Does anyone read me who doesn’t read Dwija, too? In case such a person exists, I ask you to read her update about her baby, and then storm heaven with your prayers.
“Hey, I’m in a really good mood! Let’s put on The National’s newest album and keep that happy feeling alive.”
-No One. Ever.
But you know what? I don’t care. Sometimes it’s good for me to indulge in that moody nostalgia, if just to remind myself that I’m no longer a lost goth girl, sneaking clove cigarettes when she thinks she can get away with them.
Man, I wish I’d had this service when I was a teacher. Not only does it check your writing for style, mechanics, and structure, but it also lets you know if you’ve got a case of plagiarism on your hands. While you need to create an account for the full smorgasbord of offerings, anyone can access the “unique content” checker. Worth its weight in internet gold, just for that.
What’s that, Missus Smartypants Blogreader? You remember me posting this song before? Well, 50 points for you, because you’re right.
I love this song so, so much. I know the Decemberists are, like, nine years ago, but this song kills me both in terms of melody and lyrics.
Plus, Ken once told me that it reminds him of me, so there’s that little piece…
Redbox goes streaming
My friend Mary Kate told me that Redbox is offering a streaming option now. But I can’t see its streaming library online. Does anyone do this already? How are the options? We currently have Netflix and only Netflix, so help me God, and I don’t want to disrupt Jojo’s Circus unnecessarily. Is Redbox’s streaming library on par with Netflix’s?
I went to Costco today (which resulted in an emergency visit to an eye doctor, but that’s beyond the scope of this take), and I got a GIGANTIC JUG of Pinesol there.
I’ve read that our sense of smell is directly connected to our limbic system, which is the storehouse of memory and emotion. So smells are an express route to the wayback machine. When I opened that jug, and started cleaning the kitchen floor with the Pinesol goodness, I was immediately transported back to Memphis, when we would go serve the ladies at the Missionaries of Charity.
|Not anyone I know. Just a picture I lifted from the Internets. God, I miss Memphis.|
Which is to say, Pinesol now smells to me of charity and hope and counter culturalism and God and, considering I don’t find the smell of Pinesol very lovely, that is an odd thing.
I have no problem with them. Anyone who does is lazy.
(dig at Jen. Not you)