Yep. It’s my last day of get-to-do-anything-I-want while MBF is outta town, and what am I doing? You know it: watching toilet videos, mofos!
I won’t even apologize.
But what I will share (no, not the toilet video) is how WILDLY the prices vary between Blowes and Home Despot.
Same exact product, 3x the price (check the model number to geek out with me):
Anyway, that’s my story tonight. Shopping for toilets (also overpriced at b’Lowes) and pool thermometers. Yeppp. Dang. Now I’m sad.
A break from my crusading for environmental and human egalitarianism. I shall now rock out on my day off.
This band is stuck in my head so hard right now. I saw them a couple years ago when they opened for Slash at Stubbs. I hadn’t heard of them, and then I couldn’t forget them. As much as I loooooove LOOOOVE Slash, I think I actually might have enjoyed their performance more. Not that seeing Slash wasn’t great, and not that he didn’t still “have it”. They just.. blew my face off.
They’re basically a bunch of frontmen-type stars who each play their own gig, but then together. So instead of having an epic frontman with a huge feather coat and tight Freddie Mercury pants (which he has, plus FM’s chops) supported by mellow, competent musicians, they have that AND an insane keyboardist, flamboyant trumpet player, and everyone in between. The guitarist soloed and the lead singer jumped onto his shoulders, mid-solo; the trumpet player threw his trumpet high enough to get caught in the lights (it didn’t) and coordinated super-fast high kicks and dips; the keyboardist picked up his full-sized, wired keyboard and played it like a key-tar, then threw it into the crowd and surfed to it, seated himself on the crowd’s hands, and proceeded to play while he and his keyboard surfed around. Go read about the keyboardist. Evidently this kind of stage antics is totally normal for all of them.
And they produced this gem, which I loved from that moment and now (again) have stuck in my head. Look, I can’t stand the often moronic over-sexualization of the female butt. But damned if I don’t love this song IN THE FACE. And if asses aren’t your thing, the second video might be more your speed. I like that song, too.
Do whatever you need to watch this RIGHT NOW. Or soon anyway.
Thank you, Weird Al.
Yep. I almost-but-didn’t-finish up my adobe (mud) and glass, ahem “mosaic” art mailbox yesterday. Since it is not yet sealed against moisture, and since my mother is likewise building with an unsealed, permeable material on her house, we will all now enjoy a week of thunderstorms. Starting now.
Notice how today there wasn’t even a thunderstorm listed? Welp, it’s a’raining and thundering at my place right now. So, yeah. You’re welcome, aquifers.
Here’s the last pic I took yesterday, during a break when my hands were clean. There is another layer on top of these upright bottles now, too. Update 6-25: the back 3 bottles upright in this picture (plus the entire layer above them that isn’t pictured) collapsed in this morning’s rain. Next time, they get cement from the get-go.
Something is upside down here. 8′ tall sunflowers (wild)? Check. 1′ tall high corn, tasseling already? Also check. *facepalm* well, at least the deer didn’t eat it.
I recently left this feedback on a survey. I reiterate so that my tall sisters can sing it from the mountains with me:
I’m tall* and I’m a girl. I have long arms, long legs, AND a long rise AND broad shoulders. I have boobs that don’t fit under “normal” shirts, even if my shoulders fit. I have hips that don’t fit in men’s jackets, when the rest fits. I hate wearing men’s clothes and their boring colors. I am done with that. I am willing to spend my money on clothes (and bicycles, backpacks, sleeping bags, shoes…) that fit and that are pretty**.
I am these things, and I am not alone.
*Yes, I played basketball. And volleyball.
**But I’ll wear things that don’t fit if they’re pretty and nice to the earth and its inhabitants. :) And I’ll wear the hell outta some Chucks.
Also, I just found out this isn’t something all people have a problem with:
Well, I thought I would toss out these old black low-tops, but damn if I don’t still love them, even with what I thought would be their replacements: starry high-tops I’m pretty sure have summoned Doctor Who by their very existence. I just have to click my rubber heels together and repeat “I do believe in faster than light travel..I do believe in FTL travel…”