fresher than the sweetness in water
Two comments about my last post: I like how people so quickly incorporated MAB and SIB into their lingo. As far as acronyms go it's no WMD or TF (thank you, Grant Palmer), but it's temporarily made me feel like the Noam Chomsky of LiveJournal. Secondly, nearly everyone I've spoken to since today, either in person or in writing, seems convinced that they write a SIB, and that my post is some super-duper sneaky way of pointing out their literary shortcomings. Friends, Romans, countrymen (and -women), if you know I read your blog on a regular basis, you don't write a SIB. I'm not a huge fan of doing things I don't want to do, so therefore I'd simply banish your blog to the farthest reaches of cyberspace and then point and laugh at you the next time I see you. If you haven't seen me pointing and laughing at you recently, you have nothing to worry about. I'm not going to deny that a couple blogs have been jettisoned from my regular reading list, but I'd just about guarantee that it's not yours.
Along the same lines, I tried to tell you last night, so here it is again: If you know what's good for you, you'll read Katie's blog. Especially today's post. She does me one better by imagining what she would sound like if she wrote a SIB. It's the best thing since sliced bread. Really. And keep in mind that a lot of innovations have come and gone since bread was first sliced.
I finally caved after play practice today and got my antibiotics prescription refilled. I'm growing weary of hacking up little bits and pieces of lung, so I figured I should do something proactive and medicate myself. A snag, though: The little Side-Effects and Warnings label on the bottle advises me that this particular antiobiotic may interfere with birth control pills. So if you suddenly see me looking all radiant and healthy, don't forget to find out when I'm due.
I'd be remiss if I didn't give you my two cents on today's Oscar nominations. Basically, this is all I have to say: Seabiscuit? Sea-effing-biscuit?!? Give me a break. Apparently the fantastic acting of Shattered Glass and the kaleidoscopic invention of Kill Bill Vol. 1 and the surreal visions of Northfork and the heartbreaking emotion of 21 Grams can't beat out Tobey Maguire in a bad Lucille Ball dye job. Yeesh. I'll be pleased as punch if Mystic River or Lost in Translation takes it. And go go go Sofia Coppola for Best Director. Other than that, I haven't really digested the nominations long enough to make any firm decisions. That, and I have some socks in the dryer, and they're distracting me. I'll give my picks in a day or two, so try not to let the suspense cause you any undue nightmares or stress.
Have you ever coughed so long you thought you were going to puke? Yeah, that just happened to me. Nice.
Along the same lines, I tried to tell you last night, so here it is again: If you know what's good for you, you'll read Katie's blog. Especially today's post. She does me one better by imagining what she would sound like if she wrote a SIB. It's the best thing since sliced bread. Really. And keep in mind that a lot of innovations have come and gone since bread was first sliced.
I finally caved after play practice today and got my antibiotics prescription refilled. I'm growing weary of hacking up little bits and pieces of lung, so I figured I should do something proactive and medicate myself. A snag, though: The little Side-Effects and Warnings label on the bottle advises me that this particular antiobiotic may interfere with birth control pills. So if you suddenly see me looking all radiant and healthy, don't forget to find out when I'm due.
I'd be remiss if I didn't give you my two cents on today's Oscar nominations. Basically, this is all I have to say: Seabiscuit? Sea-effing-biscuit?!? Give me a break. Apparently the fantastic acting of Shattered Glass and the kaleidoscopic invention of Kill Bill Vol. 1 and the surreal visions of Northfork and the heartbreaking emotion of 21 Grams can't beat out Tobey Maguire in a bad Lucille Ball dye job. Yeesh. I'll be pleased as punch if Mystic River or Lost in Translation takes it. And go go go Sofia Coppola for Best Director. Other than that, I haven't really digested the nominations long enough to make any firm decisions. That, and I have some socks in the dryer, and they're distracting me. I'll give my picks in a day or two, so try not to let the suspense cause you any undue nightmares or stress.
Have you ever coughed so long you thought you were going to puke? Yeah, that just happened to me. Nice.