Little Bites 12
When I told the ChickieNob about the butter situation in Norway, she was absolutely horrified. 4 sticks of butter cost about $26 US (though Colbert reported $740 per box). She immediately wanted to send the good people of Norway our butter, which I explained probably would go rancid on the way over. And beyond that, we would be sending the butter blindly to a random address, and Mr. Pedersen at Ullevålsveien 1 in Oslo may not be appreciative to receive a random package of rancid butter regardless of our intentions.
Then she had the brilliant plan to make the good people of Norway brownies since they will not be able to afford the butter to make the brownies, and brownies ship better than butter. Again, I told her that while this was a great idea in theory, Mrs. Eriksen of Tøyengata 51 may be a little scared to eat brownies sent by a strange American child who was heartbroken over the idea of her butter difficulties.
The ChickieNob is still at the drawing board, trying to solve Norway’s butter crisis.
Fugazi is releasing all the old tapes they made at their shows and placing them up for sale on the Dischord website. The problem is that I can’t remember which shows I was at (though including the location is helping somewhat — I totally remember being at Sacred Heart) and then there is the other fact that I prefer to have the original recordings (okay, so I moved from vinyl to CDs to now digital copies at some point) vs. the show versions. But still, it was fun to peruse the archives. I couldn’t help but notice that they recently uploaded a concert from Oslo, Norway. Not that punk rock has anything to do with butter. Mostly.
A few months ago, I was standing in the kitchen, cooking brunch, when the ChickieNob opened the door to let in her friend. I heard her say sympathetically, “I see that you now have a vision problem” and in my head, I immediately imagined that her friend, L, was sporting an eye-patch like a pirate.
But no, her friend, L, was merely sporting a pair of enormous reading glasses with the lens popped out. Her mother followed her into the kitchen and explained that this was a new look she was trying out, a look that was enormously appealing to the twins. They also wanted us to destroy two pairs of old glasses so they could walk around in enormous spectacles sans lens. So for a few months now, they have been wearing glasses with the lens popped out, sometimes out of the house, but usually while they’re playing. The ChickieNob especially enjoys wearing them while she’s reading.
Until last week when they wanted to wear them to school for the first time. I was (1) worried that the other kids would make fun of them and (2) worried that the glasses would be disruptive, but I let them walk out the door with them because it wasn’t a fight worth having. I totally forgot that I let them wear them to school so when I popped into their classroom later in the afternoon, my first thought was, “what the hell is on my child’s face.”
The glasses-to-school thing was a one time deal because while the kids did not make fun of them and they were not disruptive, the other kids did decide that it would be a great idea to poke their fingers through the empty lens slot and touch their eyes. So they’re back in our spectacles case.
The kids learned how to make a gingerbread house this year. They made it with a nasty milk carton as the central support, covering the waxy cardboard with icing and attaching graham crackers to make the walls. Needless to say, I offered them many things to dispose of said gingerbread house without consuming it. They agreed to do so if I would let them make what Josh has dubbed a “Chanukkah Hut”: a house made out of brownies (that are attached together with nutella mortar) and decorated with blue and white candy. Delicious.
The Wolvog lost another tooth. Rather than go through this again, I wrote the word “TOOTH” in all caps on a post-it note, and then placed my ring and thumb drive on top of it so I would not be able to get through the evening without looking at the post-it note again.
I thoroughly enjoy some of my spam comments. I mean, beyond the strange gibberish ones or the Viagra ones. Some of my recent favourites:
- “I’d actually rather pee on the golf club but yeah, I agree with you, George.” — left with a link to an engagement ring site.
- “Did you ever think that making a speech on economics is a lot like pissing down your leg? It seems hot to you, but it never does to anyone else.” — left with a link to a loan payoff site.
With some extra googling, I found the first one originally as a comment on a golf site, and the second is a quote by Lyndon B. Johnson. I guess my question is why spammers utilize urine in so many of their fake comments.
What has been your favourite piece of spam lately — blogwise or emailwise?