The Incorrigible Night Owl

June 13, 2004

Prepare to snort (insert your drink of choice here) through your nose

I just laughed so hard I cried and it's all thanks to these t-shirts for babies. Look at them. Seriously. You will be glad you did. If you don't agree with me that these are hilarious, well, then...we just don't have anything to talk about, you and I.

My only regret is the sizes don't go higher than 6-12 months. Because I would SO get a few of these for JZ.

I have also spent the last hour browsing some of my favorite blogs, catching up on all the latest entries. And I am, once again, stricken with the realization that my blog is crap and I will never be able to come within spitting distance of the quality and fine humor in the others I visit. *Sob* Not that anyone reads this, anyway, so I guess it don't make no nevermind, nohow. Boo-frigging-hoo.

I currently have a new title in the works for said unread blog. My previous "My Life and Times" header was merely a knee-jerk reaction to Diaryland wanting to know what title I wanted and wanting to know it NOW! I've been thinking on it ever since and I have a few contenders I'm toying with.

The garage sale was a thumping success today. The tightwads turned out in droves. And, though I wouldn't be so gauche as to drop an actual dollar amount, we'll just say that I am well set for our trip. Mama needs a new pair of shoes, and she will not only get them but also a new haircut, new clothes, a pedicure, and possibly a couple spa treatments for good measure.

Speaking of the garage sale, must make a point to thank the darling Robert for all his work in getting it ready and running the show. Since all the money is going to me he actually gets nothing out of it, except a clean(er) garage and the knowledge that his wife will be spending like a drunken sailor in the very near future. He really is unbelievably generous. Which is good, because someone has to counteract me. Remember that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Bugs is trying to go to the Pismo Beach Clam Festival but instead he pops up in a cave and finds a genie in a lamp? And Daffy Duck is following him and sees all the treasure and starts screaming, "Mine! Mine!" and punching Bugs back down into the hole? Well, just superimpose my face over Daffy's and you get a pretty good picture of what I look like when Sharing Time comes around. (Minus the feathers, natch.)'s 12:24 a.m. now. Let's everyone joint in a chorus of, "It's Past Midnight and What are You Still Doing Up, You Dink," as I shuffle off to bed. Ta.