July 2009
78 posts
You know what irks me the most?
Running out of pudding.
Don't you hate it when you go into your room to get something then you check Twitter and then Tumblr and the next thing you know you're two hours late for work?
Me too.
To answer zolora, my job has always been to test my employer’s patience.
“I hope there will be a time I can beat Michael Phelps without the suit of course.”
—
Paul Biedermann, the 22-year-old German who just beat Phelps in the men’s 200m freestyle final.
I would like to see him beat Phelps without the suit too.
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It's my sappy song and I'll sing it and cry if I want to.
Baby, my baby
It’s written on your face
You still wonder if we made a big mistake
I tried to go on like I never knew you
I’m awake but my world is half asleep
I pray for this heart to be unbroken
But without you all I’m going to be is incomplete
I don’t mean to drag it on, but I can’t seem to let you go.
The biggest sigh.
One of my sisters and her two boys are flying back to Montreal today.
So. I. Am. Sad.
Tell me nice things?
In my farm game on Facebook, I have three goats. I have duly named them Billy, Bob and Thornton.
Mmhmm.
Every time I hear vehicles braking to a screeching halt, I'm glad I'm safe in the office. Then I think. I'm in the office.
Sadface.
My #wayback tweet got fewer stars than when I originally posted it.
I think there’s something in my eye.
No. It’s just TEARS.
Toilet trouble in space station with 13 astronauts on board →
news.bbc.co.uk
Haha. Totally reminds me of BBT and Howard’s space toilet!
I wish laundry were a meme. Then I'd be SO motivated to do it.
Wouldn’t you?
Brace Yourself.
Singaporeans…
The blobert roadshow enters Singapore for a two-day tour. Hide your liquor and crabs.
UH OH. I have to hide too!
“Insulting badbanana is like insulting family.”
—Me. To someone who said his tweet was “not funny”.
“
On Aug. 6, 1945, the first atomic bomb was dropped on my hometown, Hiroshima. I was there, and only 7 years old. When I close my eyes, I still see things no one should ever experience: a bright red light, the black cloud soon after, people running in every direction trying desperately to escape — I remember it all. Within three years, my mother died from radiation exposure.
I have never chosen to share my memories or thoughts of that day. I have tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to put them behind me, preferring to think of things that can be created, not destroyed, and that bring beauty and joy. I gravitated toward the field of clothing design, partly because it is a creative format that is modern and optimistic.
I tried never to be defined by my past. I did not want to be labeled “the designer who survived the atomic bomb,” and therefore I have always avoided questions about Hiroshima. They made me uncomfortable.
” —Wow. Pretty damn inspirational.
Also, I love L’eau d’Issey.
My best friend knows me too well. Or not.
- H: (complaining about her skin)
- H: I look at FB pics of people on my list, they all seem perfect.
- H: Even you!
- Me: Oh please.
- Me: My blemishes wish they were Michael Jackson.
- H: Hahaha.
- H: Are you going to twitter that?
An Open Letter to Umlaut
Dear Umlaut,
You think you’re so damn cool, huh? Just hanging out, chillin’, above all those vowels. You’re all, “Ooh, look at me, I’m a chic umlaut. I make girls’ names look modish, like Zoë and Chloë, and I rock with strung out ’80s metal bands!”
Well, guess what? You’re only an umlaut if you’re modifying the pronunciation of a singular vowel, like in “Führer” or “über.” If you’re stressing the second of two consecutive vowels or one that would usually be silent according to common English usage, you’re just a plain old boring dieresis. How ‘bout that, you naïve jackass? God, you’re such a poseur, umlaut. You’re nothing but two measly dots. You’re a Eurotrash colon lying down. Nobody thinks you’re cool.
Sincerely,
Josh Abraham
Kew Gardens, NY
(via McSweeney’s)
Five Things I'm Grateful For On Monday Morning.
- I’m alive.
- I have shelter and food.
- I have a job.
- It’s a new day, a new week, filled with new opportunities.
- Creative ways to bitch about all of the above.
I missed the bus. I missed the bus. And that is something I will never ever ever do again.
Give it up for the 90’s, Daddy Mac.
(I really did miss the bus.)
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To see your most starred just add /top to your Favrd page.
http://favrd.textism.com/person/lisarahmat/top
Like so.
Hat tip to @biorhythmist. Or really, damn him because I have obsessed over it since.
Also, I’m up at 4.20am.
Self-help 'makes you feel worse' →
news.bbc.co.uk
“Bridget Jones is not alone in turning to self-help mantras to boost her spirits, but a study warns they may have the opposite effect.
Canadian researchers found those with low self-esteem actually felt worse after repeating positive statements about themselves.
They said phrases such as “I am a lovable person” only helped people with high self-esteem.”
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Your Wrong.
- Me: (to 3-year-old) Okay, sing your Bla Bla Black Seep for me.
- 6-year-old: No! It's Baa Baa Black Sheep.
- Me: No. Our song is Bla Bla Black Seep.
- 6-year-old: No. I'll sing it for you. Baa baa black sheep. Have you ever know.....
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I don't know who Jeremy is but apparently he spoke in class today.
