Fancy cravings, nice smell

Sprung

Obama! Right now!

@SarahRiley Do hugs with today

Perhaps the most perfect, weather-wise. Received some fun Grey's Anatomy shwag yesterday: a blank book, pen And shopping bag that has its own bag, all emblazoned with the show's name.
I have been to the river already and now have grilled for the first time this season. Next stop, tubing!
The weather makes me jolly.
I am on twitter now, more often.

Not the colors of the outside world

The opposite of today

Brunch was proper/ no swine or copper

Text to blog curiousury

Fun for under a dollar!

Who knew feeder fish were only 20 cents each?

In hiding from the big bad feeder fish

Nothing would be better than making it to the one hundred mark and getting paid to blog. So far I have been hesitant to mention advertising, to an extent, but now, from now on, from here on out, I will be pushing the clicking of my advertising so much. So very much.

I love it when old things come out of something new

Strike that, reverse it. I was just got up when I wrote that with two thumbs and a phone. The computer speakers Mike left got pilfered to the brown house so I fashioned a sound music box out of an old radio, sound to 8th inch jack co-ax and an i-Pod. The RCA has great sound and is entertaining to look at while rocking out to something other than NPR.

The last two posts were simple cases of Bloggus Interruptus and not much to say. I love Alf, that's the last page of my phone's app. They are seldom used but hard to delete. I have yet to write anything in Morse or gesture draw from the random poses but the intentions are there.

Let's learn about iPhone apps

Max is back! (And Mom!)

Just kidding, even though Max is cooler than a black president he
cannot buy me fresh groceries and listen to my every ache and pain.
It is good timing. Not wanting to be unlike Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel my last beau Jubal and I have parted ways permanently, which has left me feeling responsible and melancholy. But Spring is here, the scooter is in the shop and we have been kite flying amicably.
School is winding down and that means I have actually started to talk
to my classmates. They are fun, varied in personality and laugh at all
my jokes. And think I'm young. And pretty, I can tell. I read people's
aura's. Slappa da bass.

The Parrot is me

What good comes from blogging, you might ask. Is it all for naught?
Nay, I say. Is it all for awesome? Definitely not, but it is for handy.
For example, por ejemplo, I have a sinus infection. And, being resistant to taking antibiotics for fear of building a resistance, I am willing to admit now that I need white man medicine. Because, and this is the kicker, I noticed that on April 6th I wrote about my boogies way back then.
My face hurts, I keep popping in my contacts to alleviate the frame pain on my cheek bones.
And I am doing that disconcerting commercial office worker sinus pain face that includes the taking on and off the glasses, scrunching of the face and gentle caressing the half moon areas under my eyes. Generic pain is so boring to me.
Also, I think I judge people too harshly for how much sweetener they use in their hot beverages.
And today I decided that I must contact John Cameron Mitchell because I have a rock opera idea fully manifested.
It is called Mothball and it is a 1999 CD by an old co-worker and friend named Jovie.
I have intermittently tried to find Jovie over the years and he is off the interweb grid, which makes sense in retrospect.
His sister legally changed her name to Povonka Wonka and I want to adapt his album into musical theater. If it is a hit then it will help to find him. If it is not than we don't have to worry about paying royalties or copyrights.
I had a crush on him wicked bad, I think he had Crohn's which made him pained and mysterious. He had a box of 500 of his CD that he would reguarly just give away. It is an amazing album. I like to sing along to it. Which is neat for a friend CD.
No Offense, friends.
What good comes from blogging, you might ask.

Rendezvous

They like the cars that go boom.

Playing door swipe with kitty

The light at 7 yesterday

Things have been none too simple here at the Chez casa Casa Sarah Riley. Sickness and miserable change has been overwhelming my everyday activities, every day is a composite of every other day rearranged to seem unfamiliar. Maggie has been terrorized three days in a row now by the black cat that lives downstairs. He does not fear me either and when I finally tried to hiss him off the porch he just cried and cried. Which was too much for me to bear. I am very close to padding down in my bathrobe and unloosing a month long mess of frustration over this outdoor bully pussy.
Banker's boxes have been my new best friend instead.

I figured out how to set my alarm clock to gently rouse me to music and this morning the super shuffle function roused me with Band of Horses, a song titled "I go to the barn because I like. . ." The ellipsis is screen based, the song title ends but the tiny iPhone/iTunes interface doesn't allow it.
It opens with, "I'd like to think/
I'm the mess/
you'd wear with priiiiiiiiide. . .
Outside/
by your door step/
near the warm house/
in a worn out suit and tiiiiiiie/

Very pleasant to wake to especially coupled with the following Drunk Trumpet melody by Kid Koala and then a little Dabrye.
It's like the super random shuffle function knew that it was 8 in the morning and wanted to rouse me with gentleness and not Chamillionaire or Fat Worm of Error.

Cat house

When you are engulfed in genius

I saw David Sedaris last night at the Fine Art's Center at UMASS. I had an amazing seat and when he started talking about his own, complicated relationship with the news and media and politics I wept silent tears of appreciation. He interjected the occasional and very familiar "Obama!", the joy shout-out and and an expression of relief representing change and journey and dreams. More tears. He sang the kookaburra song and read from his diary. He talked some sex talk surprisingly and reccomended audible.com, x-tube and Alan Bennett. He was on Percocets for passing a kidney stone and at one point, while he was discussing frying potatoes in his own excess body fat from a lump in his chest, I couldn't help but think that the drugs were working.
At the end were lame Q and A's ("What does your family think of you writing about them?" or "Where is you favorite hotel?") and then that was it.
Today my snot is colored and I have a crick in my chest that I care to ignore. The turtle tank is taking precedent to homework, dressing or breakfast. It is cold and grey, wet and rainy and I mirror the world with my own aches and pains.
Obama!

Bad Habits, revisited

I buy a new bottle of cocktail sauce every time I get shrimps. I base deodorant purchases on their name and packaging. I wore Old Spice for a decade until recently. I am usually followed around by Big Y management because they think I tried to steal some White-Out a long while ago. I always forget about the shenanigans and sometimes try to pay by cheque which sends their Amber Alert off. I did not steal the said stationary item but my purse was open and the chuck shot from the bread aisle caused them to notice the landing. I, on the other hand, had not. I pretend that they are secret agents keeping an eye on me and ignore their diligence.
Or, I could be paranoid.
When I wore Old Spice the name mattered then. Showtime was my last stick and only because I lost it somewhere and decided that it was time to move on. The Degree formulated for lady bar I just bought is called Sexy Intrigue. Sexy Intrigue for my armpits.