Kat has nice winks. And

Kat has nice winks. And I want her Hello Kitty shaver.

I was fretting that I

I was fretting that I didn’t gave a gif animator because I let my Coffee Cup GIF Animator demo expire before I paid for it, then I got this in the mail:

We Need You !
Your vote counts for the SIAF People’s Choice Awards, and if
you vote now you will receive the Registered version of
CoffeeCup GIF Animator for FREE ! ($30 for just one-click)

Please visit our front page at:


Find the SIAF People’s Choice Award logo and click it.

Can I be bribed? Oh yeah.

"The truth will set you

“The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.” — Gloria Steinem

….speaking of feminism, the above and following quotes are from a great article that encompasses a lot of what the bloggunity has been talking about:

“Any large, very inclusive group is going to have differences,” UC’s Haney said. “To talk about divisions and fractions is off the mark. … We’re too busy out working on issues to fight with each other.”

Yeah, like she said.

I've been called cool. Life

I’ve been called cool. Life is good. And props to the local buds.

So I'm on the phone

So I’m on the phone with Kelly, and he’s telling me about this guy that answered his personal ad. A 47-year-old Asian cowboy that quotes poetry and wants to learn to play the bagpipes. I admit I’m not much for a boot-scoot, but this guy sounds downright nifty. Dammit! Why don’t any straight Asian guys like to wear kilts! I told Kelly to glom him just ‘cuz I want to meet him. Go Kel!

Yes, yes, yes, this is

Yes, yes, yes, this is the beginning of the answer to online music. Treat it like a bar or radio station. It’s just a start–we still need copying issues resolved. But hey, it’s nice to see somebody using the ole’ noggin’.

The morning feed    

The morning feed         …         Barbelith has a nice overview of the whole Feminist Media Watch thang. My opinion? Well if you don’t have anything nice to say…oh hell, here it is: Feminists need a sense of humor. Loosen up. Teach by example, not by trample         ….         my first link-back. I know I should be nonchalant about this, but it’s actually pretty cool, and from a blogger I really enjoy. Bear with me, I’ll get over it eventually         ….        yaddaness adds two cents to the “what is a blog” dialog. When I’ve been following some underground band, and suddenly they get famous, I feel a tinge of disappointment. I find a lot of rationalizations to excuse the fact that I’m being pissy because the band isn’t mine anymore, when in fact I should just be happy for them in their success. Though the feelings I’m hearing are similar, what’s happening here is not. This is an exciting time, and I’m glad I jumped in, so nyah. What will happen as this community reaches critical mass? How will it break up and what will become of the pieces? This is where it gets interesting, folks.

The message on the readerboard

The message on the readerboard at the church on 122nd Street is “Life’s Short! Find joy in it!” Not bad. I prefer the one they had up about a year ago: “Original thinking is lonely.” Yep. Love that one. Bummer is, by the time I got my lazy ass out there with a camera, they’d taken it down. I should write a letter to see if they’d put it back up. Something like:

Dear Pastor:

Over a year ago your church put the phrase “Original thinking is lonely” on the readerboard facing Burnside. I pass by your church every day on the train, and I want you to know how much that phrase inspired me. I’ve tried most of my life to be original, and you’re correct, all it’s brought me is loneliness and pain. It’s no fun to be misunderstood. Look at our famous original thinkers: it’s obvious from Einstein’s grooming habits that he was a lonely, disturbed individual; Isaac Newton never married–how terribly, terribly sad. As a woman, I certainly don’t have such brilliance in me, so why should I sacrifice the companionship of those with whom I can share ideas, political views, and faith? Since seeing your message to the world, I bought some dresses and let my hair grow. I want you to know that I haven’t worn those subversive sneakers in months. I’ve had my tattoos removed, and I’m finally a registered Republican. And best of all, between the bake sales, the prayer meetings, and my Christ Loves Singles group, I’m never lonely. Thank you for changing my life.


A Happy Conformist

Warning: the following post contains

Warning: the following post contains naughty words. If words or phrases like “fuck”, “shit”, “cockbite”, “sonofabitch”, or “crack whore on a trolley” make you apoplectic or otherwise swivel your shorts, stop reading immediately. Thank you.

From time to time as I’m waiting for my bus connection home, I’ll run into this delightful couple that, for purposes of anonymity and because I don’t know their names, we’ll call the Fuckbuckets. Mr. Fuckbucket looks like a K-Mart version of John Lithgow (if there could be such a thing), and his wife is Kathy Bates toward the end of Misery. They are somewhere in their mid-fifties, and they are pissed. About everything.

When they shuffle up to the stop, generally Mr. F is muttering something about how it took an hour to get here and now they have to wait some more. For a bus that’s on time. Mr. F likes to puncuate with the words “fuck” and “sonofabitch”. Mrs. F prefers liberal use of the word “shit”. I have never, ever seen these two when they weren’t angry and muttering curses. On my total-stranger-entertainment-value scale, they rate about a six. A seven if I get the chance to elbow in front of them while boarding the bus. It would be funnier if it weren’t sad. Ya know, I can get angry with the best of them. But most of the time, life is good. I can’t help but look at the Fuckbuckets, and think about how much it must suck to be them. But what do I know. Maybe they have incredible sex.

Yeah, I know my "nutshell"

Yeah, I know my “nutshell” link sucks. Believe it or not, I hate talking about myself. I just like talking about stuff. I will, however, stretch my creative abilities a little later to make it less sucky. I mean, I’m pretty great and all, so I should be able to think of something to say. Har.

On a strange note, one of the guys in the office just had to touch the blue streak in my hair. If he likes the feel of hairspray, who am I to argue? At least it was a cute guy. Which reminds me of an old Judybats song alliwannadois fuck your hair. Mousse it, spray it, I don’t care.