So here is a picture of Iggy Pop, the undisputed king of punk, the god of self-destruction, the champion of non-conformity . . . wearing . . . .
CROCS!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
I fully expect to soon see the four horsemen of the apocolypse!
Can’t find the source. If you know, let me know so I can credit.
Stolen from a hysterical source. I’d credit but a real name wasn’t given.
“A couple of peeves of mine and how I deal with them.
First, my boss likes to say things like “I want to hear what you’re thinking” but then proceeds to talk until he has explained to me what I should think. When he finishes he typically goes back to his computer screen and acts like he is paying attention to what I am saying. This used to frustrate me, but now what I do is to inject comments like “sausage fingers” or “put your dog in the microwave” or some such silly comment into the conversation to prove he’s not listening. He has only caught me a couple of times, but he is so unsure of what he really heard he has never called me on it. Bystanders get one heck of a show though.
Second, we have a VP of HR/Legal affairs who does what we have dubbed the “sincere head bob”. I think everyone should learn this mannerism. Basically you squint at the person you are conversing with and nod your head with genuine emotion to show that you relate with whatever is being discussed even though you are not actually listening. In this case what I do is I squint and nod back until it becomes apparent that I am waiting for a response which causes him to ask me to repeat myself. I like to see how many times I can get him to do this in a given conversation, my personal best is 6 times so far, but I am confident I can get to 10.”
I received the following from a friend today and had to share . . . .
“As promised, I have attached the “courage” quote/poem I told you about. The courage quote was photographed on the paper that was tacked up on the wall of my friend’s aunt’s apartment. Because I have such a soft spot for seniors, I had to also attach a photo of aunt Irene when she was 18 as well as when she was 80 (this year, when she passed).
Love,
Pam
PS, Please do put it up on your blog. If you are interested, when I get home I can send you a photo of the actual hand-written poem. It’s yellowed and is cool. It was written by Aunt Irene herself!”
HAPPY EASTER, Peeps!
I found out yesterday that Ringling Brothers and Barnum Bailey Circus was going to bring their elephants to the downtown park in our hometown for a Pacaderm Picnic so the kids could get the chance to see what nine full grown elephants eat for lunch. Since babygirl goes ape-poo over elephants, I decided to take her; I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.
Apparently elephants eat lots of bread, and bananas, and carrots, and apples, and watermelons.
We really had the best spot up front and center because there were nine elephants but I could only get three in the picture without crushing a few hundred other kids for the larger group photo-op. The elephants hungrily shoved whole bunches of bananas, loaves of bread and watermelons in their mouths to the screams of excitement of hundreds of children and their parents/caregivers. Here is what babygirl thought of all of that.
Wait, can you not see the excitement in my child’s face? Can you not tell how incredibly excited she is to see the elephants? Here, let me show you another photo. This time a close-up.
See, all the trouble momma went through to find out about the elephants making an appearance in the in the downtown park and figuring out where in the huge park they would be and map questing the logistics of getting to the park from our house and then packing a lunch and a thermos of milk and some snacks and getting us both dressed in warm enough clothes for being outside in February yet still layered enough to have something to remove if the sun came out and making sure she had enough correct-change cash for parking and getting the stroller in the car and driving downtown and then PARKING THE CAR DOWNTOWN! and then getting us safely from where we parked the car to the downtown park and through the park to the place where the elephants would be and then staking out the best spot for her to view the elephants and then keeping her entertained stationary in the stroller for a half-hour while we waited for the time for the elephants to arrive since it was necessary to get there early to get a good spot and also ensure we didn’t arrive too late to see the elephants and then entertaining her for another half-hour because the elephants were late and she cried and was fussy because it would all be worth it just to see the look on her face. In case you missed it, here it is again.
Oh, kiddo, I hope you know your moma loves you and she would do it many times over because you really do love elephants . . . you do, don’t you? Just try to muster up a little bit more excitement next time . . . OK?
Love,
moma
I will never look at a bathroom hand dryer the same way again. (As merely a swirling vortex of bathroom germs blowing directly on your freshly cleaned hands.)
Mmmmm bacon . . . . as Morrissey says — “Meat is murder . . . tasty, tasty murder.”
Santa gives up.