Not the Onion II
I don’t even understand how this is a real headline: Knox Jolie-Pitt Looks Like His Parents
Is the volcanic ash no longer sexy, now that transatlantic flights have resumed? Did the Pirates’ 20 – 0 drubbing at the hands of the Brewers not do it for the folks at The Huffington Post? I’m wracking my brain here for an explanation of this completely obvious headline that looks for all the world like it belongs at The Onion. Possible headline: Biological Child of Famous People Resembles His Parents
What I find more interesting is that they failed to note that he inherited his Republican grandfather’s political leanings, as evidenced by the pro-NRA gesture he’s making.
Merry Christmas, Y’all!
Merry Christmas, everybody! I hope you spend it in whatever way is meaningful to you.
New and busted:
Old hotness:
Be back soon
Sorry for the radio silence. I’m attending a family funeral in East BF, South Carolina, and there’s nothing to talk about. Except how little there is to do here. I’m not actually bored, because it’s been nice to catch up with relatives who I haven’t seen in as many as 15 years and I brought a ton of books and music, but I can see how the effort to entertain myself might start to wear on me soon. Also, why do I find the countryside in other countries charming, but not so much in the US? Canadian boonies? Cute! English boonies? Inspiring. French boonies? Lovely. American boonies? Sad.
A woman’s prerogative
I keep changing the theme of this blog, mostly because it doesn’t look on the screen the way I imagine it in my head. I’m pretty much crap at coding, so I’m probably not going to make my own theme anytime soon. I really liked some of my old themes, but I think that six months of looking at the same background is pretty much my limit.
Australia’s unrelenting awesomeness
Australians are awesome, as long as you allow them to bring up Paul Hogan first (if ever) and avoid ordering Foster’s beer in front of them (or anywhere else, either; Foster’s: Australian for crap). Aside from containing awesome Aussies (who always seem to be traveling/visiting/living/working someplace else anyway), Australia also has great weather, at least from a North American standpoint. When we’re burning up during our summer, most of Oz is experiencing an awesome, snowy winter. When we can’t feel our fingers or toes, they’re on the beach in their swimsuits. But what’s going on in Australian during the rainy season that debuted in much of the North American East Coast this year? For that matter, what’s going on here? Why do we have four seasons, anyway?
Because the British said so, and apparently that’s good enough for us. I do find it strange that I never questioned this before. It’s been pretty clear for the last several years that the whole “winter-spring-summer-fall” model of weather isn’t the best at capturing exactly what seems to be happening around here, meteorologically speaking.
You know who’s not taking that British-mandated 4-season thing lying down? The Aussies. And maybe we should considered joining them in their stand against such a small number of out-moded, not descriptive enough seasons. Plus, more seasons = more end of the season sales. Everybody’s a winner.
This is why the Internet exists
I was randomly clicking around the intertubes this afternoon, desperately attempting not to fall asleep at work, when I came across this slice of online awesomeness: TYWKIWDBI. The blog’s name, which the authors pronounce as “Tai-Wiki-Widbee,” stands for “Things You Wouldn’t Know if We Didn’t Blog Incessantly.” And they’re probably right. After all, did you already know that the hands of people with Reynaud’s Phenomenon tend to be awesomely bright colors (although Reynaud’s phenomenon itself is infinitely less awesome)? Doubtful.
So…Mohegan Sun
First, let me start by saying that I generally like casinos. I don’t gamble much; $20 is usually the most I’ll spend in a casino, and I try to stop if I’m up even a little. But I think that casinos make for fun people-watching, and try really hard to make you not want to leave. This was not the experience that I had at Mohegan Sun. The arena was awesome, although I am still mystified that I ended up in the second-to-last row, since I got my ticket in a presale. It was non-smoking, which was great, and a huge difference from the rest of the casino. That place was nasty! Ugh. It smelled terrible, and even though there were supposed to be designated smoking areas, people lit up everywhere except for the food court and the non-smoking gaming area. Even at the food court, you could not completely escape the stench of other people’s cigarettes. Aside from the four hours that I spent in the arena, I was only at Mohegan Sun for another hour, yet when I left, I smelled like an ashtray. It was gross. I had to air out my clothes overnight.
I find the Atlantic City casinos to be vastly superior in their regulation of where people can smoke. I don’t feel as nasty when I leave the casinos there. I can’t remember enough about Vegas casinos to say whether they were smoky, but I don’t remember feeling nauseated by them.
My feelings about Mohegan Sun were definitely tied into the fact that I’m a non-smoker with little to no interest in gambling. I think that if I smoked, or if I were more used to being around cigarette smoke, I would have noticed or minded less how bad I ended up smelling. Or, if I was used to gambling, I’d probably be more accustomed to smelling smoke.
30 seconds I’ll never get back
The real reason that I hate to receive email forwards is that the sentiments expressed therein are usually mawkish, wrong, obnoxious, or just not true. Forwards that fall in the first three categories are quickly archived, but for emails whose veracity is not immediately determined, I’m forced to do actual research. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy research. It’s my job, after all. I just hate spending any more time thinking about the crap that people email me about. Today’s example was the Bristol Zoo Parking Attendant email. It’s such a good story, I couldn’t pass up the chance to find out whether it was true. And…it’s not.
Bummer.
Beautiful
The tiny part of my heart that is not shriveled up and black loves this wedding entrance so much. Makes me feel like I’m not such a freak for wanting to march out of the church to Jason Mraz’s “Butterfly,” which ends with joyous repetitions of the phrase “You’ve got it all, you’ve got it all, you’ve got it all.” Anyway, I know that I would love to attend a wedding like this, and as much as I might play it cool, I’d probably have a blast if I could be one of the dancers.
That works, too
Note: In order to forestall any claims of Pepsi Blue-ness in this post, I will not link to anything.
I’m a sucker for marketing. I understand what advertising and commercials are for, and I actually try to limit my exposure to them, because they’re often so insidious, and I prefer to be completely aware of what I’m absorbing. Still, when I saw the ads for Pepsi Throwback, I was intrigued. Not because the low-budget kitschiness of the commercials, but because I’ve always wanted to drink soda that was sweetened with real sugar, instead of corn syrup. I have friends who can’t wait until Passover, because then they stock up on the Kosher for Passover Coke products that are sweetened with real sugar, and their descriptions of their joyful sodagasms have always made me a little jealous.
That being said, I just don’t get it. This Pepsi tastes to me almost exactly like regular corn-syrup Pepsi. If I hadn’t bought it myself, I wouldn’t even be convinced that this is a different product. It’s not bad, but it’s not amazing. I was kind of giving up soda before this, and this hasn’t really made me rethink my plan. What is good about this stuff, though, is that it is seemingly impossible to spill. I have a bad habit of upsetting my soda cans, and I’ve already knocked over two cans of this stuff, and even though both cans were at least a third full, only drops of soda spilled. Drops!!!! If for no reason other than this, this stuff should stick around forever, so that klutzes like me can enjoy soda like the normal people do.