In a very unusual move I will post a photograph of myself, a very personal gift from one of my dearest friends.
So this is me in the fall of 1992 with three of my bridesmaids. What a file to open up before proper caffeination.
Thank you ::dear friend::, for reminding me how young I'm really not. And how bummed I am that I passed on that AquaNet IPO.
Sure, I can go to any Bar-B-Que joint in Sleepy Southern Hometown and tell you that America likes to eat. But to find a gym there, I'd have to round many fruitless corners.
It does not take a bunged up dietitian to realize that while I choke down my oatmeal and blueberries, more folks are washing down Little Debbie Oatmeal Pies with Blueberry Kool-Aid and that fact alone has already made me a very wealthy woman (on paper, anyway!).
Eli-Lily, Johnson and Johnson, and Novartis are just a few pharmaceutical companies that make insulin and diabetic supplies. Children stricken with Type I Diabetes need the money poured into research and development by these companies for sure, and I can feel good that my investment will pay well for them.
But it is the sudden swell of gluttons that are on the fast track to Type II Diabetes that has me sure that in the same way Americans sop up "reality" television to the blissful ignorance of reality, there is an epidemic of escapism on the rise .
A very lucrative epidemic.
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JANE'S FAVORITE PHOTO OF 21st CENTURY AMERICANA OF ALL TIME. This one will be well used, I assure you.
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She even has sow ears!
OH. And my favorite rag to wipe her mouth with.
HAVE ANOTHER NUTTY BUDDY, HONEY.
JK ROWLING may be racking up, but then again, AREN'T WE ALL?
Exit Question: Would Hogwart here wait TWENTY SIX HOURS on line TO VOTE?
It was a gorgeous day in the countryside in The People's Republic of Northern Virginia last week as HH was squiring me home from what we like to call a "sneak up date". A sneak up date is when the kids are in school, he has a short day at work and steals me away to our favorite restaurant near the Shenandoah Valley for a romantic lunch and some extra curricular canoodling.
So there we were, glancing at watches, budgeting time so that we could make the most of our moments together when the car drew nigh to Men's Mecca. GANDER MOUNTAIN.
Who can resist listening to hawt guys talk guns? Not this girl. So in we turned.
Not
in the market to purchase anything at all, I insisted Hunky Husband take as long
as he like to handle a few things that I had heard him mumbling about
lately. After considerable ruminating over a Beretta Storm Carbine, HH
was pulled back to the familiar magnetism of a .223 . Beau, the sales
stud says, "One moment.". After a protracted absence, he grudgingly
emerged from the back of the store with a minty COLT AR-15 A3 Tactical Carbine with a quad rail system and six 30
round mags. He confessed that a police buddy had been eying it, but was
unable, as yet, to complete the sale. With a limited audience for such
a specialized weapon, he explained, he had held it, he felt, for just
such a customer as Hunky Husband.
I nearly laughed at my good fortune when he told HH the price. With the Assault Weapons Ban lifted, (though I fear only temporarily) and strict buyer qualifications, the market for this jewel was slim.
Now let me interject here>> HH has never, in all of our ::...teen:: years of marriage, EVER gone out and splurged on anything for himself that was not completely useful--underwear, socks, and the occasional boot band. Though he never needs my "permission", he has always exercised great restraint and deference with regards to large personal expenditures. He does not leave me a golf widow. He does not leave me a Masonic widow. And for all of his love of weaponry, he does leave me a hunting widow.
He has changed mountains of poopy diapers, spit shined household toilet bowls, and pinched hit for the laundry fairy for the last ....so many years. Hunky Husband is the father to my children that the little girl in me always longed for myself. I love him so deeply, I would give my very last breath for him.
So what was $1,475 dollars on a whim? And no ugly ties to wrap?
"Buy it!", I chirped. Hunky Husband, an addled sales stud and the growing cluster of vaguely envious and sadly unqualified onlookers gawked at me with collective disbelief.
As a stunned and giddy HH turned to begin the lengthy cavity check, I heard one bystander whisper, "Now that's a trophy wife!"
I LOVE YOU, HUNKY. HAPPY FATHER'S DAY.
The economy is in the toilet and America is being ruined by this protracted war. Right?
I find it very curious that when our country is in such dire straits as every Liberal Congressman within ten miles of a microphone will insist, there seems plenty of surplus time for navel gazing indulgences like drafting legislation to ban plastic bags, Global Warming hysteria, and doggie yoga.
When our country was in the throes of real Depression and suburban soup lines were the norm, not the inner city exception, every American had the same list of priorities. Food, medicine, shelter.
Now there really is two Americas.
One American where sacrifice, patriotism and thanking your Maker for His continued Grace tops the list and the other America populated by counter-tribalists who wish nothing more than to tear down the very institution that provides them the freedom from worry to pursue their hedonistic hobbies, speak their empty minds, and spend obscene amounts of money on frivolous trinkets to spoil a whole new generation.
If the Libs think America is so bad now, I will kindly invite them to imagine an America with no grocery bags of any variety because there are no groceries to put in them anyway. An America where a warm winter would be blessed relief from the chill of insufficient heating oil rationing. An America where there is no cash to even buy food for the luxury of a dog because the economy of China has called its notes and your bank is in lock down.
Yeah, Yoko...IMAGINE that.
I am not usually given to this kind of gratuitous hilarity.
But it is Easter.
And she kinda looks like a grumpy, rabid Easter bunny, sans the ears of course.
Consider it a gift.
Sent to me by googlebux,
(Via/ elhombrelibre)
Jane knows an HERMES scarf when she sees it. At $325 a pop for a silk square, that is chic for total Sharia compliance.
Jane gives her a 10 for her very Grace Kelly attempt to comply with the customs of her new home away from home, but a NEGATIVE 12 for holding fast to her Feminist ideals. The logic being when Moooslims are in our midst, they insist that we ape their customs and bend to their wishes. After all, we have judges in Dearbornistan in American court decisions consulting the Koran and our own soldiers handling the same with white gloves, a tacit admission that we are indeed the filthy second class citizens they believe us to be.
So it should follow when an avowed Feminist takes her customs into their country. A Feminist worth her salt would have climbed braless to the highest minerette and told those illiterate Imams of Syria and the wider Middle East to ...what's the vernacular the Feminists use...oh, yeah..."Fuck off and die", before she wrapped herself in a bedspread "to tour the dirt of their backwards chauvinistic shithole" country.
Nonni, for all the big teeth you bare in America, you are nothing more than a sad toothless wolf playing dress up. The Syrians are more that happy to take your cookies. Won't your Feminist sisters be so proud.
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Also posting, Beth explains that inconvenient truth about The Logan Act.
