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Legendary actress Lauren Bacall has passed away from a stroke. She was 89.
Robin Williams was found dead. He was 63.
Gun control advocate and former Reagan press secretary died Monday at the age of 73.
ZURICH - Blues musician Johnny Winter is dead at age 70, according to Zurich police. Although no foul…
I was perusing Drudge Report this morning laughing over a shoe, a resignation, and a tantrum, when a certain link caught my eye.
University of Connecticut officials have suspended a sorority as they investigate allegations that its members forced men to drink booze, eat dog treats, paint their bodies, wear women’s underwear and take alcohol shots off each other’s bodies.
Now, at first, I had to laugh. My first thought was, “Suuuuure…. the guys were promised the Land of Plenty in return for playing along.” After all, they were members of a fraternity, and most likely have experience in what I call “quiet hazing”, where pledges have to do some weird shit in order to get in, but nothing so auspicious that the members would get arrested for harassment and hazing. But then I re-read the article again, and it gave me pause.
What if they were threatened?
Greek mixers are a staple in colleges. One sorority invited one fraternity for a party, they make t-shirts and sell them to raise money to pay for the drinks and food. Happens all the time. But in this day and age, I can no longer assume that the guys were “promised” anything, especially when sexual harassment laws on college campuses have been twisted so much that now men carry the burden of being told they are guilty without due process, and can lose everything. I wouldn’t put it past the gals to have threatened them with rape and police enquiry if they did not participate. I am not saying that happened. But I do think that the possibility percentage has increased dramatically in the past few years.
Am I making a mountain out of a molehill?
Social sites are like a gory train wreck.
ZOMG!!! THE HUGE MANATEE!!! I JUST CAN’T LOOK AWAY!!!111ELEVENTY!!!
The drama is as rich as chocolate ganache poured over tiramisu that has been infused with three cups of Khalua™ after soaking in sweetened espresso. But unlike that delish tiramisu of my dreams, the drama is never ending.
I just don’t get it. Even the friends who are most stable and normal succumb to it. I don’t understand how it is that Person A can tell me, Person B, they are doing fine to my face, but 15 minutes later are posting about how their world has come to a screeching halt because Person B couldn’t see that Person A is hurting through the brave face she shows the world, and was too selfish to make the effort to find out what was wrong with Person A.
I’m sorry, but what the ever loving FUCK?? I don’t need that shit on my social site page. No one does. If someone has a problem with someone else, take it up with them, PRIVATELY. Honestly, at times like that, I feel like deleting my page and you know, living my life.
But then a shitstorm of drama happens and I just can NOT look away.
And do y’all enjoy the drama? There is popcorn to be had
When Tiberius came to visit, we gave him free reign over the remote control, and Little One found herself fascinated by two different channels: Chiller, and Food Network. It is disconcerting to be watching Bobby Flay one minute, and then watching someone being flayed the next.
The juxtaposition is not without merit, I’m sure.
Anyway, one of her now-favorite TV shows is Chopped. I find it heartbreaking to watch, but she loves it. I could never be a participant, simply because I lack the vision on how to fix an entree using Honeycomb™ cereal, Ahi tuna, parsnips, and oyster sauce. What I have noticed, though, is the chefs’ habits of reaching for heat. Not a dish is served that doesn’t have some sort of hot spice in it, including the desserts sometimes. I myself can not handle spicy foods much, but understand that heat can bring out certain flavors in the foods in which is added.
I get that. I really do. But it just seems to me that EVERY SINGLE DISH prepared on these shows has to have heat. Personally, I prefer to use herbs and salt to bring out flavor. Eating spicy foods tends to sear my tastebuds, leaving them feeling like they have been trampled to death.
Sure, I’m in the minority on this. Hard for a person of Hispanic descent to admit to such a thing, I’m sure! But I am sure y’all have opinions on what is the best way to spice up foods, even if it means using Bhut Jolokia
That makes no sense, except that I wanted to use the letter “Q” in the title today. It’s a title as good as any, right? But it is not without merit. We are predictable in this here blog. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays have predetermined themes, and Cthulhu forbid I stray from Wednesday’s theme, ever. Y’all would hunt me down like a pack of rabid coyotes and set my world on fire. Maybe. But technically that leaves three days in which to write about current events, or politics, or even….
…..maybe. Booze is a great topic but y’all don’t care much for girlie drinks, and The Blog Boss won’t be returning for a while as yet, so you’ll have to deal with frou-frou drinks until then. So the questions (Hurray for the letter “Q”!!) for today is: would y’all like to see posts on the weekends, and if so, what topics do y’all want covered?
I bet BC will chime in with some interesting topics
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”?