1) You know what I've discovered a few years ago because of the magic that is Facebook?
There are people in this world that like Peeps.
Correction: There are people in this world that LOVE Peeps.
It gets worse: There are people in this world who intentionally leave out Peeps until they're stale and THEN consume them.
Say you: Haven't you discussed this before? You're recycling material.
Say me: it never ceases to amaze me, the love people have for Peeps. It's like watching a train wreck. Or an episode of Jersey Girls. Whichever.
PLUS, it's good knowledge for safe keeping. Just tuck it away. When you're having a really bad day, when you discover you've got a flat tire, the dog pooped in your bedroom, the boss told you you had to come in on Saturday and you're not only out of meds, but Diet Coke as well, you can always pull it out and say to yourself: "It could be worse. I could actually like to eat stale Peeps."
2) I don't even know why I go to Pinterest. The front page is nothing more than a mish-mash of Vogue and Martha Stewart with a dash of the Food Network all thrown onto one, easy access space. The entire site is essentially designed to send ordinary women into a spiraling depression with merely the click of a mouse.
Let's be clear here: My food will never look that pretty, I will never own a a home that looks, inside or out, anything like the homes depicted in those pictures, my lawn is currently peppered with dandelions and those irritating purple weed thingies that pop up every year at this time, and I am WAY past having a designer wardrobe, let alone a designer body to don such clothing.
To wit: the jeans I am currently wearing have stains on the knees from when I was out taking pictures earlier this week. I noticed them last night when I was getting a pedicure. And yes, I put them right back on this morning.
Take that, Mademoiselle.**
I don't even own a cute little dog. Mine's an 85-pound galoot.
So I mostly post stuff to my board of amusing images. I recently discovered there are 128 people following that board. Which makes me feel like I'm not alone in my growing ambivalence towards Pinterest.*
3)I am, however, completely jazzed about a few photographs I took this week. Which is a perfect segue to pimp my photo blog on Tumblr.
But I'll post the photos here, too.
First up, an old pottery friend lives not far from me in a fabulous, three story, pre WWII home. You know, the kind of house I'll never have? His. But I don't begrudge him because of his dogs. Who hang out on the second story roof when the weather's nice:
Meet Miranda (on the left) and Lacey. Boozer is the nefarious-contriving feline observing from the balcony. Boozer wins for having one of the best cat names I've ever heard. It ranks up there with Ferris Mewler.
Here's another shot. I took this one before Boozer arrived:
And here's one I took later on in the week. It was after a call, so I was lurking around the city at 2 in the morning. I love my new tripod.
For those of you in the OKC area, I was standing across the street from Little Flower Church for this vantage point.
4)My family and I consider ourselves intellectuals. This is why there's no hating on Facebook. It keeps our cognitively stimulating discussions ever present, even over vast distances:
5) Did you see how I interjected The Blogess' cat up there? Clever, right? I have not given up on my crusade to get her to pose with a taxidermied stoat for my blog.
Because I am the stoat. Come on, Jenny. Pay it forward. Don't be too big for the little people. I'll mail you twine if you do. Pinky swear. ->
Song of the week:
There are people in this world that like Peeps.
Correction: There are people in this world that LOVE Peeps.
It gets worse: There are people in this world who intentionally leave out Peeps until they're stale and THEN consume them.
Say you: Haven't you discussed this before? You're recycling material.
Say me: it never ceases to amaze me, the love people have for Peeps. It's like watching a train wreck. Or an episode of Jersey Girls. Whichever.
PLUS, it's good knowledge for safe keeping. Just tuck it away. When you're having a really bad day, when you discover you've got a flat tire, the dog pooped in your bedroom, the boss told you you had to come in on Saturday and you're not only out of meds, but Diet Coke as well, you can always pull it out and say to yourself: "It could be worse. I could actually like to eat stale Peeps."
2) I don't even know why I go to Pinterest. The front page is nothing more than a mish-mash of Vogue and Martha Stewart with a dash of the Food Network all thrown onto one, easy access space. The entire site is essentially designed to send ordinary women into a spiraling depression with merely the click of a mouse.
Let's be clear here: My food will never look that pretty, I will never own a a home that looks, inside or out, anything like the homes depicted in those pictures, my lawn is currently peppered with dandelions and those irritating purple weed thingies that pop up every year at this time, and I am WAY past having a designer wardrobe, let alone a designer body to don such clothing.
To wit: the jeans I am currently wearing have stains on the knees from when I was out taking pictures earlier this week. I noticed them last night when I was getting a pedicure. And yes, I put them right back on this morning.
Take that, Mademoiselle.**
I don't even own a cute little dog. Mine's an 85-pound galoot.
So I mostly post stuff to my board of amusing images. I recently discovered there are 128 people following that board. Which makes me feel like I'm not alone in my growing ambivalence towards Pinterest.*
3)I am, however, completely jazzed about a few photographs I took this week. Which is a perfect segue to pimp my photo blog on Tumblr.
But I'll post the photos here, too.
First up, an old pottery friend lives not far from me in a fabulous, three story, pre WWII home. You know, the kind of house I'll never have? His. But I don't begrudge him because of his dogs. Who hang out on the second story roof when the weather's nice:
Meet Miranda (on the left) and Lacey. Boozer is the nefarious-contriving feline observing from the balcony. Boozer wins for having one of the best cat names I've ever heard. It ranks up there with Ferris Mewler.
Here's another shot. I took this one before Boozer arrived:
 |
| I was going to put a witty caption here, but I can't think of one. |
For those of you in the OKC area, I was standing across the street from Little Flower Church for this vantage point.
4)My family and I consider ourselves intellectuals. This is why there's no hating on Facebook. It keeps our cognitively stimulating discussions ever present, even over vast distances:
 |
| click for larger view |
5) Did you see how I interjected The Blogess' cat up there? Clever, right? I have not given up on my crusade to get her to pose with a taxidermied stoat for my blog.
Because I am the stoat. Come on, Jenny. Pay it forward. Don't be too big for the little people. I'll mail you twine if you do. Pinky swear. ->
Song of the week:
*I forgot what I was going to say, so never mind.
**Is that magazine still even around? You know what? I don't think it is. Score for the out-dated pop culture reference! *fist pump*
2 comments:
You should have added a PHOTO of Ferris Mewler - or the link to the Ferris Mewler hiding on the china cabinet thingy ... the @thebloggess should totally come say hey!
And here I thought I was a good stalker. Link is in now.
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