Friday, December 28, 2007

Paging Dr. House.


1. Why does the toe next to my pinky toe on my right foot twitch? Pinky doesn't twitch. Big Toe, king of the toes, doesn't twitch. Neither do the other two. Just Pinky's neighbor, who I now refer to affectionately as Thumper. And it's NOTICEABLE. Like, you can SEE it. So it's NOT IN MY HEAD.

2. Why, when I run hot water on my hands, do my teeth hurt?


Thursday, December 27, 2007

"Don't skimp on your butt!"


Grocery store cashier, upon seeing the two 12-packs of bargain basement toilet paper I was plopping down on the conveyor belt:
Don't skimp on your butt!

Me:
Oh, but this is for work*, and my boss told me just to buy whatever was on sale.

Cashier:
But is that stuff any good?

Me:
Well, they spent a little extra to put that little bear on the wrapper, so I guess they put some love into it.

Cashier:
That bear looks drunk! I think he took the extra money you saved and spent it on booze.

*Because if I'd been buying for home, of course I would've been buying our customary Soviet bloc toilet paper.


Monday, December 24, 2007

Ye olde nativity scene.


Feliz Navidad from Rancho del Asbach.


O, Holy Night.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus and Jesus tended to by Mary and Joseph (Terl and Ker from Battlefield Earth), with special guest stars Santa, the Three Wise Men (Dr. Zaius, Mr. T, and an anonymous monkey from Planet of the Apes), and The Angels (Big Boy and Mr. T duck).


Friday, December 21, 2007

I'd love to get my hands on the dream dictionary that could tackle this.

I've been having a lot of weird dreams lately. Like, even weirder than usual. And not only are the plots getting weirder...so are the guest stars. Chewbacca, the Burger King, the Hamburglar (not in the same dream as the Burger King, mind you, because even in the subconscious realm that would probably constitute copyright infringement), Dr. House, my elementary school gym teacher Mr. Neste (aka "Mr. Nasty" because, yes, this was the gym teacher who told my mother that she should tether a ball to a tree and make me go out and swing it at my head so I'd stop flinching--to which I responded, "But aren't we supposed to flinch when things fly at our heads?" because even at the tender age of seven, I'd already figured out that the kids who didn't flinch? Yeah, they were the ones who were in the remedial reading group and who spent most of their days lobbing pencils up into the ceiling tiles instead of learning their phonics), and now...Bea Arthur.

Y'see, last night I dreamt I was riding in my dad's truck with him & my brother Whitey...we were going over the river and through the woods to, well, somewhere, and I won't go into all the details because honestly, listening to other people's dreams? Not all that entertaining for the most part, I know. So let's cut to the good parts:

1. We were listening to a Bea Arthur album in the truck
(and suddenly, I wonder--does such a thing really exist? Quick, to Amazon!)...most notably, the "Miami" song. (A song which has been getting stuck in my head periodically since 1986.)



2. When we finally got to our destination, Barack Obama was our tour guide. And Marmaduke
was his dog.


Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Secret Santa.

So secret, in fact, that I have no idea who sent me this awesome crochet pattern/kit from Etsy.com.

Oh my god, the coolness!

Whoever sent it, please 'fess up. You know how I love sending out thank-you notes! (haha
)

Update (12/28): It was Regina! I should've known!

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

A crime against Christmas.

(And deliciousness!)

Sunday, 6:11 P.M.:
Caller requests help getting bowls back from son so she can do her Christmas baking.


Monday, December 17, 2007

Scenes from a mall.

Sleigh ride.
I love that the Mariner Mall is still using the same Christmas decorations that they had up when I was a wee, impressionable lass 20+ years ago.

Fa-la-la-la-la.
Reminds me vaguely of the Village People, for some reason.
Even though most of them are fairly tattered, and even though the elves remind me of the Village People (I think it's the facial hair...)--or Oompa-Loompas, or evil goateed villains from Star Trek--seeing these again brings back memories of a simpler time...a time when my parents were too afraid to drive across the "big bridge" to the "big mall" in Duluth. A time when my brothers and I were allowed to roam (relatively) freely around the mall...digging through the bin of overpriced clearance castoff at Kay-B-Toys, looking at the fish and lizards at the pet store, watching Dewey throw his money away at Aladdin's Castle, throwing my own money away on knickknacks at Prange Way. It wasn't as flashy as the mall in Duluth, but for its time (and our time), it had everything that we needed.

That being said, some of 'em do take on a bit of a macabre vibe if you look at them for too long.
I think he wants to shake your hand.
I think he wants to shake your hand. And I think you should give him WHATEVER HE WANTS.

Ready to screw.
Ready to screw.

About to ram the carrot right into his face.
About to ram that carrot right into his face.

And something really ain't right with lil' Pip here.
Something ain't right with little Pip here.

Watch out, Santa!
Watch out, Santa!
"It was Corky, in the warming shack, with the wrench."

Last but in no way least:
Two things:
Two things:
1. At first glance, we thought Santa was giving us the finger. (That may say more about us than it does about Santa, though.)
2. "Ladyjane"? Really? Like on G.I. Joe? Sweet!

If I may suggest a substitute, should you arrive at the mall outside of Santa's regular sitting hours:
Not Santa.
He's no saint, but his name is Nicholas.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

A-wreath-a-Franklins.

A-wreath-a Franklins.
One of several projects emerging from my workshop (aka the basement) just in time for Christmas.

(As originally seen here.)

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

God, I hate Ann Curry.

I don't know what it is about her. No, wait, I do.

Is it because she's a terrible interviewer? Or the constant interrupting? Her ridiculous stance of being all SERIOUS JOURNALIST one minute and the next, gushing about which wedding cake America has selected for the annual Today Show Wedding®?


Well, yes, it's all of those things. But mostly, I just hate that smarmy damn look she's always got on her face. And I hate that I only get four channels on the TV, so I've generally got a 1 in 4 chance of having that pop up when I flip.

However, I do love this:




It's almost enough to get me to forgive.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

In the not-too-distant future...

This is neato.

"Some of
Mystery Science Theater 3000 star and writer Michael J. Nelson's former co-stars and co-workers are now competing against him on MST3K-like projects, and he has an idea.

'I've tried to encourage a rivalry like the World Wrestling Federation,' Nelson said, 'where we taunt each other in public and then behind the scenes, we make giant piles of money. The only thing missing is the giant piles of money.'" - Mike Nelson

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

What I'm referring to as the Festivus Pole.

I don't think it's what my mom was initially going for with the lights on the deck, but c'mon, the resemblance is uncanny.
What I'm referring to as the Festivus Pole.
Inspired. Minimalist. Festivus.

In other news, it snowed today. A lot.
Eight inches, give or take.
Overall, probably closer to a foot--this was after the deck had been swept once or twice, and it's really light, fluffy stuff so it's blowing around a lot.

Monday, December 03, 2007

I know it's winter when...


1. The skin on my elbows gets so dry that in the middle of the night, it stings when it rubs against my sheets.

2. Main Street has a mountain of snow running down the middle of it on Monday mornings because the City can't pay the plowers overtime on the weekends, making me plan out every trip to the post office like Patton plotting his march across Europe, trying to figure out how many times I need to go around the block in order to get to the ATM at the bank since all the alleys are blocked off by the snow heaps.

3. I see no fewer than four vehicles full of teenagers in a parking lot, whippin' donuts.