Stuff for you to read today:
Now there’s REALLY no reason to tour.
When you KNOW they’re scrambling for ideas at Mattel.
What I would wear if I had more balls.
And finally, don’t ever say I never taught you anything.
Stuff for you to read today:
Now there’s REALLY no reason to tour.
When you KNOW they’re scrambling for ideas at Mattel.
What I would wear if I had more balls.
And finally, don’t ever say I never taught you anything.
“We are masters of the unsaid words,
but slaves of those we let slip out.”
- Winston Churchill
I LOVE that quote. Lurve it. Why? Because it’s true. I am at the top of the charts when it comes to talking through unspoken words.. inflection, emotion, pregnant pauses.. but man, if I ACTUALLY speak, I need to craft my words carefully. Because if you rile me to the point where I speak without taking the time to decide what to say, man.. it’s gonna suck. Not for me, but for you.
That’s why when I have an argument, I often will call a time-out. If we get to a point where I need to mold my speech, we’re gonna come back later. I need that time. YOU need me to have that time. Otherwise, you will be balled up in a fetal position in the corner of a room.
Anyway, that’s enough on the gloriousness of that quote.
Today, Sarah is a woman. And she is hating every minute of it. No amount of ibuprofen or Midol seems to be helping. The venti gingerbread latte/triple shot/soy/no whip is helping, though.
We’re down to ten wine glasses in my house. As much as I love those glasses (they’re huge, and therefore save me the trip of refilling), they’re very eager to committ suicide and jump off of a drying rack.
SOOO looking forward to Friday night. You really have no clue.
I had a dream last night that I think makes a marvelous idea (but I won’t do it, so feel free to act on it). I dreamed there was this restaraunt in town that hung head shots of local theatre actors. You know, like the dry cleaners in New York. I just remember that, in the dream, I was dining with Kevin and kids kept bringing up shots of him as Pooh (apparently, they kept a printer behind the counter that patrons could request shots of participating theatre geeks.. like Kevin) and wanting his autograph. And no, no one asked for mine. Which meant I could eat in peace, so I was fine with that.
I think I’m, mentally, in a much better place today. Halle-friggin-lujah.