We’re at another wedding this weekend with little time to write/edit (fingers crossed for sunshine around 3:00 p.m. for Pete & Kate), so may I please direct your attention to these:
I am a medical mystery. “Oh the medical mystery tour, they’re trying to make me okay… trying to make me okay…” You ever feel glad when the doctors tell you bad news? Like when finally someone says “Oh yeah, your thyroid is completely screwed,” there’s this weird release of stress with the bad news? Kind…
Smiling… laughing – that’s okay, but if you catch me on film/pixels while I’m talking, I look like I’m either in the midst of an epileptic fit, morphing into a velociraptor or channelling Lucille Ball in one of the episodes where she has to deal with stomping grapes or packaging chocolates. Below is a pic…
So it’s that time of year where schools do their fundraising and your child gets to sell useless shit to your family and friends. I’m sorry, that’s unfair. In the past couple of years, at Rissa’s school, they’ve been selling magazine subscriptions which can actually be good things. They make good Christmas presents and such. …
I was dead certain that the outline around the ice cream cone here was twinkling, that’s how stoned I am on sugar. OYEESH. So Amber’s Adopted-Mom brought these peanut butter squares to Amber’s bridal shower on the weekend. I just ate the last one. Since Saturday I’ve probably ingested maybe 6? Okay it was closer…
So why is it that when you’re sick, your mouth feels like the bottom of a birdcage? What is that? It’s like the virus crawls up onto your tongue when you sleep, lies there overnight all cozy and pasty white under you uvula, clutching your tonsils and adenoids as fleshy stuffed toys for comfort. It…
So you know how I posted about Jeff Buckley’s cover of Hallelujah? I didn’t reckon it would shuffle onto our playlist last night as we were driving home from Toronto, nor did I think that it would make me cry for a completely different and soul-shattering reason than at the beginning of the day. I’m…