I love the internet this morning! TCG's nephew's birthday snuck up on us again, but I just sent him an amazon.com gift card with an e-card that will reach him on today, and which his dad says he'll love. We'll probably still send him a regular card and a comic book, but he'll at least get something today.
'Jaynestown'
Spike's Bitches 46: Don't I get a cookie?
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I'm a bad, bad person, y'all.
Because this shouldn't please me quite as much as it does.
I'll admit, I realize in retrospect that one of the biggest errors we all made was in not playing up the Carmen angle in order to attract the attention of the reviewers/librarians. That said, I have been feeling a bit like the ugly, forgotten, red-headed stepchild, especially after the starred PW review Myers received that lauded his taking on Carmen as subject matter.
I'm a bad, petty person and I'm probably going to some special level in hell.
Woo! Joining Barb in the special hell because I laughed like a loon.
Shoot, Barb, if I were you, I'd put that on my website.
Possibly followed by "So THERE!"
That's awesome, Barb. I don't think it makes you a bad person at all.
What a gorgeous dog, Plei!
Yay Wallybee! As if becoming the parent of a 2-year-old wasn't enough excitement and accomplishment for one week.
I, too, laughed like a mean spiteful little loon at the dismissal of Myers, and smiled and nodded at the tip of the hat to Stars.
Random Matilda update: This morning, sitting on the potty while I "kept her company" (sat on the edge of the bathtub sucking down coffee and mumbling while she chattered away), she looked at me intently and said, "Mommy, when I talk my voice is kind of croaky, but your voice is very sweet."
"Really, my voice is kind of weird," I said (it is, really; a voiceover teacher once described it as "polarizing - every casting director who hears it is going to hate it or love it, but they'll never not notice it"--it doesn't bother me, it's just a thing). "I think you just think my voice is sweet because you love me."
"Who says your voice is weird?" Matilda asked.
"Lots of people. Almost everyone."
"NO, Mommy." Her voice got steely. "I mean, tell me their names."
Which I declined to do, because I don't want to be inadvertently responsible for my 4-year-old carrying out hits on half of Northern California.
"A tragedy struck the Northern California casting director community today..."
"NO, Mommy." Her voice got steely. "I mean, tell me their names."
Dear Matilda, I love you.
Yay, Wallybee!
Barb, I am giggling maliciously on your behalf.