OK, it's an addiction...
...I'm already undergoing heavy consideration for a second tattoo. But only one more.
Probably.
Thursday
Tuesday
Amuse thyself...
Step 1: Go to Google.
Step 2: Type "find chuck norris" in the search box.
Step 3: Click on "I Feel Lucky."
Step 1: Go to Google.
Step 2: Type "find chuck norris" in the search box.
Step 3: Click on "I Feel Lucky."
Sunday
I think I've mentioned before that I have a slight problem with ringing in my ears. It's not bad, just a constant background noise that until I was about 12 years old I thought everyone had. I can ignore it most of the time; the times it's most annoying is late at night when the house is quiet. Then it can manifest itself in odd ways other than a ringing: the sound of TV on in another room, the dull roar of a horse race or an auction...Dan Rather's voice droning the evening news.
Yeah, that particular one is really annoying.
Four thirty this morning I woke when Buddah jumped from the bed onto his climbing tree (um, yeah, I displayed an incredible amount of intelligence by putting it right next to the bed) and as I tried to fall back asleep I heard Max downstairs, meowing. He's known to sing his little heart out in the middle of the night, and I'm known to utter, "Max, just shut up..."
As soon as I said his name, he let slip a tiny meow from the other side of the bed.
So I had Buddah in the room on the tree, and Max curled up next to me...and a kitty crying downstairs.
I strained to listen; maybe it was a cat stuck outside in the rain. So I got up and peeked out the window, but I couldn't see anything wet and shivering, and the sound was coming from downstairs.
All right, maybe there was a cat by the front door. But I stepped out into the hallway, and the meowing stopped. I waited at the top of the stairs, and when after two or three minutes it didn't start back up, I went back to bed.
Within five minutes I heard it again; I got back up and out into the hall, and nothing.
Back in bed, and there it was, the definite sound of Max's sometimes annoying meow wafting up the stairs, but he was still curled up on the bed.
And then Dan Rather started up, his deep voice a rumble alongside of the sounds of Max.
Crap.
At least when I hear Dan mumbling in the middle of the night, or the patter of an auction coming from another room, I know what it is. This new twist to my tinnitus is going to have me up and down, checking to see if Max is singing or if he needs help.
I may never sleep through the night again.
Yeah, that particular one is really annoying.
Four thirty this morning I woke when Buddah jumped from the bed onto his climbing tree (um, yeah, I displayed an incredible amount of intelligence by putting it right next to the bed) and as I tried to fall back asleep I heard Max downstairs, meowing. He's known to sing his little heart out in the middle of the night, and I'm known to utter, "Max, just shut up..."
As soon as I said his name, he let slip a tiny meow from the other side of the bed.
So I had Buddah in the room on the tree, and Max curled up next to me...and a kitty crying downstairs.
I strained to listen; maybe it was a cat stuck outside in the rain. So I got up and peeked out the window, but I couldn't see anything wet and shivering, and the sound was coming from downstairs.
All right, maybe there was a cat by the front door. But I stepped out into the hallway, and the meowing stopped. I waited at the top of the stairs, and when after two or three minutes it didn't start back up, I went back to bed.
Within five minutes I heard it again; I got back up and out into the hall, and nothing.
Back in bed, and there it was, the definite sound of Max's sometimes annoying meow wafting up the stairs, but he was still curled up on the bed.
And then Dan Rather started up, his deep voice a rumble alongside of the sounds of Max.
Crap.
At least when I hear Dan mumbling in the middle of the night, or the patter of an auction coming from another room, I know what it is. This new twist to my tinnitus is going to have me up and down, checking to see if Max is singing or if he needs help.
I may never sleep through the night again.
Saturday
Friday
I tried sitting in the Walmart McD's today, just people watching while I scratched out a few notes for the current manuscript. It's just not the same without Bill the Greeter there, his voice booming over everything else. I miss the little kids getting excited over the stickers he handed out, and the sudden smiles he managed to bring out of people.
Or maybe it was the weather; not as many people wandering over to Walmart with it so wet and cold outside, and those who were there just weren't happy about it. I gave up and headed over to Borders, where there are plenty of people but fewer smiles and little kids bouncing up and down excitedly.
Alex wasn't there; his little corner of the coffee shop was quiet. Hell, the whole place was quiet and for the first ten minutes I was the only one there hogging table space. I sat where I could see out into the store, but the people who walked past were few and far between.
Eventually there was a guy named Mark; I know his name because he announced it quite loudly when he answered his cell phone. "Hi, this is Mark!" I'm pretty sure the people at the cash registers up front heard him, too. Mark was happy and enthusiastic until receiving the news that he doesn't have enough equity in his house to refinance. I know this only because he shouted it across the cafe to his mother.
It was nice that he had a date with his Mom, though. He bought her hot chocolate and a Giant Rice Krispie treat, the sight of which caused me a major case of the munchies (to which I did not cave, thank you very much, but I still want one, and if I still want one tomorrow I might go ahead and get one.) Mom fretted over his news, he brushed it off as no big deal, he's not about to lose the house, he only wanted a better rate.
They were still there an hour later, when a women with a small child in stroller came in. I couldn't really see them, but I could hear the munchkin singing "cookie, cookie, cookie" over and over, and I imagined he was pointing to the display case, loaded with about 13 million calories of baked and confectionery temptations.
I managed to get about 45 pages into the third draft of the book; it wasn't nearly as fun, though, without as many people to distract me from the pretentiousness of creating some clearly flawed characters.
It was better than helping a little old lady get topless, so I'll take what I can get.
I wonder if she's still there in the changing room, waiting for someone to help her get redressed...
Or maybe it was the weather; not as many people wandering over to Walmart with it so wet and cold outside, and those who were there just weren't happy about it. I gave up and headed over to Borders, where there are plenty of people but fewer smiles and little kids bouncing up and down excitedly.
Alex wasn't there; his little corner of the coffee shop was quiet. Hell, the whole place was quiet and for the first ten minutes I was the only one there hogging table space. I sat where I could see out into the store, but the people who walked past were few and far between.
Eventually there was a guy named Mark; I know his name because he announced it quite loudly when he answered his cell phone. "Hi, this is Mark!" I'm pretty sure the people at the cash registers up front heard him, too. Mark was happy and enthusiastic until receiving the news that he doesn't have enough equity in his house to refinance. I know this only because he shouted it across the cafe to his mother.
It was nice that he had a date with his Mom, though. He bought her hot chocolate and a Giant Rice Krispie treat, the sight of which caused me a major case of the munchies (to which I did not cave, thank you very much, but I still want one, and if I still want one tomorrow I might go ahead and get one.) Mom fretted over his news, he brushed it off as no big deal, he's not about to lose the house, he only wanted a better rate.
They were still there an hour later, when a women with a small child in stroller came in. I couldn't really see them, but I could hear the munchkin singing "cookie, cookie, cookie" over and over, and I imagined he was pointing to the display case, loaded with about 13 million calories of baked and confectionery temptations.
I managed to get about 45 pages into the third draft of the book; it wasn't nearly as fun, though, without as many people to distract me from the pretentiousness of creating some clearly flawed characters.
It was better than helping a little old lady get topless, so I'll take what I can get.
I wonder if she's still there in the changing room, waiting for someone to help her get redressed...
Thursday
Tuesday
Saturday
Friday
Oh man, beautiful day today, 59 degrees, sunny, no wind...the kind of day that says to a person with a bike You must ride.
So we geared up, with no particular place to go, just an intent to pick a direction and go. I stuffed tiny little speakers into my helmet and started up my iPod with my bike, and was rocking to American Idiot, anticipating a wonderful 40-50 mile ride through the back roads of Solano County. We have some wicked nice back roads, too.
The Spouse Thingy let his bike warm up a bit, and then indicated he was ready to roll, so I put my bike in gear and headed down the road.
We were gonna zoooooooom.
Ya know what? A really heavy leather jacket rubbing on a 3 day old tattoo is kind of uncomfortable. We got to the stop sign half a block away and I told him I wasn't sure...got less than half a mile away and realized I could do it, but it wasn't going to be any fun. So I made a U-turn and headed home, the Spouse Thingy putt-putting behind me.
We went to a movie instead.
Oh yeah, that's how bad ass a biker I am. My jacket rubbed my intentional owie, and I ran home.
But think about it, just how bad ass can a fat middle-aged woman with a Disney character etched into her skin really be?
Apparently, not very... Heh.
So we geared up, with no particular place to go, just an intent to pick a direction and go. I stuffed tiny little speakers into my helmet and started up my iPod with my bike, and was rocking to American Idiot, anticipating a wonderful 40-50 mile ride through the back roads of Solano County. We have some wicked nice back roads, too.
The Spouse Thingy let his bike warm up a bit, and then indicated he was ready to roll, so I put my bike in gear and headed down the road.
We were gonna zoooooooom.
Ya know what? A really heavy leather jacket rubbing on a 3 day old tattoo is kind of uncomfortable. We got to the stop sign half a block away and I told him I wasn't sure...got less than half a mile away and realized I could do it, but it wasn't going to be any fun. So I made a U-turn and headed home, the Spouse Thingy putt-putting behind me.
We went to a movie instead.
Oh yeah, that's how bad ass a biker I am. My jacket rubbed my intentional owie, and I ran home.
But think about it, just how bad ass can a fat middle-aged woman with a Disney character etched into her skin really be?
Apparently, not very... Heh.
Tuesday
How Thumper Spent Her Afternoon...
Now, it's still very fresh and raw and kinda bloody, but I had to share:
My design, inked by Lin at Alpha Omega Tattoos. It's the one I've been carrying around for the last 10 years, waiting for the right time to get it and the right person to put it on me. I decided now was right, and it's the Boy's Christmas gift to me.
I totally hearts it :)
Now, it's still very fresh and raw and kinda bloody, but I had to share:
My design, inked by Lin at Alpha Omega Tattoos. It's the one I've been carrying around for the last 10 years, waiting for the right time to get it and the right person to put it on me. I decided now was right, and it's the Boy's Christmas gift to me.
I totally hearts it :)
Sunday
Laughing at my own suckitude...
- Pick up a guitar for the first time in at least 5 years. Strum. I suck.
- Restring guitar. Strings stretch while playing. Doesn't matter, because I suck.
- Find old sheet music, realize I can't remember a whole lot of chords, but that's okay, because I suck anyway.
- Find folder of songs I wrote back in junior high. Realize I kind of sucked even 33-34 years ago.
- Hum along as I play, because I haven't sung in as long as I haven't played, and I suck.
- Inflict my playing on the cats and watch them run, because I suck.
- Enjoy it anyway, because it doesn't matter. I suck, and it's kind of funny.
Friday
Go ahead, roll your eyes at me...
I can't find Buddah's favorite toy mousies, and as a consequence, I am have feelings of parental failure.
Poor kitty.
If I was a GOOD kitty mom, I could close my eyes, inhale, visualize, and know EXACTLY where those freaky little heart shaped mice have gotten to.
Instead, I will make him feel better with crunchy treats.
I can only image the food issues I'd be giving him if he were human...
I can't find Buddah's favorite toy mousies, and as a consequence, I am have feelings of parental failure.
Poor kitty.
If I was a GOOD kitty mom, I could close my eyes, inhale, visualize, and know EXACTLY where those freaky little heart shaped mice have gotten to.
Instead, I will make him feel better with crunchy treats.
I can only image the food issues I'd be giving him if he were human...
Thursday
Wednesday
Sunday
Friday
Don't think I'll be doing a lot of riding in the next week...
Today was a fun one, with lots of rain, sustained 35 mph winds, with gusts up to 69 mph. The wind woke me up at Way Too Early, which gave me an excuse for an afternoon nap, especially since there was no way I was going anywhere in it, bike or not.
I discovered that Buddah considers the bed his during the day, and he did not want to share.
I'd like to say I won the battle, but truthfully I napped with my legs in odd positions to accommodate the little bed hog.
One of the roads I ride on quite a bit:
I hope it survives the rest of the week...
Today was a fun one, with lots of rain, sustained 35 mph winds, with gusts up to 69 mph. The wind woke me up at Way Too Early, which gave me an excuse for an afternoon nap, especially since there was no way I was going anywhere in it, bike or not.
I discovered that Buddah considers the bed his during the day, and he did not want to share.
I'd like to say I won the battle, but truthfully I napped with my legs in odd positions to accommodate the little bed hog.
One of the roads I ride on quite a bit:
I hope it survives the rest of the week...
Wednesday
Let's continue pondering how freaking smart I am. Because I am, I obviously am.
Yesterday was a nice enough day so we decided to take the bikes out; the Spouse Thingy's had not been ridden in a couple of weeks, and you just don't want to let a bike sit unridden for long periods of time, lest its battery decides to die and its gas gets all icky and stuff. I just like to ride, I'll take just about any excuse.
Ten miles out my gas light came on, so we headed for a gas station, because--see, I am so smart--that's where you fuel up.
I pulled up to a pump and saw a ripped-up sign indicating the ATM function on said pump may or may not be working, so I backed up to the pump behind it. I turned the ignition key to off, looked down to make sure the kickstand was still down, and started to get off. The kickstand, however, while down, was apparently not on actual pavement. I think I leaned it down onto a seam between two panels of concrete. Smart, smart, smart.
The bike went over, taking me with it. Spouse Thingy was scrambling to get off his bike, I was lying there worried not about the fact that my foot was pinned under the bike, but that I might have broken something on the bike.
Because that's how smart I am.
Two guys ran out of the gas station, and while the Spouse Thingy was worrying about whether or not I was in one piece, the one guy picked my bike up like it was a toy. And then we all stood there admiring my favorite toy, as it had not a single scratch on it. The mirror had moved, but it was not broken.
Bike guy assured me even he had dumped a bike or two in his time, including once with his wife on the back. I'm willing to bet she was not thrilled.
But, I finally got that first drop out of the way and nothing was broken, not on the bike or myself. It did make me think (again) that I don't want to wear my spiffy red, white, and blue leather jacket while riding any more, lest I mess it up. So today I went jacket shopping, and not finding anything that didn't make me look like a Power Ranger, I came home and ordered a jacket online.
Really, though, I am obviously of such great intelligence that they should clone me and sell me on eBay for, like, $59.99...
Yesterday was a nice enough day so we decided to take the bikes out; the Spouse Thingy's had not been ridden in a couple of weeks, and you just don't want to let a bike sit unridden for long periods of time, lest its battery decides to die and its gas gets all icky and stuff. I just like to ride, I'll take just about any excuse.
Ten miles out my gas light came on, so we headed for a gas station, because--see, I am so smart--that's where you fuel up.
I pulled up to a pump and saw a ripped-up sign indicating the ATM function on said pump may or may not be working, so I backed up to the pump behind it. I turned the ignition key to off, looked down to make sure the kickstand was still down, and started to get off. The kickstand, however, while down, was apparently not on actual pavement. I think I leaned it down onto a seam between two panels of concrete. Smart, smart, smart.
The bike went over, taking me with it. Spouse Thingy was scrambling to get off his bike, I was lying there worried not about the fact that my foot was pinned under the bike, but that I might have broken something on the bike.
Because that's how smart I am.
Two guys ran out of the gas station, and while the Spouse Thingy was worrying about whether or not I was in one piece, the one guy picked my bike up like it was a toy. And then we all stood there admiring my favorite toy, as it had not a single scratch on it. The mirror had moved, but it was not broken.
Bike guy assured me even he had dumped a bike or two in his time, including once with his wife on the back. I'm willing to bet she was not thrilled.
But, I finally got that first drop out of the way and nothing was broken, not on the bike or myself. It did make me think (again) that I don't want to wear my spiffy red, white, and blue leather jacket while riding any more, lest I mess it up. So today I went jacket shopping, and not finding anything that didn't make me look like a Power Ranger, I came home and ordered a jacket online.
Really, though, I am obviously of such great intelligence that they should clone me and sell me on eBay for, like, $59.99...
Tuesday
Happy New Year, You're Smarter Than I Am
Oh yeah, I am smart.
Let me tell you how smart I am.
Three days ago (well, nights...) the Spouse Thingy heard a noise and looked out the window upstairs; there were people trying to open the side door of the garage in the house next door. The house we used to live in, and still have warm fuzzies about. The house that has sat empty since August, and to which the doors have only been opened (as far as I know) one time when the smoke alarms were going off and we went in to make sure it wasn't on fire.
He ran downstairs and said, "Someone is breaking in next door."
And this is where my incredible, so-smart-my-head-should-weigh-15-pounds, exponentially wonderful intelligence came into play.
I did not pick up the phone to dial 911.
I did not shrug it off with a "Who cares? The house is empty."
No, I stormed out the front door and stomped over there to give the intruders a piece of my mind, the Spouse Thingy hot on my heels, probably wondering what he would do with my corpse.
There they were, two people standing there while another was drilling into the lock, hunched by the fence in the darkness. Oh yeah, let's break into the garage instead of the front door! That made sense.
Turns out they were there on behalf of the bank to change the locks; they showed the Spouse Thingy proof while I went back home to get the garage door opener, so that they could enter without spending so much time drilling their way in.
But yeah, that's how smart I am.
So Happy New Year...you now know you're much smarter than Thumper.
Oh yeah, I am smart.
Let me tell you how smart I am.
Three days ago (well, nights...) the Spouse Thingy heard a noise and looked out the window upstairs; there were people trying to open the side door of the garage in the house next door. The house we used to live in, and still have warm fuzzies about. The house that has sat empty since August, and to which the doors have only been opened (as far as I know) one time when the smoke alarms were going off and we went in to make sure it wasn't on fire.
He ran downstairs and said, "Someone is breaking in next door."
And this is where my incredible, so-smart-my-head-should-weigh-15-pounds, exponentially wonderful intelligence came into play.
I did not pick up the phone to dial 911.
I did not shrug it off with a "Who cares? The house is empty."
No, I stormed out the front door and stomped over there to give the intruders a piece of my mind, the Spouse Thingy hot on my heels, probably wondering what he would do with my corpse.
There they were, two people standing there while another was drilling into the lock, hunched by the fence in the darkness. Oh yeah, let's break into the garage instead of the front door! That made sense.
Turns out they were there on behalf of the bank to change the locks; they showed the Spouse Thingy proof while I went back home to get the garage door opener, so that they could enter without spending so much time drilling their way in.
But yeah, that's how smart I am.
So Happy New Year...you now know you're much smarter than Thumper.
Sunday
The One Where Thumper Gets Escorted Out Of Border's...
One of the things the Spouse Thingy gave me for Christmas is this real cool long sleeved t-shirt with a white tiger on it. I have a thing for tigers, so the shirt was pretty much the ideal gift. I wore it yesterday, and because I DON'T SWEAT OR STINK, I decided it was good for another wear today.
And if I do stink, eh...just don't breathe around me.
But.
There I was in Border's, waiting in line to buy a Way Too Expensive Large Ice Tea, and this guy walking by sees my shirt, and gets a little too excited.
WOW YOUR SHIRT IS REALLY COOL DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THAT TIGER THEY KILLED AT THE ZOO?
Um...yeah, I did (Please stop yelling at me...)
THEY CALLED THE POLICE THEY SHOULDNTA DONE THAT THEY SHOULDA TRANQUILIZED IT.
(sigh) I don't think they had time to do that. (Here tiger, tiger...stop chewing on the people while we run and get a special gun just for you...)
THEY SHOULD ALWAYS BE READY FOR STUFF LIKE THAT BECAUSE IT'S A ZOO AND THEY GOTTA BE READY.
I shrugged, paid for my tea, and went to sit down, ready to scratch out some notes (maunscript is finally starting to seriously gel, thankeweveddymuch.) Surely this guy--even though his mental age seemed to be around 7 or 8, and I don't mean that unkindly; it is what it is--would take a hint.
But no. I hadn't heard enough. Before I could blink, he was there beside the table.
I WENT TO THAILAND ONCE AND THE MONKS THERE TAMED THE TIGERS AND THET LET YOU PET THEM AND HOLD THE CUBS.
Really? I wouldn't have done that.
WHY NOT THEY ARE TAME BUT THE MONKS SAY TO STAY AWAY FROM THEIR MOUTHS.
Ooookay.
THOSE KIDS AT THE ZOO WERE POKING THE TIGERS WITH STICKS.
I hadn't heard that.
THEY WERE TEASING THEM AND BEING MEAN AND--
The girl at the counter, in a pretense of coming over to clean off a table, asked him to leave me alone; I was there to get a little work done and I didn't have a lot of time. With a loud OKAY he wandered off, but I could see him walking back and forth between the aisles, and he kept pointing me out to people. SEE HER SHIRT IT'S REALLY COOL AND IT HAS TIGERS ON IT. I LIKE THAT SHIRT.
Instead of looking at me, most people turned around and walked the other way.
I wasn't getting anything done, and I was seriously starting to get a little freaked out; I flipped my notebook closed, took a long sip off my tea and tossed the rest of it in the trash. I shrugged towards the girl at the counter--she knows my name now, I've been there enough--and thanked her, and as I started to turn she nodded to a male employee who was off to one side.
Apparently Tiger Boy freaked them out a little, too.
"I'm just going to walk you to the door," he said, "and make sure he doesn't follow you."
He stopped at the door and said he would make sure my new little friend didn't get close enough to see where I had parked.
Trust me, I couldn't thank the guy enough. Chances are Tiger Boy was harmless and really only wanted to talk about tigeers, but I really didn't want to find out. And while he looked like someone I could have defended myself against, you never know. I'd rather not have to find out, and I'd rather not be known as the old lady who beat the snot out of some poor mentally challenged guy.
Still.
I got escorted out of Border's.
That's how bad ass I am.
One of the things the Spouse Thingy gave me for Christmas is this real cool long sleeved t-shirt with a white tiger on it. I have a thing for tigers, so the shirt was pretty much the ideal gift. I wore it yesterday, and because I DON'T SWEAT OR STINK, I decided it was good for another wear today.
And if I do stink, eh...just don't breathe around me.
But.
There I was in Border's, waiting in line to buy a Way Too Expensive Large Ice Tea, and this guy walking by sees my shirt, and gets a little too excited.
WOW YOUR SHIRT IS REALLY COOL DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THAT TIGER THEY KILLED AT THE ZOO?
Um...yeah, I did (Please stop yelling at me...)
THEY CALLED THE POLICE THEY SHOULDNTA DONE THAT THEY SHOULDA TRANQUILIZED IT.
(sigh) I don't think they had time to do that. (Here tiger, tiger...stop chewing on the people while we run and get a special gun just for you...)
THEY SHOULD ALWAYS BE READY FOR STUFF LIKE THAT BECAUSE IT'S A ZOO AND THEY GOTTA BE READY.
I shrugged, paid for my tea, and went to sit down, ready to scratch out some notes (maunscript is finally starting to seriously gel, thankeweveddymuch.) Surely this guy--even though his mental age seemed to be around 7 or 8, and I don't mean that unkindly; it is what it is--would take a hint.
But no. I hadn't heard enough. Before I could blink, he was there beside the table.
I WENT TO THAILAND ONCE AND THE MONKS THERE TAMED THE TIGERS AND THET LET YOU PET THEM AND HOLD THE CUBS.
Really? I wouldn't have done that.
WHY NOT THEY ARE TAME BUT THE MONKS SAY TO STAY AWAY FROM THEIR MOUTHS.
Ooookay.
THOSE KIDS AT THE ZOO WERE POKING THE TIGERS WITH STICKS.
I hadn't heard that.
THEY WERE TEASING THEM AND BEING MEAN AND--
The girl at the counter, in a pretense of coming over to clean off a table, asked him to leave me alone; I was there to get a little work done and I didn't have a lot of time. With a loud OKAY he wandered off, but I could see him walking back and forth between the aisles, and he kept pointing me out to people. SEE HER SHIRT IT'S REALLY COOL AND IT HAS TIGERS ON IT. I LIKE THAT SHIRT.
Instead of looking at me, most people turned around and walked the other way.
I wasn't getting anything done, and I was seriously starting to get a little freaked out; I flipped my notebook closed, took a long sip off my tea and tossed the rest of it in the trash. I shrugged towards the girl at the counter--she knows my name now, I've been there enough--and thanked her, and as I started to turn she nodded to a male employee who was off to one side.
Apparently Tiger Boy freaked them out a little, too.
"I'm just going to walk you to the door," he said, "and make sure he doesn't follow you."
He stopped at the door and said he would make sure my new little friend didn't get close enough to see where I had parked.
Trust me, I couldn't thank the guy enough. Chances are Tiger Boy was harmless and really only wanted to talk about tigeers, but I really didn't want to find out. And while he looked like someone I could have defended myself against, you never know. I'd rather not have to find out, and I'd rather not be known as the old lady who beat the snot out of some poor mentally challenged guy.
Still.
I got escorted out of Border's.
That's how bad ass I am.
3 column templates
(for Chaz, don'tcha know...)
When I throw up a new look for my blog, chances are I took an existing template and tweaked it. My current one (really a simple 3 column table) has been tweaked so many times I couldn't tell you what it originally looked like. The Spouse Thingy's blog was originally a simple 3 column template by Thur Broeder; I just played with it, adding in the background and stuff until it looked like what I wanted. Same with Buddah's. I found his original template at blogskins.com and just tweaked it. Max's skin was originally a 2 column; I just added in the 3rd.
Thor 1, ST's blog based on it
Thor 2, similar to 1
Thor 3 similar to 1 and 2
Buddah's basic skin
My blog template
Take 'em if you want, play with them, see if they're what you need.
(for Chaz, don'tcha know...)
When I throw up a new look for my blog, chances are I took an existing template and tweaked it. My current one (really a simple 3 column table) has been tweaked so many times I couldn't tell you what it originally looked like. The Spouse Thingy's blog was originally a simple 3 column template by Thur Broeder; I just played with it, adding in the background and stuff until it looked like what I wanted. Same with Buddah's. I found his original template at blogskins.com and just tweaked it. Max's skin was originally a 2 column; I just added in the 3rd.
Thor 1, ST's blog based on it
Thor 2, similar to 1
Thor 3 similar to 1 and 2
Buddah's basic skin
My blog template
Take 'em if you want, play with them, see if they're what you need.
Thursday
Monday
Saturday
In browsing the local paper this morning, I read an article that says that according to the 2007-08 American Pet Products Manufacturers Association National Pet Owners Survey (try saying that three times fast) 56% of dog owners and almost half of all cat owners will buy their pets a gift for Christmas this year. The article also says that dog owners are likely to buy 7 gifts per year, and other pet owners about 4 gifts. Regardless of the pet species, the average price of each of those gifts is $10.
It's nice to know we're not as nuts as we thought; at least half you you people are nuts right along with us. And it's also nice to know that we are so above average...
What I really want to know, though, is how many people actually wrap their pets' presents, and how many have stockings for the little four legged wonders.
Not that we would ever go overboard on our cats.
Oh, no.
And it's not like we're planning on taking pictures of them getting their gifts.
Um.
shuddup
There's still time if you haven't gotten your furry friend something. I have it on good authority that for cats, all it takes is a bag of crunchy treats, some kitty crack, and a feathered toy or two.
And spend more than ten bucks, so that you, too, can be above average.
Because truly, how can it be a Merry Christmas if Fido and Fluffy don't get anything?
stop looking at me like that...
It's nice to know we're not as nuts as we thought; at least half you you people are nuts right along with us. And it's also nice to know that we are so above average...
What I really want to know, though, is how many people actually wrap their pets' presents, and how many have stockings for the little four legged wonders.
Not that we would ever go overboard on our cats.
Oh, no.
And it's not like we're planning on taking pictures of them getting their gifts.
Um.
shuddup
There's still time if you haven't gotten your furry friend something. I have it on good authority that for cats, all it takes is a bag of crunchy treats, some kitty crack, and a feathered toy or two.
And spend more than ten bucks, so that you, too, can be above average.
Because truly, how can it be a Merry Christmas if Fido and Fluffy don't get anything?
stop looking at me like that...
Friday
Dear Lady In the Target Snack Bar,
Really, would it have killed you to pull the cell phone away from your face for 2 seconds to really acknowledge the elderly guy who approached to ask if he and his wife (who was slowly walking towards you, her walker moving one inch at a time) could share your table? Would it have cost you anything to politely say, "of course" instead of rolling your eyes and sighing snottily, "I suppose"? Did you care whether or not you made them uncomfortable with your deliberate act of ignoring them while they sipped at their coffee? Did you even notice that you were alone at a table for four and had the only available chairs in the whole place? Do you realize you could have made their day simply by being nice, appearing happy to have them at your table, by saying hello and then wishing them Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or even just Goodbye when they got up to leave? Would you have noticed if I'd ripped that freaking phone from your hand and shove it up your left nostril? Because I wanted to. That makes me as rude as you, I suppose, but I wanted to.
Someday you're going to be old. And someday you might need to sit down and the only available seat will be at an occupied table. And I hope that whomever is there was raised a little better than you seem to have been.
Sincerely,
Someone Whose Momma Did A Few Things Right...
Cross posted to Dear So And So...
Really, would it have killed you to pull the cell phone away from your face for 2 seconds to really acknowledge the elderly guy who approached to ask if he and his wife (who was slowly walking towards you, her walker moving one inch at a time) could share your table? Would it have cost you anything to politely say, "of course" instead of rolling your eyes and sighing snottily, "I suppose"? Did you care whether or not you made them uncomfortable with your deliberate act of ignoring them while they sipped at their coffee? Did you even notice that you were alone at a table for four and had the only available chairs in the whole place? Do you realize you could have made their day simply by being nice, appearing happy to have them at your table, by saying hello and then wishing them Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or even just Goodbye when they got up to leave? Would you have noticed if I'd ripped that freaking phone from your hand and shove it up your left nostril? Because I wanted to. That makes me as rude as you, I suppose, but I wanted to.
Someday you're going to be old. And someday you might need to sit down and the only available seat will be at an occupied table. And I hope that whomever is there was raised a little better than you seem to have been.
Sincerely,
Someone Whose Momma Did A Few Things Right...
Cross posted to Dear So And So...
Tuesday
Glares at screen...
By definition, you should be able to use a laptop computer on your lap, right?
So who was the genius that designed mine in a way that causes it to overheat and turn itself off when used on a lap?
I'd like to punch him in the nipples, I really would.
::cries a little over losing those 3 AWESOME, WONDERFULLY WRITTEN, PULITZER WORTHY pages:::
By definition, you should be able to use a laptop computer on your lap, right?
So who was the genius that designed mine in a way that causes it to overheat and turn itself off when used on a lap?
I'd like to punch him in the nipples, I really would.
::cries a little over losing those 3 AWESOME, WONDERFULLY WRITTEN, PULITZER WORTHY pages:::
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