Random February

I've changed my method of night time illumination - i.e., bedside lamp - as my arm currently refuses to make the movement required to turn on my usual lamp. Got myself a book light (something like this) and it works fine. In fact, it's added some new entertainment, as when positioned right on my chest, it illuminates the wall next to my bed and the ceiling, perfect for making shadow forms. I have discovered that I can make my hand look like a camel, even at masticating camel, a dog of the Rottweiler-ish persuasion or a toothless T-Rex. And you know how sharing your house with a cat can alternately convince you that they are as smart as people or, in the very next moment, be reminded that they have a brain the size of a walnut? Our new night time ritual of Mojo trying to catch the shadows on the wall is a premium example of the latter.

I haven't been exceptionally fond of the latest trend of big handbags. Not just because it's a little unnerving being at a seated height and having to look out for women throwing the bags about in an attempt to make it easier on their bodies - and because they are so big and heavy, there is a fair amount of force in these throws - and when they do so, it being just around face height for me, but seriously, shouldn't there be some sort of limit to what you're willing to cart about in the name of fashion? For instance, when your handbag becomes so big that they contain not only an average-sized toddler, but also all the paraphernalia that comes with a child that age, have we not reached the apogee of the trend? Please?

Back in my pre-asthma life, I used to use Herbal Essences shampoo - it gives you the best smelling hair ever and has pretty good commercials. The brand has a new shampoo for coloured hair and it every time I see the commercial, I have a little bit of advertising whiplash. First, the woman looks normal - impossible pretty and smooth, but normal - then in the last frame the camera zooms in on someone who appears to have been retroactively airbrushed to look exactly like a Barbie doll. I am not kidding. Freeze the video. Then scream.

When I was 10 and 11, I had a big honking crush on Donny Osmond and to be honest, for many years, I kept this a bit of a secret. Mostly because people tended to laugh at me when I admitted it. However, the man is reinventing himself as someone kind of cool or maybe he was always cool, but nobody could see it. He's a very funny man and, equally important, can make fun of himself. I saw this video a long time ago and couldn't remember where I found it, but then Em posted it a while ago and I've been back every now and again (okay, at least once a week) and laugh my ass off.

For the Losties out there, Sawyer’s nickname generator. If I were around Sawyer (and I am often disappointed that I am not), my name would be Ferdinand. I am unsure whether this is in reference to the Grand Duke or the bull, although I prefer the bull, what with the pacifism and the flowers. What's your nickname?

Errata.

We had a vigorous debate a few weeks ago regarding female sexual identity as it applies to women with disabilities. I used two pictures of Aimee Mullins to illustrate the point. Last week, someone left a comment containing a correction regarding the first picture - it did not originate with Sports Illustrated, but in a book of photography by Howard Schatz, in which all the athletes used as models were clothed similarly - a black Speedo for men, black sports bra and swim bottoms for women (and I cannot tell you how old I felt when I realized that's what bikini bottoms look like nowadays). An excellent reminder that it's always a good idea to hunt down the original source of the material you use when debating. I stand (sit) corrected.

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