For realz!

This kid's 937 tattoo reminds me of the Nate Farley-ism "I'm so 937, I'm 513."

I mean, really.

NSFW, or life, or most anything

Very busy, so will post all my crud I have to say in the morning - howevs, did happen to see that our friend Car Telling Windows has updated [their] site. Blew. My. Mind.

cartellingwindows.blogspot.com

Wrong disc first

Was thinking I need (too strong a word?) to watch Magnolia again, then remembered a friend who was Fond of the Cannabis who rented it one time and watched the second disc first. (!)

"Still, it was really good."

Also, I assume that but don't really remember if my affection for Philip Seymour Hoffman is documented somewhere on this blog. He rules in this as Phil Parma, male nurse.

I also need a ringtone of him as Freddy Miles in ...Ripley saying "How's the peeping, Tommy?"

Which I probably mentioned before as well.

WTF? Carine Roitfeld is FIFTY-FIVE?

French Vogue editor Carine 'the hotness' Roitfeld, I see, has a son who's 32. So, I dutifully wiki her ass and she was born in 1954!

Will I look so hot at 55? Doubtful. My giant, misshapen head will have buckled my spine by then and I will wheeling said cabeza around on some sort of cart with bumperstickers on it. Damn, dog!

St Blaise

Did you know there is a patron saint for veterinarians?

He hated animals, it turns out. (?)

No, here he is:

East of Eden

I've only read a little over two hundred pages, but East of Eden is blowing my mind. I never really care about/think of Steinbeck, but this was in a pile of crap around the domicile and it's really stunning. Very modern. I let out a "Jesus Christ!" at something that I read last night and the Bride looked to see where I was and said "Oh, that's nothing! Just wait!" then snickered evilly. Gasp. So now I can start dreading more evil shit.


What's hot is, now that it's a classic and all, it gets covers like this:





















Whereas, once, it was so "racy" that it had covers such as:























The truth, as ever, lies somewhere in the middle.

What's up with the Griz?

Griselda, the Chicago street cat who refuses to come live inside - what's up with her?

Well, funny you should ask! She made it all the way into the kitchen, when the door was propped open. Her would-be dad was on the phone with his dad (aka Griz's grampa) when he looked up and there she was, "like, to the microwave cart!," as would-be mom had it. So this is progress.

Of course, she remains mostly diffident, choosing to live in the shrubbery across the street rather than in the safe confines of a luxurious apartment. Scrappy!

Here is her usual hang, with graphics provided by her would-be fatha:

Can't see her?