Oh, gourmet Japanese sauce? That sounds fancy. I wonder what's in it?
(I took these photos awhile ago. Do not misconstrue my terrible timing for insensitivity about the horrible earthquake tsunami nuclear reactor endtimes scenario everyone's understandably obsessed with right now. This particular post has nothing to do with Japan, and a whole lot to do with America. Still, I gave a little bit here, and it wouldn't hurt you to do the same. xoxo)
I didn't work out this week, as I was too busy coughing up bits of green goo and taking the kind of sick day that you pay for later by working 2 of the 3 days other people labeled a "holiday weekend," but I did manage to write something. Not for this blog, but for an old pal, the newly remodeled DatingIsWeird.com.
In it, I confess that I committed the only unforgivable crime. I dated a cop.
Don't worry, I've already washed my own mouth out with soap.
I tried to take pics from the top of the butte this morning, it was so clear and lovely and the mountains were spread out against the blue sky like meringue, but my camera sucks and you couldn't even see the gee dee mountains in the pics. WTF?
So, here's how I shall entertain today: Serial's back, bitches!
It's Tuesday, and my big plan for the week is already blown. The big plan wherein I wake up early every other day and walk as fast as I can up the hill behind my house. Except, you know, the hill behind my house is Pilot Butte.
(I like the nasty industrial stuff in the foreground from this pic. This town was suuuper classy in 1984.)
I know it's only 500 feet up, but -- wait, yup. 500 feet is a lot. Or it feels like a lot in a 20-minute fast walk. Especially at 6 a.m.
Anyhoo, here's how I've been entertaining myself this week:
Blogsite soundtracks via Frequency (Click the button! You know you want to!):
Imiagining the awesomeness of living in New York and thus being able to participate in Karaoke Chatroulette, a combo of everyone's favorite things, jerking off and karaoke, over at Unapologetically Mundane.
Watching Date Night with the Roomie, and beginning to plot our next Halloween costumes: Sex Robots. Also, in case you were wondering:
(Yes, please.)
Oh! And if you miss the dirty dating blathering of everyone's favorite nearly-defunct blogsite, DatingIsWeird.com, know this: Good things are on the way. New guest editors, a new look, hell, maybe even a post or two.
And lastly, if you, too, are depressed by craptastic weather (it's snaining here today), and you don't already know who The Snuggler is, go check it out. I'd embed the video, but everything I try keeps on not working, and it's really pissing me off. So now I have to go watch it on a different page, because the weather and Adult Swim are out to get me.
Also, if it happens to be nice and spring fresh where you are, please shutupaboutit already.
Seriously, I got picked for something. Me! Picked! By Sarah at Naked Cupcakes (which, incidentally, is one of the better blog names I've come across recently. It makes me hungry and randy. Truly a lovely combo).
So ... I'm supposed to say six things I am a master at. I'm going to vote for:
1.) I am a master of modesty. No, seriously. You have no idea how modest I am.
2.) I am a master of sarcasm. No, really. You have no idea how serious I am about being sarcastic.
3.) I am a master of cuddling and b.j.'s. Ha! I'm kidding. (Sort of. Not really. ((Just kidding mom!)) I'm totally not.)
4.) I am a master of Better-than-average home cookery and baking
5.) I am a master of liquid eyeliner application.
6.) I am a master of ordering super-involved, pain-in-the-A orders at certain restaurants that I used to work at, like Red Robin, where I order a teriyaki chicken burger, on a plate with silverware, sub a whole wheat bun, with extra pineapple and a side of honey mustard dressing.
So this has nothing to do with running or dogs, but, everyone in the world simply must go and read this profile of Roger Ebert at Esquire.com. It's Uh-May-Zing.
I seriously didn't think of Ebert as a mystic before, but now, I kind of do. He's like the dalai lama of facelessness.
I mean, just the photo's enough to get you hooked. Everyone in my office was glued to their computers reading this story this morning -- even the boss.
