There are days where I consider what I want to say, and think the better part of valor is saying it behind a filter, or saying it just to my friends, or my family, and not to the world at large...

This is not one of those days.

I'm pissed. Actually, I'm beyond pissed. I'm deeply, deeply angry. At crymsin_lilly, at paul_drake, at the kids, a bit at gwynnthiere and evildman...and, ( Read more... )

Okay, most of the time, I love Oregon, even when it's Death-Valley temperatures. But--due to catdancer's predilection for daytime court shows--we're seeing a lot of those, go-back-to-college ads. The ones out here? Don't so much gently cajole. "Get off your ass and CALL, what've you got to lose?"

I appreciate the honesty. :)

Llama...fetus...ritual?? ( Read more... )

Every cat's lament. Err...thank you...crymsin_lillyOn that note--sorta--the youngest child is making me want to spork out my eyes. Unfort, I think the real need for sporkage may need to be the stepfather. Or a mix of both. Somewhere along the way, someone--and I'd lay odds on the step--told this young one he was a dork. Or more precisely, a 'dorkfish ( Read more... )

sphynxcatvp gave me a brain in a jar! I just noticed! YAY ( Read more... )

"Type O Negative?"

"Yeah."

"Never heard of them."

I look at the middle child. Of course he hasn't. But if he gets to torture me with endless repetitions of the skinny little twitch from Flyleaf and Britney Spear's "Toxic", I'm going to play him Type O, Velvet Revolver, Buckcherry and Tegan and Sara.

Kara Walker. Powerful artist ( Read more... )

Eleven ayem. Huge sound of shattering from the kitchen. I wake from fitful rest--because, trust me, seven ayem to eleven ayem? It's not really time to get into deep sleep!--and blink sleep away from me.

"Wha...whozza...Whahoppen..." I mumble inhoherently.

The word comes from the kitchen--the youngest child broke our last teapot.

"He did WHAT ( Read more... )