Mal ,'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I approve the nomness, Aims.
So, rememeber I told you about the exteremly cool geek wedding I went to the other month, and how all of the guests were supposed to come in costumes, and how the first dance was remakably awesome?
And just so we'll make it clear - it started with a minute of tacky slow dance with picures of them. It was a complete surprise.
Best. Wedding. Ever.
Best. Wedding. Ever.
I want to marry all of these people.
I want to marry all of these people.
And that was BEFORE the alcohol (or, well, most of it). It was the week Watchmen premiered here, so we had 5-6 Watchmen and Watchwomen in there. Only, it was quite warm that night. The guy dressed as Rorschach kindda said, when I asked him how is he: "I'm wearing 3 layers of clothing and pantyhose over my face. How do you think I feel?"
Oh, and speaking of alcohol.
We just came back from traumatic grocery shopping of the month. So I introduced my folks to Bacardi Breezer.
Dylan has been doing a weird thing lately where he puts one or both hands over his eyes as if he's got something in them. When you ask if they hurt he says no. (And he's not rubbing his eyes, just covering them.)
Both eyes at the same time? I ask because Mal was experimenting with the whole "Hey, each eye sees something slightly different" thing for a while. It's also possible D's doing the "hey, putting my hand(s) over my eyes makes it hard to see" experiment.
Okay, this is very cool: First African-American woman ordained as a rabbi.
A guy walks into the admin offices, asking if this is the right place to ask if the theater is hiring. We say yes, do you have a resume? "oh, um, no". I get that you were driving around, and spotted a theater and thought, "oh, I should ask", but what would be the first thing asked of you? A resume. @@
Ugh Ginger. Sounds very frustrating.
Sounds very frustrating.
One problem with this mysterious feeling bad is that I fear becoming one of those people who goes from one wacky cure to another. Googling symptoms gives me pages and pages of I HAVE THE SECRET CURE FOR ____ and for four easy payments of $49.99, my secret herbal formula will..." I suspect some of it is the price I pay for not dying, which is certainly a good thing. I did just get my 5-year clean bill of health, which is pretty exciting for a person with an 83% chance of recurrence in five years and 60% chance of dying. I opted for the most aggressive treatment available, which does mean being poisoned until you're not quite dead.
I get that you were driving around, and spotted a theater and thought, "oh, I should ask", but what would be the first thing asked of you?
I would be worried about hiring someone who didn't have the sense to lie. A person who said, "I don't have it with me, but what's your e-mail?" and then went home and typed up a resume would have a lot more potential.
Not dying was deffinately worth it.
If you do want to pursue alternative therapies (I was just having fun with finding one based on camel piss or something) accupuncture or an herbalist who actually talks to you in person could be beneficial for a situation of "systemic weirdness post poisoning". I don't think the internet is your friend in this.
When you take all the people who promoted coffee enemas, ozone generators, copper bracelets, magnets, violet rays and various forms of snake oil cures in medicines shows, ads in the back of pulp magazines and MLM and multiply them by the power of the internet, you get a lot of crazy.