nft. wtf?

On a recently recieved email, the subject line reads: I like your blog. //nft.
Baffled by the nft, I quickly open the email. Nothing's there. I spend 15 minutes racking my brain as to what nft could mean. I'm stumped. I spend another 10 minutes trying to figure out what it could be if the middle word isn't f$%# or f$%#ing. Still nothing. So I reply to the sender and ask what nft stands for. Hours go by in which I am unable to completely focus on what I'm doing because n, f and t words are racing through my brain. Finally she replies. It means "no further text", thus saving me all that time of clicking on the email and discovering the horrifying news for myself.

nft.

So, as to not scar the landscape

my town continues to plant 8' trees five feet in front of every stop sign.

Could this be the best and the worst day of my life?

This morning at the exact moment that I flipped on the bathroom light someone's car alarm went off, making me feel like I set the car alarm off with the light switch. I love that. But then I got in the shower and accidentally put my conditioner on before my shampoo and I was right back where I started.

I beat the orchid.

See April 3, 2007.

The Celebrity Circle Of Life.

Last night, in three commercials I saw in succession, Alex Tribeck tried to sell me Life Insurance, Robert Wagner tried to sell me a Reverse Mortgage and Sally Field tried to sell me Osteoporosis medicine.

A very special entry.

I almost got in a wreck this morning.The car in front of me on the highway came screeching to a halt. I followed suit. In turn, each of the cars behind me did as well. Fortunately no cars made contact, but my five year old hurt his shoulders on the straps of his carseat. (I think he was really just scared.) When we got home he was still crying. I hugged him and he nearly strangled me as he hugged me back. The hug lasted a long time. I couldn't let go. I could only think about what if things had not turned out so well and I had to spend the rest of my life aching to have this moment with him just one more time.

Chickenfight!

The Beckhams vs. Brangelina!

My brand new $850 drier does not dry my clothes.

Here's a transcript of my last call to the manufacturer:
Me: It's still not drying my clothes.
Him: Well, it won't get your clothes perfectly dry.
Me: Why?
Him: It's designed to leave your clothes damp. It's better for the material.
Me: But it's called a DRIER, not a damper.
Him: It will never make them very dry. It's bad for the clothing.
Me: But I'm setting it on "VERY DRY" mode. If that mode leaves them damp, shouldn't it be called "LESS DAMP MODE"?
Him: It will never make them very dry. It's bad for the clothing.
Me: What if I were a smoker and bought a pack of cigarettes? Yes, they would be very bad for me, but I'd also be very angry if I opened the package and found asparagus.
Him: It will not ever make them very dry. It's bad for the clothing.

I could see we were getting nowhere. So I hung up and continued to fold my damp clothes. I won't tell you the name of this drier. I'm afraid my blog readership base, which is surely in the millions by now, could alter their stock unfairly.

Forget Scooter Libby. Pardon this guy!

When you rob a bank with branches hiding your face you deserve a parade, not prison. Well done, Mr. Almost-Bank-Robber-Man!

Well, this is the new Dave.

I overheard this in an office building. I don't know Dave at all, but I'm pretty sure there is no New Dave.

It's either too long or too short.

Never tell anyone how long you take in the shower.

When I'm feeling sorry for myself

I hate strangers. Not all strangers. But some.

Thunderlight = Lightning

We're all poets at 2.