Snaps to The Dangerous Kettle, who put me on to My First Dictionary and all its hilarity.
If you want a link that is just as hilarious, and even darker, try craigslaugh. But don't go there if you have a weak stomach...
Showing posts with label snorts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snorts. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
snorts du jour
Snaps to The Dangerous Kettle, who put me on to My First Dictionary and all its hilarity.
If you want a link that is just as hilarious, and even darker, try craigslaugh. But don't go there if you have a weak stomach...
Thursday, March 04, 2010
tummy wobbles
A friend sent me this wonderful link called Unhappy Hipsters. It keeps me snorting, daily.
The hill had the perfect incline for rolling. And the trampoline was wildly exciting, at first. But crushing peanuts into the deck brought the grown-ups running, and was therefore deemed the most fun of all.
I've just had a lot of time with Bumblebee. He has an unfortunate history of becoming sick just before a major Fun Thing and thus missing out on it (we all remember the Queen tribute concert, with hideously expensive tickets bought months in advance, when we bravely tried to rally & attend, but he ended up sobbing in my arms at what the noise and the bright lights were doing to his head, even though they were playing his favorite song really well...).
He had a touch of the tummy wobbles just before camp last week, and we all took it very seriously, because we all really, really wanted him to go to camp -- B because it was CAMP, us because camp is a great place to make friends -- so we dosed him up on garlicky chicken soup, made him go to bed early, etc etc.
He made it to camp, and had a fabulous time, of course, and came back tall and happy and glowing, and reported that five kids had developed gastro-like illness and had to be driven home. The healthy, happy glow lasted until monday arvo, when he started womiting, and thus he's been ill for the last two days.
The first day, Tuesday, I dragged him along to Studio Duck so that I could hang out with Natalie, my resident student printer. As Nat printed her fabulous Super Mario prints and I constructed a box for my Mackay Libris entry, Bumblebee flopped on his beanbag playing gameboy and doing sudoku puzzles. When we were home he flopped on the couch to watch the Stah Waz Clone Waz dvds that he got from a fellow Canberra Stah Waz Collectors Group member.
Yesterday, when I realised we had to stay home if we were to defeat the tummy wobbles, I decided to make the day memorable for him. Instead of letting him have the usual flopping and playing kinda day, I marched into his bedroom and gave him all four books from Keiji Nakazawa's Barefoot Gen manga series about surviving Hiroshima. "Don't get up until you've read all of these," I said.
And he didn't. I brought him drinks and dry biscuits, made him soup which he ate with his head in the books, and then waited for his reaction, which came in the afternoon. In the meantime I worked on the computer, catching up on lots of small things I'd been meaning to do for ages.
He came in, not quite sobbing, but teary at the ending. No spoilers here, you'll have to find out for yourself if you can; Nakazawa is very clever in the way he's structured the story. The grand scale of the tragedy is brought down to a very personal level that forces you to engage emotionally. Bumblebee is a classic modern kid, hardened in the face of visual constructions of violence (is that the right way to phrase it? I mean movie & book violence as opposed to real encountered violence, which shocks the hell out of him), so the bomb dropping & drawn images of people suffering didn't engage him as much as individual characters from the story suffering.
He's now very interested in Hiroshima and we had a great talk about reasons why it happened and why the Americans thought it needed to happen. The more we talk about history, the more he digs it. I hope that has a lasting effect! Or at least a lingering half-life...
POSTSCRIPT: I just thought I'd respond to SCB's comment about my motherhood skillz out here, up front. I like to blog these nice parenting moments because they remind me that I can be a good parent when I'm not feeling like one. Last night I caught some of At the Movies and Margaret mentioned a character who was a 'good but slightly flaky' mother. 'That's me!' I thought with a flash. I didn't tell you, did I, the whole story about Bumblebee's latest vaccination?
There were two vaccinations on offer: Hep B and Chickenpox. I ticked both on the form, thinking to myself that B had had such a slight case of C'pox -- one spot -- that he might need a needle anyway.
The night before he was due to have the vaccinations, I stumbled across -- this was during my big cleanup -- an old diary stuck in the back of the filing cabinet. I took it back to the studio, wanting to put it together with all my other (scatty) diaries, and before putting it in the box, threw it open at a random page.
That random page recounted the day before my birthday in the year 2001, when Bumblebee (at the age of 4) had a really bad, crusty, oozing case of chickenpox. I'd planned a party, but only the stronghearted came, and towards the end of the (early) evening Bumblebee, who loves a party, was telling everyone to 'GO HOME, GO. HOOOOOME.' because all he wanted was less noise and more mum. We didn't get a lot of sleep that night, poor wee little man.
How could I forget something like that? The 'one spot' thing was actually ME, as recounted many, many times by my long-suffering mother, who had to nurse my poor crusty, oozing brother at the same time.
Luckily I could ring the school, and send a note to the administering nurse, and save B the extra needle. He was ever so grateful, and I felt like a more than slightly flaky mother.
And, for the record, I used to read What Katy Did in bed when I was sick too. And What Katy Did Next. Sometimes I still do.
The hill had the perfect incline for rolling. And the trampoline was wildly exciting, at first. But crushing peanuts into the deck brought the grown-ups running, and was therefore deemed the most fun of all.
I've just had a lot of time with Bumblebee. He has an unfortunate history of becoming sick just before a major Fun Thing and thus missing out on it (we all remember the Queen tribute concert, with hideously expensive tickets bought months in advance, when we bravely tried to rally & attend, but he ended up sobbing in my arms at what the noise and the bright lights were doing to his head, even though they were playing his favorite song really well...).
He had a touch of the tummy wobbles just before camp last week, and we all took it very seriously, because we all really, really wanted him to go to camp -- B because it was CAMP, us because camp is a great place to make friends -- so we dosed him up on garlicky chicken soup, made him go to bed early, etc etc.
He made it to camp, and had a fabulous time, of course, and came back tall and happy and glowing, and reported that five kids had developed gastro-like illness and had to be driven home. The healthy, happy glow lasted until monday arvo, when he started womiting, and thus he's been ill for the last two days.
The first day, Tuesday, I dragged him along to Studio Duck so that I could hang out with Natalie, my resident student printer. As Nat printed her fabulous Super Mario prints and I constructed a box for my Mackay Libris entry, Bumblebee flopped on his beanbag playing gameboy and doing sudoku puzzles. When we were home he flopped on the couch to watch the Stah Waz Clone Waz dvds that he got from a fellow Canberra Stah Waz Collectors Group member.
Yesterday, when I realised we had to stay home if we were to defeat the tummy wobbles, I decided to make the day memorable for him. Instead of letting him have the usual flopping and playing kinda day, I marched into his bedroom and gave him all four books from Keiji Nakazawa's Barefoot Gen manga series about surviving Hiroshima. "Don't get up until you've read all of these," I said.
And he didn't. I brought him drinks and dry biscuits, made him soup which he ate with his head in the books, and then waited for his reaction, which came in the afternoon. In the meantime I worked on the computer, catching up on lots of small things I'd been meaning to do for ages.
He came in, not quite sobbing, but teary at the ending. No spoilers here, you'll have to find out for yourself if you can; Nakazawa is very clever in the way he's structured the story. The grand scale of the tragedy is brought down to a very personal level that forces you to engage emotionally. Bumblebee is a classic modern kid, hardened in the face of visual constructions of violence (is that the right way to phrase it? I mean movie & book violence as opposed to real encountered violence, which shocks the hell out of him), so the bomb dropping & drawn images of people suffering didn't engage him as much as individual characters from the story suffering.
He's now very interested in Hiroshima and we had a great talk about reasons why it happened and why the Americans thought it needed to happen. The more we talk about history, the more he digs it. I hope that has a lasting effect! Or at least a lingering half-life...
POSTSCRIPT: I just thought I'd respond to SCB's comment about my motherhood skillz out here, up front. I like to blog these nice parenting moments because they remind me that I can be a good parent when I'm not feeling like one. Last night I caught some of At the Movies and Margaret mentioned a character who was a 'good but slightly flaky' mother. 'That's me!' I thought with a flash. I didn't tell you, did I, the whole story about Bumblebee's latest vaccination?
There were two vaccinations on offer: Hep B and Chickenpox. I ticked both on the form, thinking to myself that B had had such a slight case of C'pox -- one spot -- that he might need a needle anyway.
The night before he was due to have the vaccinations, I stumbled across -- this was during my big cleanup -- an old diary stuck in the back of the filing cabinet. I took it back to the studio, wanting to put it together with all my other (scatty) diaries, and before putting it in the box, threw it open at a random page.
That random page recounted the day before my birthday in the year 2001, when Bumblebee (at the age of 4) had a really bad, crusty, oozing case of chickenpox. I'd planned a party, but only the stronghearted came, and towards the end of the (early) evening Bumblebee, who loves a party, was telling everyone to 'GO HOME, GO. HOOOOOME.' because all he wanted was less noise and more mum. We didn't get a lot of sleep that night, poor wee little man.
How could I forget something like that? The 'one spot' thing was actually ME, as recounted many, many times by my long-suffering mother, who had to nurse my poor crusty, oozing brother at the same time.
Luckily I could ring the school, and send a note to the administering nurse, and save B the extra needle. He was ever so grateful, and I felt like a more than slightly flaky mother.
And, for the record, I used to read What Katy Did in bed when I was sick too. And What Katy Did Next. Sometimes I still do.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
touched ups for everyone!
Last night after I mounted my solo show post, I hyperventilated a little bit and decided to cruise my blogroll in search of some diversion. I usually only glance sideways at Photoshop Disasters, since the quality of posting is quite uneven, but this time I struck gold... and leapt across to the source site to have a really good look.
If you have a pre-teen or teenage son or daughter (or anyone in your life who believes that women should look like models), this site is essential viewing. I cannot stress this enough.
It is a portfolio of images that helpfully showcases before and after with a roll of the mouse, and while some of the transformations are simple (wrinkles and skin smoothed out, curves reduced or enhanced), some of them are absolutely gobsmacking. It's an easy way to lose half an hour, and, if you have any feminist leanings, to raise your blood-pressure a bit.
These are some of my favorites:
-- woman with/without remote, and swivelling head!
-- Bikini girl, who was very nice to start with, but has been given extra butt and less waist, along with a new improved face.
-- Girl with a sad hairline suddenly has a perfect hairline! And really weird eyes, worthy of a video game.
Ribs are out, so are flat hair and low boobs. And if you don't want to expose your breasts, no worries, they can just do it for you anyway.
GAH!
If you have a pre-teen or teenage son or daughter (or anyone in your life who believes that women should look like models), this site is essential viewing. I cannot stress this enough.
It is a portfolio of images that helpfully showcases before and after with a roll of the mouse, and while some of the transformations are simple (wrinkles and skin smoothed out, curves reduced or enhanced), some of them are absolutely gobsmacking. It's an easy way to lose half an hour, and, if you have any feminist leanings, to raise your blood-pressure a bit.
These are some of my favorites:
-- woman with/without remote, and swivelling head!
-- Bikini girl, who was very nice to start with, but has been given extra butt and less waist, along with a new improved face.
-- Girl with a sad hairline suddenly has a perfect hairline! And really weird eyes, worthy of a video game.
Ribs are out, so are flat hair and low boobs. And if you don't want to expose your breasts, no worries, they can just do it for you anyway.
GAH!
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
brass monkeys
Found on a bookbinding supplies website, in their listing of brass lettering fonts:
So what is 'normal' these days?
So what is 'normal' these days?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Blowing the top off
Best Beloved has long been a keen collector of stories about cults, conspiracies and gullibility. His bookshelves are full of people seeking truth and uncovering lies; my bookshelves are full of people dreaming up stories that push the boundaries of reality and normality -- it pretty much sums up the complete opposites of our personalities.
Last night Media Watch had a segment about Channel Nine's screening of Peter Popoff* and his Miracle Water scam. BB was ecstatic in rediscovering one of his old obsessions. I can't wipe the smile off his face, and first thing this morning he sent me this:
It's pretty amazing, and while BB finds it hilarious, I find it poignant. So much faith, so much hope, and you know they're all just going to go home and find that nothing has changed, they're just a bit more tired and have a badly bruised forehead. And that man, wiping the tears from his eyes! Sigh.
I do like the bit where his wife says 'Can you hear me? If you can't you'll be in trouble...' It blows the top off everything, if only because the playful glee in her voice shows how irreverently they think of their 'business'.
And now he's doing it again. Unbelieveable.
* Popoff is, of course, a delightfully Dahl-ish name for such a scammer. I always laugh extra hard because when Bumblebee was in family daycare, I mentioned one day that he had eaten a lot of lentils, and might fart a bit. His carer pursed her lips prissily and said 'we don't use that word here, dear. We prefer POP-OFF'. Gawd, I laughed like a drain, all the way to work.
Last night Media Watch had a segment about Channel Nine's screening of Peter Popoff* and his Miracle Water scam. BB was ecstatic in rediscovering one of his old obsessions. I can't wipe the smile off his face, and first thing this morning he sent me this:
It's pretty amazing, and while BB finds it hilarious, I find it poignant. So much faith, so much hope, and you know they're all just going to go home and find that nothing has changed, they're just a bit more tired and have a badly bruised forehead. And that man, wiping the tears from his eyes! Sigh.
I do like the bit where his wife says 'Can you hear me? If you can't you'll be in trouble...' It blows the top off everything, if only because the playful glee in her voice shows how irreverently they think of their 'business'.
And now he's doing it again. Unbelieveable.
* Popoff is, of course, a delightfully Dahl-ish name for such a scammer. I always laugh extra hard because when Bumblebee was in family daycare, I mentioned one day that he had eaten a lot of lentils, and might fart a bit. His carer pursed her lips prissily and said 'we don't use that word here, dear. We prefer POP-OFF'. Gawd, I laughed like a drain, all the way to work.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Leeping over sheep
I make good typos when commenting on people's blogs. I mean, no typo is a GOOD typo, but when they're typos that you can't go in and correct without starting a whole new comment, you might as well make the best of it. I've decided not to go GAH with rage anymore, but to adopt a TimT attitude and play with the mistake. see TimT? You have become a role model, with very little effort on your behalf. (That link to Tim, it makes me snort so hard I scare the cats. Repeatedly.)
I did a beauty at Penthe's blog the other day, and have been thinking about it ever since. I missed the 's' in 'sleeping' and decided that
Children, as was the context of that comment, are masters in the art of leeping. Haven't we all had those days when a child (sometimes not your own, one that you're babysitting maybe? Let's be inclusive) is utterly naughty and brat-like, then they go to sleep and look so utterly charming that you forgive them everything and actually look forward to seeing them awake the next day?
I'd like to think that people never grow out of leeping. Obviously some people do, like Hitler and Pol Pot, but isn't every night a chance to reprogram the brain and start the next day fresh? Oh gawd, I'm being overly Pollyanna-ish now. Sorry. But the idea really appeals to me. It's akin to the body healing while you're asleep. I always daydream about the outside of the body shutting down for the night, but all the busy little interior beings waking up for a big night of spit & polish, or manic fat generation. Sigh. Wake up Duckie, time to go make dinner...
I did a beauty at Penthe's blog the other day, and have been thinking about it ever since. I missed the 's' in 'sleeping' and decided that
LEEPing is the reassertion of innocence after a particularly naughty day.
Children, as was the context of that comment, are masters in the art of leeping. Haven't we all had those days when a child (sometimes not your own, one that you're babysitting maybe? Let's be inclusive) is utterly naughty and brat-like, then they go to sleep and look so utterly charming that you forgive them everything and actually look forward to seeing them awake the next day?
I'd like to think that people never grow out of leeping. Obviously some people do, like Hitler and Pol Pot, but isn't every night a chance to reprogram the brain and start the next day fresh? Oh gawd, I'm being overly Pollyanna-ish now. Sorry. But the idea really appeals to me. It's akin to the body healing while you're asleep. I always daydream about the outside of the body shutting down for the night, but all the busy little interior beings waking up for a big night of spit & polish, or manic fat generation. Sigh. Wake up Duckie, time to go make dinner...
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Comrade kitties
-- The air is crisp, like fresh spring leaves.
-- Do you know the time in Zurich?
-- It is you! no one believed you would survive.
-- We have little time, you must get these microfiche of the sub plans to Moscow
Zoe, as a reward for scanning her pics yesterday, pointed me towards Eastern Bloc lolcats with a twist. Heaven!
For real-life heavenly kitties, meet Beatrice and Harriet. Their names are as perfect as their looks.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
snort du jour
Today's snort was bushy's tea (home-brand black tea, stolen from the student stash, with condensed milk) up the nose and over the Bookstud keybort, when reading this post from Master of Cerebellum, Tim T.
Closely followed when mopping up by another one of Bad News Hughes' classics. Don't follow that link if you're feeling delicate. It's pretty raw in many senses of the word.
Closely followed when mopping up by another one of Bad News Hughes' classics. Don't follow that link if you're feeling delicate. It's pretty raw in many senses of the word.
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