SLC is overrun with pwetty brainshare boys with scrummy accents. Rough life, huh?
Spike ,'Same Time, Same Place'
Spike's Bitches 22: You've got Angel breath
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Ooh. Good luck with the house-buying, Deena!
The Girl has still not emailed me back about convenient times to go on this coffee thing. BOOO! This is making me very very cranky.
Nice hair Aimee.
Aimee, you look fabulous! Is that your natural color? It suits you perfectly.
I wish!! Came from my wonderful stylist.
nice hair aimee! (eta: I have no idea why a questionmark showed up there)
girl, whyfor not email meara? an email is all it takes to get a meara ... at least for a little while.
potato party tonight.much food many limricks - mine ( whihc was composed with DH went over well). Most importantly my sheperds pie and sweet potato pie - were big hits. people went out of their way to tell me how good they were.
SLC is overrun with pwetty brainshare boys with scrummy accents.
It's a good time to be a geeky Utahn. Wait'll Friday, when they take over the house.
I hear much basketball talk - I spent time trying to remember who Susan W. wanted to win.
I figured out the movie- so I TIVOed it. It will be there in the am.
I spent time trying to remember who Susan W. wanted to win.
I just wanted my alma mater (Penn) to make it out of the first round.
They were defeated soundly on Thursday. And Michelle Kwan finished off the podium at Worlds for the first time since 1994. It hasn't been a good week for me in sports fandom.
Aimee's cut and color are wonderful things. I'm glad Trudy is visiting AmyParker and Connie. (I miss AmyParker).
My good news is that the nice grandmother with the prescription pad wrote me a prescription for Ambien and I've now slept for four nights. It's astonishing how much better I feel. Better living through chemistry!
Aimee, yeah, your haircut and color look great on you. I exhibit no suprise.
I want to be entertained this morning, before I have to go get ready for church. I think the odds are slim, because this has been a quiet Buffista weekend, and most of you godless heathens are not only sleeping, but are among the more entertaining.
I suppose vw, Anne, Susan (if she lived in a real time zone) and I could get into a terribly earnest conversation, but that would take too much energy, and might send poor Ginger running and screaming from the thread. What to do? What to do?
Maybe I'll just go all (okay, more) random, and post about whatever comes into my head (I mean, more than I usually do).
George W. Bush is still President of the United States of America, and my snow is starting to melt. I can see the leaves we didn't manage to rake up last Fall, although no actual grass. For whom is Tuesday named? It seems to me those fruit snack thingies aren't a good thing for my kids to eat. I wonder if I have any pantyhose which are free from runs.
One time, when I was leaving church as a little kid, I grabbed a man's hand, thinking he was my dad. We walked quite a bit of the way down the sidewalk, before I turned my gaze higher than his sports jacket, and saw it was a completely different man (with a similar build, and hairline). I was very little, and very mortified.
I have to clean my car out. It's all winter ick in there--salt and sand. I don't know what I am going to cook for dinner, but I like Christopher's race car jammies. I remember one time Miracleman's old employer got some kind of bomb threat, while he was at work. I was still pretty new, then.
I wonder what would have happened if there had been a sixth season of Angel. I know one thing for sure. I really need curtains for this den. Why is that Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal on the floor? I think we're out of waffles, and I don't know if the boys dress shoes will fit them, for Easter Sunday. That holly plant never died, even though we never did manage to get it into the ground before the snow came.
We're out of oranges. I feel guilty when I use paper towels, and the sky is very blue. I have no idea what color we should paint the house. I'm so glad Scott moved his old stereo system out of the living room.
Can you tell we canceled our morning newpapers?
And why would a terribly earnest conversation cause me to run screaming? Besides, we can't have one with vw, because she's off being cultural.
My question is: It seems to me that I keep cleaning off my desk, but it's never clean. It has two prescriptions I should call in, two printed out e-mails, a dust rang, a Kleenex, three business cars, a notbook, a coupon, notes on odd bits of paper, a checkbook, some crumbs and Miss Piggy on it.