Friday, January 16, 2009


So we've made BLTH (bacon, lettuce, tomato and hummus) sandwiches and packed our warm socks, and we're off to D.C. in an hour or so, to see the big American dick in the sky and witness one of the most historic events of our lifetime along with one or five million or so other people. I will try and post as soon as we get back to let y'all know how it went. I might even tweet some while I'm there.

Excuse me, I've got a million Food Stamp cases to do. For some reason our economic crisis is producing applicants at a breakneck speed.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Interspecies animal relationships FTW!

Repost from Dooce:

Videos like this make me clutch my hands to my heart and make laughing crying noises. In other words it's like the first 20 minutes of a mushroom trip.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Volume whatever...

From the "People are weird/sick/strange and they google these words to find my blog..." hall of fame...

more clever than ever now
animals eaten alive
animals that are 55" tall
do animals that hibernate wee and poo while sleeping
happy 1 day late anniversary myspace comment
jezebel smoky mountain witch
me doesn't fearful love
pillow smothering image cartoon
why do animals keep moving when they are dead

The perennial favorite is still "animals cumming in women," by the way.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

a spook, I tells ya

Yesterday in a vain attempt to burn maybe 35 calories, I asked Brandon if he wanted to go for a walk after work. When formulating this sentence it occured to me that I should try to think of a more exciting way to get exercise, and immediately I sprung (heh heh) upon the notion that 45 minutes of strenous sex per day might fit the bill. And that's possible right? I mean, I am IN A RELATIONSHIP. But I digress.

Anywho, I asked him to go for a walk, and he said yes, can we cross Parkway (whichever Parkway it is, those roads are a COMPLETE mindfuck to this ol' girl) and try to gain entrance to Libertyland? and although I'm the type of person who is stricken with terror at the concept of rule-breaking, I reminded myself that this is one of the reasons that I liked this dude to begin with, and remember that time that we were in the mountains and gained entrance to the funhouse of mirrors cash-free by merely running in the out door, and giggled and gasped and lost ourselves in corridors of mirrors? wasn't love young and fun then, and nothing bad happened at all, sissypants! buckup!

So we trotted down the broken sidewalks and he told me about his first day of master gardener school, which was funny because 1) a lady introduced herself by sharing that she had been fired from her job and she'd had to put her dog down, which is not funny in inself, of course, but is funny because who in the world would choose to introduce themselves to a room of fifty people in that fashion? I'd rather say, "Hi, my name's Amanda, and I like to read and watch movies." and b) a man got rounds of applause and tears by merely stating that he was an Iraq war veteran. maybe that's not funny or weird at all but we're commie bastards so we marvelled at it together.

We approach the Libertyland and in case you don't know or didn't click my helpful link above, it's an abandoned amusement park. THEREFORE VERY CREEPY. In my corduroy jeans and checkered vans, walking along with Brandon, who seems to be dressed eternally these days in a red zippered hoodie, I felt as if I was walking into an episode of Scooby Doo which had been deanimated (in some type of exhaustive computer editing process, I'm sure). There was a gap in the fence in the back that made Brandon suck his breath in in excitement and made me do the same in the terror & dread that in order to avoid looking like a pussy I'd have to wriggle in after him. He thought I'd be a chicken, and was happy and proud when I wasn't. We both had the big eye because IT WAS VERY CREEPY IN THERE. My mind immediately created a scenario in which a squatter with the same face/personality/soul as the leper hobo who lives under the porch in the abandoned house in Stephen King's IT who offers Eddie Kaspbrak a blowjob. Unless I've got some part of that wrong. Maybe he wants a blowjob. It's been a few years since I read IT. I thought he'd amble out and offer us blowjobs and then part of his face would fall off.

That did not happen, dear readers. I didn't get a blow job from a leper hobo; rather we wandered around a corner and saw "SKEEBALL PALACE," which I assured Brandon is precisely where I'll go when I die, and then he saw a security car and got spooked and I got to leave Libertyland without contracting leprosy from a horny hobo squatter. The end.

ADDENDUM: When searching Google image for "leper" to come up with a visual aid for this entry, I discovered this gem from the "Cosmic Conservative" Double Yew Tee Eff.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

we both wish I had something interesting to contribute

I feel so boring, but I'm going to try to summon something up for you, Internets. I know you miss my gentle Southern voice.

Our holiday travels are complete; I made Mr. Dill, math whiz, calculate how many miles we drove from December 23-January 3 and it was approximately 1300. I am tired of being in the car! And we still have a 26 hour round trip to D.C. in a little more than a week! I know that I should be getting juiced to visit a (practically) new city but all I can think about is the comfort of being back at home after all that.

The winter makes me go into hibernation mode. I add 5 or so pounds to myself during the holiday smorgasbord of eating, look down one day and realize I've lost all of the physical reminder of sun kissing my skin, put on a big ol' sweater and big ol' pants, and wish I didn't have to emerge back out into the world again until April. Winter makes me feel fat and pale and hopeless regarding spring's eventual return. I feel like I don't have anything interesting to contribute to conversations, and my desire to socialize disappears.

I think a combination of the holiday travel blitz and my aforementioned disinterest in the outside world kept me from merrymaking on New Year's Eve. Brandon had to go photograph Benjamin Hooks late that night and I laid up in the bed attempting to regain some kind of energy after finishing up quite a bit of shitty wine and shitty Moroccan chicken that I had made after being mislead by the fine folks at Everyday Food. I napped; I showered; but by the time he got home, I was still completely disinterested in going out and revelling with partiers. I just had that "Not in a mood for a party" feeling that I couldn't shake and that I know from experience doesn't make for a real fun time. So we skipped it. We stayed home, in bed, finished off the wine, and rang in the new year with some sweet lovin', after which the Mister fell asleep and I read Agatha Christie, ate pretzels, and listened to our upstairs neighbor sob in the New Year accompanied by some depressing-sounding tunes. Apparently she was a wee bit too wasted to click them off before passing out, because we awoke to her music streaming through our paperthin ceiling the next morning.

Bear with me folks; some sunnier me will return. I'm not depressed, actually; I just feel as though the blood that runs through my veins has thickened and left me slow to respond and disinterested in anything other than the most basic stimulation.


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