Good Morning America this morning, chances are good you saw our very own Erin, looking sassy and making some excellent points.
Too cool, that.
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Here’s a shout-out to fellow dork One Dollah and her friend Twenty Cent.
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Jesus Christ. A motorcycle just went zooming by at the speed of light on the very busy road behind our house, and I about fell off my chair and curled up into a fetal position, the sound scared me so badly.
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When I think of Judge Roy Moore, the phrase “Getting too big for his britches” comes to mind.
The current
news is that they can’t get anyone to remove the 10 Commandments monument because they’re all skeered of the backlash from the loonies (I say that with love) who’re rabidly anti-removal.
I sure am sick of hearing about it.
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So when I was in Maine, I went to Deck The Halls in the Maine Mall, and I picked out some pictures to be framed and sent to me. For the last few days I’ve had a vague “Hasn’t it been a REALLY long time since I was in Maine, and shouldn’t those pictures BE HERE by now?”, and when Fred and I got home from the post office yesterday, voila! These two huge packages were waiting in the garage, and much swearing and ten tons of foam packing peanuts later, we had them unwrapped.
This one’s going over the mantel. I love it so much I keep walking into the living room to stare at it.
And this picture cracks me up so much that I keep going to look at it. It’s hanging in the hall by the front door, and every time I look at the picture in the middle, with the hilarious expression of surprise, I laugh my ass off.
If only I could get a series of pictures of Tubby like that.
While I was taking pictures of stuff I bought in Maine, I took a picture of these:
I already had the orange one in the middle, but I decided we needed the calico to represent Miz Poo and the all-black one to represent Mr. Fancypants. Sadly, there were no black and white cats to represent Spot and Tubby. Or rather, there was one, but it was a lot bigger than these, and I wanted one that was the same size.
Could I be more of a spoiled rotten yuppie bitch? “Look at what I bought! I have nothing better to spend my money on than pictures and tchotchkes! Next I think we’re going to grill steaks on a pile of $100 bills! Muffy, pull the Por-shuh around and let’s take a run to the Tar-zhay!”
Did I mention we’re saving up for a new camera?
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I stayed up late to finish
The Dogs of Babel last night and it made me weep into my pillow (which alarmed Miz Poo), so I had to rate it 4 Poos on the
reading list. The question, though, is whether the book actually rated 4 Poos, or whether my brain was so thrilled to read something well-written after I subjected it to that horrible book written by Carni3 Wils0n that I overreacted.
Seriously, y’all, don’t waste your time with the Carni3 Wils0n book. The spud, who is 14, could have done a better job.
Of course, nothing could be as bad as that fucking
Mulvaney book.
(Speaking of that damn Mulvaneys book, we were in a used book store over the weekend, and I saw three copies of that book. I turned to Fred and said “I feel like I should buy those books and burn them just to remove their offensive presence from the face of the earth.” Fred said “What’s funny is that I bet ten bucks there’s at least one person in existence who claims that book as their favorite.” True. No accounting for taste, I guess.)
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Miz Poo poses for PlayPussy.
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