Thursday, June 23, 2005
Sunday, June 19, 2005
While watching Book-TV, I was reminded of this well written phrase from F.Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. It is in reference to the characters experience as a college student:
He was "dismayed at its ferocious indifference to the drums of his destiny"
College is like that. Young people are pounding the drums of their destiny with great hope and furvor, while the institution ignores them with ferocious indifference.
I just eat up phrases like that. Its a yummy dish of of literary tiramasu.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Monday, June 13, 2005
I'm posting these graphic pictures of overdose victims not for shock value, but rather in the hope that you will have a frank discussion with friends and family about respecting moderation, understanding limits, and knowing when to just walk away. Remember...
This did NOT have to happen.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
I have been pooped on, peed on, and puked on more times than I can remember. On a daily basis, I endure food goobers, drink goobers, dust goobers, kid goobers, pet goobers, paint goobers, glue goobers, and UFO goobers.
An entire section of my closet is reserved for my Goober clothes: Wash and wear attire that I can sport to perform all those daily gooberish tasks.
In contrast, I can count on one hand, the number of times that I have had reason to don my little black dress that hides in the corner.
When my husband comes home from a long day at the office, dressed in his Oxford shirt and dockers, he will always look me over before submitting to huggies and kissies.
"Just checking for Goobers dear."
Saturday, June 04, 2005
I am blogging away on all sorts of interesting intellectual topics, but according to my blog stats the only post you people* are hitting is "Tom Cruise on Oprah"
I will now title all posts "Tom Cruise"
and just to get some traffic going:
Tom Cruise Tom Cruise Tom Cruise Tom Cruise Tom Cruise
Get a life people. geeze
*(Noteable Exception: The select few people who actually represent intelligent life in the blogosphere, and you know who you are.)
This is all a lie. A great publishing conspiracy designed to keep you gerbils running on that squeaky little wheel that you call a day job. Getting published is easy, and if you don’t believe me, walk into any bookstore. Inside, you will find a mountain of books; some good, some bad, and some that are, well, ...pathetic.
These stores are like an insatiable Pac-man monster, screaming "FEED ME SEAMORE!" They need new titles every day, and they will take anything that the average Joe will buy.
It don't have to be good, it just has to sell.
The behemoth that is the publishing industry exists solely to feed the giant yellow gobbler, in spite of what the highbrows would have you think.
So take heart Joe. The public is not screaming for Tolstoy. They have no interest in the philisophical musings of the Harvard MFA's. All they really want is to spend a few hard-earned bucks for a chance to escape from the drone of the squeaky wheel for a while.
Any Walter Mitty can do that.
Friday, June 03, 2005
I attended the Asian festival last weekend, and noticed a group of women doing Mehendi in the India pavillion.
Mehendi is the ancient art of henna body painting. The henna stains the skin, and the artwork lasts for about ten days.
Cool! Let's do it! (If it's good enough for Madonna, it's good enough for me.)
So, I stuck out my hand and a little pre pubesent girl in a sari began to doodle on my skin.
She made this long snaky swirl along my lifeline and added a few dots. I thought "Wow, there must be some good symbolism here."
Then, she put two swastickas on either side of the snaky line. AUGGGH!!!!
I thought, "now just wait. Be patient. This is an artist at work here. She will add something to it any second...yup, any second now... any. second."
But she didn't. She was done and looking up at me with her innocent doe eyes, waiting for my thanks and approval.
"Um, do you know what this symbol is?" I whispered.
"It is a symbol for God." She said proudly.
Her mother looked at my hand, and then at me.
"It's also a symbol for something else."
Her mother said something to her daughter in their native tongue.
I grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe it off, but the stain was set.
OUT DAMN SPOT! OUT I SAY!
I walked away, rubbing my palm till it was raw, knowing that the poor little thing in the sari was about to get a lesson in world history from her mother.
Alas, innocence lost.
Meanwhile, I won't be buying the bagels this week.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
(No, not THERE...The link down below. See it? Down There.6)
Do It Now!!!!
Click this link and pass it on to ten friends or you will suffer horrible bad luck for three days and your hair will turn GREEN!!!!!