I can mash potato...

Pet Peeves...

1. Today's Pet Peeve:

I don't mind if you use Text/IM acronyms to cut typing time, BUT when speaking... Please Don't say: 'OH EM GEE' or 'EL OH EL' or AR OH TEE EF EL or anything like that... sounds DEE YU EM BEE!!!

Fun.: Some Nights...

I am thoroughly smitten by this song!! 



Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck

Some nights, I call it a draw
Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know anymore...
oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh
oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh

This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
Why don't we break the rules already?
I was never one to believe the hype - save that for the black and white
I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked, but here they come again to jack my style

And that's alright; I found a martyr in my bed tonight
She stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am
Oh, who am I? Oh, who am I? mmm... mmm...

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end
Cause I could use some friends for a change
And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again
Some nights, I always win, I always win...

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know... (come on)

So this is it? I sold my soul for this?
Washed my hands of that for this?
I miss my mom and dad for this?

No. When I see stars, when I see, when I see stars, that's all they are
When I hear songs, they sound like this one, so come on
Oh, come on. Oh, come on, OH COME ON!

Well, this is it guys, that is all - five minutes in and I'm bored again
Ten years of this, I'm not sure if anybody understands
This one is not for the folks at home; Sorry to leave, mom, I had to go
Who the fuck wants to die alone all dried up in the desert sun?

My heart is breaking for my sister and the con that she call "love"
But when I look into my nephew's eyes...
Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things that can come from...
Some terrible nights...ahhh...

oh woah, oh woah, oh woah, oh oh
oh woah, oh woah, oh woah, oh oh

The other night, you wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me
I called you up, but we'd both agree
It's for the best you didn't listen
It's for the best we get our distance... oh...
It's for the best you didn't listen
It's for the best we get our distance... oh...

Think Imma do this one... join me?

Creative Doodling with Judy West: Celtic Challenge 6: Celtic Challenge 6 As I like flowers I have drawn this Celtic Flower Design. My Challenge to you this week is to draw something out...

facebook meme or no...

Some say it's just a Facebook meme ('just'?? isn't Facebook the authority on Evahthang?)...

Here's the message floating around:

It's International Book Week. The rules: grab the closest book to you, turn to page 52, post the 5th sentence as your status. Don't mention the title. Copy the rules as part of your status.

  I've googled and I've googled and I've googled and can't seem to confirm or deny that it IS International Book Week.  Hmm. Actually, here's what Wikipedia says:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Book_Week

Also, I've seen the rules change slightly as to which page, which sentence... bah! 

Well, makes no never-mind to me.  I guess the real fun is the part about "don't mention the title".
Sooooooo, let's stick to the rules above and let's play the game... And...
Ready, Set... GO!

Page 52, Sentence 5:
"She watched her brother grab the ring of keys from the wall, then lead the pretty girl out the back door of the bakery and into the little, weed-choked courtyard behind."




Incidentally, Banned Book Week IS Sept. 30-Oct. 6


just so ya know.

Take heed, you scallywags!

This is a great article:

http://www.mediate.com/articles/scottV2.cfm

The Fashion World...

... not usually something I'm terribly interested in. I have my "style"... some might say it's a lack there of. Nonetheless, I saw a story about Carine Roitfeld on CBS Sunday Morning and was fascinated. A fashion model in her youth, she's now VERY accomplished in her late fifties. What fascinates me is the fact that she's not afraid of aging, indeed, she celebrates it and she doesn't hide the fact that she's a very sexual, alluring being even though she's no longer that young "beauty". AND the world celebrates her "look" as well and copies it.

http://crfashionbook.com/

 

 

Coexist...

FABULOUS! 50 State Stereotypes (in 2 minutes)

OMG!! LAUGHING TO TEARS!

Glandular and Extraglandular Manifestations of Sjogren's Syndrome

I've been manically researching my illness lately.
This is a very good article: 

Glandular and Extraglandular Manifestations of Sjogren's Syndrome

so... took a quiz...

Which philosopher are you? Your Result: Sartre/Camus (late existentialists) The world is absurd. No facts govern it. We live well once we truly accept the world's absurdity. YOU give our life's meaning, and YOU control your world. (see Nietzsche for very closely tied beliefs) --This quiz was made by S. A-Lerer.
Nietzsche
Early Wittgenstein / Positivists
Aristotle
Immanuel Kant
W.v.O. Quine / Late Wittgenstein
Plato (strict rationalists)
Which philosopher are you? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Three ways, goat-ways, Yahwehs!!

Philosophy Monkey: If Fifty Shades of Grey Is Not Dirty Enough for Yo...: When I was a little boy, the Bible was one of my favorite books. No, it's not because I was a goodie-two-shoes... it was because I loved t...

Come join my Green Team!!

my totem animal...

Not one step closer. - Imgur

To the Amazing Human Body...

I SING the Body electric;   
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;   
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,   
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.   
 
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves;            
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?   
And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?   
And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?   
 
The love of the Body of man or woman balks account—the body itself balks account;   
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.     
 
The expression of the face balks account;   
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face;   
It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists;   
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees—dress does not hide him;   
The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel;     
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more;   
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.   
 
The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the contour of their shape downwards,   
The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up, and rolls silently to and fro in the heave of the water,   
The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats—the horseman in his saddle,     
Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,   
The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting,   
The female soothing a child—the farmer’s daughter in the garden or cow-yard,   
The young fellow hoeing corn—the sleigh-driver guiding his six horses through the crowd,   
The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty, good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown, after work,     
The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance,   
The upper-hold and the under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes;   
The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,   
The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes suddenly again, and the listening on the alert,   
The natural, perfect, varied attitudes—the bent head, the curv’d neck, and the counting;     
Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother’s breast with the little child,   
Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with the firemen, and pause, listen, and count.   

I know a man, a common farmer—the father of five sons;   
And in them were the fathers of sons—and in them were the fathers of sons.   
 
This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person;     
The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard, and the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes—the richness and breadth of his manners,   
These I used to go and visit him to see—he was wise also;   
He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old—his sons were massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome;   
They and his daughters loved him—all who saw him loved him;   
They did not love him by allowance—they loved him with personal love;     
He drank water only—the blood show’d like scarlet through the clear-brown skin of his face;   
He was a frequent gunner and fisher—he sail’d his boat himself—he had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner—he had fowling-pieces, presented to him by men that loved him;   
When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish, you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang.   
 
You would wish long and long to be with him—you would wish to sit by him in the boat, that you and he might touch each other.   

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,     
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,   
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,   
To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then?   
I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.   
 
There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well;     
All things please the soul—but these please the soul well.   

This is the female form;   
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot;   
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction!   
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor—all falls aside but myself and it;     
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed;   
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it—the response likewise ungovernable;   
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all diffused—mine too diffused;   
Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb—love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching;   
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice;     
Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn;   
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,   
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.   
 
This is the nucleus—after the child is born of woman, the man is born of woman;   
This is the bath of birth—this is the merge of small and large, and the outlet again.     
 
Be not ashamed, women—your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest;   
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.   
 
The female contains all qualities, and tempers them—she is in her place, and moves with perfect balance;   
She is all things duly veil’d—she is both passive and active;   
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters.     
 
As I see my soul reflected in nature;   
As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible completeness and beauty,   
See the bent head, and arms folded over the breast—the female I see.   

The male is not less the soul, nor more—he too is in his place;   
He too is all qualities—he is action and power;     
The flush of the known universe is in him;   
Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well;   
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is utmost, become him well—pride is for him;   
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul;   
Knowledge becomes him—he likes it always—he brings everything to the test of himself;     
Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail, he strikes soundings at last only here;   
(Where else does he strike soundings, except here?)   
 
The man’s body is sacred, and the woman’s body is sacred;   
No matter who it is, it is sacred;   
Is it a slave? Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf?     
Each belongs here or anywhere, just as much as the well-off—just as much as you;   
Each has his or her place in the procession.   
 
(All is a procession;   
The universe is a procession, with measured and beautiful motion.)   
 
Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave or the dull-face ignorant?     
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has no right to a sight?   
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float—and the soil is on the surface, and water runs, and vegetation sprouts,   
For you only, and not for him and her?   

A man’s Body at auction;   
I help the auctioneer—the sloven does not half know his business.   
 
Gentlemen, look on this wonder!   
Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high enough for it;   
For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years, without one animal or plant;   
For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll’d.   
 
In this head the all-baffling brain;   
In it and below it, the makings of heroes.   
 
Examine these limbs, red, black, or white—they are so cunning in tendon and nerve;   
They shall be stript, that you may see them.   
 
Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition,   
Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant back-bone and neck, flesh not flabby, good-sized arms and legs,   
And wonders within there yet.   
 
Within there runs blood,   
The same old blood!   
The same red-running blood!   
There swells and jets a heart—there all passions, desires, reachings, aspirations;   
Do you think they are not there because they are not express’d in parlors and lecture-rooms?   
 
This is not only one man—this is the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns;   
In him the start of populous states and rich republics;   
Of him countless immortal lives, with countless embodiments and enjoyments.   
 
How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries?   
Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could trace back through the centuries?   

A woman’s Body at auction!   
She too is not only herself—she is the teeming mother of mothers;   
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.   
 
Have you ever loved the Body of a woman?   
Have you ever loved the Body of a man?   
Your father—where is your father?   
Your mother—is she living? have you been much with her? and has she been much with you?   
—Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all, in all nations and times, all over the earth?   
 
If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred,   
And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of manhood untainted;   
And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face.   
 
Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body?   
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.   

O my Body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you;   
I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the Soul, (and that they are the Soul;)   
I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems—and that they are poems,   
Man’s, woman’s, child’s, youth’s, wife’s, husband’s, mother’s, father’s, young man’s, young woman’s poems;   
Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears,   
Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eye-brows, and the waking or sleeping of the lids,   
Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw-hinges,   
Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition,   
Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck-slue,   
Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders, and the ample side-round of the chest.   
 
Upper-arm, arm-pit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones,   
Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, fore-finger, finger-balls, finger-joints, finger-nails,   
Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast-side,   
Ribs, belly, back-bone, joints of the back-bone,   
Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls, man-root,   
Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above,   
Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under leg,   
Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel;   
All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your body, or of any one’s body, male or female,   
The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean,   
The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame,   
Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity,   
Womanhood, and all that is a woman—and the man that comes from woman,   
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,   
The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud,   
Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming,   
Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening,   
The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes,   
The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair,   
The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body,   
The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing it in and out,   
The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees,   
The thin red jellies within you, or within me—the bones, and the marrow in the bones,   
The exquisite realization of health;   
O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of the Soul,   
O I say now these are the Soul!

~Walt Whitman

So, what's wrong with Plan 9??

I'm constantly amazed at how polarized people can get over movies. Except for such offerings as Ishtar or Showgirls... movie reviews run the gambit between Completely Entertaining to I Wanted To Scratch My Eyes Out.


Does every movie now Have to have some socially relevant message? Can a movie just be fun? I can only remember walking out of one movie. There are several I would never bother watching again but I can usually find SOMETHING entertaining in a film. Am I just too forgiving? too easily entertained? Is that truly a BAD thing??

Have you ever walked out on a movie? Which One/s?

What do you think is the all-time worst movie ever made?

minutiae

Will beat 121,111 times, pump 1,776 gallons of blood, and push that blood nearly 12,089 miles throughout my body!
Created by MyFitnessPal.com

To F.A.

I sometimes think we knew each other way too well to be polite or at the very least Civil to one another. To try to have a 'relationship' when your purpose in life was to push my very last button (repeatedly)... well, that was just a ludicrous thought. So, of course I've beat myself up thinking that if we had just left THAT alone, maybe just maybe we'd still be friends. We were the Best of friends at one time, or so I thought. But no, I've come to the conclusion you are incapable of BEING a friend for any length of time. You see, either you're afraid that we'll eventually see you for what you are that You leave or we (true, steadfast friends of yours) realize you are socially inept and we do what we must...

REALLY?!?!?

Homeland Security Manual Lists Government Key Words For Monitoring Social
Media, News

SO, I'm guessing a post like this is not such a good idea, huh? :

"I was having an Attack of the munchies and due to my lack of Organization skills, I was experiencing an Epidemic of stress. So I did the usual Drill and took the Initiative to Exercise my right to use retail therapy at Target for some help. After having done so, I felt an immense Wave of Relief!"

Peg Seay shared an Instagram photo with you

Hi there,

Peg Seay just shared an Instagram photo with you:

view full image

Thanks,
The Instagram Team

More...

My latest obsession: Zentangle

What is Zentangle? Well, don't ask me... as the experts: http://www.zentangle.com/

here is my first attempts:

I know I start all manner of activities then get tired of them but this one is a real addiction, me thinks!

What?!