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healingmirthI have just realized that my IM messages are riddled with (really obvious) comma splices. Odd that it seems to be restricted to IMs, or at least I hope it is. I sent an IM to a friend of mine, wondering at this oddity. The message I sent had a completely unintentional comma splice.
I am now the owner of a Rock Band game and a Wii balance board. Welcome to 2008!
Also, a new frying pan with a ceramic-based nonstick coating that will hopefully not cause my genes to mutate at a faster-than-normal rate.
Also, two new bathing suits, neither of which I hate. My thighs are another question, but I can get myself in the slightly-better shape that I need to be in to change that. It is unlikely that I would ever be able to sew a bathing suit that I don't hate, if I couldn't find one.
In less, uh, commercial news, I watched the entirety of Be Good Johnny Weir tonight. I'm not a big enough fan to watch figure skating unless it's basically the only thing on TV. I don't think I watched any of the skating in Torino - I don't remember watching any of the Torino Olympics, actually - and I didn't get back home until after the men were done in Vancouver, so I was very much not in the Johnny Weir loop, other than having a vague idea who he is.
All that watching several hours of Johnny Weir did was make me like Evan Lysacek less, in the totally irrational way that I also do not like Tom Brady. It is not Evan's fault that he is a nice, hardworking young man who appears to not want to come across badly on camera. It is probably not his fault that he has all the personality of saltines. I'm going to keep voting for him on Dancing with the Stars anyway.
I am now the owner of a Rock Band game and a Wii balance board. Welcome to 2008!
Also, a new frying pan with a ceramic-based nonstick coating that will hopefully not cause my genes to mutate at a faster-than-normal rate.
Also, two new bathing suits, neither of which I hate. My thighs are another question, but I can get myself in the slightly-better shape that I need to be in to change that. It is unlikely that I would ever be able to sew a bathing suit that I don't hate, if I couldn't find one.
In less, uh, commercial news, I watched the entirety of Be Good Johnny Weir tonight. I'm not a big enough fan to watch figure skating unless it's basically the only thing on TV. I don't think I watched any of the skating in Torino - I don't remember watching any of the Torino Olympics, actually - and I didn't get back home until after the men were done in Vancouver, so I was very much not in the Johnny Weir loop, other than having a vague idea who he is.
All that watching several hours of Johnny Weir did was make me like Evan Lysacek less, in the totally irrational way that I also do not like Tom Brady. It is not Evan's fault that he is a nice, hardworking young man who appears to not want to come across badly on camera. It is probably not his fault that he has all the personality of saltines. I'm going to keep voting for him on Dancing with the Stars anyway.
