Unicorn Balls

Now you can enjoy them too.





P.s. they've been there the whole time.

On Nothing Noteworthy.

An hour ago, before my internet connection decided to be bitchy, I had a blog planned. A pretty decent blog I think it might have turned out to be, too, involving country music (specifically, Brad Paisley and whippoorwills) and driving up the I-15 (specifically, driving up the I-15 with no cd player/tape deck and getting pulled over twice for going 5 over the speed limit, just because I was driving a car with California plates). But that was an hour ago.

Now, I only have 2 things to say:

1. KBGA has added Frida Hyvonen to the playlist. Which means, I have a new Scandinavian songstress to obsess over for the next couple of weeks, assuming, of course, that the album's not utter shite. If it's only kind of shite, I'll probably still listen to it on repeat.



2. I bought a new toothbrush. It's purple, and electric, and it makes my teeth feel all shiny and clean. I'm quite pleased with it.

(I am going to have to start reading again, in lieu of writing; clearly, I have exhausted my capacity for worthwhile/relevant/entertaining statements.)

My New Goal In Life.

I want a monkey in dolls' clothes to fetch me Diet Cokes from the fridge.

From the Girl with the Semi-Colon and Ellipsis Tattoos:

I can't believe I missed National Punctuation Day (September 24). The one 'holiday' I can really get behind, and I missed it.

This calls for punctuation marks manipulated to convey emotion. >:(

Next year... Next year, there will be a proper celebration. Be prepared.

An Army of Chuckys and Rubber Duckies.

Clicking through Time's Pictures of the Week for last week, I was horrified to find this:


Apparently, this week marked the 20th anniversary of the movie Child's Play. Which is all well and good, but I have to say: the only thing creepier than a movie about a possessed, evil doll is troop of Lilliputians masquerading as possessed, evil dolls. It's like fucking Point Break meets Goosebumps meets the corner of Hell and my nightmares (and, apparently, 49th St.) When this image finally loaded, I thought I was going to retch all over my keyboard.

Fortunately, I managed to keep my coffee down and continue browsing the images chosen to represent this week in history, and came across this:


Last Sunday was The Great British Duck Race! 165,000 rubber ducks floating down the Thames! In case y'all failed to notice, I have a penchant for the whimsical, and The Great British Duck Race is as whimsical as it gets. I can't help but think of Friendly Floatees (which have always fascinated and delighted me) and Pooh-sticks (which I'll never tire of).

With all of the 'grown up' life decisions and stress and financial responsibilities that I've been concentrating on, I needed the ducks. Maybe it's frivolous, but the idea of hundreds of thousands of rubber ducks wafting down the Thames suddenly made all the rest of the shit that's been weighing me down seem... irrelevant.

Life is absurd. But totally worth it.

I just needed a reminder.

Full Story at 11.

So, the top story on CNN.com this afternoon is about Utah's decision to move their state workers to a four-day work week. Yay! All of those women now get to spend Fridays with their kids! Second billing goes to an article about cheating spouses, cleverly titled "Spouses Caught Cheating" (perhaps in response to Jamie Lynn Spears' fiance cheating on her while she was pregnant, as I learned of today.) HilRodClint gets her name placed into nomination at convention, for whatever that's worth. And some Rice student was arrested in Berkeley for disappearing/assuming a false identity. Stuff about Georgia, someone got shot, suicide bombers in Iraq, etc., etc., so on and so forth.

In other news, Amy Winehouse's dad is fucking pissed off that some one spiked her drink with ecstasy, resulting in a trip (ha) to the hospital. ScarJo kissed Penelope Cruz, which sounded like it would be fairly exciting, until I realized that it was for Woody Allen's new project "Vicky Christina Barcelona." Julia Fucking Child used to be a spy for the US, which just seems unfair. Ali Lohan may or may not have had a boob job.

Oh, and apparently Christian Bale assaulted his mother and sister in some hotel before the European premiere of "The Dark Knight." So that's what they call a family: Mother, daughter, father, son. Guess everything you heard about is true.

The ocean's "dead zones" are doubling. There're problems with the iPhone. Bigfoot was caught. Again. Some insects breathe underwater by carrying their own air-bubble, thus thereby eliminating the need to come up for air.

And "researchers claim that women start their adult lives happier than men, but from the age of 48 onwards are more glum." Which gives me something to look forward to, I guess. Apparently, the other contributers to this blog might "tend to be unfulfilled during their 20s, both financially and in their family lives, which makes them miserable. But by middle age, men have fulfilled their financial and family life goals and have cheered up." Whereas women just get sadder and sadder. Except, perhaps, those women in Utah who now get three-day weekends...

Remind me again why anyone reads the news?