The Way Things Are



%%%%


navigation
home
archives
profile

extras
links
about

contact
email
notes

credit
host
design

It's a gas gas gas
2004-04-13, 9:53 a.m.

Cinnamon rolls=fartsamillion

What did my mom put in the cinnamon rolls? I saw her bake them; hell, I even helped her. Was it me? For some reason, stuffing 3 or 4 cinnamon rolls into my maw in one sitting leads to really bad gas. Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad gas. I have been releasing excess gasses for 3 days now, which coincidentally, is how many days I�ve been stuffing myself full of cinnamony goodness. Goodness! I never. In fact, it was so bad at bedtime last night, I propositioned DW with the ever-romantic �Do you want a quickie? You�ll have to act fast before my guts start up again.� And he had trouble getting it up after that. I never, I say.

The affordable housing world is all abuzz this morning because we passed the Committee of Death in Washington DC and are apparently still a viable HUD borrower. Yippeee! Because y�all know, all I have at stake in this here bidness is my reputation, and if HUD says it�s okay, after examining our attributes under a microscope and filtering the laundry rinse water, then it�s okay. OK?

Why oh why oh why do I deal in disasters? Oh why? I need to sit down and make my disaster list this morning, and then I can categorize them in terms of major, minor, or �depends on perspective� types of disasters. And we can further classify according to type, i.e. financial, reputation, and �you�ll never work in this town again� disasters. Is it me? Am I fucking up as much as I think I�m cleaning up? Am I rocking the boat to the point that all my ducks are falling out? Did I just mix two incompatible metaphors?

The good news today: I figured out which combination of hair products and styling techniques will work to give me the straight, flat, wispy pixie that I seek. And my skin is relatively clear today.

I have an unusually sunny outlook today. If I come up with anything concrete, or witty, or funny, I�ll be back. Until then, I leave you with two new words: farklies, and snarklies. I�m not sure what farklies are, but snarklies are those little sodden lumps of catty sentiments that you wish upon people whose failure and comeuppance you so snarkily desire.

0 comments so far

last - next