I heard one of the most inane things the other day. When you call Visa and try to speak to a real person, while you're on hold this recorded voice comes on and says, "Please do not hang up as this will further delay your call". What? What's that??? You mean that if I HANG UP the phone, I won't get through faster than if I don't hang up the phone? What kinda crazy talk is that? Have we as a society become so moronic that we really need someone to tell us that if we hang up the phone it will further delay our call?
Hold the phone.
I just remembered that the majority of the country voted for George Bush.
Twice.
So, yeah, we probably need recordings like this.
In other news of the strange, my husband got to hear me scream like a girl for the first time the other day. I had just finished my shower and grabbed a towel and started to put it on my head and there was this BIG, HUGE spider on it. Did you hear me? I almost wrapped a spider around my head! A BIG, HUGE spider. And, it was almost on my head!!! It was the kind of spider that was SO BIG it makes noise when it walks.
My girl scream is unlike anything I can reproduce unless I'm completely freaked out. I wish I could reproduce it at will, because it was one noise that came from my mouth that made my husband trip over stuff trying to get to me. The only other time that's happened was when I jokingly mentioned that I'd be willing to try that kinky fantasy he has that involves Spam, hula hoops, a porch swing and him being dressed as a nun.
September 26, 2006
September 17, 2006
Turn to Page 253 in Your Hymnal.
I'm feeling a tad blah this morning, maybe because I'm not fully awake yet. But, my mind started wandering on all the different words that mean sad, and I thought of melancholy. Then I looked it up in the dictionary and along with the normal, boring definition I also found this:
mel·an·chol·y
3. Archaic a. Black bile. b. An emotional state characterized by sullenness and outbreaks of violent anger, believed to arise from black bile.
So, then I had to look up black bile, and this is it:
black bile n. One of the four humors of ancient and medieval physiology, supposed to cause melancholy when present in excess.
Then, on Wikipedia, I found this. And, now I have something to entertain myself for most of the day. I also can tell everyone that I'm suffering from the black bile, and I can do so in a pirate voice.
In reality, I'll be spending part of the day cleaning up my art room, whose official title is Room Formerly Known as Dining. It looks like a flea market puked in here, and I seriously can't get anything accomplished while sitting in the middle of flea market vomit.
Speaking of flea markets, I know the first month for our booth was somewhat profitable, but I'm not sure how profitable. When we went to pick up the check last week, they had miscalculated the total. When we went yesterday for the corrected check, we learned that the owner's were out of town. It's not like we're digging in the sofa cushions for grocery money, but I'd like to know how much we sold, and what we sold so I have a better idea on what to buy.
You know those letter signs they have outside churches? I have a love/hate relationshiphip with them. I hate them because I think they're perfectly tacky, which, oddly enough, is the same reason I love them. I always take note of what the intellectuals at the local churches have brainstormed for the weekly sign message, and I'll be posting the more succinct ones on here. Last week, one of the local signs sported this message, "Want to avoid burning, try using sonblock." And, I was all like SONblock...I get it...not SUNblock...SONblock...like the SON of GOD...I get it. Those clever, clever devils. If anything would ever remotely come close to getting me into a church, I'm sure bad puns would do the trick. By the way, what SPF do you think Jesus is? Ready for some fun with church signs? I found a church sign generator, here. You choose your church sign, and then what text you'd like to see on it, click on the go button and like magic your sign appears. You can also get magnets and stickers made with your customized church sign.
Okay, I've used the word church far to many times in the previous paragraph, and now I'm starting to get itchy all over. And, I'm twitching a little bit.
Have I mentioned that I was raised Baptist, and I'm severely bitter about it? And, instead of using the phrase, "raised Baptist", which always sounds awkward, shouldn't it be "As a child I had the Baptist faith jammed into my veins with a dull, rusted, 10 gauge needle"? In my opinion, that's much more accurate.
And so, brothers and sisters, this ends another service of The Church of the Art Freak. Don't forget to leave a little something in the plate on your way out. And, remember, if it's not at least 10% of your GROSS income (not NET, you cheap bastards), you're going to hell -SONblock or not.
mel·an·chol·y
3. Archaic a. Black bile. b. An emotional state characterized by sullenness and outbreaks of violent anger, believed to arise from black bile.
So, then I had to look up black bile, and this is it:
black bile n. One of the four humors of ancient and medieval physiology, supposed to cause melancholy when present in excess.
Then, on Wikipedia, I found this. And, now I have something to entertain myself for most of the day. I also can tell everyone that I'm suffering from the black bile, and I can do so in a pirate voice.
In reality, I'll be spending part of the day cleaning up my art room, whose official title is Room Formerly Known as Dining. It looks like a flea market puked in here, and I seriously can't get anything accomplished while sitting in the middle of flea market vomit.
Speaking of flea markets, I know the first month for our booth was somewhat profitable, but I'm not sure how profitable. When we went to pick up the check last week, they had miscalculated the total. When we went yesterday for the corrected check, we learned that the owner's were out of town. It's not like we're digging in the sofa cushions for grocery money, but I'd like to know how much we sold, and what we sold so I have a better idea on what to buy.
You know those letter signs they have outside churches? I have a love/hate relationshiphip with them. I hate them because I think they're perfectly tacky, which, oddly enough, is the same reason I love them. I always take note of what the intellectuals at the local churches have brainstormed for the weekly sign message, and I'll be posting the more succinct ones on here. Last week, one of the local signs sported this message, "Want to avoid burning, try using sonblock." And, I was all like SONblock...I get it...not SUNblock...SONblock...like the SON of GOD...I get it. Those clever, clever devils. If anything would ever remotely come close to getting me into a church, I'm sure bad puns would do the trick. By the way, what SPF do you think Jesus is? Ready for some fun with church signs? I found a church sign generator, here. You choose your church sign, and then what text you'd like to see on it, click on the go button and like magic your sign appears. You can also get magnets and stickers made with your customized church sign.
Okay, I've used the word church far to many times in the previous paragraph, and now I'm starting to get itchy all over. And, I'm twitching a little bit.
Have I mentioned that I was raised Baptist, and I'm severely bitter about it? And, instead of using the phrase, "raised Baptist", which always sounds awkward, shouldn't it be "As a child I had the Baptist faith jammed into my veins with a dull, rusted, 10 gauge needle"? In my opinion, that's much more accurate.
And so, brothers and sisters, this ends another service of The Church of the Art Freak. Don't forget to leave a little something in the plate on your way out. And, remember, if it's not at least 10% of your GROSS income (not NET, you cheap bastards), you're going to hell -SONblock or not.
September 11, 2006
Random Generator #1
Today I'm going to share a smattering of randomness. And, I'm hearing "smattering of randomness" in the voice of a drag queen.
It rained this morning. Of course, it rained hard while I was driving into work, but then as soon as I parked myself at my desk, it turned into the soft, gentle, stay in bed and watch old movies rain.
Last night I had a dream that included a soap opera, swinging from hanging PVC pipes, jellied pork and a very nice Oriental gentleman who found a walnut, scratched it and subsequently turned into the squirrel from Ice Age.
Thomas and I went to see Lyle Lovett and His Large Band. By the way, Lyle, you're not fooling anyone...we all know that your "Large Band" is a euphemism for your very large hair. Nice try, buddy. Anyway, the concert was phenomenal...outdoors...perfect weather. I loved it. Until the part where I was once again reminded that I lived in Arkansas, and in a college town. Lyle mentioned the upcoming game between Arkansas and whoever the other team was. Then, the aforementioned crowd started "calling the hogs". If you've never had the pleasure of hearing this, here is your chance. At this point in the concert, I wanted to hide under my lightweight, plastic, fold-up chair.
I'd planned some photos of all the thrifty goodness I've bought in the last week, but then sheer laziness took over. Maybe next time.
I promise, readers, that I will never use the word "pop" in the context of anything remotely like this: "I've added cranberry red throw pillows to the sofa, and they really make it "pop". Just typing it made me vomit in my mouth a little.
I heard an ice cream truck today, but I can't place the song it was playing. It wasn't your typical ice cream truck song. It was slightly disturbing...as if it were calling all of the zombie children to come out and enjoy some frozen treats.
It rained this morning. Of course, it rained hard while I was driving into work, but then as soon as I parked myself at my desk, it turned into the soft, gentle, stay in bed and watch old movies rain.
Last night I had a dream that included a soap opera, swinging from hanging PVC pipes, jellied pork and a very nice Oriental gentleman who found a walnut, scratched it and subsequently turned into the squirrel from Ice Age.
Thomas and I went to see Lyle Lovett and His Large Band. By the way, Lyle, you're not fooling anyone...we all know that your "Large Band" is a euphemism for your very large hair. Nice try, buddy. Anyway, the concert was phenomenal...outdoors...perfect weather. I loved it. Until the part where I was once again reminded that I lived in Arkansas, and in a college town. Lyle mentioned the upcoming game between Arkansas and whoever the other team was. Then, the aforementioned crowd started "calling the hogs". If you've never had the pleasure of hearing this, here is your chance. At this point in the concert, I wanted to hide under my lightweight, plastic, fold-up chair.
I'd planned some photos of all the thrifty goodness I've bought in the last week, but then sheer laziness took over. Maybe next time.
I promise, readers, that I will never use the word "pop" in the context of anything remotely like this: "I've added cranberry red throw pillows to the sofa, and they really make it "pop". Just typing it made me vomit in my mouth a little.
I heard an ice cream truck today, but I can't place the song it was playing. It wasn't your typical ice cream truck song. It was slightly disturbing...as if it were calling all of the zombie children to come out and enjoy some frozen treats.
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