Well, we all love a man in uniform.
Ok, nobody ever really believes the true story of a black eye (even the person who has one) but it really was a stupid accident. Doesn't hurt much but I look like Rocky yelling "Yo, Adrienne, I did it!" So in the interest of never letting that happen again, and since I'm getting too old for this stuff, screw it. No more booze. I'll miss it but I'll live. In the meantime no mirrors for me and lots of ice. Anyway I mention it because I might not be blogging until the world is 3-d again and the other eye isn't straining. Don't worry; this is not an emergency; this is a test. If it had been an actual emergency you'd have been alerted where to go. (Except when it finally happened we totally weren't.)
So...don't you think it would be cool if alchemy worked? I'm pretty sure it doesn't.
Dirty mind, it's a GUITAR.
It's not photoshop. It's a male bird of paradise (otherwise known as a wtf?) attracting a mate. The females apparently like 70s fad t-shirts.
OK I was going to do a review of Of Mice and Men but not now; someone's sleeping in here. So I'll get back to it then go on a little vacation (a week should do it...sorta - actually it's already a lot better today, though it probably LOOKS worse. I really bruise like a grape. If grapes bruised. Maybe apples.) And the stupid things don't even show up most of the time until they're done hurting. Idiot bruises.
Am I the only person in the world who doesn't like poetry at all? Especially if it doesn't rhyme. It's IMO the worst stuff Poe turned out (his Scheherazade story was awesome, though). Ok I had a book full of dirty limericks written by Isaac Asimov and that's as far as I go. Ok and Martin Buxbaum's book (it's rather sing-songy and sort of shallow) and of course Now We Are Six by A.A. Milne. But that's it.