My mother has a tattoo. Don’t worry, she didn’t have a Raging Granny fit and have Fred Astaire in a top hat engraved on her bosom; it’s the merest few dots for the siting of the radiation. My father has now had occasion to ask an uncaring universe why it is that he is now sleeping with a tattooed grandmother. Age spares us no indignity, as a great man once remarked. Continue reading Tattoo you
Day: November 6, 2007
So much for supplements
Weeds and Food
I have now watched all of the first season of Weeds, and frankly I loved it, especially the stoner brother in law. I further loved the notion that the lead could pop a cap in a rat’s ass in her own house without turning a hair, although rats do NOT die if you get them with a pellet gun; they just bleed furiously and vamoose. Folks, a little realzm, plz.
I am currently cooking a double batch of biscotti for the United Way bake sale at work, and I am also making (daa daa daa daaaaa!) the dreaded Tapioca. I am going to buy my tapioca pearls from Stuporstore in future, these larger ones take an age to cook. It’s pushing an hour now.
I am staring at my packing list with panic, fear and loathing. Why am I getting on an airplane? Why am I travelling so goddamned far? The weather is going to suck and I’ll probably get dengue fever.