Merry Christmas!

I'll be taking a blog break until the new year. 

Have a holly jolly ho-ho holiday!

As a parting gift, I'd like to reacquaint you with a special guest (featured in an earlier post) who graced a card I just received from my sweetheart (Thanks, John!)  If it didn't cause your retinas to spontaneously detach the first time around, then chances are it won't present a danger now. C'mon, I dare you to click on the link. I know your curiosity is greater than your instinct for self preservation. Go ahead, just click!

A Public Service Announcement

Listen up, girls. Beware of clean cut young men who approach you outside of school propped up by a crutch. That short crutch is a dead giveaway that his handicap is purely fauxsical. One word springs to mind - BUNDY! NO, not that one - this one! Sure, he'll sweet talk you and compliment your fine, aesthetic taste in plaid and your exceptionally beautiful tang-colored hair, but I say kick that crutch out from under him and knock his teeth out. Sure, he'll pretend that he can't get up because of his "handicap." Stomp on his balls until he screams for mercy, then shove that Trapper Keeper in his mouth - that'll keep his serial-killing trap shut!  Uh-oh, the principal's coming. What's that you say, Mr. Jackson? He's a transfer student from Jersey? And he lost his leg in an escalator accident? Um.....my bad.

Tequila!!

Before you see what I see, let me tell you what happened last night. I was wearing my supercool burgundy velour ensemble while Jazzercising when my annoying lab partner/next door neighbor (and major asswipe) Ian, showed up and said, "Turn that record off and come outside. I gotta show you something!" So he took me over to the old Herman homestead, "What's the BFD?" I asked. Now, you gotta realize something. Mr. Herman is a bit odd - immature I'd guess you'd say. He doesn't drive a car and he wears funny clothes. But leave the crazy dude alone. Ian is always spying on him and shit, so I was pretty irritated to be included. Ian makes us crouch down all spylike and he starts pointing (I've got to add here that he was wearing that super lame faux sheepskin jacket that he loves so much he might as well just marry it and those ugly Nikes...gawd, I hate them! Chuck's are the shizz, yo!) and he says, "Do you see what I see?" "Well duh," I says, "of course I see it. Can't a poor guy dance? I'm outta here!"

Half-baked Half-gods

When half-gods go....where?

crazy?

potty?

wee wee wee all the way home?

What kind of highfalutin mishmosh is this? 

Translated from the German raises a red flag right there. A title taken from the last stanza of a DWP's* famous work gives me pause - I don't know if my meager intellect can handle it. Then we've got this bizarre assemblage of surreal parts to ponder. Is that a Ford Pinto!? And what is this love affair that illustrators have with dead-eyed creepy kids? For the love of a half-god...Stop staring into my soul!

*Dead White Poet

Forever and a day and a few weeks, too.

It does go on forever. Why? Because it's a young adult novel. 'Nuff said. Except for this excerpt: 

"Mary Alice lay with her eyes half closed looking at the curtains again. She had been looking at the curtains for three or four days now. Or perhaps it was three or four weeks. It was hard to be sure. Time had slowed down, come almost to a stop..."

How compelling! All those days and weeks of endless curtain-gazing through half closed eyes. Like the road itself, the action and intrigue go on forever! 

I don't know about you, but I'm getting a reptilian vibe off of Mary Alice.

Been Smug Forever

Ignore the smug douchebag there and take in the cornucopia of technology he's amassed. That sexy 

uber genius tacked up on the wall is no doubt impressed. Is that a Betamax? And a Commodore PET? I bet it's fully loaded with all the latest DOS apps. I particularly like those giant super-cushy headphones. Makes me want to put them on and sing Girl. Speaking of which, do you see what the lovely long-haired girl (clearly not impressed with any of it) is wearing? Look closely. Slouch Socks! I miss slouch socks. The only time you see them anymore is during tick season.  

What do you suppose the "Save" poster is all about? My guess... Save the Slouch Socks!

18.1

I hope you all had a yummy Thanksgiving. How nice to have an extended weekend to reflect and give thanks for everything meaningful and dear to our hearts, as well as for all the little things that make us smile. I, for one, am giddy with thanks to whoever created this crazy cover.  It really has it all - a nerdboy, an authentic Commodore calculator zipping through space and a gorgeous salon                                                    makeover!