Thursday, April 12, 2007
she's a man, baby!
Or at least I bear a strong resemblance to one (or several):
How weird is it that my first match (at 78%) is a guy? I just don't know what to make of it.
| http://www.myheritage.com |
How weird is it that my first match (at 78%) is a guy? I just don't know what to make of it.
Labels: gadgets, pouty face, stupid things
so it goes, mr. vonnegut
I came to Kurt Vonnegut's work late. My first sit-down was Slaughterhouse Five, picked up from a Bookcrossing meeting in 2004. Much like my first experience with John Irving that same year, I wondered what had taken me so long to immerse myself in his worlds. I later found that I enjoyed Hocus Pocus better than his seminal work, but I still have so much Vonnegut to read.
RIP, Mr. Vonnegut. Writers - indeed, people - like you are few and far between. Your wit and brilliance will be sorely missed.
So it goes.
RIP, Mr. Vonnegut. Writers - indeed, people - like you are few and far between. Your wit and brilliance will be sorely missed.
So it goes.
Friday, April 06, 2007
machines have noses?
They must, for what else would they turn up at my poor nickel?
Backing up: the candy vending machine in my building seems to only like the brand new coins. You know, the fancy ones with all the changes that make the older coins look like the poor cousin with the Salvation Army clothes. I mean, my 1986 nickel is a good nickel. It's worth as much as those flashy nickels with their offset Jeffersons and history lesson backs. But at the apparently ancient age of 21 (hey, it's old enough to go to drink!), it's just not hip enough to get an almond Snickers. I put that stalwart five cent piece in three times. The damned machine spit it back out at me three times. Put in a nickel less than a two years old? Gobbled it right up.
I think I figured it out. The vending machine is a pedophile.
That's just wrong.
Backing up: the candy vending machine in my building seems to only like the brand new coins. You know, the fancy ones with all the changes that make the older coins look like the poor cousin with the Salvation Army clothes. I mean, my 1986 nickel is a good nickel. It's worth as much as those flashy nickels with their offset Jeffersons and history lesson backs. But at the apparently ancient age of 21 (hey, it's old enough to go to drink!), it's just not hip enough to get an almond Snickers. I put that stalwart five cent piece in three times. The damned machine spit it back out at me three times. Put in a nickel less than a two years old? Gobbled it right up.
I think I figured it out. The vending machine is a pedophile.
That's just wrong.
Labels: humor, stupid things
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.
