I just smacked my beloved B.H. about the shoulders--hard--several times. Why?

Because he was trying to sneak my beloved limited-edition, Warholesque Max the Bunny poster, personalized and signed for me by Rosemary Wells herself, into the stack of things for the yard sale.

He'd better not try it again. I know where he sleeps.

The scene: around the dinner table at Chez Shamela, while the fire burns merrily in the fireplace in the next room (Fall came last night, WTF?) and while pizza and broccoli are consumed ( Read more... )

The following dialogue just ensued at Chez Vendwen ( Read more... )

This morning's vignette

Shamela (after completing a coughing jag so extreme as to sound just like a 90-year-old smoker): I'm not sick, in case you were wondering. Totally not sick. SOOOOOO not sick. I am the not-sickest that I have ever been.

The Better Half: You know, every time you say that, I take Airborne.

Disclaimer: The following scene is nowhere near as funny as Pickle Cheese.The Scene ( Read more... )

The Scene ( Read more... )

So here I am, lying on the couch with pounding headache, having turned in my bloody R&T dossier just right under the wire. Brain-dead, nervous wreck, whimpering quietly, sort of thing.

The B.H. tells me, "I'm running to the store, I'll be right back."

He returns, all unprompted, with this small package of incredible goodness.

Reader, I married

We have concluded the June measurement ritual, and the H.A. (whom most of you remember as a toddler) is now officially 4' 10 ( Read more... )

This looks BRILLIANT.

http://www.apple.com/trailers/lions_gate/fido/trailer1a/

As the B.H. points out, it's Romero meets John Waters! Crunchy zombie goodness.

The B.H. to me, last night: "I don't feel like I have to justify my sperm."

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Okay, now that you've had time to let THAT sink in...

Last night, we watched a fascinating little flick called Hundra, which made me think that somehow Conan the Barbarian and Gloria Steinem had had a ( Read more... )