I'm gonna dress you up in my love
We can only assume Madonna is referring to a suit made of secretions. Awesome.
But not as awesome as this guy's Amazon review bomb. Thanks for the lead, Nick. As always, you're the ultimate Internet humor scavenger.
Christmas was one exploding hurrah after another. I made a list of the Top Ten holiday lovelies. (Remember when Gary Wolf spent a century explaining that Dave Letterman had trademarked that phrase and, therefore, we should always capitalize the words "Top" and "Ten" but not "list"? Does the "but" in that last sentence negate a comma? God, I'm screwed up.) And here they are:
1. Flushing leftovers down the toilet at Craig's parents' house. Brother #47 handed me a food-filled pan and said, "You know what to do with this." I did.
2. Hugging my maternal grandma. I haven't seen her in a year and am pleased to report her still looking young and vibrant.
3. Talking to Courtney for an hour on my stepfather's dime. I enjoy listening to her and Mel (her girlfriend) giggle back and forth. They both have contagious laughs and I'm sure spending one hour in a room with the two of them would yield significant guffawing, possibly with no logical spur.
4. The unsheathing of one of several Turner family firearms from the kitchen cabinet. If you haven't spent any time with Lindsey's family, I suggest you pencil that in. They're fascinating, wonderful versions of the Southerners we can't relate to.
5. Sleeping next to my mother under a blanket of concentrated emotional discomfort.
6. Snuggling with my daddy in front of a fire and It's a Wonderful Life. What a stupid movie.
7. Nine words, if you count the hyphenate as one: Five consecutive hours of two-player Ratchet and Clank action. Lindsey, any time you need to shock the shit out of several glowing balls in order to remove force fields and move to the next level, I've got your ass.
8. Driving to and from Saltillo. Small-town Tennessee is a beautiful place.
9. The presents. I got some good ones this year -- a sushi dish set and Aveda candle from Linners, a cappuccino/coffee maker and Strand bag from Craig, a gorgeous pair of shoes from Mom, and some warm boots and a pack of chocolate-covered blueberries from Dad. Not to mention the moolah, which I'm using to pay my rent after the great car fiasco of 2005.
10. Flying back. Guess I've adapted after all.
And now, Tolstoy...uh...Thursday. This is an old one from the bottom of my reserves.
"This is not a movie"
The audience left early this morning.
My face is not so sexy
covered in pink suds and
shaky fingers.
Around three p.m.,
our soundtrack skipped when
I missed stepping on his foot
by eleven seconds.
But not as awesome as this guy's Amazon review bomb. Thanks for the lead, Nick. As always, you're the ultimate Internet humor scavenger.
Christmas was one exploding hurrah after another. I made a list of the Top Ten holiday lovelies. (Remember when Gary Wolf spent a century explaining that Dave Letterman had trademarked that phrase and, therefore, we should always capitalize the words "Top" and "Ten" but not "list"? Does the "but" in that last sentence negate a comma? God, I'm screwed up.) And here they are:
1. Flushing leftovers down the toilet at Craig's parents' house. Brother #47 handed me a food-filled pan and said, "You know what to do with this." I did.
2. Hugging my maternal grandma. I haven't seen her in a year and am pleased to report her still looking young and vibrant.
3. Talking to Courtney for an hour on my stepfather's dime. I enjoy listening to her and Mel (her girlfriend) giggle back and forth. They both have contagious laughs and I'm sure spending one hour in a room with the two of them would yield significant guffawing, possibly with no logical spur.
4. The unsheathing of one of several Turner family firearms from the kitchen cabinet. If you haven't spent any time with Lindsey's family, I suggest you pencil that in. They're fascinating, wonderful versions of the Southerners we can't relate to.
5. Sleeping next to my mother under a blanket of concentrated emotional discomfort.
6. Snuggling with my daddy in front of a fire and It's a Wonderful Life. What a stupid movie.
7. Nine words, if you count the hyphenate as one: Five consecutive hours of two-player Ratchet and Clank action. Lindsey, any time you need to shock the shit out of several glowing balls in order to remove force fields and move to the next level, I've got your ass.
8. Driving to and from Saltillo. Small-town Tennessee is a beautiful place.
9. The presents. I got some good ones this year -- a sushi dish set and Aveda candle from Linners, a cappuccino/coffee maker and Strand bag from Craig, a gorgeous pair of shoes from Mom, and some warm boots and a pack of chocolate-covered blueberries from Dad. Not to mention the moolah, which I'm using to pay my rent after the great car fiasco of 2005.
10. Flying back. Guess I've adapted after all.
And now, Tolstoy...uh...Thursday. This is an old one from the bottom of my reserves.
"This is not a movie"
The audience left early this morning.
My face is not so sexy
covered in pink suds and
shaky fingers.
Around three p.m.,
our soundtrack skipped when
I missed stepping on his foot
by eleven seconds.
2 Comments:
Glad you had a good time stroking the family guns. Everyone enjoyed tossing racial/homophobic/anti-vegetarian slurs around in front of you!
And I love LOVE my gifts. I wish we could play Ratchet right now.
Me too. You should bring the whole system when you come up. 'Cause that would be way easier than me buying one.
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