Who is she?

Does anyone recognize this image from anywhere? I found a really old chest someone had thrown away and this is pasted inside the top. It looks a little like an advertisement, but has no text.

Hot Off the Faerie Press

Check out this diaphanous little buddy I just snapped a pic of about two minutes ago.

Mugs, yo!

"How all occasions do inform against me, and spur my dull revenge!! What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more..."

~~~~~~~

"Me Tarzan, you arresting officer Willingford of LAPD."

~~~~~~

Taking recidivism to new levels:

Displeased with the inability of past mug shots to capture her multifaceted but delightfully complex nature, Renee continued on her crime spree in search of that one perfect shot.

more?? oh you know it:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0523082mugs1.html

Sorry Still Know Picture's

First, check out this story before reading on so you won't be lost. Lost is bad.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/features/chi-typo-guys-0521may21,0,701362.story

These poor fools. Sisyphus can't help but come to mind.

I've many many stories on such "errors" presented to the public as correct. One of my favorite situations is to see a sign, whether an expensive banner, a fancy placard, or a car--a situation, in other words, whereby the production of which had to have involved several people, none of whom caught the error.

My fave typo of all time:

When I first moved to Athens in 1987, there was only one cab company in town: Your Cab. On the side of the cabs was painted:
YOUR CAB
ATHEN'S GA

But no,maybe this is my fave:

You know how fire departments have, along with the big red noisy engines and the Dalmations, a car? That perhaps the fire chief drives? Well, I was tooling down the Atlanta Highway one day, looking for a love shack, just a little ole place where we can get together, when I noticed one such car from a neighboring county tooling along in front of me. Across the back was written:

SMOKE DETECTORS SAVES LIVES.

Oh, my, I thought. This won't do. So I changed lanes and got beside the car at the next red light, motioning for the driver to roll down his window. He did, and I said, "Hey, did you know you have a subject/verb disagreement error on the back of your car?"

"DO WHUT??" he replied, looking at ME like *I* was some kinda nut, right??

But then the light turned green, and he was gone.

You gotta do what you can, and find a way to accept that which you cannot change.

Reality: love it or leave it

We'll be lucky if we can catch just a glimpse of reality, once, in our whole lives.





not too sure about this web site:
http://www.yall.com/

I have ideas for posts that I can't seem to find time to write.
Upcoming, though:
the New Jersey story
Silly Chick
Vietnamese planting
101 Things That Annoy Me to No Fucking End
the house in Bishop
more perfect moment stories
happiness, pursuit of
little fat hog story
the utility of homosexuality
and much more!
stay tuned. don't touch. that. dial.

song of nixpence

I spend WAY too much time thinking about why I don't do what I should and why I do what I shouldn't---though mostly the former these days. At last my sins are those of omission, not commission, but to little comfort. I've excavated around in my past for long enough. I understand many of the reasons why I am what I am. I've sought to understand rather than to blame; I've dug around the foundations laid early on for my consciousness.

But for god's sakes, when is enough enough?? I think it's about time to acknowledge that this and that happened to make me this or that way....and then move on. I know what I SHOULD do; when will I start DOING it?


I disgust myself. Surely an indication of the winds of change?

But of course that image implies an outside source, one to wait for, to hope for. And of course there is only I.

Nothing else to do but to do. Nothing more difficult to do.

Grab Your Corset; Pitch Your Tent!

Sandalwood Corset and Thong
Where do wood nymphs shop? Fredericks of Arcady! Chamois-soft suedecloth encourages forest frolicking in these matching corsets and thongs. Corset Top is trimmed in stenciled applique and features front hook-and-eye closure, with flexible boning and fit-assuring cross laces at the back and sides. Complementing Thong is sized to match the corset. 100% polyester suedecloth. Hand washable. Imported. Colors: Sandalwood, Pink Lady's Slipper. Sizes: 32, 34, 36, 38; Corset Front, 15" long.
****
Sandalwood Corset and ThongItem #: P8649 -->Price: $59.95

Really, imagine cavorting in the woods in this thing! "Encourages forest frolicking," indeed! Let's take a look at some discouraging elements, shall we, just to balance the budget here:

1.


2.

3.

4.

5.

Poster Boys

it's time for the coveted

BUTTON AWARDS

It brings me great pleasure to present the Buttonhole Poster-response Awards for Monday and Tuesday of this week. These two posters have outdone themselves in areas of quantity and quality of their responses, earning top marks in philosophical musings, wit, insight and overall mental dexterity.

Monday's award goes out to .....

RON

Give it up for Ron, folks! YAY!!! Here he is, looking all contemplative, as well he should!

And I think it will surprise very few that our next recipient of the Button Trophy, known to many in this little corner of the blog-o-globe, is our own ADS!!! Give him a big hand job, folks!! YAY!

ALAN

(ps as ads and i are only a few months apart in age, let me assure you that the auto imposed on this photo was NOT the sort of car we drove to high school!!!!)

Skynyrd, Dude!

What I'm really waiting on is for Lynyrd Skynyrd to show up with its rendition of "The Internationale."

Imagine it.

http://www.hymn.ru/index-en.html

My Public is Displeased

One of my bloghos expresses a bit of frustration over my lack of weekend posting, thus:

"NOTHING since Friday? WTF?"

WTF is that I was BUSY o'er the weekend, ho!

Saturday I worked in the yard, getting it spruced, then drove to Loganville to meet Denis and Jim to buy plants at a place Mary Ann (whose birthday was Saturday! Big shout out to MA!!!) suggested in Loganville called Grower's Outlet. Great prices! Worth the drive! (though I can't recommend for every reader, depending on location)

http://www.growersoutletllc.com/

Then I had to spend all day Sunday planting! I've gotten to the point (and I would have thought this was so sad a few years ago.....So THIS is what it means to grow older.....that things you would have found sad when younger are no longer sad anymore?) that working in the garden, or coming home and watching a movie or in general just BEING AT HOME are the activities that I most seek out. I can stay outside and dig in the dirt literally all day. I'm thinking all the while, about all kinds of things. Sometimes I don't think and just exist. I think about my dad a lot when I'm in the garden. (I'm referring to my entire yard as "the garden," I suppose, in the British sense?) Someone asked once why I don't hire people to do yard work for me. Mainly because I not only want it done, but I want to DO it. Every once in a while I cry in my garden, for various reasons or for none. I like the notion that the plants are growing out of tears.

Pregnancy Test

What does it mean, "Can be used up to four days early"? That makes no sense! Not "earlier," mind you, which might imply it works faster than other tests.
Because I always associated pregnancy with "late," didn't you? Maybe it gives the results before sex? Now THAT would be a breakthrough!

Also, it gives the results "in words." Very advanced.

This little story arrived in the email with the youtuber below.

"Back in the days of the Soviet Union, the Soviet Red Army had an official choir composed of male soldiers and musicians. It still exists. The Red Army Choir performs throughout Russia to this day. Now consider the Finnish rock band called The Leningrad Cowboys. A little while ago, they held a concert in Russia, in which - to the screaming applause of Russkie teen-agers - they got the Red Army Choir to join them on stage for a performance of "Sweet Home Alabama." In English. You couldn't make this up."


(also, if you click to take it to the youtube site, I highly recommend the comments below the video, calling for the death of all Russians, the devious thinking of all Asiatics, and much more!)

SWEET HOME ALABAMA. oh. my. god.

This is especially for anyone born and/or raised in Alabama. This is from Jim, from Oneonta, AL. Thanks J!!!

Criminy!

It's Friday, and that can only mean one thing: it's MugShot Time!

Baa Baa Black Sheep! Have you any wool??

Yes sir! Yes sir! Three bag full on my hay-ed!

~~~~~~~~~~

No fair how some get to have all the luck!

~~~~~~~~

Fashion Violation: sea-foam frilly crinoline with sea-foam-shimmer-shell eye shadow from Maybelline. Throw the book at 'er! Ten years, no probation.

This week's full line-up:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0516082mugs1.html

Small Town Hoodlumry

I enjoy reading the crime reports for nearby Madison County in the local paper. I particularly enjoy the richly detailed accounts offered to the public. No "just the facts, ma'am" for these folks. For instance, this filled me with joy:

1. Arrest: On May 4, deputy Gary Floyd was dispatched to Reggie Ingram Road, Danielsville, where a car was hanging off a roadside embankment. When he arrived, Jessie James Loveless, 55, of Carruth Road, Commerce, was wandering around in a state of intoxication. Floyd asked how much he drank and replied three or four beers. Floyd then asked if he was injured and he said, "No, I'm just drunk." Loveless registered .22 on an alcohol test. He was charged with DUI.

JESSIE JAMES LOVELESS, indeed! You can't make this shit up.
~~~~~~~~~
2. How's this? "Rhodes Scholars Go on Burglar Spree"??

Burglary: On April 29, deputy Jeff Strickland was dispatched to a home on Wildcat Bridge Road for a burglary. A woman told him that she came home about 7:15 p.m. and saw a red Plymouth Neon with a woman sitting in the passenger seat in her driveway. She also saw her carport open and she asked the woman who was inside her home. The woman said it was her boyfriend, so the homeowner asked to use the woman's cell phone. The woman asked who she was calling and the homeowner said 911. At that point, the woman took the phone back, got into the driver's seat and left so fast that she left black tire marks down the driveway. The homeowner then went into her home and heard a loud noise as someone ran out the front door. The woman had taken the tag number, and it was traced to a resident of Royston. Strickland was notified by Franklin County Sheriff's deputy Klint Segars that he had found the Neon parked at the Franklin Inn in Franklin Springs and that the suspects were in room 33. Strickland went to the location and about 1 a.m. both were taken into custody. Adam Blake Dutton, 23, of Carnesville and Amberly Nicole Hart, 19, of Oak Street, Royston, were both charged with burglary.

Who cares what the hotel room number was??? Is that great?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
3. This one is NOT funny!

Complaint: On April 29, deputy Gary Floyd was dispatched to Black Creek Church Road where a motorist had stopped about 5:50 p.m. because a 2-year-old girl was wandering in the road. The child was wearing a dirty diaper and had a head full of lice. Floyd walked to a nearby house and after knocking on the door several times, a woman answered. The woman, who was the child's mother, said she had been asleep with her daughter. Floyd told the mother to change the child's diaper and he called the Department of Family and Children Services, which sent a case worker to the home.

Man, do you even wanna KNOW the details on these folks' lives???

~~~~~~~~
4. Theft: On April 30, a Dewy Rose man reported that he left his van at a shop on Mamie Drive, Ila, for repairs and that someone entered it and stole $3,160 worth of tools, including power tools to install carpet, staple gun, compressor and saw. The victim is a flooring contractor.

Not any more he's not.....

Words Fail Me

I was IMing with Denis tonight when he started pelting me with the most wondrous Craig's List postings. I have to share the pick of the litter. The ad:

"Swivel Rocker - Red & Black Leather - Perfect for UGA student - $50 (Dunwoody)

Chair in good condition. Perfect size for dorm room or bonus room. Call Theresa @ 770 938-5048 between the hours of 9 am and 9 pm only please."

Really, I feel that this piece of furniture quite possibly marks the end of civilization as we know it.

One Such Version....

Last night Jennifer (of the http://kickme-jennifer.blogspot.com/ fame) visited for a while, very late. She showed up unexpectedly, but that's fine. It's all good, sister; she's always welcome. While she was in the kitchen FLIRTING UNMERCIFULLY with my husband, Amber and I tactfully went into the "TV room" to watch a bit of tube. And lucky we did, too, for we were able to get the DL on a great new product about to hit the shelves: designer corn pads, coming in a variety of exciting colors and flavors: avocado green, fiesta orange, sunsplash yellow, aubergine, you name it. I said quietly, "Hm, I think I might post that on my blog."

Then Jennifer left to await the penultimate American Idol, and I settled in to finish The Interpretation of Dreams.

Cats'-n-Mother's Day

As a mother, I'd like to offer appreciation for my favorite child! She made my day bright and floaty by giving me two beautiful plants (a twisted hibiscus and something exotic and orchid-like) and by giving me a lovely oil painting that she'd done. Thank you Amber!

I also loved the "Happy Mother's Day" balloon, but I think Cubby edged me out in the enthusiasm category there.....

Pinkerton, too, loved the balloon and enjoyed batting at it from my new bookserver. He was able to maintain his position long enough to snap this picture.....

....and this one, in which he gives the balooon a most quizzical look.

Cheebah, however, finds this hooplah over the balloon to be much overrated. Why get excited over a helium-filled scrap of mylar when you can nap in a box of envelopes??

Arches

This is a purloined photo from a student portfolio. I had to have the photo. Love it.

A Good Attitude....

....is of utmost importance. I was buoyed to see that BlogHoNYC has embraced his role with enthusiasm. In his delivery of this week's Smoking Gun mug shots, he says:


"That's right, Ladies and Germs, BlogHoNYC is comin' at ya with some more photos, and there are some real winners, er, losers this time around, das for SHO!"



http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0509082mugs1.html



I've taken the liberty of extracting a couple of my faves:

One word here: recidivism.

I like to imagine that I've asked this fellow over for dinner and all the many things that we'd discuss: his childhood, his penchant for seersucker, his downward spiral into madness, his obsession with Quasimodo, space, time, God, the economy.

Keith Richards for President

Hell, why not? Whaddya gotta lose?

Thanks, Craig!

So instead of just emailing people on Craig's List to ask if their items are available and maybe mess with them in a heartwarming way, I decided in the last couple of days, in order to win friends and to more directly influence someone's life in just the happiest tiniest way, to make good on my resolution that said, "What the hey. I'll actually get out and go see some of these items." So I did.




* * *

Several hundred dollars later, I'm sitting here surrounded by several pieces of furniture that I need to find places for!

* * *

Really, I'm the WORST negotiator on EARTH! I get this from my mother, I know. She sees haggling over prices barbaric. I'm pretty sure she even used that word. And oddly, so do I; it just seems to bring both the haggler and the hagglee down to a base level. I know 80+% of the world's population would find my philosophy on bargaining not only bizarre but detrimental to their livelihood and finances, and I respect and appreciate that fact; I do.


My dad was masterful at this game, though, which is surprising as my mother was the gregarious extrovert who seemingly would relish the fight--and my dad being one of far fewer words. But there it is. He bought a new car every year or two, and would initially offer an absurdly low price. It would be met with laughter, so he'd take off across the parking lot back to his car, counting aloud (if I was with him) to ten. He never made it past seven before the salesman was out running after him, calling to him to come back and let him "see what he could do." After conferring with the finance mgr or whomever, the salesman would make a counteroffer. My dad would shake his head, say regretfully that he couldn't feel good about those numbers, thank the salesman for his time, and set off again across the lot. Counting. Here would come the clown of a salesman, sweating a bit now and even more solicitous. Come back in, let's move some numbers around, he'd say. Daddy would agree that, indeed, numbers did need to be moved, around and down. This would go on until the dealership gave him the price he originally named. Every time. I wish I'd inherited that particular chutzpah.



But no. I did try a bit of bargaining for my CL items, and succeeded in an overall marginal reduction, but carrying on like that takes me out of my comfort zone.




Anyway, check out my loot, dawgs:


These are the original Craigslist photos. I'd take my own, but my house is wrecked right now and you can't come in, sorry. These first three pieces came from the same place, the home of an Indian cardiologist and his wife who are relo'ing to LA. This first piece was advertised as a server/bookcase, but I'm calling it a bookserver. Photos, mags and model ship sold separately.



I was told the above specimen was hand carved in India and shipped over here to our great land. I like to think it was hand hewn from the original Bo tree under which the Buddha sat to gain enlightenment, and I challenge anyone to prove differently. "It is very sentimental piece to us," claimed the globetrotting sellers (lived in 14 countries in last 25 years), but they won't be moving to an 89 million square foot mansion in L.A. like they have here in Georgia, so it went for $250 to a loving home. The sides have doors with glass panels and the middle is open, welcoming all cats everywhere to climb aboard and sniff around.

This piece below looks much better in person. Again, ship did not come with. *And maybe have all the drawers cleaned out when I come for pick-up, as I paid for it a day ahead and you were expecting me?*
This chest hails from Dubai, word has. It's a bit reminiscent of an Asian apothecary-chest feel, though the drawers are too large for that genre.

Bitch was 100 bucks (they came off this price a wee).

The chair below was a recent gift from the wife to her heart surgeon luvah for his birthday. I tried negotiating but she wouldn't budge a buck. "Well, okay," I said, and handed her $400. I know a "walk or pay" moment when I see it. This mofo is all leather, though, and really prettier than the pic shows due to the flash photography, which affords it a rather unattractive sheen, methinks. It's over-wide and reclines and "I-need-a-nap-now" comfortable. The Huz immediately declared it "prime sleeping territory."

Next, below, nothing too special. A side table for twenty bucks in cat-approved wicker. It will need to be located in a feline-free zone of the house.

I couldn't really decide on this clock. It's Pier One brand and "keeps good time with a single AA battery" promised the poli-sci grad student from whom I bought the table, above, in the small apt with 5 cats and 3 dogs, and I DO need a reliable NON-TICKING clock for the living room that will do what a clock's gotta do (because I'm HARDLY EVER on the computer which has the bottom right clock n all. ok ok). Byron, the poli-sci guy, called it a grandfather clock, but I think that's taking too much liberty with the original Dutch concept and subsequent tradition. With the AA battery replacing that space-eating pendulum, though, you've got the bottom freed up for books, coin collections, or half-full Styrofoam cups from fast-food restaurants. Plus, my grandfather, whose hobby was restoring old clocks, would NOT approve of this pale imitation, so I'm calling it a step-nephew clock, properly distancing it from the genuine article.

Twenty five American dollar--I pick up tomorrow.

The other small item was a narrow chest of drawers (sort of like those for lingerie) that didn't set me back much, cash-wise.

So my vis-a-vis Craig's Listers experience has been so far quite favorable. I've no more room for ANY.THING.ELSE in this clutter, so I'll probably have to leave it at this.

=========================

oh no!!! I heard my email click and this was in:

Lisa,
I regret to tell you that someone offered me $45 for the clock today for the clock and I took it. Hope you're not too disappointed.
Byron

=========================

You know what. That is so wrong. And not just the needless repetition of the phrase "for the clock." We had an agreement!! and the ONLY reason I didn't take the clock THEN is that I wasn't in the truck, and I even offered to PAY him ahead of time and he said it would NOT be a problem whatsoever, he would hold it for me........Greedy little money grubbin poli-sci nerd!

I think this must've happened because I dissed the clock. You saw me doing it. I was so mean. I called it a step-nephew. What was I thinking? I deserve this. I'm a terrible person. I shouldn't even be allowed to be around clocks.

Sorry to end on such a downbeat, but I need to come to terms with some of the bitterness inside that caused me to lose this sale. Byron must've felt that my appreciation for this unbelievable work of ART was at a low ebb. He was right not to let such a hater like me possess such a jewel. A gem in the halo of heaven was what that clock was. A timely lass beckoning all to her round face and bookcase bosom. And to think I might have set an Arby's cup near her heart, leaving it to sweat and make a ring!

==========================

On the other hand, what MORON pays DOUBLE for what an item offered on Craig's List???

e 4 effort?

Oh great! What's this RATINGS business that's newly appeared on the blogs today? Something else to make me feel woefully inadequate, no doubt, while everyone else gloats about his or her 5-star postings.

groan

Watson, Crick Roll Over in Graves; or, The Best Song Lyrics Ever

The other day I was sitting in a drive-thru waiting on my tasty morsels to be cooked fresh and served up piping hot....does it really matter where?.......when I heard a rumble. Well, first I felt it, in my throat, then all down my body. I gripped the steering wheel. Earthquake? Avalanche? Monsoon? No. 'Twas an African-American gentleman in his souped-up ride with his "system" set to 11. As he circled around slowly, I was able to catch a snatch of lyrics coming from the "song" he had rapping rather, let's say LOUDLY, on his system. Loud isn't really the word here. A gargantuan sound. Stentorian. Ear-blistering. Cilia-smashing Beltone-ready crashing crescendo of noise. The lyrics, though. Yes.

From what I could make out, they went a little something like this:

"I loved that NIGHT at yo parTAY

But WHY'd you TEST my dnAY???"

Such longing there, such regret, such substance. I could really feel the pain the lyricist must have felt, being dragged down to the popo stay and made to turn over his DNA for testing. And after such fun.

Does anyone know the name of this "song"? I'm determined to find it. I want the sheet music, too.

Gun Outsmokes Self

BlogHoNYC is a bit late on the Smoking Gun mug shots this week, but all was forgiven when I saw this trio coming down the pike.

Wow. No, I mean, wow.

Think Greek myth here folks.

Whacha got for me, Craig?? or, A Misogynist's View of a Couch for Sale

brand new 100% top grain very dark brown leather sectional - $2000 (winder)

please help me make my wife happy..... just bought brand new 100% top grain-dark coffee/ java color (very dark brown) very handsome looking RAF sectional. Got it home and wife decided she wants sofa and chairs instead. Had taken listing off cause I thought she had changed her mind but was wrong. Can email pic and dimensions.... Would need to be able to pick up ---can't deliver call 678-963-0979

This pisses me off. On several levels. First, what a spoiled bitch. People are starving in the world. In addition, her husband cum yappy lap dog seems a bit terrified. I bet he can't deliver. He's probably not allowed to leave the house without Prima Donna's permission.

She must give some damned fine head, is all I can figure.

hi

I had a nice weekend. I spent it at the beach. I had a good time. I have some pictures. I did not have a good computer connection at the beach. But I took some pictures. It was on Jekyll Island.

Here is a picture of the beach.

Here are some people sitting in chairs looking toward the ocean. I didn't know them but I bet they are nice.

The trees on Jekyll Island are gnarled and really pretty, too.

Here is a pretty fountain.

Here I am at one of those cottages that the Rockefellers and other rich people used to own. It doesn't look like a cottage to me, much

That Shitting Major Hoople

Before I could read, I'd curl up with the comics from the newspaper (the funny papers, as we called it) and make up stories that went along with the pictures. One such comic that appeared at the time of my fabrications was Our Boarding House with Major Hoople. One day my mother was vacuuming the den, and I was in the Good Chair "reading" the comics aloud. I must have been very young since my dad taught me to read before I started school. I was reading quite well by the time I turned five, so on this particular day I must not have been four for long. I remember that the comic showed Major Hoople lifting weights above his head, and I provided his bubble-commentary for him, having him complain about the heft of the weights, calling them, "those shitting weights." "Shitting" is not a word that I hear any more, used in that way, as an adjective. I'd be more likely to hear "fucking weights" these days, but that wasn't a word I knew back then. Thank God.

I had frozen when the word came out of my mouth, just mortified. I had no idea I was about to say it!

Despite the noise from the vacuum, my mother obviously heard me and turned the vacuum off immediately, turning to me with a stern expression. She said, "What did you say??" I couldn't speak. Then: "I don't ever want to hear you talking that way again, do you hear me?" I nodded, numb. I tried to go back to "reading" but was too rankled.

And, of course, the irony is that I learned the word from HER. Something was always "shitting" this or "shitting" that.

And that was, indeed, the last time I uttered a curse word in front of her until March 2006.