To mrsspit.ca
You will see that it is "parked"
Which is fancy-pants internet talk for:
"Mrs. Spit owns this website, but she only got it yesterday, for Christmas, and she hasn't at all set it up yet."
But, ahh. I am a website owner.
Happy Geek-mas.
(Why yes, if you have information about web hosting that you would like to share, I'd love to hear from you!)
Showing posts with label I'm With the Cool Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm With the Cool Kids. Show all posts
Name Game
Warning. . .
There's a Poll.
Could you click to open the post, so that you can participate in the poll?
Yes, that means you. Even if you just lurk.
The iPhone needs a name.
The name options (in the poll on the side) are:
Gidget
Steve
Estelle
Digit512
Bingley-Beep
Have I mentioned that you really should vote in the poll on your left?
Thanks.
There's a Poll.
Could you click to open the post, so that you can participate in the poll?
Yes, that means you. Even if you just lurk.
The iPhone needs a name.
The name options (in the poll on the side) are:
Gidget
Steve
Estelle
Digit512
Bingley-Beep
Have I mentioned that you really should vote in the poll on your left?
Thanks.
Join the Revolution
I had the start of a long, rambly post about isolation.
Except, umm, I kept picking up my new iPhone, to marvel at it.
I think this is love.
If you'll excuse me, I'll be back tomorrow.
I have to go find more apps.
Surely, there must be some good blogging ones.
(yes, I am completely pathetic. I can live with that.)
Except, umm, I kept picking up my new iPhone, to marvel at it.
I think this is love.
If you'll excuse me, I'll be back tomorrow.
I have to go find more apps.
Surely, there must be some good blogging ones.
(yes, I am completely pathetic. I can live with that.)
Recessionary Tactics
I knew that the economy was still bad in the states. Really bad in some places.
But I had no idea how bad it was in Vegas. None. I'm so sorry, if only I had known.
These poor, poor young women. And the cocktail waitresses.
They aren't being paid enough.
There is Dior, Gucci, Armani, Fendi, Prada, D and G, BCBG, Zara, Kenneth Cole, Kate Spade, all of these stores, it must be so painful to walk by.
To walk by, and to not be able to afford . . .
An entire skirt, or an entire shirt, and not just half a shirt or 1/3 of the skirt.
I just didn't know that the recession would be so significant that women couldn't afford to completely clothe themselves.
Perhaps your fine President could put together a stimulus package so that these poor women could cover themselves and stop the other kind of stimulus?
But I had no idea how bad it was in Vegas. None. I'm so sorry, if only I had known.
These poor, poor young women. And the cocktail waitresses.
They aren't being paid enough.
There is Dior, Gucci, Armani, Fendi, Prada, D and G, BCBG, Zara, Kenneth Cole, Kate Spade, all of these stores, it must be so painful to walk by.
To walk by, and to not be able to afford . . .
An entire skirt, or an entire shirt, and not just half a shirt or 1/3 of the skirt.
I just didn't know that the recession would be so significant that women couldn't afford to completely clothe themselves.
Perhaps your fine President could put together a stimulus package so that these poor women could cover themselves and stop the other kind of stimulus?
Where You Live
Mr. T is looking for a new house, and occasionally I look over my shoulder at him and he's surfing the MLS website, so I go over and look. I'm sure he totally does not appreciates my comments on the houses he looks at, and I'm sure he totally does not appreciates my comments on townhouses in the suburbs.
And he was raving about this town house in the suburbs, which sounds like a living hell with an awful commute dream house, and I am not so subtly trying to convince him that only pretentious gits perfectly lovely and boring people live in the suburbs.
It's not at all working. Now, I will allow a fair bit of selfishness in my insistence that Mr. T and his very lovely partner should move to where Mr. Spit and I live. (His partner is a journalist, and the Rat Creek could use her. Also, he strikes me as the sort of community minded person I could con persuade into helping out in the new community garden because I think he has a strong back ) But, still.
The very best example of why all the cool people live in my neighbourhood is Tom. Tom owns DawgFather (and totally ignore the mention of Terry in the review. Tom owns the joint, honest. No clue who Terry is. None.)
Anyway, the Dawg Father is a hot dog place, and the first time we went in, I was a tiny bit concerned. Oh, not the location. It's a hot dog place. It's not swanky, it's clean and bright and there are exactly 6 hot dog types on offer. You can have them with Ruby fries, or without.
What freaked me a bit was the price. A hot dog for $7.50? You're kidding right? And then you see the hot dog (a Baltimore with cheese and bacon and onion , if you are at all smart). Plus the Ruby fries. The Ruby fries are named after Tom's favourite departed dog, and they are salty and garlicky and there's a bit of parsley, and oh, sweet heaven, I can hear angel's singing. People who like coleslaw say that Tom's is the best in the city. (I don't, but he always gives me extra potatoes and makes fun of me)
But really, what you are paying for is . . . Tom. Tom is, well, he's a character. You are never sure what he's going to say. But, he's fun and charming (He calls me doll. I like men that give me nice pet names). He's outspoken and very serious about hot dogs, and has the greatest stories. He has a profoundly x-rated tattoo, that takes everyone forever to notice. And then they are too embarrassed to ask if it is what they think it is. He's the kind of guy that I take people to meet. He always makes me smile.
Tom is the sort of person who thrives in my neighbourhood. He's off beat, and we collect those. We have your problems, and then we have your eccentrics. Every house is different. We have artists, we have musicians, we have sculptors, and some journalists. They even let me live here, and I'm not good at anything artsy.
We are not the commonplace. We aren't your average Joe's. We're a bit odd. And we like it when odd people move in. It stops the normal ones from taking over .
And here's my thing. Say what you want about my neighbourhood. You don't get Tom in Terwilligar Town.
And he was raving about this town house in the suburbs, which sounds like a
It's not at all working. Now, I will allow a fair bit of selfishness in my insistence that Mr. T and his very lovely partner should move to where Mr. Spit and I live. (His partner is a journalist, and the Rat Creek could use her. Also, he strikes me as the sort of community minded person I could
The very best example of why all the cool people live in my neighbourhood is Tom. Tom owns DawgFather (and totally ignore the mention of Terry in the review. Tom owns the joint, honest. No clue who Terry is. None.)
Anyway, the Dawg Father is a hot dog place, and the first time we went in, I was a tiny bit concerned. Oh, not the location. It's a hot dog place. It's not swanky, it's clean and bright and there are exactly 6 hot dog types on offer. You can have them with Ruby fries, or without.
What freaked me a bit was the price. A hot dog for $7.50? You're kidding right? And then you see the hot dog (a Baltimore with cheese and bacon
But really, what you are paying for is . . . Tom. Tom is, well, he's a character. You are never sure what he's going to say. But, he's fun and charming (He calls me doll. I like men that give me nice pet names). He's outspoken and very serious about hot dogs, and has the greatest stories. He has a profoundly x-rated tattoo, that takes everyone forever to notice. And then they are too embarrassed to ask if it is what they think it is. He's the kind of guy that I take people to meet. He always makes me smile.
Tom is the sort of person who thrives in my neighbourhood. He's off beat, and we collect those. We have your problems, and then we have your eccentrics. Every house is different. We have artists, we have musicians, we have sculptors, and some journalists. They even let me live here, and I'm not good at anything artsy.
We are not the commonplace. We aren't your average Joe's. We're a bit odd. And we like it when odd people move in.
And here's my thing. Say what you want about my neighbourhood. You don't get Tom in Terwilligar Town.
By the numbers
Geohede does it much better, but I was looking at the search terms, and since I started tracking:
- A very large group of people have shown up looking for some sort of information (?) about naked women and spitting. You're gross. Really gross. Go away now.
- 57 people have shown up at my blog, wondering some variant of whether or not Rob Lowe is bald. First off, I have written one post about Rob Lowe. One. And I do not have a bloody clue about whether or not he is bald. Not one. As near as I can tell, he's not bald. Do you all know something I don't?
- 15 people have come looking to find out why you can't divide by zero. I don't know either, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not the math blog. Go and see Mr. Spit.
- 3 people came by looking for Altar Guild jokes. I promise you, as a life long Anglican, there is absolutely nothing funny about Altar Guild. (and certainly not this.)
Boob Tube (Done)
When I tell people that I don't watch television, their eyes kind of bug out.
"Never?", they say.
Well, no, not never. I watch the odd episode of Myth Busters. The odd thing on Egyptology. Sometimes I watch those real estate shows about flipping houses, and I really did like to watch those 2 British ladies who barge into people's houses and tell them off for being lousy housekeepers.
My problem is not so much that I don't watch television, it is that I don't watch enough, and I don't watch what everyone else is watching. I have, for example, never seen CSI, I haven't viewed House or Grey's Anatomy, I haven't watched Mad Men, and I have seen 3 minutes of Desperate Housewives (but that's a rant for another day). I haven't seen Glee, and I likely won't.
Mostly I'm ok with this failing of mine. I don't involve myself in discussions about Lost (which just sound confusing, I'd like to point out). I have both moral and philosophical opinions about the amount of TV we watch, and what it is doing to us, but frankly, my bigger problem is the time. I don't have the time. At all.
My other problem is the shock. I happened to be in another room, about 4 years ago, and CSI something or other was playing, and I was listening a bit to the dialogue and I won't lie, I was shocked. I'm easily shocked these days. I find scenes in movies to be too intense, I find our preoccupation with death and disease, with sex and rape and force and brutality to be bewildering. I couldn't get anyone around me interested in Darfur, and there was CSI, and the subject that night was a serial killer. Serial killers are entertainment, and the rape and murder of our fellow earth dwellers, that which is happening to those around us, and no one seems to care. But, I'm getting into my Desperate Housewives rant. . .
Every so often, a show comes along, and I think I should watch it. For instance, I thought I should watch Corner Gas, I thought I should watch Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, I thought I should watch Mad Men, and this year, I think I should watch The Tudor's.
I realize that the Tudor's is in it's 3rd season, but really, I'm pretty sure that I can catch on. I, ahem, know the story a bit. . .
And then I think about it. I think about trying to remember to turn on the TV every night. Really, I think about trying to figure out how to turn on the television at all. I think about being stuck. I can't do this, and I can't do that on Wednesday night, because the Tudor's are on. And frankly, it sounds really overwhelming. It sounds like something that becomes a chore.
And so, sad to say it though I am, I probably won't wind up watching the Tudor's this year either.
What are you watching these days, and why?
"Never?", they say.
Well, no, not never. I watch the odd episode of Myth Busters. The odd thing on Egyptology. Sometimes I watch those real estate shows about flipping houses, and I really did like to watch those 2 British ladies who barge into people's houses and tell them off for being lousy housekeepers.
My problem is not so much that I don't watch television, it is that I don't watch enough, and I don't watch what everyone else is watching. I have, for example, never seen CSI, I haven't viewed House or Grey's Anatomy, I haven't watched Mad Men, and I have seen 3 minutes of Desperate Housewives (but that's a rant for another day). I haven't seen Glee, and I likely won't.
Mostly I'm ok with this failing of mine. I don't involve myself in discussions about Lost (which just sound confusing, I'd like to point out). I have both moral and philosophical opinions about the amount of TV we watch, and what it is doing to us, but frankly, my bigger problem is the time. I don't have the time. At all.
My other problem is the shock. I happened to be in another room, about 4 years ago, and CSI something or other was playing, and I was listening a bit to the dialogue and I won't lie, I was shocked. I'm easily shocked these days. I find scenes in movies to be too intense, I find our preoccupation with death and disease, with sex and rape and force and brutality to be bewildering. I couldn't get anyone around me interested in Darfur, and there was CSI, and the subject that night was a serial killer. Serial killers are entertainment, and the rape and murder of our fellow earth dwellers, that which is happening to those around us, and no one seems to care. But, I'm getting into my Desperate Housewives rant. . .
Every so often, a show comes along, and I think I should watch it. For instance, I thought I should watch Corner Gas, I thought I should watch Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, I thought I should watch Mad Men, and this year, I think I should watch The Tudor's.
I realize that the Tudor's is in it's 3rd season, but really, I'm pretty sure that I can catch on. I, ahem, know the story a bit. . .
And then I think about it. I think about trying to remember to turn on the TV every night. Really, I think about trying to figure out how to turn on the television at all. I think about being stuck. I can't do this, and I can't do that on Wednesday night, because the Tudor's are on. And frankly, it sounds really overwhelming. It sounds like something that becomes a chore.
And so, sad to say it though I am, I probably won't wind up watching the Tudor's this year either.
What are you watching these days, and why?
Ne Pas de Grammar
I have a 3/4 written post on past participles. But. . .
I went to Costco tonight, and among other things I bought The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown.
I intensely enjoyed the Da Vinci code, Demon's and Angels and Digital Fortress (haven't read Deception Point). Yes, I enjoyed them. Reading Dan Brown to get any sort of idea about theology is like watching a James Bond movie to understand how MI5 works, but they are a great read.
But, that's not why there is no grammar post.
I went to Earl's for dinner after Costco. The hostess comes up.
Table for One, says I. (Insert look of utter horror on part of waitress. Unattractive, apparently unmatchable material has entered trendy restaurant)
She seats me in the very far back of the restaurant, so that I am almost in the Chef's lap, and no one can see me and feel uncool.
Waitress comes by. I look over my book. Page 2. She gives me a menu. I peruse for 1 minute. (I really am that quick at picking food. Mostly I order the same things over and over. I had the chicken taco's. They were not bad at all.)
Skinny little waitress in one of those high waisted skirts comes bouncing up (Self Disclosure: I tried on a high waisted skirt last month. I looked like a teal and grey stuffed potato).
"All by yourself tonight?" Says she. (No, I brought my imaginary friend Myrtle. She'll have 3 desserts.)
"What can I get you to drink?"
"I'll have an iced tea and the chicken taco's."
"Ok, that's just great". (Really?) "Is that a good book?"
"I don't know, I just started it."
"Are you enjoying it?"
"I don't know, I just started it."
My meal arrives. It's good. She brings another Iced Tea.
"Still reading?" She asks.
"Yep" (No, I'm looking at the text, waiting for the Lost Symbol to appear. I just about had it, and then you came along and interrupted.)
I finish my meal, and I'm waiting for the bill (still reading too).
"Would you like to see a dessert menu?"
"No thanks."
"Are you sure, they are really good?"
"No, just the bill".
And that dear readers is why I don't have a grammar post. It took me twice as long to eat my dinner because I kept having to talk to people. Also, Dan Brown is more interesting that past participles, and I had 4 phone calls to return when I finally came home.
Mr. Spit says she was hitting on me. I think she was perplexed at a person reading in a restaurant.
So, tell me Oh, Wise Internets. Do you like to eat alone and read a book? Or is that just my thing to do?
I went to Costco tonight, and among other things I bought The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown.
I intensely enjoyed the Da Vinci code, Demon's and Angels and Digital Fortress (haven't read Deception Point). Yes, I enjoyed them. Reading Dan Brown to get any sort of idea about theology is like watching a James Bond movie to understand how MI5 works, but they are a great read.
But, that's not why there is no grammar post.
I went to Earl's for dinner after Costco. The hostess comes up.
Table for One, says I. (Insert look of utter horror on part of waitress. Unattractive, apparently unmatchable material has entered trendy restaurant)
She seats me in the very far back of the restaurant, so that I am almost in the Chef's lap, and no one can see me and feel uncool.
Waitress comes by. I look over my book. Page 2. She gives me a menu. I peruse for 1 minute. (I really am that quick at picking food. Mostly I order the same things over and over. I had the chicken taco's. They were not bad at all.)
Skinny little waitress in one of those high waisted skirts comes bouncing up (Self Disclosure: I tried on a high waisted skirt last month. I looked like a teal and grey stuffed potato).
"All by yourself tonight?" Says she. (No, I brought my imaginary friend Myrtle. She'll have 3 desserts.)
"What can I get you to drink?"
"I'll have an iced tea and the chicken taco's."
"Ok, that's just great". (Really?) "Is that a good book?"
"I don't know, I just started it."
"Are you enjoying it?"
"I don't know, I just started it."
My meal arrives. It's good. She brings another Iced Tea.
"Still reading?" She asks.
"Yep" (No, I'm looking at the text, waiting for the Lost Symbol to appear. I just about had it, and then you came along and interrupted.)
I finish my meal, and I'm waiting for the bill (still reading too).
"Would you like to see a dessert menu?"
"No thanks."
"Are you sure, they are really good?"
"No, just the bill".
And that dear readers is why I don't have a grammar post. It took me twice as long to eat my dinner because I kept having to talk to people. Also, Dan Brown is more interesting that past participles, and I had 4 phone calls to return when I finally came home.
Mr. Spit says she was hitting on me. I think she was perplexed at a person reading in a restaurant.
So, tell me Oh, Wise Internets. Do you like to eat alone and read a book? Or is that just my thing to do?
