Now, really. First of all, I don’t EVEN know what would have made Mister Seller come to such a conclusion, because we’ve never thrown our hands in the air and Praised the Lawd, we’ve never been spotted walking into a church, we’ve never even discussed The Lawd and His Teachings with Mister Seller. If I’ve ever done anything but smile and wave in the general direction of Mister Seller, I would be amazed. Perhaps it was the lack of “Motherfucks” and “GodDAMNs” laced through Fred’s inquiry as to how much Mister Seller would be selling his house for that led him to this belief.
Secondly of all, JUST HOW IN THE HOLY FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO ANSWER SUCH AN ACCUSATION? What, do I shake my head and sternly say “Mister Seller is quite mistaken. Please leave my house immediately, in the name of Satan and all his Minions.”? Shake my head and say “The day I step across the threshold of a church is the day lightning will immediately strike me dead.”? Shake my head and growl “Now, that is none of your GODDAMNED BUSINESS, WOMAN.”? Yell Allahu akbar and detonate myself?
Instead, I smiled and nodded and changed the subject. Hopefully it won’t bite me in the ass in the form of her coming a-knockin’ on Sunday mornings, asking if I want to join her at church.
* * *
Y’all, anyone who has the same kind of glasses as my new ones, when I said they were “unattractive”, what I meant is that they were not the most attractive glasses for my dark-circled eyes. Not attractive on ME. You, I am sure, look SMASHING in them.
* * *
Canned yesterday: five pints of salsa (Fred made me put three green peppers, one habanero, and five jalapeños in the salsa. Guess who won’t be eating any of THAT salsa?
Also, I finished up my red cinnamon pickles and canned them. I’m going to let them sit for a bit before I give them a try. I hope they ROCK.
The bread and butter pickles I mentioned in yesterday’s entry is
this recipe. Clearly I made some changes to the recipe, and it works well for me.
If you’ve got a kick-ass bread and butter pickle recipe that doesn’t end up with nasty, limp pickles, feel free to share!
* * *
Why does Holly Hunter always talk out of the side of her mouth? It’s very odd. It’s annoying and distracting and I’m not sure I can continue to watch Saving Grace unless Kenneth Johnson (“Lem” to we lovers of The Shield; “Ham” on Saving Grace) walks nekkidly across the screen. Maybe he needs to stop and do some deep-knee bends, too. And if there were a nekkid embrace between he and “Butch”, and maybe a little kiss with some tongue…
Um, what? What was I saying? I think I lost a little time there.
I’m not sure a police detective who appears to be as well-regarded in her field as Grace Hanadarko (Holly Hunter) would be walking around with her frazzled hair flying in all directions. Surely she’d be dropping hair all over the crime scenes. Isn’t that, like, a no-no?
Also, Laura San Giacomo’s character’s immediate and unquestioning acceptance of the idea that her dear friend is regularly seeing and speaking to an angel has my bullshit detector allllll the way over in the red zone.
For the record, you come and tell me you’re seeing and talking to a tobacco-chewing angel named Earl, you’d better be bringing Earl along with you, and he’d better be prepared to do some nifty tricks (see above re: Ham and Butch and nekkidness), or I’ll be avoiding you but quick.
In case you were wondering.
* * *
Speaking of television shows, I’m still watching (and digging) Big Love, and I have got to say: that actor who plays
Alby Grant is one creepy motherfucker.
And he’s got some seriously mean eyes. I for sure wouldn’t want to run into HIM in a dark alley.
Speaking of Big Love, I saw a woman at the post office yesterday who bore a striking resemblance to
Mary Kay Place. I wanted to ask her how Roman was doing, but she didn’t look like she was up for discussing THAT particular topic.
Lastly, you know how
Nicki‘s kid (Wayne, I think?) always calls Bill “Father”? Every time he does that, it makes me nervous. Because how long will it be before they’re out in public and someone who doesn’t know of Bill’s polygamist ways hears the kid call him “Father” and the jig will be up? Doesn’t the child have friends to whom he accidentally lets it slip that his father is married to three women?
PS:
Melora Walters will always, always be Jessie from
Boogie Nights to me.
PPS: LOVE that crazy
Lois. LOVE HER.
* * *
Holy CRAP someone needs some o’ them tooth-whitening strips, pronto.
* * *
Previously
2006: It’s been a year since we found Crooked Acres. Hard to believe.
2005: They are NAS-TAY, and trust me when I say that you’d be better off never bothering to try the nasty things.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: Looking at this hormone-laden piece of meat makes me… well, it makes me kinda drool, actually.
2001: I just smiled and nodded and kept walkin’.
2000: Mustard algae. Why must he doubt me?]]>