I made them stop at Sonic again yesterday for a Cherry Lime-ade.
It was a reward for having to go to Walmart.
I made them stop at Sonic again yesterday for a Cherry Lime-ade.
It was a reward for having to go to Walmart.
My story is up! You can even listen to me read it. I tried to convince the Butcher to get his friend to do a dance remix of it, but so far that hasn’t materialized. You should wait until tonight to listen to it, put it on right before you go to bed and let me tell you a bedtime story.
Or you could listen to it now, and then take a nap.
Or just read it.
Hee. I’m so excited.
I heard a song, once, on the radio when I was little. The lyrics were simple. “I’m a neanderthal man. You’re a neanderthal girl. Let’s make neanderthal love in this neanderthal world.” Stupid, but they stick with you.
But then I never heard it again. And I never met anyone who had ever heard of it. So, I convinced myself that it was maybe a novelty song by a local Chicago band from the 70s, so there was no use in ever hoping to hear it again.
I still sang it to myself every once in a while, though, because, well, when a song you hear once can get stuck in your head for almost 30 years, you have to honor it by singing it.
So, tonight, I read this story, which, for obvious reasons, gets me thinking of the song. And I found it on Youtube! It’s a real song. It exists and you can listen to it, just once, and then sing it to yourself for 30 years. It’ll be great.
I honestly can’t believe they got four minutes out of this material, but hey, what can I tell you?
Edited to add: Oh, my god, forget that video. Check out this one.
Not one week ago, I daydreamed about a day when we would get a press release from the TNDP featuring supportive words about Democrats and nothing about Chip Forrester’s negative feelings about Republicans.
Today, which is NOT A FRIDAY! I received a press release from the TNDP with supportive words about Joe Towns (D – Memphis), about an interesting subject (healthcare reform). And at the end? It outlined ways Democrats could do stuff.
I am not even kidding you.
This is me upon reading said press release:
I know, it looks like a sad image, but that was just me being overcome by this strange feeling of happiness. Also, quite possibly, I am eating an earthworm. Don’t ponder that picture too deeply.
One, I have crocuses blooming in my yard! I have to take pictures. They’re so gorgeous.
Two, the story that I read to y’all the other night? With revisions, it got accepted to this awesome online journal. Woo hoo!
(I’m not sure if this means I’ve revised my feelings on crocuses or not. I still feel like they may just be really expensive, beautiful squirrel food. Of course, if I had some animals that… Oh my god, did I tell you people that we have a mouse in the house? That all three cats at one point last night caught and paraded around and then let go for someone else to catch? Three cats caught it. Three cats let it go. The mouse still lives. IN MY HOUSE. I had to fire the whole lot of them. Ridiculous. But, as you can see, there’s no hope for them actually keeping squirrels away from the crocuses.)
If you are in any way responsible for me finally having a new computer, the wet slobbery feeling you’re getting right now is me metaphorically making out with you.
Just got an email notification that the new computer has shipped! Soon, very soon, I will be able to have more than one window on my computer open at a time! I will be able to post photos again (which y’all will be very grateful for because I have a picture of a seed pod that looks just like a cooter. And who doesn’t want to see that?). I will be able to watch videos. Listen to music.
Charge my iPod!!!!
Sit in the living room!!!!!!!
Whew, it’s going to be awesome.
I got my first rejection letter! And it had a hand-written note at the bottom!
So, yeah, on the one hand, that sucks. On the other hand, someone took the time to be all looks-promising-not-for-us.
I’m going to lunch and then home to pay the plumber! And then? And then! To shave my legs! Although, the hair is now at the point where it’s laying over and is soft, so…
Ha ha ha.
Sometimes I write things I imagine are going to mortify me when I’m 60.
Well, so, I am about to fall over. Right over. I just got asked to be on the weekend All Things Considered, and read them a ghost story.
They found them on Metafilter, because one of you was kind enough to stick them up there.
I am so excited and thrilled and unsure about which one is best to read.
Ha, whew. How weird.
Edited to Add: Okay, I have more details, the most important of which is that I will get bumped if anything more interesting than me happens. If you read me, you know that is a very low bar to set, so I’m going to have to ask that everyone who reads this first tape everyone around you into their seats and then tape yourself into your seat. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t do anything, and, for gods’ sake, don’t tell anyone at NPR about the strange rash of people being taped into their seats.
Then we must all keep our fingers crossed that everyone else in the world decides this would be a good weekend to do totally normal things.
They’ve got some ideas about which stories they want me to read but they’ll let me know later today. I will then practice reading it out loud. Then I’ll go tomorrow to WPLN to read them to Guy Raz.
And then nothing interesting can happen, at all.
My Dad’s so cute. He’s all like, “The important thing is that they asked you and I got to tell your Uncle.”
I went to Qdoba for lunch just so I could grab myself a bunch of copies of this week’s Nashville Scene, and see if my entries all made it. And then I sat here and laughed with delight, seeing my name in print. Holy shit. How much awesome fun is this?
You can read them online if you like. I put up Barry Mazor for best book, El Rey Azteca and the Tennessee State Library and Archives, the City Cemetery, Jim Malec, Michael Cass, Rachel Walden, and Jackson Miller and Nicholas Holland, and the Ryman for best bathroom (which I can’t find online, but in the paper, they put a picture of it!!!!), oh and the Nashvillest, (and again, it had a picture, so maybe that’s why I’m not seeing it online).
Shoot, they ran all of them, then, I think. How cool! Ha, I’m just tickled.
God, I’m such a nerd. Sorry folks.
But also, “Woo hoo!”
Holy shit. I just made a risotto so delicious that I had to call the Butcher home to eat some so that I would not eat it all. Here’s what it had in it–okra from the garden, a pepper from the garden (very mildy hot, very very mildly hot, yum), cherry tomatoes from the garden, basil from the garden, corn from the cupboard, and some fake shrimp scampi from Kroger. And rice, obviously.
It is so creamy and delicious. I would eat more but I’m stuffed.
Okay, I would eat more, but I wisely called the Butcher in for lunch so that I would not eat it all.
I’m never sure if I’m actually making risotto right. I just throw in the rice, add water, stir until it’s absorbed, add more water, and repeat until the rice is no longer crunchy and everything is kind of nestled in delicious creaminess.
And yet, it always goes well, and I have this impression that risotto is difficult to make and requires special rice.
So, I don’t know. I may just be making soggy rice.
But it’s yummy.
This is just a reminder that I’m going to be yakking with Mary on Liberadio this morning at 9.
In the meantime, I will be nervously peeing and trying to figure out where I can plug my phone in and talk so that I don’t run out of juice in the middle of things.
Listen at 9 or listen later!
Or don’t listen at all, but it will be your loss!
Edited to add: If you missed it, but you want to hear it, here you go.
Pete Kotz over at Pith describes me thusly: “Feminist, political saboteur and gardening enthusiast.”
I’m not exactly sure what a “political saboteur” is, but I like it. It makes me feel like Alan Moore might someday make a comic book about me. And then, knock on wood, denounce the eventual movie based on that comic book.
Oh Pith, I delight in your new design
Look, it’s so crisp and clean and so refined
It’s the best thing on these intertubes
But Hargrove’s still not getting near my boobs.
That’s right, Pith, I love your new design so much I whipped out the pentameter. I’m willing to bet money that Jeff Woods isn’t writing you poems in vaguely iambic pentameter. Just saying.
Anyway, I have a few suggestions that I thought I’d pass along (No Depression, you might could listen up to a few of these, too).
1 (and most important): Include the full post in your feed. I love you but it’s annoying bordering on ignorable when I only have a few lines of text in my reader (or none at all, No Depression!). You don’t want to be ignorable (especially not after awesome, deeply insightful posts like this one.)
2: When you link to someone, your link should open in a new window, not in the same window. You want your reader to have a little positive reinforcement–she reads you. She clicks on the link. She reads that. And, if only to close your tab (or window) she has to come back to you.
3: We’re all on the same page that the ‘airplane’ thing is a quaint joke, right?
4: Ha, there is no four! There was barely a three! I love the new design. (Though, in all fairness, I am not a designer, so, in reality, it may suck balls, just for the sake of honesty.)
Oooooo. I might have to go home early.
World, I have to show you something so amazing I about don’t know what to tell you about it. A month in the life of a cervix.
I had no idea your cervix did that much. I guess I just imagined it sitting up there capping off the end of your vagina, but it turns out that it’s moving around and opening up and closing. Who knew?
I mean, aside from Rachel.
Edited to add: Rachel writes that the url for the site has changed. Find it here, now.
The bank is sending “the package” to the title company. We should close Wednesday. Which tickles me. For obvious reasons. Wednes. Hee.
One’s own house is best, though small it may be;
each man is master at home;
though he have but two goats and a bark-thatched hut
’tis better than craving a boon.
And I, my friends, am going to hang that in my house, when I find one, which I can, because I have “gorgeous credit” and I have been preapproved for a loan. And I think I can do a little better than a bark-thatched hut.
But I had such a nice day that I kind of just want to bask in it for as long as I can, even though my eyes are so heavy and head is nodding.
In some really important ways, I’m a very lucky girl.
Lindsey reports that our friend, Joey, is running around asking sex advice questions from circus performers. He’s come a long way from the wide-eyed terror with which he faced my napkin cooter, hasn’t he?
Anyway, I’m going to start saying ‘ta-da’ after all kinds of different accomplishments. What a genius way to end things!
You go along for a while like normal, shout out ‘ta-da,’ and it’s like you’ve accomplished something spectacular.
That tickles me a great deal. I am overcome by curiosity wondering what other hits one might find when one searches for CPAP porn, but I’m afraid to look and I’ll tell you why.
Once, when I was a young lass, just starting out on the red blood trail that is life as a menstruating woman, I awoke in the middle of the night at my grandma’s house to discover that I was in need of some feminine protection, which was located in the room in which my parents were supposed to be asleep.
I say “supposed to be asleep” because, as you can guess, dear readers, they were not.
And they were not playing a lively game of euchre.
Fifteen years later, I still can’t get that image out of my head.
The types of people who need CPAP machines are people such as me and, more importantly, my dad. So, any amateur porn being made out there somehow involving the CPAP machine is going to involve folks like my dad.
I cannot risk seeing anything like that ever again. I don’t have time for the intensive therapy it would take to get over that.
I was having the kind of day where you discover that your webhost hasn’t uploaded the five photos you have to give them to upload because they believe that you are too stupid to do it yourself, nevermind that kids on that MySpace do it all the time, and it’s been a month.
But then something happened.
I don’t know what.
I got in the elevator and it was like a weight lifted and so, even though I spent all day wanting to just hide under my desk, now I’m in a great mood.
Because someone at Harper-Collins has completely misidentified what I do and why I do it, I’ve ended up with a free copy of The Invisible Sex: Uncovering the True Roles of Women in Prehistory.