I'm screening the 1994 congressional hearings on tobacco and I feel dirty just listening to these guys lie through their teeth.
(Though it is interesting/sickening hearing how the arguments that were made against nicotine addiction by tobacco CEOs are the exact ones now being made against global warming by oil company execs. Congress: Every respectable scientific body in the world says you're full of crap. Care to comment? CEO: But I have paid this person with a PhD to agree with me! Your so-called scientific consensus means nothing!)
I've always enjoyed the "trundle-butt" of cats who want to express their affection but don't want to be petted. We had an old cat would spend quite a while butting you with her head then doing a slow circle away from you and back to butt you with her head again. If you tried to pet her she hurried away, but she'd always trundle up to nudge you again.
And no, she wasn't trying to get you to move out of her favorite spot.
How do they make money?
It's not a real store. It's an 826 store, like the pirate store in San Francisco. The store is just a retail front for the creative writing workshop. I checked it out when I was in L.A. last Christmas. It's cute.
We seem to be losing it in my office today. My coworker was drawing a face on her hand, Senor Wences-style, which for some reason led me to draw a mustache on my finger. At least it's not a tattoo.
Jesse, are you lurking in Bitches, or is that a total coincidence?
Must be coincidence! Are you people on Senor Wences (s'alright!) or mustache fingers?
The mustache tattoo on fingers.
The subject of tattoos came about because I shared a picture of my dad's new tattoo: [link] That's real. ON HIS NECK. Yikes.
(I like the design; I'm just dubious about placement, but he was insistent.)
Hilarious. At my office, we decided they would not be hilarious when you were an executive in your 40s-50s, but would come back around again to be hilarious in retirement. FYI.
