I recently did something I haven’t done in more than a year: buy new clothes. I don’t really NEED the new clothes, but every once and a while I just say, “Now I’ll do it, and I won’t do it again for a long time.” I actually went online perusing the “aisles” and found a boutique I hadn’t heard of before, fell in love with some things, went to other online stores, fell in love with some more things… then asked my significant other if it was ok (budget and all that), then did it. Many pieces of clothing from ONLINE OUTLETS which have to be one of the best things in the world of shopping. I am a tightwad, so bargains mean a lot to me. Now comes the ironing…
The weather outside is frightful, but the new clothes in my closet are delightful…
well by all means, tell us what online stores! I want links! :)
I’ve been getting a lot of cute stuff from Lands End online this spring, and from the GAP (not online). Yay shopping!
This weekend, my normally car-less self will have the full use of one, maybe even two, car(s). I’m cat/car-sitting for Sue while she’s in Edmonton, and my sister (also named Heather) might decide to go to the Island and leave her car with me to save money on the ferry.
Goddamn it, why does this have to be the time when gas prices are the highest in history? *@#$!
A story. So, once upon a time, there was a little web log publishing tool called Blogger which allowed lazy people like me to add quick dynamic content to their websites without having to bother going into the html to edit it. It’s not that I can’t do that, it’s just a pain in the neck – esp. when you host your pages on Angelfire (shuttup).
So, one day you find out Blogger has sold itself to Google. And you like Google, so you think this could be an okay thing.
And then you read in the newspaper (because you actually still DO such a thing) that they’ve redesigned Blogger as a direct competative threat to Yahoo or something. And they go on about how it makes it so much easier to create a blog.
And I think “uh oh.” Because any time they make it easier, 1. all the dimwits come out, and 2. it becomes more popular – which in online terms means site difficulties.
So, two days after the story is in the paper, you figure it’s safe to check. AND you’ve finally got a minute to breathe on your lunch hour to publish something anyhow.
And it takes you like 5 tries to even log on, after seeing the same “cannot load page” error over and over. Then you type a nice lengthy post, and hit submit. And again, no page to display. So you grumble, hit the back key and hit submit again. No page to display. So you save the damn thing in a separate file knowing one of these times, you’ll go “back” and it won’t be there. And that happens, so you paste it in again, and hit submit and nothing. You try this a few more times, growing frustrated, email it to yourself so you can post it later if you can’t get it to work before you go home.
Throughout the afternoon you try a few more times.
And, at 8:15pm, you get home and find email mocking you because you posted that same thing like 7 times.
The joke, though, is on the emailer, who didn’t go back into the archives to notice the other 13 or so times it posted.
And now, you can only delete them one by one, and you have to confirm the delete with each try, AND the button to confirm it is at the BOTTOM of the frickin page so it takes forfuckingever.
This will, if I ever finish deleting the dupes, be posted in the blog. Damn change.
(And I sure hope there were no comments on any of them, they’re all gone!)
here’s a story for ya. tonight as I was coming home I get stopped at a roadblock.
long story short, the cop figured I was drinkin. I was drinkin all right. This really nasty import gas station coffee I’d never tried before. in retrospect, it DID taste like it was spiked with whisky or something. either way, he gets all suspicious and demands I take the breathalyzer (sp?) test. always wondered how those things worked :p
suffice to say, I passed it no problem. the moral of the story kids, is nasty flavored gas station coffee and roadblocks dont mix.
Once upon a time there was an egg that fell to the ground and was buried. It slowly grew into a larvae that suckled on the sap of tree roots for 17 years to survive. Then, one fine and gorgeous May day, the larvae was a full grown nymph and it dug it’s way through 17 years worth of soil and leaves into the dappled sunlight at the edge of a grove of trees.
“What a lovely day to molt,” said the nymph and it’s shell promptly cracked up the middle and it’s new body wiggled out. Looking around, the new bug noticed 400-600 of it’s brothers and sisters had decided to do the same thing.
The new insect climbed into the nearest tree and spread it’s ugly wings out towards the sun to dry.
“Today is such a beautiful day, I feel like geting some sweet loving,” and with that the bug arched his body quickly to make the high pitched squeeling noise that was as loud as a lawnmower to attract a mate. He noticed his brothers and sisters were all doing the same.
The noise was so loud and the swarms of bugs were thick in the trees and air that it completely ruined the dumblondegirls plans for a cookout on this fine late spring day. So she took revenge by seeking out and suishing the nearest 100 bugs or so.
Damn Cicada’s. Thank goodness it’s only every 17 years and all they do is screech, hump and die for a month and a half.
The next time you eat a skinless, boneless chicken breast (assuming you eat those) think of this.
The chicken grower places employ something called a chicken “catcher.” The catchers wear night vision goggles to hand select chickens from the hen houses that are ready for slaughter. They do it in the dark so not to agitate the birds. When excited, the birds produce a hormone that effects the flavor of the meat.
These aren’t the little, mom and pop small farm operations either. I’m talking the big giant aircraft hangar sized hen houses. Hand picked in the dark by guys and gals wearing night vision goggles. Seriously.
we buy our chicken from the local farmer’s market. along with fresh eggs. i can’t stand to think of how those poor little guys are treated in factories, even if they are annoying. just cuz i eat meat doesn’t mean i don’t care. so sad.
I recently did something I haven’t done in more than a year: buy new clothes. I don’t really NEED the new clothes, but every once and a while I just say, “Now I’ll do it, and I won’t do it again for a long time.” I actually went online perusing the “aisles” and found a boutique I hadn’t heard of before, fell in love with some things, went to other online stores, fell in love with some more things… then asked my significant other if it was ok (budget and all that), then did it. Many pieces of clothing from ONLINE OUTLETS which have to be one of the best things in the world of shopping. I am a tightwad, so bargains mean a lot to me. Now comes the ironing…
The weather outside is frightful, but the new clothes in my closet are delightful…
well by all means, tell us what online stores! I want links! :)
I’ve been getting a lot of cute stuff from Lands End online this spring, and from the GAP (not online). Yay shopping!
This weekend, my normally car-less self will have the full use of one, maybe even two, car(s). I’m cat/car-sitting for Sue while she’s in Edmonton, and my sister (also named Heather) might decide to go to the Island and leave her car with me to save money on the ferry.
Goddamn it, why does this have to be the time when gas prices are the highest in history? *@#$!
http://www.softsurroundings.com (www.softsurroundsoutlet.com)
http://www.coldwatercreek.com
http://www.jjill.com
I like alliterative options in shopping. :-)
oh my god I LOOOOVE jjill. I can’t afford it though with the currence exchange, but their stuff is gorgeous. Lucky!!
that’d be “currency”. guh
A story. So, once upon a time, there was a little web log publishing tool called Blogger which allowed lazy people like me to add quick dynamic content to their websites without having to bother going into the html to edit it. It’s not that I can’t do that, it’s just a pain in the neck – esp. when you host your pages on Angelfire (shuttup).
So, one day you find out Blogger has sold itself to Google. And you like Google, so you think this could be an okay thing.
And then you read in the newspaper (because you actually still DO such a thing) that they’ve redesigned Blogger as a direct competative threat to Yahoo or something. And they go on about how it makes it so much easier to create a blog.
And I think “uh oh.” Because any time they make it easier, 1. all the dimwits come out, and 2. it becomes more popular – which in online terms means site difficulties.
So, two days after the story is in the paper, you figure it’s safe to check. AND you’ve finally got a minute to breathe on your lunch hour to publish something anyhow.
And it takes you like 5 tries to even log on, after seeing the same “cannot load page” error over and over. Then you type a nice lengthy post, and hit submit. And again, no page to display. So you grumble, hit the back key and hit submit again. No page to display. So you save the damn thing in a separate file knowing one of these times, you’ll go “back” and it won’t be there. And that happens, so you paste it in again, and hit submit and nothing. You try this a few more times, growing frustrated, email it to yourself so you can post it later if you can’t get it to work before you go home.
Throughout the afternoon you try a few more times.
And, at 8:15pm, you get home and find email mocking you because you posted that same thing like 7 times.
The joke, though, is on the emailer, who didn’t go back into the archives to notice the other 13 or so times it posted.
And now, you can only delete them one by one, and you have to confirm the delete with each try, AND the button to confirm it is at the BOTTOM of the frickin page so it takes forfuckingever.
This will, if I ever finish deleting the dupes, be posted in the blog. Damn change.
(And I sure hope there were no comments on any of them, they’re all gone!)
hah! 20 times! haha!!
Do I win for longest comment yet?
nope. that guy with the comment on the atkins post is the current leader.
here’s a story for ya. tonight as I was coming home I get stopped at a roadblock.
long story short, the cop figured I was drinkin. I was drinkin all right. This really nasty import gas station coffee I’d never tried before. in retrospect, it DID taste like it was spiked with whisky or something. either way, he gets all suspicious and demands I take the breathalyzer (sp?) test. always wondered how those things worked :p
suffice to say, I passed it no problem. the moral of the story kids, is nasty flavored gas station coffee and roadblocks dont mix.
Once upon a time there was an egg that fell to the ground and was buried. It slowly grew into a larvae that suckled on the sap of tree roots for 17 years to survive. Then, one fine and gorgeous May day, the larvae was a full grown nymph and it dug it’s way through 17 years worth of soil and leaves into the dappled sunlight at the edge of a grove of trees.
“What a lovely day to molt,” said the nymph and it’s shell promptly cracked up the middle and it’s new body wiggled out. Looking around, the new bug noticed 400-600 of it’s brothers and sisters had decided to do the same thing.
The new insect climbed into the nearest tree and spread it’s ugly wings out towards the sun to dry.
“Today is such a beautiful day, I feel like geting some sweet loving,” and with that the bug arched his body quickly to make the high pitched squeeling noise that was as loud as a lawnmower to attract a mate. He noticed his brothers and sisters were all doing the same.
The noise was so loud and the swarms of bugs were thick in the trees and air that it completely ruined the dumblondegirls plans for a cookout on this fine late spring day. So she took revenge by seeking out and suishing the nearest 100 bugs or so.
Damn Cicada’s. Thank goodness it’s only every 17 years and all they do is screech, hump and die for a month and a half.
Thanks, but, I don’t think my post counts as the longest since I only wrote one sentence of it myself.
The next time you eat a skinless, boneless chicken breast (assuming you eat those) think of this.
The chicken grower places employ something called a chicken “catcher.” The catchers wear night vision goggles to hand select chickens from the hen houses that are ready for slaughter. They do it in the dark so not to agitate the birds. When excited, the birds produce a hormone that effects the flavor of the meat.
These aren’t the little, mom and pop small farm operations either. I’m talking the big giant aircraft hangar sized hen houses. Hand picked in the dark by guys and gals wearing night vision goggles. Seriously.
we buy our chicken from the local farmer’s market. along with fresh eggs. i can’t stand to think of how those poor little guys are treated in factories, even if they are annoying. just cuz i eat meat doesn’t mean i don’t care. so sad.