to RING."
More HERE
Okie dokie, then, what I want from you, fearless readers, are suggestions as to the perfect ring tone. And......GO.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Trust
I'm a very trusting person.
According to wirecutter, a little too trusting.
Until you prove to me you aren't trustworthy.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Right person, wrong time
When soul mates miss connecting by inches. By minutes. By miles.
When you meet someone who clicks so completely with you, but you can't do anything about it.
When you have to make the decision to try to be friends or decide to say goodbye.
For all the loves that were, for a very brief and beautiful moment in time, perfect.
When you meet someone who clicks so completely with you, but you can't do anything about it.
When you have to make the decision to try to be friends or decide to say goodbye.
For all the loves that were, for a very brief and beautiful moment in time, perfect.
Making smart phones user friendly
It's nice, squishy material.
But I think it needs better shading around the nipple and areola.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Autism Sensory Overload Simulation
Just a taste of what the Cute Chicks deal with on a daily basis.
And I'm amazed they don't have more meltdowns than they do.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
My inner chef squealed
I'll buy a set of measuring cups and spoons,
and 3 minutes later all I can find is 1/3 cup and 1/8 teaspoon.
And grocery lists.
Take a pic with your phone and go shopping.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Friday, February 20, 2015
For the love of books
Mom read to us every day, multiple books. Because we were poor (I didn't know until I was a young teen*), we only had a few books and a smoking library card. I still remember the trips to the library, my brother and me in the wagon she pulled 20+ blocks. I quickly had our favorites memorized, and then I learned to read them myself. She'd change a word here and there, I'd correct her and she'd hand the book to me, "Okay then, Miss Smartypants, read it to me." And I would, silly voices like she did and acting out the parts. I was reading simple books by 2, on a 6th grade level by kindergarten, college level by 6th grade. And all because my mom read to me as much as possible.
Thank you, Mom, for my lifelong love of reading. I love you.
*I realized we didn't have a tv until I was in grade school. All we had were books.
Thank you, Mom, for my lifelong love of reading. I love you.
*I realized we didn't have a tv until I was in grade school. All we had were books.
Again, I fail to see the problem
These are memes I pull of the internet,
usually posted by some liberal twatwaffle
who thinks he's making some scathing commentary
on America's troubling gun obsession.
Know what I see?
Liberty.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Getting out of the doghouse
I fucked up this week. Hugely. Poppy's 79th birthday was Tuesday, and I completely flaked. Forgot. Not even a phone call. So when I realized what I'd done, I called him yesterday afternoon and made a Daddy/Daughter date. We've had these my whole life, from movies and Ice Capades to baseball and hockey games. Just the two of us. Sadly, we haven't had one in a while, so we met today for Gander's and barbeque.
Let's backtrack a bit. Poppy was the man who patiently held a squirming 3-year-old me on his knee while he explained why I would never hit anyone with my poorly aimed finger gun. I tended to hyper-extend my finger until it curved right; he showed me how to straighten my finger, line my fingertip up with my first knuckle and aim. And every day, he'd ask me to shoot for him. I had the deadliest finger gun in the neighborhood. When I was 7, I got my first BB gun. He paid 4 S&H Greenstamps books (remember those?) for a Daisy BB gun for my birthday. By that time, lining up the sights was second nature. First .22 on my 12th birthday. And my Smith and Wesson .38 when I went to college. When I made the Varsity rifle team as a 1st semester Freshman, he almost burst with pride. Then he found out I was the only woman on a 12-shooter team. He and SGM Williams had a long talk and I was finally allowed to travel with the team. I never asked what was said, and I never will. I didn't take it for granted, it was a privilege not a right, and I could have lost it faster than I earned it.
When we were kids, we were taught to appreciate what we had, don't whine about what we didn't have, and if we wanted something more, we could work for it. I was 12 when I started working odd jobs around the neighborhood; yard work, pet sitting, cleaning houses with mom during summer break. I was allowed 10% for immediate spending money, and the rest went into savings. By 16, I had enough to buy a 1965 Ford Mustang, Single Payment Plan of $2000. Poppy oooo'd and ahhh'd and took the keys. I would be given them back once he was convinced I could care for it properly and fix any issues that came up. We spent two months going over every inch of the engine and transmission together. Granted, it was a fairly simple engine, but it's been very valuable knowledge and I love him for sharing it with me. I have actually ended dates with men (boys) who didn't know shit about their vehicles. If your car stalls after going through a puddle and I have to dry out your distributor cap while you stand there, then we're pretty much done.
So back to today. We started off at his favorite hardware store to burn the gift card my brother sent him. We talked about his current woodworking projects and picked out some really cool router bits. We probably spent an hour and a half wandering around and talking. Long enough to get hungry, so off to Tyler's Pit Barbeque. Small, hole-in-the-wall, 15 person capacity inside, 4 large picnic tables outside, questionable neighborhood. We ate inside. Tyler's smoker and pit are bigger than the restaurant and constantly going. He specializes in beef and pork ribs, brisket, and sausage. No chicken. Don't look for it, don't ask about it. His wife makes the homestyle and German potato salads and cole slaw. But it's the beans. OhDearGodInHeaven, THE BEANS. You know the juices and brisket bits left in the pan? That's what they cook the beans in, so you have rich creamy smokey meaty barbequey beans that come very close to a religious experience. There is cornbread, but it's an afterthought. When Poppy took his first bite, eyes rolling back in his head, some sort of growling noise in his throat, I knew I was on the right track. We dug into the 2 person meal: 2 pounds of meat (brisket, ribs, sausage), potato salad, cole slaw and BEANS; and Noni's homemade banana puddin' to go. It only took us 30 minutes which is kind of embarrassing, and Poppy took the rib bones home for Snoopy.
Last stop on Angel's Apology Tour was Gander Mountain. He said he wanted a shotgun for home defense that Mom could use. We never got out of the fishing gear. We spent another 90 minutes looking at rods, reels, spinners, lures, and everything else Angler oriented. He left with another rod and reel, tackle box and a bunch of pretty, shiny, sharp things. I've never seen him "lustful", but I think he had a personal moment with his new Wusthof fillet knife. I felt like I was intruding on them, so I walked away for a bit. I pointed out that we'd run out of time and never made it back to guns; he just smiled at me and said we'd have to come back next week and try again. Did I mention I love my Poppy?
Let's backtrack a bit. Poppy was the man who patiently held a squirming 3-year-old me on his knee while he explained why I would never hit anyone with my poorly aimed finger gun. I tended to hyper-extend my finger until it curved right; he showed me how to straighten my finger, line my fingertip up with my first knuckle and aim. And every day, he'd ask me to shoot for him. I had the deadliest finger gun in the neighborhood. When I was 7, I got my first BB gun. He paid 4 S&H Greenstamps books (remember those?) for a Daisy BB gun for my birthday. By that time, lining up the sights was second nature. First .22 on my 12th birthday. And my Smith and Wesson .38 when I went to college. When I made the Varsity rifle team as a 1st semester Freshman, he almost burst with pride. Then he found out I was the only woman on a 12-shooter team. He and SGM Williams had a long talk and I was finally allowed to travel with the team. I never asked what was said, and I never will. I didn't take it for granted, it was a privilege not a right, and I could have lost it faster than I earned it.
When we were kids, we were taught to appreciate what we had, don't whine about what we didn't have, and if we wanted something more, we could work for it. I was 12 when I started working odd jobs around the neighborhood; yard work, pet sitting, cleaning houses with mom during summer break. I was allowed 10% for immediate spending money, and the rest went into savings. By 16, I had enough to buy a 1965 Ford Mustang, Single Payment Plan of $2000. Poppy oooo'd and ahhh'd and took the keys. I would be given them back once he was convinced I could care for it properly and fix any issues that came up. We spent two months going over every inch of the engine and transmission together. Granted, it was a fairly simple engine, but it's been very valuable knowledge and I love him for sharing it with me. I have actually ended dates with men (boys) who didn't know shit about their vehicles. If your car stalls after going through a puddle and I have to dry out your distributor cap while you stand there, then we're pretty much done.
So back to today. We started off at his favorite hardware store to burn the gift card my brother sent him. We talked about his current woodworking projects and picked out some really cool router bits. We probably spent an hour and a half wandering around and talking. Long enough to get hungry, so off to Tyler's Pit Barbeque. Small, hole-in-the-wall, 15 person capacity inside, 4 large picnic tables outside, questionable neighborhood. We ate inside. Tyler's smoker and pit are bigger than the restaurant and constantly going. He specializes in beef and pork ribs, brisket, and sausage. No chicken. Don't look for it, don't ask about it. His wife makes the homestyle and German potato salads and cole slaw. But it's the beans. OhDearGodInHeaven, THE BEANS. You know the juices and brisket bits left in the pan? That's what they cook the beans in, so you have rich creamy smokey meaty barbequey beans that come very close to a religious experience. There is cornbread, but it's an afterthought. When Poppy took his first bite, eyes rolling back in his head, some sort of growling noise in his throat, I knew I was on the right track. We dug into the 2 person meal: 2 pounds of meat (brisket, ribs, sausage), potato salad, cole slaw and BEANS; and Noni's homemade banana puddin' to go. It only took us 30 minutes which is kind of embarrassing, and Poppy took the rib bones home for Snoopy.
Last stop on Angel's Apology Tour was Gander Mountain. He said he wanted a shotgun for home defense that Mom could use. We never got out of the fishing gear. We spent another 90 minutes looking at rods, reels, spinners, lures, and everything else Angler oriented. He left with another rod and reel, tackle box and a bunch of pretty, shiny, sharp things. I've never seen him "lustful", but I think he had a personal moment with his new Wusthof fillet knife. I felt like I was intruding on them, so I walked away for a bit. I pointed out that we'd run out of time and never made it back to guns; he just smiled at me and said we'd have to come back next week and try again. Did I mention I love my Poppy?
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