Saturday, January 22, 2005

pay no attention to that woman behind the curtain...

... because she's trying to figure something out and its driving her mad.

MAD I TELL YOU!

sorry, didn't mean to get all big-font-y there. but you see, i've added blogger comments to the blog that you can see with out having the haloscan pop up window. i don't particularly like it better than haloscan, but it took me a awhile to figure out how to do it, and i'm not going to let all that hard work go to waste. so woohoo! new comment system! :)

only thing is, i can't seem to get the little 'delete this comment' icon to show up. it shows up on other blogs, other blogs that still have the blogger template on them. i've looked at the codes of both and have no idea what i'm missing in my template. there's a little invisible space where the icon should be. so i can delete a post if i want to, i just can't see the damn icon!

grrrrrrrr!!!

if i don't figure it out by the end of another cycle through my new Darren Hayes CD (i've listened to it the whole way through at least four times while i've been sitting at the computer playing - do i know how to spend a saturday or what!) i think i'll give up. for today at least. and tackle the problem later from a fresh point of view.

Friday, January 21, 2005

I must be lost. I could have sworn Bankruptcity was just up ahead.


Loon Highway
Loony-Bin Lane3
Hobotown22
Contentment Meadows42
Lake Love126
Bankruptcity292
Please Drive Carefully
Username:

Where are you on the highway of life?

From Go-Quiz.com

Because I'm on a very important exploration of self today (ie its Friday and I'm avoiding work)



Your Icecream Flavour is...Neopolitan!
You aren't satisfied with just one flavor. They say variety is the spice of life and this shines through in your Ice cream of choice! Just don't eat all the chocolate and leave the strawberry and vanilla behind!
What is your Icecream Flavour?

Find out at Go Quiz

Icky ick! I hate strawberry ice cream. I hate pretty much everything strawberry flavored, except for strawberries themselves (which I love, go figure).

It's just that anything artificially strawberry flavored is too sweet. Too non-strawberry. Too bleagh. Strawberry ice cream, strawberry gum, strawberry lollipops, it all taste gross to me.

So I will be eating all the chocolate, and all the vanilla, and leaving the icky strawberry ice cream behind. Doesn't matter though, because I'll still be plenty spicy with variety. And I could stand to loose a few pounds. Strawberry is the heaviest of the ice creams, isn't it? What with all those strawberry chunks in it? So yeah, I'll just pass on the chunky part thank you very much and gobble up the other too.

Now here I am, all in the mood for some ice cream, and trying not to think about the Cold Stone Creamery that's just a few minutes drive away. Evil thoughts!

F.Y.I.

And I don't mean Fruggle Yodeling Instructors...

loon is poisonous! Induce vomitting if ingested.
N
POISON

Username:

From Go-Quiz.com


So don't y'all be gettin' any ideas about ingesting me or anything like that. Eat me and die! *Tee hee*

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

tuesday is chooseday

Would you rather...

1. be the world's best dodgeball player OR the world's best chess player?

When I was but a wee lass I had a love/hate relationship with dodgeball (heavy on the hate). Sometimes the game was a blast to play, no matter if I was the first one out or the last one standing (which happened once! No, really!) But most of the time the game seemed like just a handy means of adolescent ritualistic mortification, all at my expense.

Now that I'm all grown up and mature and not so easily bruised by taunts and mean words and balls traveling at the speed of light (young boys can throw pretty hard when they want to!) I think I could once again love the game. Plus, I learned all about the love of playing violent sports in high school (*tee hee*).

So I think I'd rather be the world's best dodgeball player. Especially if I was playing it 'extreme' style. Extreme Dodgeball on GSN looks like such a blast. Watching it makes me want to put on a jersey, warm up my rocket arm, and start throwing big red rubber balls at people.

2. be allergic to egg products OR wheat products?

Allergic to egg products. What the hell else is an egg product other than egg? And they've got fake eggs right? No problem then.

3. be able to go back in time to when JFK was assassinated OR Abraham Lincoln?

Err... JFK's time. Because I'd be able to wear more fashionable clothes than I would in Abe's time. And the television wasn't invented yet when Abe got a cap popped in his head. And...

4. be able to do complex math equations instantly OR sing professionally?

SING! Oh how I'd love to get paid to sing. To have people give me enough money so that I wouldn't have to do anything else but sing - that'd be the life! And I'm not talking about the Mega-Supa-Star Stadium Rocker type professionaI singer. I'm thinking more along the lines of a lounge singer. A dusky jazz club singer. Or even a Broadway musical singer! I'd be joyously happy being up on a stage singing jazzy tunes, show tunes, sultry tunes, and god-I-wish-I-had-a-voice-like-her tunes. Even if its in a dinky little lounge somewhere. If only I had that kind of voice...

It's a scenario that I know will never happen, but I still like to dream about it. It's a fun dream to have. Just like my I'm-A-Ballerina dream and my I'm-A-Real-Life-Charlie's-Angels dream.

Pretty in FFC0CB

I'm infatuated with pink lately. Don't know why, really. It's just one of those things where your taste in something changes over time.

When I was (a lot) younger, I used to think long hair on guys was gross. All guys. No matter what. Icky icky bleagh! Now (depending on the guy of course) I think long hair is kind of hot. Rowr!

I used to think mushrooms were fungi of the devil himself and couldn't stand to have them associating with my food in any way whatsoever. Now I don't mind them (too much). Even on my pizza. In moderation, of course. Let's not get silly now and ruin a perfectly good piece of pizza with evil fungi.

I used to hate anything with honey in it. My mom thought that was the weirdest thing; a kid not liking honey. Now I like the stuff.

And I was never a fan of the color pink. But now I am.

In moderation, of course.

I never carried around anti-pink signs ("Die pinkie scum!") or anything of the sort. I didn't run screaming if the color came anywhere near me ("The pink it touched me! I'm so unclean!"). I didn't segregate the pink crayon from the rest of its crayon friends ("You are hereby now and forever banned from the crayon box!"). I wasn't averse to the color in anyway. I just wasn't a fan. I didn't wear pink, collect pink, buy pink, think pink, etc.

But lately the color, in all its glorious shades and tones, is grabbing my attention. I walk in a store and the pink clothes catch my eye first and I can't helping thinking how gosh darn cute they all look (?!?!?). I walk down the toothbrush aisle in the grocery store and I'm inexplicably drawn to the pink ones. (The pink in my new toothbrush, if it was a nail polish or lipstick, would be called Kick Ass Pink. Because it's a kick ass looking toothbrush with pink racing stripes.) I'm even drinking more pink lemonade!*

I don't know why this is happening. I don't know why I'm liking pink more and more these days. And now I've gone and draped the blog in massive pinkness! I wonder if its just a phase.

I also wonder what taste will change next. Taste in music, perhaps? Will I suddenly become obsessed with buying my favorite elevator music CD's?

Holy crap I hope not.

* This claim is unsubstantiated due to the fact that I haven't really been measuring how much lemonade, pink or otherwise, I have been drinking. There's no data in which I might graph my consumption variances. So it's all just hearsay at the moment. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Tip Of The Day:

don't ever read a George Carlin joke while on a conference call with Big Head Office Cheeses.

any number of muscles/organs maybe pulled/strained in the effort to not snortle out loud.