Spell It with Flickr
This is pretty cool. Type something and it will be spelled with Flickr photographs!
Discovered at Biz Stone, Genius/New Homeowner.
This is pretty cool. Type something and it will be spelled with Flickr photographs!
So a couple years ago, I was working from home and on what possibly could have been the most boring conference call in my entire professional career. The kind of conference call where you just put the phone on speakerphone and mute it and just let them drone on and on while you make grocery lists or doodle various suicide attempts.
During the call I got a fit of inspiration to make a surprise for Julie, the artist formerly known on this blog as The Roommate®. She had been having a particularly low self esteem week and I wanted to do something to cheer her up.
Julie has taken much good-natured ribbing from me about her annual tradition of making something she calls a "Success Collage" — a visual statement of her goals and dreams for each year. Girlfriend do like her magazines and glue so I decided to use that medium.
I grab some magazines and found the pictures I wanted and put it all together with tape and silly stickers. I posted it on her bedroom door and waited for her to discover it.
Here's what she found.
Fast forward to when Jason, The Boyfriend™, moved in. One day he was standing at their door looking at the collages. He said jokingly, "I was hoping once I moved in here she would have taken these down."
"Why?" I asked.
"Well not so much this one, but the one with the guys."
"Oh please, it means nothing."
"She has a vibrator named after Jake Gyllenhaal."
"It's a BACK MASSAGER!" (And yes, we taped Jake Gyllenhaal's picture to it and named it Jake. We like naming things in this household.)
He pouted but I told him tough noogies. They stay up.
So Friday, I decided the best thing to do was to make Jason feel better would be a collage of his own.
Lo and behold.
I wasn't feeling my best yesterday. Bit of a cold, but it usually doesn't last too long with me. My immune system is chock-full of vitamins, minerals and antioxidants that it takes a lot to get me full-blown sick.
I woke up this morning with the feeling that the devil set up shop in the back of my throat. So I pulled back the covers to get some water and immediately felt the nasty body aches that accompany true illness. Ugh. I made my way to a bottle of water and attempted to drink without gagging. Then I crawled back in bed and proceeded to hit my snooze every nine minutes until I felt it was an acceptable time to call my boss and let her know I was on the verge of death.
Eventually, I dragged my tired body to the shower. A blistering hot shower always makes it better. I brushed my teeth and gargled with a gallon of Listerine.
I haven't had alcohol in close to a year, but I had this guttural desire to make a hot toddy to soothe my throat. I googled for a recipe and found there is about a gazillion different variation of hot toddies. So I decided to wing it. Hot tea. Honey. Lemon. Lots of brandy. Another shot of brandy for a chaser. Mmmm...good stuff man.
I sipped my concoction while curled up on the sofa watching Pedro Almodovar's All About My Mother and fell asleep.
I blame the Germ Babies®.
I had a dream about someone I haven't talked to in a while. Our friendship sort of ended on a sour note. In my dream, there were many people and we were all climbing a steep grassy hill full of plush green grass. It was a bright and sunny, yet cool day.
Because the hill was so steep, it was very difficult to climb. Hordes of people passed us hiking upward seemingly effortless, while she and I struggled, crawling on our hands and knees. We were very aware of each others presence, but didn't want to acknowledge the other. The awkwardness of our past felt heavy and weighed us down.
Eventually, we were the only two left behind, trying to catch our breath and frustrated that we couldn't get ahead. Exhausted from the difficult climb, we stopped resting on our knees.
We turned and looked at each other, both afraid to speak. I took a breathe and said, "I'm sorry." She said, "No, I'm sorry." Then we hugged.
We grabbed each other by the hand and started pulling our way up the hill, eventually helping each other to our feet. Together, still holding hands, we were able to hike, making our way up the hill to join the others at the top.
We both knew that alone we could not move and remained frustrated in the same place. But by helping each other and putting aside the uncomfortableness, we could do anything.
Chessy, but it rings true.
Finally! A sport I can support and get into.Last night I went to the Arizona Roller Derby. Tough hot chicks. Short skirts. Fishnets. Roller Skates. Why can't all sports be this interesting?It was great fun. The chicks are cool and sometimes vicious. Plus there were lots of interesting people to people watch.One thing I found is it's pretty frickin' hard taking pictures of the roller girls in motion. Or standing still for that matter. Maybe it's the photographer. Nah. I think I'll just blame it on the camera. Too bad PhotoShop doesn't have a "fuck up fixer" tool.I'm still a little confused about how the ladies score, but I have one month until the next game to figure it out so I can truly be a fan.But which team should I support. I bought buttons for both teams playing last night and just clapped and cheered whenever other people did. But I feel to be a trye sports fanatic, I should have a favorite team. One I support. There are four here. And with player names like Sis Boom Barbie, Bea Naughty, Paige Burner, Jenna Jammerson (number 38DD!), Micky Dismantle and Mal Vicious, how's a fella to choose?(Seriously, these are totally drag queen names! Am I right?)Also, it seems there is a tournament in Tucson at the end of February. Twenty leagues from around the country will be playing. I may just have to drag a certain archaeologist to go with me.
The last few weeks have been a fight to keep my immune system high. It seems like everyone around me has had some ailment or another. Jason was bedridden for almost and entire week during Christmas but I managed to not catch it from him due to his self-imposed quarantine. I was certain Julie would catch it and give it to me. Even after a week of her being the sweet girlfriend nurse nurturing her boyfriend back to health, she amazingly didn't even get the sniffles. Better yet, she wasn't a carrier giving it to me.
Work, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. One of my coworkers has sounded like she's been at death's door since she returned from the holidays. She insists she's not contagious but I have already informed my boss that if she gives me cooties, there will be heated civil litigation and I expect to file workman's comp forms. Boss Lady took my threat lightly UNTIL she got sick earlier this week and issued an email to "stop spreading this around."
The worst is when I see people with their little Germ Babies® out in public. Put those things back in the pod man! Germ Babies remind me of an episode of Invader Zim where he was OBSESSED with germs and Gir was the main source of them. I bet if I had Zim's germ googles, all Germ Babies would be glowing in oozy green color. Ick.
But I digress.
I take my vitamins. (MAN, do I take vitamins!) I wash my hands. I have Lysol and hand sanitizer (I don't care what people say...hand sanitzer is like Liquid Jesus™ in my book.) and yet today I felt a slight tinge of illness.
Very slight.
In fact, it's already passed. But I'm starting to wonder if that's just the Coming Attraction before the Feature Presentation starts. I know this sounds stupid but I am SO not in the mood to get sick right now. It will probably hit me over the weekend and instead of frolicking and whatnot I will be bedridden.
But then again maybe not. My illnesses tend to hit me in Februarys. Februarys — short though they are — for me typically suck.
"I don't make resolutions because a resolution to me is like an ending, and right now, I'm all about beginnings." — Secret Simon
This is amazing, brave and quite beautiful. Watch it.
[Unexpectedly discovered via Faggoty Ass Faggot]
Aaron Edwards is revealing his sweet Photoshop secrets. Take a look what they can do! (Here is the original.)
Check out all the old, white people. Scurry.
After I read Michael's post about seeing which movies certain cities are renting, I had to explore.
My zip code.
1. The Deal
2. Wake Up, Ron Burgundy
3. 7 Seconds
Gah...my neighbors sure rent some shitty movies.
Adam's hood.
1. Piglet's Big Movie
2. Blue Man Group: The Complex Rock Tour Live (as opposed to the simple one)
3. A Day Without a Mexican
WTF!? Dyanna's zip code is the same. Phoenix is so weird.
Homer's hood in Tucson shapes up like this.
1. Stand by Me
2. Singin' in the Rain
3. Cry-Baby
And down in good ol' Texas, Mark's part of Dallas looks like this.
1. Lonesome Dove (2-Disc Series)
2. Charade
3. The Alamo
Homer...you aren't the first person to call me Satan. Won't be the last.
It is true. Homer and I have many laughs much to the sick amusement and delight of various debauched subjects and perverted speculations — some of which may be about you; you know who you are! — none of which are fit for publication in such a classy blog as mine. You, my dear baker's dozen of faithful readers, deserve nothing but the very best.
Then again, who am I kidding? I've had an alarming number of hits lately from Google Image searches looking for...EW..."girls pooping" thanks to this post.
So to all you searchers of pictures of defecating hotties, welcome. Enjoy your stay here but please, don't sit on the furniture.
If he could talk, I think Elliott would say this is the best present ever. The runner-up would be the paper bag it came in which he also like to hide in. Elliott loves him some paper sack. Our living room usually has a bag from Trader Joe's on the floor for his amusement.
The purple cat toy you see in the bottom right corner is something Elliott largely ignores. Again...he'd rather play with a paper sack than the four dollar cat toy, and yet I never learn to stop buying things like that.
Julie said we should name him and I suggested Michael since Elliott was named after Elliot on thirtysomething.
She said that was stupid and decided a more appropriate and dignified name would be Mr. Peepers.
