A sure way to tell if your pet has problems.

My puppy was carrying around a bottle of Seagram's gin. I asked her if I could have it, and she pulled down my pants.

True story.

A sure way to tell if your pet has problems.

A friendly reminder.

It's time to change out your storm windows to screens for the summer.

Or else.

Sincerely,
The Homeowners Association from Hell.







(Yes, that's my front door. No, I have no idea who did it or why. And no, that door hasn't had a screen in years. As far as I know, there is no homeowner's association in this area, either, but there are some kids who let their dog poop everywhere, and an over-eager trash ticketer who doesn't notice poop, but made a killing on our late next-door neighbor's bags of clothes.)

A friendly reminder.

Somewhere between the future and the past.

(Future = me dating this for the future. I could, in fact, totally be not near a computer right now.)

(Past = a time when Mr. T was everywhere like Ryan Seacrest, the cake flowed like the rubber-smelling water from the garden hose and I played with dolls instead of standing them up.)

The Survivor song Eye of the Tiger has held up well. I heard it last night, and it's probably the best Survivor song, and quite possibly the fifth best Journey song ever (bwahaha...I kid.)

And, just to make the post have a mention of the present, I wonder if the new Omen movie is going to go for the three sequels, because I think what would be best is if the sacred daggers are used to stop the fourth movie with Faye Grant and the little devil girl from ever being remade.

Somewhere between the future and the past.

Endless amusement.

For 20+ years, it never occurred to me that the call letters (WHTZ) of Z-100, self-proclaimed player of today's hits, actually stood for hits. I learned this from a list of call letter origins by Bob Nelson.

I knew Fordham University's Voice, and I knew White Port & Lemon Juice, but "Hitz...," never dawned on me.

This from someone who was spotted typing "Turn livejournal into a livejournal" into Google last night. Luckily, only I saw it. No one will ever know. I later found out it is possible to turn a LiveJournal into an rss feed simply by adding /rss to the end of the address. Now that I know how to do this, I can promptly forget again.

Endless amusement.

Mama needs new fonts.

Something has been keeping me very busy the past few rainy days, and it isn't anything I'd like to be doing.

I learned--just in time--that there are fonts you can't just use on things you plan to sell.

Usually, I open a font and my eyes go straight to the big, shiny, quick brown fox jumping over the lazy dog. I have not, until this week, looked at the fourth line of official information included with each font.

Most of my fonts--which reside in a seperate folder until needed, I learned that lesson well--are dated between 1993 and 1997. 1993 was when I first got Windows, and 1997 was when my computer finally exploded from font overload.

There are those that have witnessed the horror of my fonts folder circa 1994. When Windows 3.1 takes over 15 minutes to start up, it's a symptom of a horrible addiction.

But I'm a collector, we know this. Usually it takes death or destruction to stop me from collecting certain things, but the fonts just took a back seat to Star Wars trailers, and then...music. That's all I'm sayin'. Just music.

So I got artsy again a few years back, and had to get a new font for the comic strip, and then I got dollar signs in my eyes and signed up at Etsy and Zazzle, and planned to make money with my lame-ass art. Of course I need to go and put words all over the crap to explain what's going on, and so I returned to my massive font folder, which is full of...what's politely called retired fonts.

Yeah, that's right, the fonts that weren't healthy enough to live off-world and the fonts that were slaves created by the WSI corporation were all hiding out in the dank, rainy innards of my computer, and they don't know how long they've got, but then again, who does?

Only instead of possibly luring a depressed Harrison Ford to my house to shoot my fonts, I faced possible fines. So I systematically went through every one of my fonts--all of which I know so well--and deleted the ones that were going to cost $95 to use commercially, and labeled the ones by foundries that no longer exist, so I could round them up and kill them all later if I was feeling evil.

Some font authors aren't careful where the copyright information is concerned, and they'll put down defunct AOL Hometown addresses instead of a name with which to track them down, and those offended me so badly that I think I deleted ten before I hit one with a name, an actual name.

Harold Lohner.

Harold, I love you. Or rather, I love Harold's Fonts. They are free for commercial use.

Oh hell yes.

So, between Harold's Fonts and BlamBot, home of the comic strip font that makes my shite readable (or at least legible), I'm set for at least another 12 years.

I'm not happy that Halloween Regular has been retired, though. Halloween Regular was fun. By definition, Halloween Regular should have just un-lived on forever. Ah well, we'll always have this.
(There's so much legally wrong with that picture that one retired font becomes hardly my biggest problem.)

Mama needs new fonts.