That's a lot of furniture! Can you guys still walk around? My kids would love that, though. Lots of forts to build.
Natter 69: Practically names itself.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Walking is overrated. Eh, we can walk around, but it is going to drive me nuts at some point. I'm also depressed to discover that my friend's landing, which is where she had the couch, is larger than my living room. I'm going to need to rethink side tables also. One thing at a time...today was getting the couch in here - I'll figure out the rest tomorrow or the day after...
Where the fuck did I come from? Blood is boiling.
I'm pretty proud of myself for swimming to the deep end of my own gene pool. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with the shallow end.
Just now reading the L9 article Hil linked.
Because the motor coach is too large to negotiate the broken residential streets, it drives in a rectangle around the most devastated section of the Lower Ninth, sticking to the major thoroughfares. During a tour in October, it drove alongside the Industrial Canal, pausing so that the passengers could see the area where the levee breached. As it slowly passed through the Make It Right houses, a teenage boy ran to the curb, and the driver — whose own house is still gutted from Katrina — pulled over. The door opened and the boy stepped on. The bus filled with the kind of silence that follows a popped balloon. The boy held a carton of homemade pralines.
“Three for $10,” he said. “Buy one for a good cause.”
The 42 members of the tour group sat stiffly in their seats, staring forward in silence.
“Like to donate a dollar? Anyone?”
Nobody moved.
“Going once, going twice . . . Sold! To the guy in the black jacket!”
The man in the black jacket flinched violently.
“No? O.K., then. Going once, going twice . . . Sold! To this woman here in the front row!”
No one offered the boy any money. After another excruciatingly long pause, he stepped out onto the street. The motor coach scuttled back to the French Quarter.
Buy a fucking praline, whitey. Damn.
Betcha they're better than the ones at Southern Candymakers.
I have to admit, I've been going back to that race hate site and reading it intermittently during the day, and it's...well, it kinda makes me feel better, if that makes any sense.
They are so supremely idiotic, and also offended by everything, that I know my just existing drives them nuts. I had no idea I could accomplish so much by just waking up in the morning.
Now I consider myself a little bit more informed on a specific sort of stupidity out there, and I can close the windows and move on with my life.
People are idiots. They do that on the reservation, too. There's a little safari themed bus you can take to go down and stare at the "natives" buying groceries at the Bashas. It really couldn't get more offensive.
There's a little safari themed bus you can take to go down and stare at the "natives"
... I cannot even begin to understand that.
Except it's hardly restricted to NO or the reservation. When we were in Granada we were offered the opportunity to take a tour of the hillside caves above the city, where the Roma live. "Just like Hobbit-holes," said the salesman. "Gypsies and Hobbits, just about the same anyway."
My niece and I were so horrified we didn't even react, just begged off and got out of there.
"Slumming" isn't a new practice.
P-C,
LOL. I cannot get enough of the Ryan Gosling tumblrs. Seriously.