Friday, August 26, 2005

How to kill me.

Or at least, give me a reaction similar to that of Clark Kent having his underoos laundered with kryptonite fabric softener.

Xtra Nice 'n Fluffy Mountain Rain Fabric Softener dryer sheets are of the devil. Either that, or they're infused with holy water and I am the vampire everyone has thought for so long. Tragically, I discovered the problem after putting on my pajamas. Oh yeah, and changing my undies, but that's just too much information, that.

Mace and pepper spray are illegal in NY as far as I know, but from here on, everyone wishing to ward me off, carry one of those dryer sheets and rub it into my face when I get too dangerous. It will take me roughly 12 hours to recover, and that's after the use of much water and allergy medication.

The ingredients on the box of dryer sheets says only that it contains "Fabric softening agents" and "Fragrance." At first, I thought it was just the fragrance, because perfume kills me (it does--the voodoo doctor is getting sick of reanimating me) but then, the hives were new. I have written a letter to Church & Dwight, asking what exactly the "agents" are. I don't expect an answer, but still, I needed to question someone, because the universe has given up answering my questions.


There are no Arrested Development episodes on tonight at 8. I'm sad, but I'm sure I'll find something to do while I wait for the 9th. The 9th. *sniffle*

Monday, August 22, 2005

Oh, I found new music in the air from England again. Life is good.

Having been spammed back into posting (Go EGTY! Go far, far away!), I wish to report that I am way behind on my online reading, as I dropped the ball a few days back and once that baby rolls away, it takes a few days to catch. I cannot talk about how exactly I dropped the ball, because it involves my ISP's newsserver, and possibly the FBI. I could blame Arrested Development, but all those late-night re-runs were re-runs of the Friday mini-marathons, and so I still haven't seen most of the first season.

I scored some free movies through Harris Poll. Five years of doing polls finally paid off in the form of The 13th Warrior and An Ideal Husband. I like those two movies. I'm also devoting more time to my attempts to make money, and by money I mean the real stuff, because I can't use my memolink points for about 14 more weeks.

Other'n that, I'm still hatin' on large poisionous spiders and mind-altering drugs. Altering the mind is all well and good, but when vomit and angst is involved, that's when I say it's no fun anymore and start worrying about people.

I'm not even referring to the big news event of last week, which I forgot until just now. Two or three blocks away from my house, 13 people were arrested for running a heroin proccessing plant out of their house. All sorts of weaponry was found in the house along with about 6 million dollars worth of drugs. I'm hoping this means the local drug dealers will now move someplace else, having lost their provider and all. That's right, go prey on other neighborhoods, this "sleepy community" doesn't need you. I swear, the news called my neighborhood "quiet" and "sleepy." That made me proud. Perhaps a lot of people
were being provided with a lot of drugs, but it's a nice area.

And that was the local news for the week.

(I'm listening to Gogol Bordello's Start Wearing Purple, which is playing on BBC Radio 1, which has just been added to the Dish/Sirius stations, which I love lots.)


Saturday, August 13, 2005

The fate of Goody MacGowan.

Took these pictures a while ago, never got to post them, and lord knows I need to show off my sewing and mad slipcovering skills.

Before, the kitchen witch wore a late '90s fashion that clashed with the current color scheme of the kitchen and dining room.

After, she still doesn't really match the color scheme, but it was the only blue I had, and there is blue and yellow involved in the wallpaper. Really.

At last, Goody takes flight for kitchen witchery.


Friday, August 12, 2005

Music that makes me say "OMG!"

Dar Williams and Ani DiFranco remade Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb.

I really do not need to say any more.

Except maybe that I am very, very happy with the remake. Then again, I also like Scissor Sisters' version of the song and I also like Ani DiFranco and Jackie Chan's version of Unforgettable, so I'm, y'know, strange.

Where Harvey Keitel goes to eat.

(Because pictures are not always worth 1,000 words, this was the slogan my heatstroke came up with the other day:
"Do you like your pizza with a little extra acid? Are you looking for something quick to eat after whacking the capo of a brugad? Then come in to the Pizza Cleaners."

Of course all take-out orders are delivered by little girls who are pissed off and have guns on them, but now I'm creating a world where The Professional permeates reality, and until I hear Shape of My Heart playing from anywhere other than my computer, I will know this is an impossibility.)

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

I *heart* Foamy

I never realized that Ill Will Press, makers of Eye Stigmata, had more content on their site. I just heard Tech-Support on K-Rock, and having been on both side of the phone, I can only laugh at this.

In other news, I had to cut away a load of dead hedging because the horticultural oil I treated the euonymus scale with can only do so much during hatching season. I guess I can treat them again, if there's anything left. Po' hedges.


Friday, August 05, 2005

Having just blown my last $5 on Anthony Daniels, I ceased raking and started writing.

Surprisingly, I managed to remember that Arrested Development was on tonight, and so that is why I am sitting at my desk. In a few minutes, I'll be running down the stairs because I forgot to set up the tape for Coffee & Cigarettes, which starts at 9:35 on Sundance. Tom Waits is in the movie, and that is why I must see it.

The commercials during Arrested Development are weird tonight. I count 5 billion spiders and one "If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the chicken."

That last one brings to mind visions far odder than those in the commercial itself, but we're dealing with ad execs that consider "pin-ups" in a firehouse to be other firemen. The Maxwell House commercial where they bastardize Madnesseses Our House? Tragic. Pin-ups are scantily clad women (or I guess men, y'know, whatever)...never forget that. *sniffle*