Some of you have never heard of Gogol Bordello, so I'm going to start you off nice and easy with an acoustic version of "Not a Crime."
Next, we'll move on to the album version. The video is cheesy/irritating, but the song freakin' ROCKS!
And now... Start Wearing Purple.
Guess how much it pisses me off that Yahoo is using "Start Wearing Purple" as their new slogan?
Jerks.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
OFFER: 19" CRT Monitor
Up for grabs: Dell M990 19" CRT monitor. Documentation can still be found (fascinatingly enough) on Dell’s website.
This 46-pound marvel of modern technology can be yours just for dragging it out of my 3rd floor apartment!
I'll even throw in an opened box of Wheat Thins. They're a little too salty for my taste.
This 46-pound marvel of modern technology can be yours just for dragging it out of my 3rd floor apartment!
I'll even throw in an opened box of Wheat Thins. They're a little too salty for my taste.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sparky's Blogosphere Debut
I couldn't resist sharing this (with permission, of course). This is a letter written by my good friend, "Sparky," to a mutual acquaintance. We'll call her "K." K invited a number of friends to someone else's Pure Romance party, but failed to make an appearance herself. I may or may not have been in attendance. (Hi Mom!)
K! Where the HELL were you? Nothing like two old geezers showing up to a very straight sex toy party and not knowing a damn soul. I now need two pitchers of margaritas, a very long shower to get the twenty-two different lotions, lubricants, and pheromones off my body. And at least six extra therapy sessions.
Now as for the trauma your friends experienced by our mere presence, I cannot fully take responsibility. Why you ask? Because the person who invited us was NOT there.
Although I must say that with our costly purchases, Cassandra has enough hostess credits to buy toys to last her for the next forty years.
Hugs and Kisses!!!
Sparky
K! Where the HELL were you? Nothing like two old geezers showing up to a very straight sex toy party and not knowing a damn soul. I now need two pitchers of margaritas, a very long shower to get the twenty-two different lotions, lubricants, and pheromones off my body. And at least six extra therapy sessions.
Now as for the trauma your friends experienced by our mere presence, I cannot fully take responsibility. Why you ask? Because the person who invited us was NOT there.
Although I must say that with our costly purchases, Cassandra has enough hostess credits to buy toys to last her for the next forty years.
Hugs and Kisses!!!
Sparky
Friday, September 26, 2008
Under Pressure
Today I noticed that my car wasn’t running as smoothly as it should. As I was driving around I thought, "Hmmm... seems like the front right tire might need a bit of air..."
Okay, ladies: no matter what the circumstances are, guys are going to stare at any woman checking her tires. No matter what you’re wearing, no matter what you look like, no matter how young or old you are, no matter how hard you try to bend over in a way that won't draw too much attention to your ass and/or breasts – they're gonna stare. I'm no guy, so I can't tell you what they're thinking, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that, 'Holy shit! It's a woman checking her tires!" is at least part of it. There's no way to just 'blend in.' You will be noticed.
That being said...
I pulled over at a gas station. Checked all four tires. Popped my two quarters into the machine. Did my best minimize 'the view,' and started adding air to the front right tire. Checked the tire pressure again. No change. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. Hmmm. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. What the hell? I know I had the nozzle correctly seated in the valve. I know I was squeezing the right lever (ya know, the only lever). I know how use a tire pressure gauge. THIS IS NOT A COMPLICATED PROCESS! I inspected my gauge. There was bit of grease on the readout, which could’ve been the reason why the stupid thing kept stopping at 26 psi. Okay... so I wiped that onto my shirt and tried again. Damn! As I was checking to see if the air coming out of the pump had much force behind it - looking quite perplexed as I sprayed air at my other hand - I looked up and saw a gentleman watching me while he was filling his tank.
Great. Just the image I was going for. A dumb blonde who can’t figure out how to work the air "thingie."
Now I’m pissed. Determined to at least appear to have a few neurons firing in my brain, I added more air. Then I released a lot, knowing full well that by now I had overinflated the damn thing. Then proceeded to fiddle around. Moved to the rear tire. Fiddled around some more. Once the pump shut off, I coolly hung the hose up and walked back to my car. Yep. I properly inflated all four tires. You just didn’t see me do the driver's side cuz, uh, I did that before you pulled up. Yeah. Bye now.
I know it wasn’t me. I know it was that stupid gauge. It had to have been! I drove over to Advance Auto to replace the treasonous bitch. Why is it that whenever you go into Advance, all the clerks are busy helping customers? WTF? I just need a tire pressure gauge. Stop laughing. While I might not know my way around the rows of car parts, I do know that they keep this kind of thing out in plain sight near the front, and I’m pretty sure I can determining the right one for the make, model, and year of my car. Der. My point is that I had to wait forever for someone to ring up my costly purchase. [Jesco? Anyone? Anyone???]
And by the way... gals... don’t buy one with a digital readout, or one that talks to you, or has any other unnecessary feature that involves a battery. The battery will die before the next time you remember to pull it out of the glove box again. And if it looks like metal, but feels like plastic – go up a level. Go ahead. Splurge.
So I get back in my car, wondering how far I need to drive to the next air pump in order to avoid my previous witnesses... and it started to rain.
I give up.
You may have won this round - but I swear I’m gonna get you back tomorrow, you rubber rolling bastards! When I’m through with you *shakes fist* you’re gonna be so properly full of air you won’t know what hit ya!
Okay, ladies: no matter what the circumstances are, guys are going to stare at any woman checking her tires. No matter what you’re wearing, no matter what you look like, no matter how young or old you are, no matter how hard you try to bend over in a way that won't draw too much attention to your ass and/or breasts – they're gonna stare. I'm no guy, so I can't tell you what they're thinking, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that, 'Holy shit! It's a woman checking her tires!" is at least part of it. There's no way to just 'blend in.' You will be noticed.
That being said...
I pulled over at a gas station. Checked all four tires. Popped my two quarters into the machine. Did my best minimize 'the view,' and started adding air to the front right tire. Checked the tire pressure again. No change. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. Hmmm. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. What the hell? I know I had the nozzle correctly seated in the valve. I know I was squeezing the right lever (ya know, the only lever). I know how use a tire pressure gauge. THIS IS NOT A COMPLICATED PROCESS! I inspected my gauge. There was bit of grease on the readout, which could’ve been the reason why the stupid thing kept stopping at 26 psi. Okay... so I wiped that onto my shirt and tried again. Damn! As I was checking to see if the air coming out of the pump had much force behind it - looking quite perplexed as I sprayed air at my other hand - I looked up and saw a gentleman watching me while he was filling his tank.
Great. Just the image I was going for. A dumb blonde who can’t figure out how to work the air "thingie."
Now I’m pissed. Determined to at least appear to have a few neurons firing in my brain, I added more air. Then I released a lot, knowing full well that by now I had overinflated the damn thing. Then proceeded to fiddle around. Moved to the rear tire. Fiddled around some more. Once the pump shut off, I coolly hung the hose up and walked back to my car. Yep. I properly inflated all four tires. You just didn’t see me do the driver's side cuz, uh, I did that before you pulled up. Yeah. Bye now.
I know it wasn’t me. I know it was that stupid gauge. It had to have been! I drove over to Advance Auto to replace the treasonous bitch. Why is it that whenever you go into Advance, all the clerks are busy helping customers? WTF? I just need a tire pressure gauge. Stop laughing. While I might not know my way around the rows of car parts, I do know that they keep this kind of thing out in plain sight near the front, and I’m pretty sure I can determining the right one for the make, model, and year of my car. Der. My point is that I had to wait forever for someone to ring up my costly purchase. [Jesco? Anyone? Anyone???]
And by the way... gals... don’t buy one with a digital readout, or one that talks to you, or has any other unnecessary feature that involves a battery. The battery will die before the next time you remember to pull it out of the glove box again. And if it looks like metal, but feels like plastic – go up a level. Go ahead. Splurge.
So I get back in my car, wondering how far I need to drive to the next air pump in order to avoid my previous witnesses... and it started to rain.
I give up.
You may have won this round - but I swear I’m gonna get you back tomorrow, you rubber rolling bastards! When I’m through with you *shakes fist* you’re gonna be so properly full of air you won’t know what hit ya!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
On Notice: My Uterus
I woke up this morning ready to sit down and compose a carefully worded letter to my uterus. Apparently I'm not the only one blogging about this topic - so I'll let the other gals speak for me. Bravo, ladies!
Tesserewhon's memo
A letter from Lotus
Nutcase 101 has a few words of her own.
Something from Awkwardly Social
And this one sparked quite a few replies - even from the menfolk.
Uterus: even though these gals beat me to it, don't think for a minute that you are off the hook. You are officially 'On Notice.'
P.S. You can create your own "On Notice" board here.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
What could possibly be better than barenaked ladies with a million dollars in bathroom?
Barenaked Ladies singing "$1,000,000" in a bathroom...
Susan's Movie Musans: Mamma Mia
WARNING: This entry may violate my own code of blogging ethics (see April 3, 2008, "I'm baaaaaack!")
Mamma Mia SUCKED!!! I’m not a religious person - but OH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD GET THESE DAMN SONGS OUT OF MY HEAD!!! HOLY F***ING CHRIST that was probably the most excruciating movie I have EVER seen! It could be that I just didn’t “get it.” I have a feeling I’d need to be at least 10 years older and a fan of ABBA to truly – um, appreciate? – the pain and torture of this celluloid catastrophe. WTF was up with all the women in the theatre? I have never seen so many women get so into a movie. They were hootin’ and carrying on like school girls at a damn Elvis concert. What the hell???
As soon as I got in my car I popped in some Offspring, cranked it up as loud as I could stand it and went for a drive. Sure, Rage Against the Machine would probably have been more effective, but you gotta work with what you have, right? It wasn’t until I hit Narrows that I figured I should turn around and go back home. My bladder agreed.
I thought I had successfully purged the demons from my brain, but nooooooooo... as soon as my head hit the pillow those damn songs started replaying! And the dancing - dear god, the dancing!!! HELP ME!!! I NEED AN EXORCIST!!!
I'm sure some of you have a very different opinion of this creation. Go ahead. Flame me.
Mamma Mia SUCKED!!! I’m not a religious person - but OH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD GET THESE DAMN SONGS OUT OF MY HEAD!!! HOLY F***ING CHRIST that was probably the most excruciating movie I have EVER seen! It could be that I just didn’t “get it.” I have a feeling I’d need to be at least 10 years older and a fan of ABBA to truly – um, appreciate? – the pain and torture of this celluloid catastrophe. WTF was up with all the women in the theatre? I have never seen so many women get so into a movie. They were hootin’ and carrying on like school girls at a damn Elvis concert. What the hell???
As soon as I got in my car I popped in some Offspring, cranked it up as loud as I could stand it and went for a drive. Sure, Rage Against the Machine would probably have been more effective, but you gotta work with what you have, right? It wasn’t until I hit Narrows that I figured I should turn around and go back home. My bladder agreed.
I thought I had successfully purged the demons from my brain, but nooooooooo... as soon as my head hit the pillow those damn songs started replaying! And the dancing - dear god, the dancing!!! HELP ME!!! I NEED AN EXORCIST!!!
I'm sure some of you have a very different opinion of this creation. Go ahead. Flame me.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
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