I came home from work and the house appeared to be empty of people and full of music. The dog was wagging her tail to the music, so I shook my butt, too. Then the Butcher came out of the bathroom and said, “Are you dancing to the girl I went to high school with?” “Doesn’t this look like dancing?” “I couldn’t tell what you were doing.”
Anyway, check this out.
I read a blog post this morning by a woman who has eight unpublished novels. Eight. Unpublished. Novels.
Sometimes I despair a little bit.
I’ll get over it, but I despair.
We’re inching closer to a Gingrich/Palin third-party ticket. I can’t quite explain why this picture proves it, but I feel like it does.
If you need to cleanse your pallet after seeing Newt coming a little too close to boob-signing, please check out this awesome interview with Gillian Welch and David Rawlings.
I have been wondering why this is the thing conservatives are turning on Campfield about and last night I realized what it is.
No matter how conservative you are, no matter how much you want your kids to wait until they’re married to have sex, when your teenage son comes home with his first girlfriend, when you think about what he might get up to with her even though you have taught him not to, are you hoping Campfield’s words about how regular heterosexual people can’t get HIV ring in his ears or are you hoping that he remembers the advice of evil liberals to always wear a condom?
I think even conservatives who believe most people who get HIV somehow deserve it, are not quite willing to have their kids believe that only people who deserve it get HIV.
Tiny Cat Pants 