Results for «May 2006» | Return to main
EvilBlogWorldWhichHasSuckedMeIn (EBWWHSMI): Thanks for joining us today, Yen.
YMT: Avec plaisir!
EBWWHSMI: Excuse me?
YMT: Sorry, I didn't mean to speak in a foreign tongue.
EBWWHSMI: Yes, well, this is America and it's only right to speak the our national language. In fact, it should be THE LAW to speak American!
YMT: I totally agree. Right on, brutha'.
EBWWHSMI: I'm more woman than man, actually... wait, let's see your green card.
YMT: I don't have one.
EBWWHSMI: Aha! I demand to hear the American alphabet...in order.
YMT: Okay, but I am a citizen. And I've always gotten my Ks and Ls mixed up.
EBWWHSMI: OH, me too! You know, that whole middle section... HEY, your foreign national tricks aren't going to work on me.
YMT: Sorry. Here's my naturalization paper.
EBWWHSMI: That's you?
YMT: Yeah, why?
EBWWHSMI: What's that on top of your head?
YMT: My hair.
(Silence.)
YMT: Come on, I was 14.
EBWWHSMI: It's so... high. I'm sorry, I can't look at it anymore.
YMT: Weren't you going to ask me some questions?
EBWWHSMI: Was I?
YMT: Don't you want to know anything about me?
EBWWHSMI: Not... really... anymore.
YMT: Oh.
(hoo hoo)
EBWWHSMI: Uh, don't do that. Don't cry. Please.
YMT: It's just that...
EBWWHSMI: HEY look, I DO have a question.
YMT: Excellente! I mean, excellent.
EBWWHSMI: Do you think man and machine will ever mate?
YMT: Hmmm... I have to say, "yes". I don't know how and I don't know when, but I'm all for it if the name of this machine starts with I and rhymes with tripod. Oh yes.
EBWWHSMI: Okgreatthanksbye.
So I've just been told that there's no hope for a woman to get married after she turns 30. Seeing as how this came from my partner, I'm a bit skeptical, but all the same, I feel a little pressure. Ok, I feel a great amount of pressure. I only have a few days left before my personal doomsday. But because I'm an enterprising sorta girl, I've hastily devised a plan that will hopefully make a honest woman out of me. If you see any flaws, kindly do not inform me since this plan is already in motion.
- Get the Ball & Chain (B&C) out of the picture. This is easy since I can't remember where I last put her.
- "Coincidentally" run across the current woman of my dreams, aka THE CRUSH, asap. This is also a snap since I know where she works...mwhahahaha.
- That sounded more creepy than I meant it to be. Was it the pleasant laugh at the end of the sentence?
- Convince her to divorce her husband. I have some ideas of how to do this, but I could use some help on this step.
- Convince her to take a "spontaneous" roadtrip with me to Massachusetts. I'm not settling for any civil union, you hear me, Vermont?
- Have her sign some legally binding documents as we "tour" a "courthouse". This will be easy since English is not her first language.
- Voila, THE CRUSH will become THE WIFE and I'll be married and speaking French in the same sentence, all before I'm 30.
- Wow, am I efficient or what?
Next up: a more challenging challenge: babies and how to beat that biological clock!
I've always been an ardent supporter of my city newspaper since I've moved here some...how long ago...I can't remember...years ago. There's no real reason except for the fact that many people bash it so I (being con...contemptible? contrary?) MUST defend its honor like a virgin princess on a pirate ship or my oddly shaped cat (who was the runt of his litter and that's why his head is small but he's eaten ginormous amounts of food since his non-eating days in the pound so that's why his body is rectangular not unlike a cow).
Zekey's close relative
But today, I say no more. Me and my boxy cat have better things to stand up for.
Why this change of heart? I suppose I've known all along that the AJC was a small-town local paper suddenly stuffed into a ballgown and shoved onto the big city dance floor when Atlanta's population exploded in the 80s. The paper never learned how to dance properly (unlike moi, the dancing queen! oh wait that's ABBA) and it still moves awkwardly in its white-boy hip-hop way.
The ball ended this morning (how painful are these allusions or metaphors or whatever the hell they're called - HEY, English is my second language!). On the front page (front page!) of the online edition was a story about ONE EMAIL CAUGHT BY A SPAM FILTER. Not even a bunch of emails. Not even...nothing, hell there's no way to make this story a story.
It's not like the world is hurting for real new stories. New countries are sprouting up (Montenegro!), the government thinks we're all terrorists (so does AT&T) and Keith Richards is still alive (how?).
I can't even bring myself to link to it. Oh alright, but just so you can't say I'm a liar (about this; I lie so much, though, it's not even...no, it is funny):
First, here's proof that it was on the front page (front page!):
This is the dumbest story I've ever seen on the front page of any newspaper anywhere and I've looked at a lot of South Georgia newspapers.
I know the "reporter" is "trying" to make a conspiracy out of it, but one email marked as spam is...just, really, one email marked as spam. End of non-story.
I'm just going to limit myself to reading the headlines of Le Monde from now on. At least when they have stupid stories, half the time, I won't understand it. The rest of the time, I'm thinking, "HOLY CRAP, I CAN READ FRENCH!". Or I pretend I can.
Courtesy of the Angry Little Asian Girl...
That is all.
To all who wished me a happy birthday yesterday and to those who meant to if they knew my birthday, I'd like to say thanks for thinking of me. It was right nice.
I don't mean to single any one person out, but...no, hell of course I do. I appreciate everyone's thoughts, but to get birthday wishes from...Celine Dion, well, that just touches my heart in ways no one wants to know about.
I know what you must be thinking. Yen's lying...again. Or Yen's dabbling in more-than-just-gateway-drugs this time, haha. But I'm not! Not this month. See:
Since iPod asked me to go out with it a week ago (it's going very well, thanks), it's been very sweet. We're holding hands and having dinner together and giving each other little "surprises!". No one wants me to explain that, I know.
Anyways, it's a pretty machine and very dependable but... well... it can be insistent and even downright stubborn sometimes. Every time I put it on shuffle, it has to first play Je fais de toi mon essentiel from the musical Le Roi Soleil. I don't know, maybe it was its ex or something...weird.
So I'm an understanding sort of person (no, I'm not). I tried to understand what significance this song holds for it. The song title translates literally to I make from you my gas. What? You need my help to make...? Oh no, I mean, essence. L'essence means gas; l'essentiel means essence. Right? Who knows.
Hey, iPod dear, let's go for some ice creams. And then Walgreens.
I haven't lived with my parents for many years now. But besides irritating me, I never had a good reason why I ran away from all the egg rolls and wacky animal stories. Well, today, I found one.
My parents are visiting me for a few weeks. Now, my mom has always been an egg short of a dozen, but I thought my dad was more grounded. I think that no more.
I came home from work today to find him watching...A Baby Story. For those not in the know, this is one of TLC's top rated shows for 18-35 year old white women. Just to reassure myself, my dad fits none of those demographics. None! He told me he was watching it because the couple on the show had gone to snatch, I mean, adopt some China girls and they were going through the Hong Kong airport and just a few weeks ago, he had gone through the exact same airport! The questions I formed in my head (these were just the tip of the iceberg):
- How long had he been watching before he saw the airport?
- How long has he been watching after he saw the airport?
- Why couldn't he just look at pictures of the airport and try harder not to disturb me?
Non-disturbing image of Hong Kong Airport
These are questions that, frankly, I don't want answered. But so that I'm not "surprised" tomorrow, I think I'll turn on the Tivo parental controls and lock out TLC and, just to be safe, Lifetime AND Oxygen.
I was just suddenly overcome with emotion for Lori McKenna and I had to share. How could a New England housewife affect me so? I don't know. Maybe looking at her will help.
Well, I'm still stumped. Oh yeah, she's a singer and, more importantly, a freakin brilliant songwriter. I discovered her from her bit appearance in Miss Folk America. That deserves its own soliloquy someday.
Maybe LM taps into my inner housewife. If you listen to her and also find an urge to clean the kitchen and drive some child to soccer practice, please let me know.
But for real, I adore her. Now, excuse me, I must go vacuum.