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Just a thought.
If I worked twelve hours a day every day of the week for every day of the year, it would take me 5,327,246 years to make $700 billion dollars.
I don't even wanna figure out how long it would take with my regular pace of one of two people a week! Yeesh.
Moving furniture is lame and time consuming...
But at least I'll be in the city!
And here's a dorky joke I remembered when moving my seventy-billion skeins of yarn.
(Also, since all my stuff is packed, I thought I'd try to learn to crochet...and I suck at it. Can you believe of all the crafty things for me to fail at- it would be hooking?)
There was once a man and woman who had been married for more than 60 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. Nothing was
held back. Well, almost nothing. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about.
For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In
trying to sort out their affairs, the old man took down the shoebox and took it to his wife's bedside. She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box. When he opened it, he found two knitted doilies and a stack of money totaling $250,000. Holy Moley! He asked her about the
contents.
"When we were to be married," she started, "my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and knit a doily." The old man was so moved, he had to fight back tears. Only two precious doilies were inside the box! She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness. "Honey," he said, "that explains the doilies, but.... what about all this money? Where
did it all come from?"
"Oh," she said, "that's the money I made from selling the doilies."
We ain't talking 'bout the young folks...
Stole TheFridayFive from LiveJournal. I gots me some writer's block tonight, okay! True, it's not Friday...but that's what makes me such a rebel.
>1. What type of food do you most like to eat?
Spicy foods, curry would come to mind if it wasn't permanently there. There's maybe about five things I make really good from scratch without having to lookup the recipe and it's mostly variations on curries and cupcakes.
>2. What type of food do you most like to cook?
I like to cook for my friends. I love impressing them with things they don't usually have homemade...but we usually just end up making tacos. Who doesn't love tacos?!
>3. What ingredient could you not live without?
Garlic. I love it. When I know I have a few days off in a row, I go on a garlic binge. Roasted garlic shmeared on french bread, garlic sauce pasta, garlic infused garlic with a garlic sauce...yum.
>4. What do you never let in your kitchen?
Instant baking mixes. If you really want homemade cookies/cake/bread, just make it yourself otherwise, you don't want it as bad as you think. I'll allow premade frostings...in emergency situations only.
And decaf coffee. That is epic fail.
>5. What is your favorite drink?
If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you. *sips her coffee at 4am*
And cause I love it, here's a picture I took of the last batch of cupcakes I made. Vegan pistachio rose cupcakes with almond frosting. I see Bring Your Own Snack parties as a challenge and I always raise to the occasion with awesomeness.
Sixy words and then some...
"Born pretty. Made everything else easy."
That may be one of the most self-absorbed things I've said in at least...eleven hours, but really in this outer beauty crazed culture, I got lucky. I see all kinds of looks in the dark corners of Maine's Walmarts and things could've been scary.
I feel guilty for thinking those kind of things sometimes because I know I'm not some drop dead, ripped abs Victoria Secret's model- but I'm not the kid from Mask either. I can't help but wonder what advantages in life I've gotten from that.
Studies have been done to show how important beauty is on a biological level. Babies spend more time looking at symmetrical, generally rated beautiful faces. Tall men make more money and pretty girls get more help when stranded on the side of the road. When given a list of attributes and an assortment of pictures, pretty people were considered friendlier and less likely to engage in crime. The only crime pretty people were assumed to be guilty of more often is conning. And to be honest, with the amount of free drinks I let be bought for my friends with no intention of going home with the frat boy buying, I may as well be a con artist.
It's not that I don't think people with more visually challenged features can't succeed. I still would jump Tom Waits bones and he looks like he's carved from tree bark. Steve Buscemi made a career out of being "that crazy looking guy", but he totally hooks up with the adorable Thora Birch in Ghost World. And Sarah Jessica Parker looks like something that lives under a bridge and eats all goats that cross, but she somehow managed to get work in Hollywood. I don't even know how between building gingerbread houses to catch children for dinner and leading her fellow orcs to war against the hobbits, she convinced a casting agent she'd be a good sex symbol...but she's got a horrid show that proves it! (And sets back women by decades, yay for appletinis, smoking and emotionally abusive relationships!)
I mean, there are always disadvantages to anything. For a girl that keeps a mostly male circle of friends, I'm forever ostracized by their girlfriends., because of course as a single girl, I'm on a bloodthirsty hunt to steal their men. Beware ladies, I'm on the hunt for somebody to sit around on my couch all day playing video games and eating Doritos...and it's gonna be your man! And since going blond, my intelligence has been massively underestimated but that's only worked to my advantage. Assume I'm a dumb blond and I'll Kaiser Soze your ass when you least expect it.
I suppose I should get back to cleaning the apartment now. But now I'm going to do it imagining the child of Amy Winehouse and the guy from The Pogues. Imagine seeing THAT in a dark alley in Mexico?! I would start crying, but then it would sing so beautiful, we would start a new career touring sideshows in 1926 making the farmers on the prairies weep. Yeah...it'll be awesome.
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