Harold Ramis dead at 69 of complications from autoimmune inflammatory vasculitis
Harold Ramis, the man behind numerous blockbuster films such as Ghostbusters and Groundhog’s Day,…
He was 85.
A true comedy genius, he passed away at the age of 91.
The former child star and diplomat has passed away at age of 85.
I will be the first to admit, I am a wuss. Scary movies are just NOT my thing. I like suspense, but abhor the gore. And senseless fright is just stupid, in my ever humble opinion. But some people really, REALLY like scary flicks. My 14 year old’s favorite TV channel is Chiller. She was in absolute euphoria while Tiberius was visiting, because he has the same taste in scary movies that she does.
She does not get that from me.
Getting a thrill from fright is fun for some people. For me, it involves a lot of pain. I don’t handle adrenaline as well as most people. Still, suspense in the order of a Hitchcock film is sublime, and my preferred type of fright. Though to this day I refuse to watch The Birds again.
And what’s your favorite fright flick?
Why do I say that?
Because my niece just adopted two cats, and she brought them home to her dogs.
DOGS AND CATS, LIVING TOGETHER!!
I am a dog person, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fluffy bundle of cat. And as we acquire a larger menagerie each year, going from one dog to two dogs, two pythons, and a golden mouse, things get a bit more complicated. But for some reason I really do have a block against having cats and dogs living together. I don’t understand why, seeing as Hubby grew up with inside dogs and outside cats, and we had an outside cat population as well. Maybe Ghostbusters had an even more profound effect n me than I previously thought.
And how do your pets get along with each other? Is it all cuddles and purrs, or hisses and growls?
Heh, what a title, and I am sure y’all went in a different tangent.
It’s that dreaded so-called holiday, Valentine’s Day. Which if Hallmark was honest, it would tell you St. Valentin was imprisoned, beaten, stoned and eventually beheaded.
All’s fair in love… Forget it.
Anyway, one of the more popular gifts to give a sweetheart is scent. I have several bottles on my dresser. By “several”, I mean eleven. And that’s not counting the ones on the bathroom counter and the ones still in their boxes. Of all the scents, I have only purchased two for myself, so don’t think I am obsessed. It’s just that it’s an easy gift and the bottles make for a happy Aggie. But that doesn’t meant they are all hits, either. Some of them are downright stinkers and for the life of me, I can’t understand why anyone would pay $60 for a bottle of perfume (I’m looking at you, bottle of L’Eau D’Issey) that smells like donkey sweat distilled in grapes.
So my friends, what is y’all’s favorite scents to wear, if any? And what are some that should be eradicated from this planet?
I know next to nothing about art. I studied anthropology, not art history. History makes it more reputable, so I hear. All I know is I had to take some classes on art appreciation in order to distinguish the difference between Jackson Pollock dripping paint on canvas and ME dripping paint on canvas. You want to know the difference?
POLLOCK DID IT FIRST!!!
That’s it. You and I can drip paint all over a canvas and make it look like one of his hot messes, but it won’t fetch $40 million. Same with Picasso. Gawd, I hate that commie dickwrinkle. But I have to admit, he was an expert at reinventing the wheel. And he was famous because HE DID IT FIRST!! He did Cubism, Glassicim, Surrealism, and did it first. Georgia O’Keefe painted vulvic flowers first. Monet made impressions first. Surat made points first.
Sometimes it seems as though it’s all about being first, not necessarily about talent.
But I do know one thing about art: I know what I like. I don’t like messes, but I do like paradoxes. I ♥ Dalí as much as I ♥ Wyeth. I like Van Gogh as much as I like Warhol. And I despise Pollock as much as I despise Picasso. It’s all relative, I suppose. It really depends on what your definition of “art” is. I know I can stand in front of a painting by Winslow Homer for hours, and barely give a passing glance to one by Edouard Manet. Yes, it’s pretty, but it doesn’t move me in any way except to get me to the other side of the gallery.
And what do y’all consider “art”?
I had all the time in the world and now I look at the calendar and see I have ONE MORE DAY to get everything organized and wrapped and shipped out and stuff cooked and baked and call people and go around the neighborhood dropping off goodies and packing and cleaning and dusting and doing even MOAR laundry and clearing out empty boxes and making sure that Santa can find his way from the chimney to the tree with no dog obstacles.
That will be the most difficult thing to accomplish.
But for now I am drinking my coffee and trying to calm down. It does me no good to stress about unforeseen crap. And let’s face it: if I stress out, the kids rebel and Hubby goes into hiding in Diablo III. And I am not going to give him the satisfaction until after Christmas.
This is the Empire of Aggie. I am Empress, Dictator, and Queen. Ergo, “Because I Said So” is reason enough.