…or anybody else with two Oscars. Because Emma Thompson says so. Yeah!

Wonder if it’s still cooler after three … Oscars, that is.

I know of nobody who can get more mileage out of a good rant than she does. And this after more or less giving up politics/news blogging. At the risk of propelling Anne the LifePundit into a flame war over the relative value of cats and dogs:

Can your asshole cat bite the nuts off a burglar? I think not.

Hey. At least I found something I wanted to blog today.

I mean, Nathan and Joss are both obviously broiling under the lights. C’mon, what did you think I meant?

At the rec center.

Young teenage boy: “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Older teenage boy: “No, I don’t need one, man. It’s summer.”

What the hell do you mean, “It’s not Friday?” I’ve had enough week for one week, thanks. And judging by Fug Girl Heather’s take, the mustache of Robert Downey, Jr., has pushed her over into that territory too.

Robert Downey, Jr. Mustache. The man who single-handedly could have saved Ally McBeal (girl and show both) had he been able to stay out of the blow instead of leaving her to fishtail off into “long-lost daughter” and “Jon Bon Jovi” territory. Mustache. As Heather so impassionedly points out, you’re not Tom Selleck, dude.

2) If you intend the weapon to give you plausible deniability for secret laser blasts, you probably shouldn’t announce, “Hey, check this cool shit out! We have an invisible high-powered laser letting us melt a bitch with plausible deniability!”

–Ace

I know of no other blogger who can say “melt a bitch” with quite the same … gravitas.

Wow. Twelve thousand calories a day. And what calories! I think even Pippin would have turned his nose up at pizza.

Via Hot Air.

Zabaduba again, to be specific. And I remember the lining up. For the morass of digital images that was Episode I. So I know that his commenter has a point too. Sadly.

Except painted faces at a Cubs game, or any baseball game, are far rarer than at a football game. FYI. Baseball fans don’t want that paint all up in their beer.

This is why I’m an editor rather than a writer, because even when I suspect that what I’m thinking would resonate with a lot of other people, I never think to write it up that way, much less be funny about it. Hence Fug Girl Jessica: “Please, no one watched that.”

I love me some Scully and Mulder too, but … let’s just say I’m reserving the right to “meh” over this movie.

I’m a mother prone to a little hyperbole. “You took the longest nap in the world!” is a regular comment of mine on the rare occasions when the Bean does nap. Because he’s still battling jet lag, he’s been napping quite a bit this week. He’s always accepted uncritically the idea that whatever we’re talking about at the moment was the [biggest, best, coolest, longest] in the world. Until last night. He looked at me suspiciously and remarked, “Some people take longer ones.”

Sigh.

A woman blogger who makes Rachl Lukis look like a little ray of sunshine dancing on the wall for your amusement. Don’t believe me by this post or this one? Try reading her “About” blurb.

Can we sic this woman on Rachel’s Idiot Angry A(nti)theists?

Via my friend, Miri’s dad, Godwin the Garter Knight, who suggests we find and kiss this woman on the mouth. Dude … you can try. Send me the video.

Everybody remember this?

Have a great long weekend.

A phrase from Mr. Sippican Cottage has stuck with me: “…skinny from mindless exertions and not work…”

It’s a phrase from one of his “flash fictions,” to be sure … and there’s no saying (at least not by me) how much of his characters’ thought represents author’s voice. But I tell you this: I’m not much in favor of mindless exertions myself, so if you can find me a household chore or some productive work that will strenthen my abdomen muscles, weaker now than at any other time in my life after being stretched over a baby-laden uterus, as well as diminish the soft little pouch of fat thereon, I’d happily do it rather than the Pilates I keep putting off from day to day. That is all.