Montly archives
There's more where this came from
With the new design I was *thisclose* to adding a third column for links to stuff I'm enjoying. Then I decided it sounded like too much work and no one really gives a crap about some stupid article giving advice about I should do with all the junk in my trunk anyway. On the other hand, here's a few things I thought you shouldn't miss.
+ State Of The Union wrap-up. MNstories has climbed to the top of my favorite website list. Who needs a TV when I have the internet to do all the work of summing things up.
+ Newsvine. Still not sure how I feel about this whole community-media thing, but I've been having fun poking around this site for the better part of 2 weeks. If you want an invite feel free to drop me a line.
+ Digg. Digg? Newsvine? Digg? Newsvine? I'm partial to Newsvine and I think it's cuz of the green. On the other hand, Digg has the nifty little AJAX'd digg-spy. AP what?... I'm just sayin'.
+ Ask Metafilter. "Dear Gentle Metafilter Readers, my almost-fiance and I want to sleep with other people but not actually sleep with them. What do you think?" What can possibly go wrong with a website where people can post shit questions like this?
+ The Daily Mumps. If only my parents could have been this cool.
+ Stuff on my cat. I know this site is soooo last year, but cute cats never get old for me.
+ Self-importance. I share a special bond with people who love themselves as much as I love myself.
+ Best blonde joke ever. You guys are killing me.
Herr Doktor
Yesterday Boy George was in the news for appearing in court on drug charges.
Blah blah blah that's all fine and good... as if we're shocked and amazed yet another rock star is in the news for possession of coke. But let's get to the real issue, shall we?
Am I the only one who noticed his now striking resemblance to Dr. Evil?
Honestly George. You've looked better.
It's almost like lunch never even happened today
It's hard to believe my co-workers somehow wrestled me in to joining them for lunch at *gasp* Applebee's.
I know I know I know... Applebee's. Since when do I *do* Applebee's you asked? There's no good answer. I'm as embarrassed about the whole thing and feel really uncomfortable just writing about it.
However...
The absolute *best* part of lunch was when the waitress took my plate at the end of the meal and said...
Her: "Would you like your water wrapped up to go?"
Me: .... *blank stare* ....
Me: *blink. blink blink* "Excuse me?"
Her: "Your water. Would you like it wrapped up to go?"
Me (making a stupid, non-comprehending face): "Uhhhhh, that's what I thought you said. And, um... no thank you. I'm quite finished with my water."
She then giggled and exited stage right.
There's pretty much nothing else I can add to that little exchange. Wow.
Speaking for herself
Am I the only person that thinks the voice behind Imogen Heap (Frou Frou) sounds like a man? No offense... love the music, listen to it tons, blah blah blah. But really - she sounds awfully manish.
I've seen the video and everything... and frankly, I'm still not convinced.
(No, that's not the wine talking. Erm, maybe just a little but mostly not.)
TV Ad Land
In my quest to prove that there's life after television, Google did me a great service by putting up most of the Superbowl ads on Google Video. I might still be TV-free after 3 years (not even Lost can push me back over the TV edge!, HAH!), but I'm definitely still cool enough to walk around and talk about how last year Jessica Simpson's Pizza Hut commercial was. Plus I have to add that being in the web design, marketing and advertising, and all around 'If it's on the internet it's somehow applicable to everything I do' industry... this was a nice bit of Monday morning entertainment.
Initial impressions of the Superbowl ads?
- The FedEx 'Stick' commercial is probably my fave. Ooga-yow.
- Jessica Simpson - does anyone even care about her anymore?
- More painful than the Jessica Simpson commercial was the 'Shaggy Dog' bit. Ow.
- The Pepsi 'Hip Hop Can' commercial was about 50 seconds too long *yawn*.
- Poseidon... A ship. Adventure. But, I don't really get the point.
- I think I might work with some of these people. Ha ha ha, OH COME ON! That was funny!!!
- I know I shouldn't like the 'Hidden Bud Light' commercial, but it did in fact make me laugh out loud. What are you gonna do?
This little showcase, as a whole, makes me thankful I don't make commercials for a living. That's a tough gig people.
(As an aside, does anyone remember EDS's 'Herding cats' commercial from a few years ago? I'm going to say it.... yes, that commercial still does it for me.)
Happy Valentine's Day to me!
You know how some people have the Drunk Calling™ disease? And then there's other nameless individuals who have the Drunken Ebay Purchasing™ disease? A nameless and faceless 'they' say the first step to recovery is admitting you might have a problem ('might' being the operative word).
Dear readers... it's possible I have a disease called The I-Deserve-It Online Shopping Disease™ and YOU MIGHT HAVE IT TOO! The only way I can justify my latest purchase is by sharing what little information is known about this disorder. Translated? This is my petty and crude attempt to get you guys buying stuff on this site too, so, you know, I'm like all normal 'n stuff. But first, let's review a few of the tell tale symptoms...
- The "Wondering how I got here?" forcefield of distortion is classic. Basically the sense you followed no fewer than 2 dozen random links to end up on the current selling page - a page you might never find again with an item you might never get the chance to purchase again.
- Rationalizing that the item for sale is meant to be yours, obviously, because of the convoluted path it took to bring the two of you together. Clearly a sign the universe is hard at work making matches.
- Psyche imbued with the mantra, "I deserve it, this is fate."
- *clickity click* Purchase said item.
- This is the clencher: a noticable absence of guilt (as in, like, ever).
I bought something today. First of all check out this website: Iron-On Resistance. Then check out the bags and accessories (purses, clutches, and wallets). Aren't they the most beautiful things you've ever seen? Did you *see* the pink? Oh GOD the pink!
It just so happens I don't own a stylish, pink, ÜberDesigner clutch covered in classy flourishes like those making appearances in previous sopheava.com incarnations. Fate's hard at work to bring us together my friends, clearly. Who am I to fight the inevitable?
Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?!
Because I like gifts!
In the past few weeks I've been gifted with 4 bottles of wine. 1.2.3.FOUR! What makes this interesting is that I don't think I've been given a bottle of wine, well, ever. On top of that, 3 bottles were red... and I loooove me some red. What makes this even better is that the latest bottle not only has what might be the nicest packaging I've ever seen, but it's a kind of Riesling which my very best friend is *constantly* nagging me to try. Any gift that can quiet her inCESSANT nagging is truly a gift worth receiving in my book. And if it happens to be the kind of gift that can get me drunk in the process? Well then. You just made it on my Christmas list. So yes, thank you to everyone who's participated in the National Gifting Margaret Programme.
Two bottles down. Two left to go.
In other news, I just received an email in which the sender said, "... and the owner keeps a tight eye on the bills."
Imagine my embarrassment when my mental filter somehow translated that seemingly simple phrase as, "... and the owner keeps tighty balls."
Clearly my head is stuck in the little boy's third grade bathroom. I don't know, sometimes it's better not to ask.
(And just so we're clear, the camera stuff is at the bottom of the page because it's been there collecting dust for so freagin' long. While it probably *seems* like I want that stuff least, the positioning clearly indicates I want it MOST. Because longevity is key, my gentle readers. So... um, yeah. You know, in case you were wondering.)
We kid because we care
Top 7 Reasons why Leab is well on his way to becoming Minnapolis's premiere gossip columnist:
- His story about me actually made me stop and wonder if he really *did* catch a glimpse of Her Highness's glowingness at a local Starbucks.
- 90% fiction, 10% truth (because there's no getting around the basic fact that I really am freakishly fair skinned).
- Going in for the kill by arranging for bad photograph scoop with Minneapolis's own paparazzi. Because clearly he couldn't have used one of the 10 billion GOOD pictures of me from my own photoblog. God knows what you did, Leab. There's no hiding from him.
- I've been banished to the bottom of the page in yesterday's news, right where I belong.
- Leab's favorite pastimes include: hiding in the bushes, chasing down people with his motorbike and 500mm camera strapped around his neck, and perching his martini guzzling self in the men's bathroom at Tiburon hoping for any sign of Don Shelby scoop to waltz its way in to his life.
- 80% chic scoop, 20% other shit nobody reads or cares about anyway.
- Ego almost as big as Paris Hilton's gnarly feet.
Namaste.
Monday morning pillow talk
First off, my übershique purses arrived from Iron-On Resistance. In the event that one pink purse wasn't enough, I stumbled in to a bit of a gift-certificate windfall last week and decided to buy a second, smaller black one as well. Both of them are quite simply ... flourishtastic. I've also been in touch with the nice guys behind Iron-On Resistance (Hi Josh!), and they assure me there's more pink purse goodness in the works *even as I type*! Apparently there was an unforeseen market for pink purse goodness, but you gotta cut the guys some slack because, well, they're guys. How could they have known what women need or want?
Second, my Gmail account still hasn't been outfitted with the new Chat song and dance goodness. This disappoints me for so many reasons (none of which have to do with the fact that my last name begins with "A" - so not only am I used to getting what I want when I want it, but by birthright I should be first). So... I'm still waiting. As patiently as possible.
On a sidenote, is anyone else confused by the whole "Gmail" versus "Google Mail" branding issue? When the chat thing was announced last week a new logo came with it. A "Google Mail Talk" logo. Which was suddenly (and not to mention, very very quietly) replaced with a "Gmail Talk" logo a day or two later. Was that a big 'Oops' I heard from sunny CA? So now it's apparently back to "Gmail Talk"... unless of course you're tabbing around Firefox or looking at the page title cuz as of this morning that one element has been (quietly) changed BACK to "Google Mail." So, um, yeah. Not only am I still without the cool new features but I also don't know what the fuck to call it. You figure it out.
While we're touching on internet geekery, in case you've somehow missed these Firefox themes, don't.
- Sleek Netscape theme - Dear Netscape theme, let's run away together! Love, Margaret
- iFox - Very nice unless you're clicking around the bookmarks sidebar a lot. In which case the alternating color thing might want to make you stick hot forks in your eyes in a lousy attempt to ease the pain.
- Brushed - In my world, this is an oldie but goodie.
- Pimpzilla - 'For the small town girl on a Saturday night...'
And finally, I'm between 2 books right now. I finished 'The Historian' but haven't yet received the *new* read in the mail. In desperation I picked up a small thriller - a gift!, let's just be clear about that - that's been sitting on my bookshelves collecting dust the past few months (for the sake of my fragile ego this book shall remain nameless). It's the kind of book that can easily be read in 2 or 3 nights. The kind of book that makes it to the bestseller lists but nobody wants to admit to reading. The kind of book where, and I quote, the following phrase is used THREE TIMES on one page (obviously a man attempting to write from a woman's point of view):
Not so much Shakespeare, but it'll hold me over until tomorrow (please... no judging).
[I totally blame today's ramblingness on the quality of that which I've been reading the past 24 hours. It's not my fault, really.]
How internet geeks love on each other
In the spirit of Valentine's Day, the contact forms on all my websites are back (because obviously I don't want annnnyone to miss out on an opportunity to send me some love). Not even the stalkers. Or the paparazzi. And just to prove I'm not a total ogre I've made the 'Name' field optional. Cuz, you know, I won't be able to tell who you are from your IP address or email address. I know, I know. I'm just nice like that.
Seriously though? The new, improved, and mostly air-tight contact forms are my little Valentine to spammers everywhere. Gosh you guys keep me young *mwah*.
In other news, it's freagin' Valentine's Day. What are you doing reading about my stupid contact forms? My god, go love on the people you love. Scoot already!
[Just in case you need them, Valentine messages for people like you and me.]
Calling all PowerPoint presentations
Just in case anyone is wondering where clipart went to die, come to the lobby of my apartment building.
You should have to own a license to operate that stuff, seriously.
That is all.
(In The Universe Gets The Last Laugh vs. Margaret's Last Nerve, the score is 1-0)
My new "baby"
Because I've Been Deserving™ of a whole lotta goodness this month:
The casual observer would note that I need more camera stuff like I need another purse. HOWEVER!, that's why I didn't blog about my latest acquisition until well after it was purchased, shipped, billed, and paid for in full... because obviously I knew you, casual observer, could never understand the genius behind bendy, flexy, blurry lens goodness. So like any good junkie I hid it until the very last minute. Plus when compared to Steve's latest obsession - a 360% panoramic tripod - I mean shit. My little lens looks downright practical.
Thanks for making me feel better about myself Steve. Truly you know the meaning of friendship.
So, um, yeah. I broke down and bought the Lensbaby 2.0, a little somethin' somethin' I've had my eye on since before I even bought my DSLR. If you've never heard of the Lensbaby... well then. You're probably living a normal, healthy life with normal, healthy relationships. Excellent.
But for the rest of you, it looks like we're going shooting somewhere around Minneapolis *next* weekend if the weather clears up a bit. Anyone is welcome to join us, you know, as long as you don't mind me taking about a thousand pictures of you. Don't worry, they'll all be good - albeit slightly blurry - but I have a conscience and would NEVER post anything embarrassing.
EVER.
Barely able to feel the tips of my fingers
Check it out, yo:
You know it's cold in Minneapolis when...
- You sleep in flannel sheets
- The dry air makes you water your plants every other day
- You start painting your fingernails to cover up the chilly blue tint
- You do a small cheer of encouragement when attempting to start your car
- "Car wash? I haven't washed my car in over a month!"
- Morning garb consists of socks, slippers, thickest sweatpants you own, undershirt, overshirt, sweatshirt (with a hoodie), throwing on a robe when getting out of bed, and then wrapping self in a warm blanket before plopping down in front of the computer
- Everyone's plans for this weekend are, "Staying in"
- When hitting 30 degrees is considered a warm - no really
But next Saturday? Oh ho, photography is *so* on. There's currently 3 of us planning to assault the tourists and suburbanites as much as possible (suburbanites love being assaulted by pretty people with cameras - their cries are cries of happiness, honestly). The invite is still open and anyone is welcome to join our geeky soirée. But just so you know, if it's -7 degrees outside you'll be joining Steve all on your own. Cuz I'll be inside drinking something warm.
In which a weekend of crazy actually makes my life look pretty normal
The universe made serious headway over the weekend in its grand scheme of trying to get me committed before the age of 30. This is the only reason I can come up with that my most recent best pal in Grenada is torturing me by sending photographs of his beach view.
So not funny. But thank you for the new wallpaper. On the bright side it's already the end of February and in 2 months it'll be back in the 50s and 60s. I like the 60s. The 60s are a little bit of alright in my book.
True to form, I *mostly* stayed out of the cold this weekend and caught up on a lot of reading. I finished three books, THREE!, and made it through 2 whole movies. By Sunday señor latte and I were having separation anxiety and not even the extreme cold could keep us apart.
And now for my Monday morning recap.
Proof. It has been revealed that my winter taste in movies drastically contrasts my summer taste in movies. If it's not tortured and arty this season apparently my snobby attention span doesn't want anything to do with you. Give me a 'Sylvia', give me a 'Capote', give me a 'Closer', but if you try to give me a 'The Wedding Crashers' I'll tell you - nay, I'll SHOW you - where you can shove your festive wedding crashing. This is the type of movie best served late at night (in the pitch dark), curled up on the couch with several blankets, with a box of tissues nearby just in case. I loved this movie, LOVED IT. No seriously? Gwyneth deserves an award for her performance in this one. Well done chaps, well done. Definitely not recommended for someone looking for a pick-me-up flick or a date flick, but if it's winter where you are and you're looking for a good cry drama... well then. This might be for you.
The Time Traveler's Wife. Clearly all my senses are on full alert this season because this book pulled at the waterworks too. When a movie makes you cry, that's one thing. When a book makes you cry? It's time to get out of the house and get a latte. Or a life. You know, whichever you can get ahold of first. I got this book not knowing much about the story (okay, I knew NOTHING about the story), but was pleasantly surprised when a decent narrative unfolded. Actually, if I were travelling this would be a perfect airport/airplane read A) because of its length and B) it'll suck you in episode style. Unless of course I were a man in which case I would probably read a Malcolm Gladwell or David Sedaris tome instead (I'm just sayin'). This book made me think a lot about time travel... can you just imagine???
The Bell Jar. Who doesn't like a leisurely, Sunday afternoon Sylvia Plath read? I finally got around to her single novel and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was, how do you say.... neat. Really neat! No honestly, I thoroughly enjoyed this book in a Girl Interrupted sort of a way... except Sylvia was much more articulate and matter of fact about going crazy (which you gotta appreciate). I highly recommend watching the movie 'Sylvia' first, if only that having some background on Sylvia Plath's life added to the full experience of the read. My, what an equally long and short distance we've come since the 1950s.
That's all I've got for today. It appears my next read will be Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, a lovely little book that ought to last me until May (it's the size of 2 doorstops!) and officially yank me out of the crazy-section of the bookstore. From what I hear it's fantastic (plus, Welly, it's set in York!).
Aum.
I've decided to go ahead and get my tattoo.
Tomorrow. Tuesday.
Why? Because I'm 28 years old and I there's little I can do to shock my family anymore.
Kidding. KIDDING!
Actually I've wanted this tattoo for about 8 years... and it's just time. Don't worry, it'll be small and lovely and in a very sexy place. You'll see for yourself in a couple of weeks.
The hardest part was trying to find Neosporin at the store
I need to leave you guys hanging in the balance more often. Receiving a whole messload of emails wondering about the tattoo has been more fun than that one time I was in Greece, got really drunk with those Italian guys, and ... well, anyway. Last night I got a tattoo!
Gosh it's pretty. So, so pretty.
By now you've probably figured out this is a picture of the symbol I chose ("aum"). You're a curious lot, I know, so you can read more about its history here. To be honest, there's about 999,000 variants on the "design", ranging from sanskrit to Japanese, back over to Egyptian, and then on its way east again. I chose the sanskrit version and morphed it in to my own, beautiful, wonderful, perfectly perfect design that has been close to me for several years. I mean jesus, I *am* a designer and the last time I checked my powers not only can, but SHOULD! be used for good and not evil. And what could be more good than designing my own tattoo?
Eggggg-xactly.
(Right now, my mom is probably shaking her head and wishing she hadn't bought me smelly markers for all those Christmases and birthdays when I was growing up. God how I loved the smelly markers...)
Details, details, you guys are a bossy bunch. At the 11th hour a friend of a friend called to inform me that he hooked me up with an appointment with an amazing tattoo artist located somewhere between Minneapolis and Wisconsin. This was a little bit of alright in my book because that meant I had to drive *right* by Big Bowl on the way home (and you guys know how much I love me some Big Bowl... SHLP!). I'm practical, if nothing else.
I got the tattoo on my low back... you know the spot. Above your tailbone on that sexy little "flat" part. Of course it hurt, but man you'd think the pain is worse than childbirth the way some people described it! Come now, it wasn't that bad (or it's possible I have an unusually high tolerance for pain). For 45 minutes we stood around talking about the stupid thing, and within 10 minutes the actual "tattooing" was done. Fod goodness sakes it takes me longer to do my hair in the morning!
Right now the tattoo is healing so you won't see any photographs for at least a few weeks. Unless of course you go by the moniker "Welly", but that only because you're sending me lots of presents from the other side of the world. And I certainly don't mind being bribed with presents! It's so beautiful and its loveliness will be showcased in a series of high-key, scandalous, photographs as soon as I can manage, rest assured.
That's all I got. Is it just me or would the story be more interesting if it were set in middle earth with a dramatic (not to mention, lengthy) chase sequence culminating in victory at Helm's Deep, the destruction of a certain ring, and the etching of a certain sacred symbol? I'unno. I guess it's just me.
Who doesn't like a little tail?
The word "scab" has been used on this website entirely too much the past few days (not by me I might add). But I love you guys to death and appreciate all your words of wisdom to the extent that a few classy emails archived their way to my "comments" folder (a rarity normally reserved for the stuff from psychos and celebrities). You guys rock my world.
Your curiosity is overwhelming, so here's the update. The healing process feels well ahead of schedule (as far as I can tell), and my problems have maxed out at 2. I consider this a victory; however, let my problems be known...
The first problem is that I have to wear pants. I'm guessing cavemen had similar issues when they got around to inventing the wheel and selling their soul to FedEx. The best solution I've come up with is to wear *the* most low-riding pants I can find... which, funnily enough, brings me back to a pair of polyester pants purchased in Finland when I was 21. Hello awkward situation since I wasn't at all aware I've lost 20 lbs. in the past 7 years (or month in a half, as it were). But I guess that explains why I woke up today and they're low-riders. Hmmm, guess this means I'll just have to *le sigh* go shopping. Raych, where are you when I need you?!
(I'll try to be back in pants by our little photography outing on Saturday. Everyone's gonna be there, right?! Right? I'm just letting you know, cuz if your name is LEAB! and I catch you or any of your cohorts awkwardly zooming by on a Vespa, I will be armed with multiple cameras, a hot latte, and a whole posse of thug friends. Consider yourself warned.)
Here's my second problem: Unconscious Margaret has grown fond of sleeping on her back. As in, for the first time ever. I'm not normally a back-sleeper, but the past 2 nights I've repeatedly woken on my back with a mildly uncomfortable tattoo irritating me. Unconscious Margaret has been enrolled in therapy to work through her masochism issues. I gave her a pony too, so eventhough progress is slow but she's getting there.
I'm told tattoos are incredibly addicting and have already been forewarned that thoughts of a "second" will begin creeping in faster than I can digest all that Big Bowl food I ate a few nights ago (the food, there was so much). No worries there, this tattoo is the only one I've ever wanted permanently attached to my body. One is quite enough for me.
Speaking of permanently attaching things to my body...
Wouldn't a huge set of fluffy, feathery, white wings would be so pretty? Yesterday I realized they'd probably bump in to doors and get caught in dirty elevators more often than I'd like (and probably not get in the faces of people I don't like as much as they should... ha ha ha, that'd be funny and you know it), so this idea is nixed. Plus molting would probably get embarrassing and itchy (like wearing a set of paleolithic pants!). Clearly we're getting off the subject of tattoos but I can't finish this post without revisiting my desire for a tail. A long, pretty, long-haired tail perfect for attaching a pink bow to the end of. Hair color doesn't really matter since I'd probably dye it all kinds of crazy colors anyway. White, black, pink, candy red.... you know, whatever matches my shoes.
You just wait. Someone like Paris Hilton is gonna get drunk enough to do it, it'll show up on MySpace, parents everywhere will freak out, and every red-blooded 15 years girl in America will want a leopard-spot patterned tail for Christmas. It's only a matter of time...
Next time I'll try to get Starbucks to sponsor this thing... or maybe Big Bowl?
The photoblogger slash anyone with a camera meetup scheduled for tomorrow morning is still on. On the agenda... clear, sunny skies, hot lattes, a muzzle for Steve, and more equipment than National Camera Exchange can shake a stick at. If you're in the Minneapolis area and you own a camera, you know what to do. From everyone that's contacted me we should have a nice showing. Not too many, not too few, and just the right amount of caffeine.
I'll be the one with the long, wavy hair, the blue scarf, and... well, you guys know what I look like.
Hope to see everyone then!
In which some locals learn how normal I am
Thanks to all the crazy cats who showed up for the photowalk on Saturday. Each of you rock my world.
What started as a desperate attempt to *finally* get some new material for my photoblog turned in to a 5 hour extravaganza that included hot lattes, photographing every cliche Minneapolis locale we could think of, more testosterone than you could shake a stick at, a bunch of guys show-and-telling their "equipment", and great rewards - almost as great as the collective 8 gigs we all shot - in the form of alcohol and food. Indeed, anyone agreeing to join me in 20 degree weather at ELEVEN! a.m. on a Saturday morning is deserving of a big, fat, alcoholic drink by 2 in the afternoon.
The first *stop* was Peavy Plaza. And in typical Margaret fashion I had some luck when it came to capturing beautiful, furry, happy puppies! PUPPIES!
Um, yeah. Not so much. This photo, of course, demonstrating my incredible luck at capturing the impossible. What are the odds, honestly? After that I just started practicing the art of recursive photography. Or was it taking photos of pink things? I can't remember...
(I told Black Java I would only post good photos of him - and see? I totally lived up to my word. His mittens were *hot*!)
Hitting up the sculpture garden was one most produtive exercises of the day (but not quite as productive as our stint in the Basilica of St. Mary... but that's only because the Basilica had HEAT). One of the many joys I get in life is getting to a spot first, thereby ruining everyone else's photos cuz I'm in them. All of them. Ha ha ha, oh the fun that was had.
And just because everyone else was too chicken to do it, I took a picture of the cop. TURKEYS!, all of you.
Honestly, the incredible cool-factor of each person blew me away (and I'm not just saying that so you won't post any bad pictures of me). Each person there was, well, NORMAL. And funny. And not just normal-normal, but the kind of person I'd end up drinking at Brit's with by 2 in the afternoon.
I think it was unanimously decided we need another one of these when spring decides to come out and play. I'm also told there's all kinds of stuff in St. Paul to shoot in the meantime. But c'mon. St. Paul? Does anyone still go there? (Ow, hey! Stop throwing things!)
And finally, in typical Steve fashion he captured the *best* picture of me of the day. Which, ironically, really is the best picture he's probably taken of me.
Thanks to everyone for joining me. Now am I allowed to post pictures of all of you?
Why not a dumbass piano?
I am not amused [link]. According to the website...
The sound you hear is my heart shattering in to a million tiny little pieces.