Boredom has set into every crevice, pore, crack, hole, and festering sore in my being. It has to do with this time of year–it’s hot, it’s the end of summer and fall is right around the corner, then maybe winter. Who knows, however, after last winter. We won’t know until it happens.
Back to my boredom. I can’t even think of what to write next. That, my friends, is how bored and uninspired I am (YES! I knew that word would make an appearance eventually).
The Dog Days of Summer are inspiration killers for me. Oh and that pesky unemployment dance I’ve been doing for the past 20 months or so — a bit of news on that front–I have an editing job for a few weeks starting tomorrow. Should be interesting since I don’t have any work clothes. Stuff has been tossed out due to normal wear and tear, and being too big. Most of it has been sacrificed to the fashion gods as a way to beg for forgiveness–let’s just say I was trying to revive the whole “Working Girl” look a few months ago. Hey, my shoulders aren’t big enough from years of swimming, LET’S MAKE ‘EM BIGGER! That whole experiment went buh-bye when I donned a blazer with shoulder pads out to *here* and they made my shoulders stick out to *HERE*.
The one look I will stick with is this one, since well, it is so me. So much so it’s frightening.
Since that’s settled, let’s see what other shenanigans I can get myself into.
I spent about 10 hours in the ER yesterday, dealing with unbelievable gut pains. Horrible. I had blood & fluid tests and CAT scans up the ying-yang. Even telling my tale of woe to countless nurses and a few docs proved that the human body is one big clusterfuck. A mystery, actually. I am convinced after spending time in one of the few Level 1 trauma ERs in Chicago that if something was really wrong with me, my body would tell me somehow and I’d just naturally listen. How do I know this? It’s tough to explain — you’d have to know my body as well as I do, which ain’t gonna happen unless you buy me dinner, lots of flowers and even more drinks. Top-shelf too, I don’t drink swill.
Back to the Camp ER, all is well–I think. Will know more later.
During my time on an ER bed, under blankets and in fab hospital haute couture, I had time to peruse the web for stories. I even deemed a few worthy of y’all’s attention.
The Dude’s Abode has sold.
According to LA.curbed.com, the Venice bungalow court used for the exteriors (interiors were shot on a soundstage) of the Dude’s house in “The Big Lebowski”, has sold for $1.59 million, down from the asking price of $2.25 million. Six one-bedroom bungalows make up the court, and each one has garage parking and hopefully enough rugs to really tie the rooms together. Here’s to hoping the new owners pay homage to the Dude in some manner–maybe with a White Russian Fountain in the courtyard or daily swirlies and rug-pissing sessions.
Farts. Where would the world be without ’em? Think about it. We’d all be a little more uptight and bloated if farting was not an option. This is why this particular toy is the shit.
(courtesy evansville.com)
When the South Koreans aren’t perfecting the ultimate fart-inducing food–Kimchee–or keeping those pesky North Koreans out of their country, they’re coming up with cute, yet educational dolls for kids.
My explanation won’t do it justice, so just read about it here.
While we’re on the subject of toys, here’s one for girls that bellows “you have no future so give up now!”
Think it’s a mistake that the little girl featured on the box is Hispanic-looking? Naah. I’m sure the toy above is satire, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it, um, isn’t.
Finally, any normal person is ‘interested in voyeurism’, but we don’t need to act on it — especially in such a public manner.
mccrabass 