I’m going to this on Saturday. I’m really looking forward to it.
DrBob is at a conference in Spain. He had plausible-sounding reasons for not taking me along, but I forget what they were.
I’m glad I’m going to the thing. Otherwise I might be feeling, oh, a tad resentful. He went to SPAIN! WithOUT me!
Song du jour of the day: I Knew You Were Waiting for Me, by Aretha Franklin and George Michael. Does anybody else think that’s like the weirdest duet since David Bowie and Bing Crosby did the Little Drummer Boy?
Oh, God, that reminds me. Christmas is looming. Ack!
HAHAHAHAHA! Okay, If you don’t want to follow the link, the upshot is that there’s a website (G) where students can grade their teachers! Okay, kids can sometimes lack perspective, but overall I think it’s a great idea. The teachers, not so much. Continue reading
In a phone call with DrBob before he came home last friday, we established that Lilu has changed since Fufu came, she is no longer as snuggly with us and seems tense and unhappy. We concluded that Lilu has rights too, and she was here first, and if she really can’t get along with Fufu, then we should give Fufu over to the Tierschutzverein. It’s not exactly the pound, they don’t put them to sleep, and they advertise in the papers – a lot more people would see Fufu there than in any signs we could put up, and she’d probably find a home pretty quick.
But then DrBob came home. After two hours, he said “Dammit. I like her.” Lilu seemed to be calming down. The family meeting on Saturday concluded that we should still try to find Fufu’s original people, or a new home, but if we couldn’t, we’d keep her. That was after she ate the condom, but before she upset the garbage, apparently looking for more. Yecch. Also before she tried to poop in Ignatz’s Lego bin. Anyway.
Today the girls are sparring and hissing, and I just caught Lilu with her snout in Fufu’s crunchies. You know, I didn’t hear any crunching. I don’t think she’s eating them: I think she’s just licking every one.
Song du jour of the day: Respect, by Aretha Franklin.
David Irving and Nick Griffin want to speak in public, and when someone tries to say no, they play Dennis the Peasant (Help! Help! I’m being repressed!). But it’s a lie, and they know it. They’re just using our own rhetoric against us. You think, if they were in power, you’d be free to call bullshit on them? Continue reading
Kelly tagged me ages ago, and I forgot about it because I suck. Well, better late than never, eh?
4 jobs I’ve had:
movie theater projectionist
webmaster (thankless, that one)
library page Continue reading
Amy wrote a beautiful post today about what brings her joy, and of course ended with the question of what makes her readers joyful (because blogging is especially rewarding when it starts a conversation). Continue reading