For Steph: [link] This is a wall in Burbank, across from the theater and the Buffalo Wing place.

Parenting. Not for the weak.

Speaking for the weak - hell yeah.

For Steph: [link] This is a wall in Burbank, across from the theater and the Buffalo Wing place.

That is EXCELLENT!

HA! I saw it and immediately thought of you. I don't know if you can tell, but the entire thing is covered with all sorts of punctuation marks. FUN.

Seriously, bobsled doods, I know you're world class athletes but couldn't you put a little skirt on that thing?

I wonder what it would be like to be a man and feel that comfortable in my body. I know its not a universal truth, but I've seen hundreds and thousands of shirtless men who, were they women, wouldn't even be seen sleeveless nevermind in a bikini top.

I don't know if you can tell, but the entire thing is covered with all sorts of punctuation marks. FUN.

I could see some of them. That is a damn fine wall.

A lot of the animal-friendly claims on egg cartons aren't actually regulated in the US.

I buy the Farmers Hen House eggs, which I haven't found any bad reports about. I don't ask for the hens to have a perfect life; I just don't what them to suffer the torture of a chicken factory.

Just about everybody that I know who is raising kids vegetarian or vegan says that, around kindergarten age, they all go through a vegan evangelist phase. Frequently leading to things like a five-year-old announcing at Thanksgiving dinner, "Grandpa, you shouldn't eat that, because it's a dead bird, and birds deserve to live because animals are our friends."

When I was a kid, my best friend's brother (about 6) went through a vegetarian phase after learning that hamburgers came from cows. This lasted about a week until he realized that being a vegetarian meant having to eat his vegetables.

Huh. Was thinking of farm chores just now. I still have dreams about doing chores pretty regularly - usually I dream about being up in the hayloft, throwing hay or straw down for the cows to eat or sleep on. Knocking down hay or straw was kinda' fun - you could start little avalanches of the stuff. (We didn't bale our hay; we chopped it and blew it up into the barn in huge piles that reached the ceilings.) And if the hay piles were all hard to knock bits off, we'd use a hay-fork that had the tines bent 90 degrees to pull down hay above our heads.

Maybe someday I should just walk into some guy's dairy farm and ask if I can throw some hay down for the cows....

I gave Mister Kitty a bath. His fur was looking awful and the dandruff was bad. Thank god he is a cat who LOVES a blow dry. Still cranky and slightly damp, but he made out with the hairdryer.