gums on my knuckle
drooly, happy, soothes her jones,
baby cannibal
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
Death of the Cynic...Halcyon Days Ahead?
It/We left. Torpor is no more.
So, who wants a straight-up blog beastie? Who wants to read the boring droning whinging whining of a 30-year-old woman? Some of you may. Let me be perfectly Silly Putty with you: I'm going to start playing it straight, or, at least, straighter than It was. Shall you hear about my day? Indeed. A review of the chocolate zucchini bread recipe I tried? Oh, yes. The mundane ins and outs of the life of a toddler as viewed by his mother? Never as honest as another. It's all here, all for you. Or for me. It may be the thing that saves my brain.
There's another bun in the oven, it's baking and due on April 19th (actually, the due date was originally 4/20, but I didn't feel like having every stoner I'm acquainted with--and I know quite a few, as I am a member at my local co-op--giggling about a baked baby). The date was a lie, and I have a midwife as an accomplice; are you gonna mess with me about it? I had a natural, un-medicated homebirth with my son, SeaBass, and it hurt like hell. Am I braver than you? Maybe not, but I've definitely shown my boldness.
In other news, I had my foot chewed apart by the cramp from hell, I take 4 antacids a day, and my belly button looks a lot like a thumb print. I can't wait to share more about the joyous noise that a 2 1/2 year old and a newborn shall harmonize...
So, who wants a straight-up blog beastie? Who wants to read the boring droning whinging whining of a 30-year-old woman? Some of you may. Let me be perfectly Silly Putty with you: I'm going to start playing it straight, or, at least, straighter than It was. Shall you hear about my day? Indeed. A review of the chocolate zucchini bread recipe I tried? Oh, yes. The mundane ins and outs of the life of a toddler as viewed by his mother? Never as honest as another. It's all here, all for you. Or for me. It may be the thing that saves my brain.
There's another bun in the oven, it's baking and due on April 19th (actually, the due date was originally 4/20, but I didn't feel like having every stoner I'm acquainted with--and I know quite a few, as I am a member at my local co-op--giggling about a baked baby). The date was a lie, and I have a midwife as an accomplice; are you gonna mess with me about it? I had a natural, un-medicated homebirth with my son, SeaBass, and it hurt like hell. Am I braver than you? Maybe not, but I've definitely shown my boldness.
In other news, I had my foot chewed apart by the cramp from hell, I take 4 antacids a day, and my belly button looks a lot like a thumb print. I can't wait to share more about the joyous noise that a 2 1/2 year old and a newborn shall harmonize...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Scratch the Scab
Dear Friends:
I/We have missed you during my/our unfortunate absence; we were positively swamped with the reparations and proper death and burial rights for an immense creature of postured "tastiness." Relatives gathering drunkenly, assuming the still-alive animal was fully cremated to it's per pound timing, were about to consume an enormous ball of listeria until I/We stepped in and maintained that one may not simply "eat around" the uncooked bits of the foul largesse. I/We apologize to all of you, and maintain that I/We did indeed save the day of "Thanksgiving" (for full FBoT Thanksgiving coverage, please send a SASE to: FBoT, USA).
In other concern, I/We at FBoT are concerned that you, dear reader, may be tiring of our pronoun confusion. Fear not, I/We have decided to investigate a support group that allows for all pronoun affiliations and denotations; I/We only want to be accepted in a world that shows an unrelenting prejudice toward pronoun insecurity/confusion. Please abide.
I/We have little else to report at this moment, save for the invasion of the fetal planting that remains within the FBoT host body. Said parasite seems to be faring well, moving rapidly, and demanding a tremendous amount of non-listeria-based comestibles. I/We try to meet it's needs, but frequently cannot estimate what sort of comestibles the parasite desires. Highly frustrating.
Until future time,
I/We
I/We have missed you during my/our unfortunate absence; we were positively swamped with the reparations and proper death and burial rights for an immense creature of postured "tastiness." Relatives gathering drunkenly, assuming the still-alive animal was fully cremated to it's per pound timing, were about to consume an enormous ball of listeria until I/We stepped in and maintained that one may not simply "eat around" the uncooked bits of the foul largesse. I/We apologize to all of you, and maintain that I/We did indeed save the day of "Thanksgiving" (for full FBoT Thanksgiving coverage, please send a SASE to: FBoT, USA).
In other concern, I/We at FBoT are concerned that you, dear reader, may be tiring of our pronoun confusion. Fear not, I/We have decided to investigate a support group that allows for all pronoun affiliations and denotations; I/We only want to be accepted in a world that shows an unrelenting prejudice toward pronoun insecurity/confusion. Please abide.
I/We have little else to report at this moment, save for the invasion of the fetal planting that remains within the FBoT host body. Said parasite seems to be faring well, moving rapidly, and demanding a tremendous amount of non-listeria-based comestibles. I/We try to meet it's needs, but frequently cannot estimate what sort of comestibles the parasite desires. Highly frustrating.
Until future time,
I/We
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
An Article, a Blog, an Essay, a Notation
tor'por: n. [Lat. < torpere, to be numb.] 1. Mental or physical inactivity or insensibility : SLUGGISHNESS. 2. Lethargy : apathy.
Welcome to Fluffy Bits o' Torpor. No exclamation. Here's another blogger with another blog, blogging about bloggy blogoblogs. Nothing to see here, folks. Move on. Really, wouldn't you rather enjoy some tantalizing story about "Photoshop Disasters" or "One Red Paperclip" or "Movie in a Bottle?" At those blogs, you will find informative, well-designed, heartened stories from people who have inspired and intelligent thoughts. Here at FBoT (FBoT Sad Robots (tm) will reach market this Christmas), you might get a bit of that, but mostly you'll read about your garden-variety lazy-crazy person (or people, as I/We haven't decided if I/We are a We, or an I).
Firstly, I/We must state that FBoT is not pleased with the designation and deterioration of the common "tab" function within the blog realm. I/We are forced to indent new paragraphs by utilizing the space bar. If an FBoT reader can send me some sort of electronic message to let me know how to function the tab on my MacSelectric, I'd/We'd be pleased as peas. Perhaps I/We may simply take a picture of what has been written using the ol' Bic, and scantron it into the comptrolla.
This may or may not be a site suitable for all. FBoT does not claim to induce amusement, laughter, or productive thought. FBoT refuses to admit or adhere to any liability FBoT may be accused of admonishing, big words, big words, I/We are smarter when we use big words. Please note that FBoT is not a safe space for black-market goods, including fruits, vegetables, babies, Jimmy Choos, and "Three-Legged" Gumby dolls. It is advised that any sensitivity towards "swears," "cuss-words," "slang-talk," and inappropriate connotations toward "naughty things," shall not be permitted, encouraged, endorsed, or allowed. Read the previous sentence one more time for clarity. I/We at FBoT permit, encourage, endorse, and allow free speech. In summation, piss off, you conservative, sanctimonious whiners.
Should FBoT continue, a faithful reader might find a useful way to waste select moments of time, per se, the 2 1/2 minutes required to disconnect from "dial-up" communications allow for ample perusal time of FBoT. I/We are sure that FBoT may serve to cause minor eye blurriness, and this may lead to a successful misreading of pre-naptime drowsiness (FBoT Sleepy-Time Dietary Suppressant Suppositories (tm) are set to hit market this January).
Until the next Fluffy Bit o' Torpor,
Love,
I/We
Welcome to Fluffy Bits o' Torpor. No exclamation. Here's another blogger with another blog, blogging about bloggy blogoblogs. Nothing to see here, folks. Move on. Really, wouldn't you rather enjoy some tantalizing story about "Photoshop Disasters" or "One Red Paperclip" or "Movie in a Bottle?" At those blogs, you will find informative, well-designed, heartened stories from people who have inspired and intelligent thoughts. Here at FBoT (FBoT Sad Robots (tm) will reach market this Christmas), you might get a bit of that, but mostly you'll read about your garden-variety lazy-crazy person (or people, as I/We haven't decided if I/We are a We, or an I).
Firstly, I/We must state that FBoT is not pleased with the designation and deterioration of the common "tab" function within the blog realm. I/We are forced to indent new paragraphs by utilizing the space bar. If an FBoT reader can send me some sort of electronic message to let me know how to function the tab on my MacSelectric, I'd/We'd be pleased as peas. Perhaps I/We may simply take a picture of what has been written using the ol' Bic, and scantron it into the comptrolla.
This may or may not be a site suitable for all. FBoT does not claim to induce amusement, laughter, or productive thought. FBoT refuses to admit or adhere to any liability FBoT may be accused of admonishing, big words, big words, I/We are smarter when we use big words. Please note that FBoT is not a safe space for black-market goods, including fruits, vegetables, babies, Jimmy Choos, and "Three-Legged" Gumby dolls. It is advised that any sensitivity towards "swears," "cuss-words," "slang-talk," and inappropriate connotations toward "naughty things," shall not be permitted, encouraged, endorsed, or allowed. Read the previous sentence one more time for clarity. I/We at FBoT permit, encourage, endorse, and allow free speech. In summation, piss off, you conservative, sanctimonious whiners.
Should FBoT continue, a faithful reader might find a useful way to waste select moments of time, per se, the 2 1/2 minutes required to disconnect from "dial-up" communications allow for ample perusal time of FBoT. I/We are sure that FBoT may serve to cause minor eye blurriness, and this may lead to a successful misreading of pre-naptime drowsiness (FBoT Sleepy-Time Dietary Suppressant Suppositories (tm) are set to hit market this January).
Until the next Fluffy Bit o' Torpor,
Love,
I/We
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