Ya know, if you puff it up enough, maybe you can get a job at FEMA.

Evil. DX is just hilariously evil.

amych, you can also use Locopops as a carrot. We may be there ourselves shortly. Not that I deserve a reward myself, except possibly for not flipping out like a mammal at my smothery toddler today.

Dude, I adore your toddler more than is quite reasonable for a genetically-unrelated child, and you still deserve a reward for not flipping out.

Now that I'm all caught up in Natter, I have been earwormed with the ND fight song (which I only know because my junior high appropriated it for their own, and just substituted "Old Notre Dame" with "Troy Junior High"), and brenda has earwormed me with Barbra Streisand after I read this:

If I might suggest a cheesy title, mine's called "Misty Water-coloured Memories."

And that led me to remember the time I got punny with my freshman lit class in college, and titled a paper on a Wordsworth poem about the River Wye "Misty Water-Coloured Memories of the Wye We Were." I never punned for a college paper again.

except possibly for not flipping out like a mammal at my smothery toddler today...

t Flips out, as any mammal might.

One more year. She's very excited.

Hee. I'd tell his teacher so she can keep an eye on him, but he may be one of those kids that only tries to break out of his own home and won't try to escape something as interesting as school.

To be fair to the little guy, he mostly tries to kill me in other ways now, like having an allergic reaction to his MMR vaccine. The Great Escape was two years ago. Most of the time when we think he's gone, he's just blinvisible.

We have just unpacked 5 boxes of books and I'm not seeing any difference at all in Book Mountain. However, Brenda's beer-and-doing-stuff method works beautifully.

Want beer. Beer foamy.

Neighbors across the way are having a kids party. They rented an inflatable castle and set it up off to the side on the lawn. It's bright green and purple.

Mind you, this is an apartment complex, so you don't usually see stuff like this. Hordes of kids running around, giggling and yelling and they are SO CUTE.

I did my shopping. Stupid neutrogena discontinued my face lotion.

I made a really weird salad for my hell picnic. Not my thing, but my mom swears buy it and gets rave reviews at potlucks: nectarines, green chile, crab and lime juice. I don't really like crab, but whatever. Either they'll like it or they won't.

I really don't want to go. But it would look SO BAD. So I have to.

I need to do laundry, but I don't wwant to. Maybe tomorrow morning.

Ya know, if you puff it up enough, maybe you can get a job at FEMA.

Except that I don't meet the other qualification for a FEMA job: A big, fat check to the GOP.

I had one college paper that started with a quote from Antigone followed by this quote from Bloom County:

Foreshadowing - a literary technique, not entirely uncommon around here.
—Oliver Wendall Jones

And that led me to remember the time I got punny with my freshman lit class in college, and titled a paper on a Wordsworth poem about the River Wye "Misty Water-Coloured Memories of the Wye We Were." I never punned for a college paper again.

Last semester of college I named all my papers after root vegetables: Turnip, Parsnip, Rutabaga.

My big "capstone paper" on a failed federal attempt to preserve a patch of tallgrass prairie was titled "Buffalo Grass, Won't You Come Out Tonight?"