“The world factbook” is a public domain periodical published by the CIA containing information about each country’s geography, culture, government, and economy.
Category: Live
That’s A Telling Pause
“…raw sewage… rotting _pause_ trash…”
The media is doing a great job of informing us of how dangerous the rotting trash is.
Overheard On Police Rebroadcast
“Roger, uh, any recommendations on how to give birth, over?”
Dear CNN
Dear CNN,
I understand that you have a certain style of interviewing that is rude and belittles interview subjects. Really, I do. The whole question, challenge, expand mode of journalism generally gets you results and makes your reporters look like unmitigated assholes.
However, a bit of advice is in order. If you’ve dragged a shell-shocked New Orleans evacuee onto your live television program who is struggling to put together two words regarding efforts in Houston to give her some semblance of a life back, _you shut the fuck up and let her talk_. You do not interrupt her after you’ve just asked her a question and she has spit out two words in an attempt to reply to your total stupidity.
Sincerely,
Me
Dear Kids,
Water does not belong on the kitchen floor. Five dishtowels and a bathtowel full of water especially do not belong on the kitchen floor.
While we’re on the subject of things that do not belong on the kitchen floor, it might have been nice if you’d told me that you’d dropped a hamster water bottle on the kitchen floor and that it had shattered all over kingdom come. Then I might not be sitting here nursing a bloody foot that I got while cleaning up the water.
Love,
Me
Dear Day,
Let’s start over again, really. So far, you have sucked massively.
Sincerely,
Me
No Words
There really are no words. You can roll “horrible” and “terrible” and “tragedy” through your mouth over and over until you run out of spit, but that’s not going to begin to describe the situation when they start counting the bodies.
The media has been bandying about numbers under a hundred. I think they’re off by an order of magnitude. At least. I hope I’m wrong. I’d really, really like to be wrong.
On Monday, I ordered a six-pack of Cafe du Monde beignet mix from a store in Virginia Beach. It arrived this afternoon.
I’d much rather think about beignet mix.
Say What?
Marcus pipes up with, “I can’t wait until I mate.”
_”What?”_
“I. Can’t. Wait. Until. I’m. Eight.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Hallmarks Of A Great Evening
Start with a pre-migraine haze. Get up to make [link slug=”iced-tea”], because my God, the caffeine in it could put an elephant in motion and slay a migraine in one gulp.
Walk into the kitchen and notice that the container of Tang has a mysterious liquid under it.
Taste mysterious liquid because it looks like liquid Tang; mysterious liquid has now been identified as gear oil. Sputter helplessly, then swish mouth with very hot water and burn tongue in process.
Notice that trail of mysterious liquid extends under Kitchenaid mixer. Move mixer over sink to facilitate cleaning the bottom of the mixer. Accidentally drop mixer in sink and break a saucer in the process.
Remove saucer shards from sink and discard. Clean bottom of mixer. Wipe counter and right the small oil can that has not been put away since the air conditioner was fixed. Move it to the windowsill and contemplate husband’s bloody demise in a vat of oil.
Move mixer back to the counter with enough force to pinch index fingertip between mixer and over-the-counter cabinets. Notice immediate white line where fingernail was squished. Hold ice cube until numb to prevent bruising under the nailbed.
Go back to computer to reset operating conditions. Hope the next trip into the kitchen doesn’t suck.