Who knew Neil Gaiman, darling of my friends' list, darling of BookCrossers everywhere, whose books I still haven't read but was about to pick one up (Graveyard) after a friend read parts to me yesterday, was, well ... a little bitchy
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I saw one of the all-time funniest blog entries yesterday that I couldn't resist sharing. After abusing poor whimzycat about the Best Friends mag and adding artisticalias to my friends' list today, I thought the best thing to do was share it with all you aminal (spelling error intentional) lovers.
Seriously. If I thought it was funny, I am sure actual aminal lovers
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This text was in an email forward I got from islandmomma and another friend. Along the lines of "character is who you are when no one's watching", I present to you something I thought very profound:
I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles four things: a rainy day, the elderly, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree
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I just finished reading (ok, I'll admit; I skimmed) Gift Cards are Not Gifts on the Money section of the MSN site. It's a topic that comes up a lot this time of year, and Emily Post and Miss Manners both concur. Gift cards aren't gifts. Everybody knows that.
Aren't they? Do they? From the article: A gift, ideally, says, "I thought about you.
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I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Send me coffee. Now. Perhaps alives or bookczuk could just set me up with a caffeine-filled IV (straight into the veins, please!)?
A Haiku for This Morning (5-7-5) Stayed up late again basically doing zilch Now I pay the price.
Cannot even write an entire Haiku poem Guessing at syllables hurts.(exactly how many
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