Protected: Bleh.

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Advertisements

Protected: Furiously Happy

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

An Announcement

Drumroll please

I have an announcement to make.

I, Nameless Author of Rosemary & Cameron,

AM NOT A SOPHISTICATED PERSON.

And I’m okay with that.

I’m okay with preferring a bright pink trench coat to a gray one, or a lime green jacket to a black one.

I’m okay with wearing athletic sandals instead of heels.

I’m okay with keeping my hair in a style that requires nothing but a brushing and a hairclip to prepare it, and with wearing makeup that doesn’t require scrubbing to remove.

I’m okay with reading books that my English major friends sneered at, and with listening to music that my orchestrally-talented sister finds stupid.

I’m okay with having stuffed animals on my dashboard and Wolverine toys on my desk.

I’m okay with liking recycled grocery bags better than attache cases, and with preferring a lemon yellow purse to brown leather.

I can dress like the others if I want. I can put on heels and pressed gray trousers and a black leather coat and a smart little purse if I want. I can wield a bottle of hairspray as well as the next girl. I can read Hemingway and Plath and Rand other books of the approved canon. (Sorry, can’t bring myself to imagine reading Rand. Even I have my limits.)

But I can do something they can’t. I can also dress in striped knee socks and hugely-floraled broom skirts and boys’ hoodies with thumb holes in the cuffs. I can also wear silicone wolf fangs and a furry hat, or a blue wig and a superman cape. I can paint my toenails hot pink or purple or lime green or black or cherry red or Bronco blue. I can drive to orchestra rehearsal – because while not orchestrally-talented, I hold my own – while rocking out to Usher and Flo Rida and Kanye and the Eagles and Hillfolk Noir and Third Eye Blind and Rockapella. I can stand up in front of an audience and make a fool of myself with a grin on my face.

Why? Because I’m not sophisticated, and I don’t care what you think, because I am too damned busy having a good time and living my own damned life.

Hovercats to the Rescue!

 

There is something so absurdly beautiful about this that I could just cry, except that I’m laughing too hard. Awesome.

Definitely Not! What Makes You Think That?

Note to Self

My maternal grandmother was over 30 when she had her first child – in the 1950s. Had all her babies lived, she would have had seven children, all well after her 30th birthday. Just because I live in Crazyville where everyone is married by 19 and filling minivans with six kids by the time they’re my age does NOT mean that I’m the weird one or that I’m out of time.

Protected: Fatigue

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

I May Be In Trouble

The object to your left is now your weapon of choice in the upcoming zombie apocalypse. What is it?

Apparently I’m going to have to fight the undead with a manila folder full of magazine clippings. Damn.

[via The Daily Wh.at]

Lust and Libraries

The word “pornography” comes from the mid 1800s and is derived from the Greek; porne meaning prostitutes and graphos, of course, referring to writing. Actually, porne is more literally “bought or purchased,” but the connotation is clearly toward prostitution [link]. Of course, modern parlance has warped the concept of pornography from “writing about prostitutes” to “images of gratuitous and often deviant sexual acts,” so there’s that. But the term has also been reclaimed for less X-rated purposes, such as the infamous Porn for Women book. (And lemme tell you what – if you want to spice up your blogging, try to Google the “porn for women” book to find the correct title – yikes.)

None of this – I tell you, NONE of this – can possibly compare to my new favorite website: Bookshelf Porn. Some of my favorites:

 

 

 

Boise, We’ll Stand and Cheer for You

How do you not love a football team with the chutzpah of Boise State?

BSU football

To be fair, watching Boise State play is sometimes better cardio than an hour of step aerobics where the instructor periodically and without warning transforms into the worst beasts of your scariest nightmares. I can’t help but think that Bronco football would be more enjoyable for someone who didn’t actually care about the outcome; having an emotional (or otherwise) investment in Bronco victory practically ensures stressful game nights.

GIS renders up some pretty excellent images from Monday’s epic game vs. Virginia Tech. Without further ado, I present

My Top Five Photos of Boise State Beating Virginia Tech

(shamelessly stolen from various websites)

Good boy, Kellen

Good boy, Kellen! Who’s a good boy?

 

scared cheerleader

Ahhhh!!!!!!! Why am I scared?!?!?

booyah

If you do this to geese, they run away - does it work on hokiebirds?

antigravity

No fair using antigravity cleats, boys.

in your face

I AM EXTREMELY PLEASED ABOUT THE OUTCOME OF THIS SPORTING EXERCISE.

Holy cannoli. Does anyone else think being #3 after the first game is totally and completely surreal?

Previous Older Entries

Some are baffled, but that one is not - that one knows me.