I read an article about a man who collected antique computers and he had gotten his hands on a vintage machine – an Apple Powerbook 3400C. From 1999. I thought 'antique' meant 'more than a hundred years old'. Seriously? A computer is antique when it’s eight years old? That just makes me want to cry...
Spam of the month: Riproaring Addition! I spent hours giggling to myself while I womdered what that meant. Raucous Math Olympics? A really fast supermarket clerk? Laughing your arse off while you’re balancing your chequebook? What?? (no, I didn’t open it the email – remaining ignorant was far more entertaining) Leave your best guess in the comments.
A couple of days ago I accidentally flipped by a rerun of The Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll - although I am a fan of many reality shows and not ashamed to admit it, I draw the line at this… this... is abomination too strong a word? I mean, I'm sure that it is the campy pinnacle of ridiculous reality shows, but I have issues with the Pussycat Dolls which, as far as I can tell, are group of exotic dancers masquerading as singers. Nothing wrong with a career in adult entertainment, but do you have to shove it in the face of impressionable young people? Who’ll imitate you? Anyway, I watched some of the contestants participate in a stage show. Clad only in what can best be described as a sparkly handkerchief that barely covered their naughty bits, hair teased into two schoolgirl-like ponytails, they gyrated behind the regular Pussycat Dolls, while the lead 'singer' moaned into the microphone. After the applause, one of the contestants said to the camera "I hope my mother is proud of me". Sure, honey. I'm certain that when she dreamt of her little girl’s future, this was exactly what she had in mind.
One of the less well-publicized aspects of sharing your home with a long-haired cat - the picture serves as additional illustration of just how fluffy she is - is the delightful, annual spring shed. As the weather warms, the winter coat departs, leaving enough hair on the couch on a weekly basis to knit another cat. Oh, and the hairballs increase, as well. Get someone please explain to me why the barfing always happens early in the morning? Being awakened by it is one thing, but must it sound like that? It scares the crap out of me.
Another restaurant encounter, this one not related to etiquette… or maybe it is. It’s a fashion thing. The way I view bras is that they’re supposed to discreetly and largely invisibly do their job and I so don’t understand the recent trend with showing off your bra straps under spaghetti strap tanks, etc.. Someone once explained to me that there’s a rule: your bra may show if it’s the same colour as your top or as pretty as your top. I still don’t get it. Anyway! Out to dinner and a couple of tables over, a gaggle of women were gathering, clearly out celebrating someone, as everyone’s dressed up a little and there are giftbags. One of the women is wearing a beige/gold top with a scooped neck in front and back. So scooped, in fact, that her black bra is showing its straps on both shoulders, plus the strap that goes around your chest (I’m sure it has a name, but I’m having an immigrant moment). This is sexy?? Wouldn’t it be sexier to not have any signs of a bra showing? I never got the thong showing above your low-cut pants, either. Can we do a petition to get underwear back where it belongs – under clothes? Who’s with me?