You guys, I got my hair cut this afternoon, and (because my hair is so long that I go forever between trims) it was the first time I got to tell my hairstylist that I'm getting married. (I asked her if she knew when she would be on vacation, and then asked if she would be in town Sept. 21, because I was going to need her to give me pretty bride hair.)
She had the best reaction of anyone who I got to tell in person. (I like to think everyone who I told online reacted with a crazy dance party.) She jumped up and down and hugged me and grinned like crazy. It was awesome.
Oh! Steph! I had an idea! Can you legally change your middle name to "née"? You could be "Steph Timslastname née Lang".
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Well played Tom, well played.
Oh! Steph! I had an idea! Can you legally change your middle name to "née"? You could be "Steph Timslastname née Lang".
And people would be all, "We get it, 'Lang' was your maiden name." And I can say, "No, dang it, that's my name!"
Happy Belated, ND.
Bonny--did we miss wishing you happy on your day? Or is it today?
Steph, that's lovely about your hair person. Appropriate reactions, people. (/holland manners)
Bev, almost, it's tomorrow.
Not a special number, or anything. Still, one more year above ground!
I've been dealing with relatives posting things about knife control for a while now. It is difficult not to engage.
There are lots of knife control laws and they're actually pretty effective.
(Sounds like we might have a few relatives in common.)
There's been a lot of news about the coming cicadapocalypse (Brood II, I think). In honor of that, I'd like to repost an early post of mine from August 2004 (when I was a shiny, new Buffista):
I was talking to some friends and we decided that cicadas are the teenagers of the insect world - they're awkward, noisy, and think of nothing but sex. After all - they ARE 17!
Happy belated b-day, ND!
Not a special number, or anything. Still, one more year above ground!
Reminds me of what my dad says every year as he gets older, "Beats the alternative!"
I'm enjoying "Uncle Fucknut" far far too much.
You know, hearing about Uncle (and Aunt, Cousin, Brother) Fucknut makes me kind of glad I've been cut off from my family. And my mother had cut us off from just about everyone (still living).
My mother used to send me these messages that were forwarded so many times and in such ways that they were messages inside messages inside messages ad infinitum. And, once peeled back to the initial content, invariably turned out to be something that had been around for years and years. I finally resorted to telling her that after a certain point the system I was on would cut them off after a certain number of layers and she eventually gave up on me as being No Fun At All.
