In honor of Halloween, the best Jack O’Lantern I’ve seen in awhile.
Stolen from the archives of one of my favorite blogs,
An Entirely Other Day:
“So there’s this over-weight 45-year-old woman
standing in line at Rite-Aid. She’s wearing
leopard-skin tights, and waiting to buy a
twelve-pack of beer and one of those backyard
And people say Americans aren’t subtle.”
On the bus this morning, a little boy who was sitting with his sister started singing, “Where’s my funny bone? Where’s my funny bone?”
Actually, it sounded more like, “Wheres-meh-fonnybone? Wheres-meh-fonnybone?” But his sister must have understood, because after the obligatory moment of pretending to ignore him, she brought her fist down on his knee. Hard. He screamed, “AAGGgggrraaaaahumph!”
There was a four second pause, then he started singing, “Wheres-meh-OTHER-fonnybone?”
Kids are rad.
This site is crack in a little HTML vial. Hot or Not uploads photos of people and asks you to rate their looks on a scale of 1 to 10. I’m inexplicably mezmerized. With each click my brain gets heavier and duller until it takes me half an hour just to realize that I need to pee. Just…one…more…,…just…two..more.
Anyway, try it once. All the cool kids are doing it. You can stop whenever you want.
Since The Bridges of Madison County, I’m dubious when people say, “You haveto read this book. ” But I finally read The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing and it rocked. The first book I’ve read in recent memory with a heroine who was funny and wasn’t punished for it:
“No wonder I’m single,” she says to the mirror. “Even I don’t want to go to bed with these thighs.”
I say getting married isn’t like winning the Miss America Pageant; it doesn’t all come down to the bathing suit competition.
“What do you think it comes down to?” she says.
I say, “Baton twirling.”
Top three headlines from the November issue of Martha Stewart Living:
“Organizing Pots and Pans.”
“Ironing a Table Cloth”
“Pantries of Maine”
The bus posters for Disney’s new 101 Dalmations feature a bunch of puppies falling through the air. They have quizzical expressions, they’re posed in awkward, falling-puppy positions. Cute, I guess, but puppies don’t land on their feet. I can’t get those 101 sickly thuds out of my head.