Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Monday, August 21, 2006
The sad thing is, she could be either’s

Yesterday was a day for emotional drainage, I’ll tell you what. The fun stuff: Poppy had a 3-D ultrsound and invited me to come along with her, the hub and fam. My (childless) verdict: I highly recommend them to all the preggos out there, if for nothing else than to see your child 1) not do what the tech wants, such as stop hiding her face behind her hands and knees, and 2) flip everyone off in a very subtle way for even suggesting she listen. Seriously, though, we were all awed by the moving and the cuteness and stuff. I’m glad she let me come along for the ride. I still say, however, that what the tech called “lost data” on the sprog’s cranial region is actually a head full of dark hair that has been causing Pop hellacious heartburn, and that baby’s going to come out with a Fraggle poof. Betcha a dollar.

So after all that excitement, I watched Flight 93 all the way through for the first time. My first reaction: The only reason this is up for six Emmys or whatever is because of the subject matter, not because it’s fantastically acted or put together or anything. That, though, didn’t make it any less difficult to watch, and I found myself completely wrung out and fired up at the same time—wrung out because it brought back my day that day (a meaningful day in my life for various and sundry reasons), and fired up because I found myself wanting to fuck with some terrorists. Seriously. All I could sit there and think was, “The actions the passengers took that day—regardless of how many lives they ended up saving by diverting the plane from its target or whether the plane was already going down because the terrorist pilot was a dumbass or whatever—really put a wrench in the terrorists’ plan, and I SO would want to be responsible for that should I ever be on a plane overrun with the pigfuckers.” Saving hundreds of other people? Yeah, ok, whatever. That’s great. I want to make sure these fuckers die failures.

So all you terrorists out there, take note: Y’all ought to be real glad I don’t travel by air often, because should we ever get stuck on a plane together? You’re going to have to kill me first, because I’m going to make your mission a living hell to execute.

Posted by Broad12:42 AM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


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