i don’t care how famous he was.
Written by patty on June 25th, 2009He was a child molester.
End of discussion.
He was a child molester.
End of discussion.
It’s summer. Officially. But you’d never know it if you lived in Stamford, CT.
May I have some more rain please? Why thank you. Thanks. That’s perfect.
I had reason to go back and read an old post from last August, when the blog was in its infancy. And this shit is funny.
Thanks for stopping by. Regular programming may resume some time soon, per my whims.
Was it the post-doctor’s visit, post-haircut-and-highlights, post-400 inches of rain swim in the outdoor pool last Friday that did me in?
The ENT seems to think so. Thank goodness for him. Dr. Sadist actually turned out to be a good guy, seeing me urgently to diagnose the strep and prescribe antibiotics. “You again?” he joked when I was back in his office yesterday, following Friday’s inconclusive visit.
This.

This is what remorse looks like on a remaindered, ridiculous second-hand designer dog’s face after she’s destroyed her person’s last pair of JCrew wedge flip flops, just in time for summer.

because sometimes it’s easier to post craptastic iphone pictures of the trees in my back yard beckoning for me than it is to analyze the nightmares that woke me up three times last night. what’s up with that???
OK maybe not big pimpin’. But certainly guest bloggin’. My Facebook brag about going to the dump elicited an invitation from Stamford Talk to write about it in more detail.
I brought my youngest there yesterday for the first time. And that’s a story for another day.
Talk is a great blogging friend. In fact I think she was my first commenter. I hope you’ll stop by her place and say hello.
Earlier today I tweeted “I sit on the floor, sorting months of mail. File, recycle, shred. The cat and dog have their morning brawl atop the neat stacks. Thanks guys.”

It’s quite the spring break I’m having here. I’ve now made two runs to the dump (details to follow in a guest blog post soon - believe me, I’ll be linking to it since it’s the only writing of any sort I’ve done in at least a month). The utensil drawer is sparkling clean. I can see the floor in my closet.
Short on fun. Long on productivity. I think the animals are encouraging me to abandon the house and go soak up the sun while it’s shining.
But first I’ve got to get to the bottom of a drawer or two…