1. Can I just tell you how much I love this weather. HOT! Love it!
I can’t handle people complaining, “OMG. It’s sooooo hot. It is going to ninety!!!!” Except the “tee” in ninety sounds more like “wahhhhh!” when they say it.
Please. It’s summer. Before we know it we’ll be complaining about frozen witches’ tits.
Enjoy the sweat while you can.
2. Some Craigslist What The Effies to get your weekend started right:
- Are his donkey omelets trying to escape or something? Maybe they’re late for a date with this guy’s donkey omelets.
- Somebody needs a GREENCARD!
- This guy again. But now, he’s sure to let us know that in addition to a job and a car, he has a CELLPHONE! Damn. He must make a TON of money if he’s got one of those newfangled cellular portable communications devices.
- I had to Google it and so you don’t have to, let me educate you. DD/HOH. Domestic discipline/Head of Household. Guy makes up the rules of the house. Girl follows them. Or girl gets punished. NOW do you see why I had to create the term What The Effie?
- He’s got money. No. Really. He’s got money. Gawd.
3. Lover of Burgh wrote:
Really. If you sit at the East Liberty library for any extended period of time you will see pigeons fly into a giant window of death. They have floor to ceiling windows and pigeons expire daily. There is nothing more satisfying than hearing that thump at the glass, and sometimes 2 or 3 hit at a time….BONUS!
That DOES sound satisfying!
4. John Challis gave a big “Nyah-nyah” to his cancer and graduated from high school. Sigh. He’s starting a foundation and you can be darned sure that once that puppy is up and running I’ll be giving it money.
5. An email from Ashley:
How goes it? I ran across your site and you seem to be the coolest of the Pittsburgh bloggers
so I’ve got a proposition for you…
US AIR GUITAR
Yes, US Air Guitar. There’s a national competition and a regional in Pittsburgh, going down at Mr. Small’s on June 10th. Would you want to maybe be a judge?
I’ve let Ashley know that due to my anonymous nature, I can’t be a judge as much as I would very much like to, because I’d love for a reason to say any of the following in a public forum and probably with a faux British accent:
“That was very … airy.”
“Where’s the wow? I’m not seeing any wow from you.”
“What … the bloody hell … was that?” (tm Simon Cowell)
Or I could be the Paula Abdul of the judges and just show up drunk and clap like a seal and say stuff like, “I look up at the stage, and you are standing there airing in your truth and there are rainbows shooting out of your bellybutton and I bow down to your airy love.”
Stupid, necessary anonymity.