draft dump
I cleaned out the e-mail inbox, so why not the logjam of entry drafts?
Trust me. I'm Plenty Old.
I think the guy at the liquor store thought my very real ID was a badly done fake ID.
I can't help the photo. That's just the way I look. I haven't aged well.
I only look like I'm a dewy-fresh young'un at work because the people down the hall from me are dinosaurs.
Panic in the Streets of Halifax
On tour with Morrissey and his handlers who were there to make sure he toed the corporate line.
Riding in the limo out of Halifax (with only dream-Halifax geography, natch... there is no forbidding, bleak hill out of town), we were tailed by a jalopy station wagon driven by a long lost love. "Open the door," he screamed. Not to rescue me from The Moz and the corporate drones, of course, but to latch on to the car so that the powerful limo would tow his POS up the hill.
Memes of Trees. Prune me!
You scored as The Hazel. In Celtic astrology, you're a Hazel. The animal symbol that accompanies this tree is the salmon. The ancient Druids say Hazel people are creative, artistic, expressive, imaginative and perceptive. They often make good teachers. However, Hazels may be prone to being overly analytical, morose or preoccupied in their own thoughts.
The Hazel
70%
The Ash
55%
The Birch
55%
The Reed
55%
The Willow
55%
The Oak
50%
The Holly
45%
The Alder
40%
The Hawthorn
35%
The Vine
30%
The Elder
30%
The Rowan
20%
The Ivy
0%
What Tree Are You? (Celtic astrology)
created with QuizFarm.com
To Those Whom We Are Contractually Obligated to Appreciate
Just because the brownies taste more of pizza than chocolate doesn't mean that I appreciate you any less. It just means that my fridge is a delicate ecosystem. And that more than an afternoon's prep is necessary for suitable appreciation. Now stop complaining and start feeling appreciated!
Love & bludgeons
I was checking out the special Valentiney circular of the local supermarket, full of items to tempt your special someone.
Flowers.
Cupcakes.
Pastries.
Sausage.
The romance of sausage.
The one and only Valentine's gift I ever got was long underwear. I tossed it in the charity bin. Had I been given a large stick of tangy sausage instead, I could have beaten the giver into better taste.
Trust me. I'm Plenty Old.
I think the guy at the liquor store thought my very real ID was a badly done fake ID.
I can't help the photo. That's just the way I look. I haven't aged well.
I only look like I'm a dewy-fresh young'un at work because the people down the hall from me are dinosaurs.
Panic in the Streets of Halifax
On tour with Morrissey and his handlers who were there to make sure he toed the corporate line.
Riding in the limo out of Halifax (with only dream-Halifax geography, natch... there is no forbidding, bleak hill out of town), we were tailed by a jalopy station wagon driven by a long lost love. "Open the door," he screamed. Not to rescue me from The Moz and the corporate drones, of course, but to latch on to the car so that the powerful limo would tow his POS up the hill.
Memes of Trees. Prune me!
You scored as The Hazel. In Celtic astrology, you're a Hazel. The animal symbol that accompanies this tree is the salmon. The ancient Druids say Hazel people are creative, artistic, expressive, imaginative and perceptive. They often make good teachers. However, Hazels may be prone to being overly analytical, morose or preoccupied in their own thoughts.
The Hazel
70%
The Ash
55%
The Birch
55%
The Reed
55%
The Willow
55%
The Oak
50%
The Holly
45%
The Alder
40%
The Hawthorn
35%
The Vine
30%
The Elder
30%
The Rowan
20%
The Ivy
0%
What Tree Are You? (Celtic astrology)
created with QuizFarm.com
To Those Whom We Are Contractually Obligated to Appreciate
Just because the brownies taste more of pizza than chocolate doesn't mean that I appreciate you any less. It just means that my fridge is a delicate ecosystem. And that more than an afternoon's prep is necessary for suitable appreciation. Now stop complaining and start feeling appreciated!
Love & bludgeons
I was checking out the special Valentiney circular of the local supermarket, full of items to tempt your special someone.
Flowers.
Cupcakes.
Pastries.
Sausage.
The romance of sausage.
The one and only Valentine's gift I ever got was long underwear. I tossed it in the charity bin. Had I been given a large stick of tangy sausage instead, I could have beaten the giver into better taste.