sweasel.com

Yay, you fixed it.
Ok – So I am the kind of person who can’t be told something’s broken until I try it for myself. A few months ago, I was told my friend passed away in his sleep and I called his cell phone just to make sure. My husband asked me what would I have done if someone had answered.

No I didn’t! I was just sitting here with my thumb up my ass reading Not Hired for laughs (which isn’t what I should be doing, as I have an actual job with an actual deadline at the moment).

Somebody at my host must’ve come through for me.

Yesss! I just checked, and they closed my problem ticket. Thank you, unnamed cubicle drone at my web host! You are the wind beneath my desk!

Yippie!!
We missed you. Now on to comment on this comment a thread or two back…

(you know how it is — you’re always having sex on the kitchen table when the vicar always drops by for tea).

Like I said over at LK’s, when you have us all over for tea, please let us know what you use as a kitchen table. So we can sit somewheres else. 🙂

Oh, PnB. Like we’d ever let a vicar in the house!

Gosh, I missed you guys! I made you a pie, but I eated it. Phew! It smells like unhappy weasel in here.

I has a spam! Omigosh, I’ve never been so happy to see a spam before. Not counting that one selling O>

Hey, lookee here, its not Brokeblog Valley on endless re-loop.

Damn, and we had all those great Biden moments yesterday.

Ranger Biden scales the cliffs at Pont du Hoc, Afghanistan.

Doctor Biden gives sound medical advice such as stem cells fixing Down’s.

I had the most delicious slice of Bidenfreude.

Welcome back!

Thank you, unnamed cubicle drone at my web host! You are the wind beneath my desk!

Gassy?

Attention shoppers! Age is a motherfucker:

That is all.

you’re always having sex on the kitchen table when the vicar always drops by for tea

Vicar? Over for tea?

Honestly, the only time I’ve encountered “vicar” is in British literature and other uses by Brits or with regard to Brit shows. (Or in “Vicar of Christ” used by Catholics.)

You’re too Britified for us ‘Mericans now, too far gone.

I’m so happy the comments are back up! I love y’all!

Ah, but McCain makes beautiful babies….

http://memyselfandhi.files.wordpress.com/2008/04/041.jpg

Not Hired is amazing!

And such a time-waster!

I love it!

Welcome back Weas. Glad to see your time in Purgatory is over.

Wahoo! Review is over, I got tomorrow off, and I can go home and build a doghouse.

And tonight is the season close of Burn Notice. Which is good, and it is bad.

We have a vicar, Musli. I haven’t met her yet. Yes, her. OUR VICAR IS A GIRL! Really, my dear!

Uncle B met her at the annual parrish meeting (not kidding. Half of Britain was designed by Disney engineers to make Americans go “awwwwww”). He said she was a very nice older lady. And then, being Uncle B, he started arguing with her about the tenets of Christianity.

Attention shoppers! Age is a motherfucker:

No shit. Last time I paid attention to myself was before I had chirrens. After driving my son off to college, I passed a mirror and went, WTF?

Many of the things I was told as a youth turned out to be purest essence of bullshit, PnB, but that thing about being 18 in your brain and 50 in the mirror? Totally true.

Welp, a nice young couple looked the house. And they liked it. But (and this is the second time it’s happened to me!) this was the first house they’d looked at, and they wanted to look around some more. I don’t blame them, but <sigh>.

I asked the agent if we still had a lot of foreclosures going on, and she said brightly, “none on your street!” and when I made a moaning noise, she added, “I couldn’t have said that a month ago.”

So! The Great American Realestate Ass-reaming continues apace.

You need some cachet Weasel. P-shop up a news article about a ghastly murder that occurred on the premises, and frame it and put it on a wall. Reverse psychology kind of thing. I think it might work.

🙂

I don’t know how to break this to you, Allen — because really, GMTA and all, I would find that real attractive — but infamous gory murders tend to be price depressers. Who knew?

I kept telling Uncle B, during all the long years we looked at houses we couldn’t afford, that we really needed a property with an axe murder on its resume.

Really? Who would have guessed. 🙂

On one of the routes I take horseback riding I stay overnight on Indian land. There’s a burial ground nearby. Sends a tingle up my leg that does.

Sends a tingle up my leg that does.

Sure it isn’t Obamaniasis?

“Vicar” is very Anglican, I think. I don’t know if they use that term here in the States, though. But it’s very Anglican, that’s for sure. Hence its use by Brits. And now you.

Uncle B sounds like fun. I’d love to see that discussion. I’d never get involved, but it would be fun to see.

I’d pay to see Uncle B debate a Muslim.

Allen, you seem particularly mischievous lately. Or is it you are just springing back? Weasel needs reverse-reverse-psychology, not just reverse-psychology. Classic blunder, my friend.

Age. It’s *sneaky*. I looked in the mirror, pulled a pnb “WTF?” and slowly came to grips with the fact that if anything, the decline into a grey goatee has accelerated. It’s just not freakin’ linear in any way. At this rate, I’ll be as white as Steve Martin by next year and I won’t look nearly as distinguished.

There is a lot of truth to the saying “Youth is wasted on the young.”

Comments are up? Well, I still *heart* S.Weasel. Now, I shall return to my regularly scheduled lurking.

Well Stoatie, in that case, you could either come up with a good haunting, or p-shop up a pic of Sarahcudda and the McCainiacs performing in your back yard….

Vicar of Dibley

You’d write books like that too if your last name was Smets.

🙂

Yay! Comments are back. Did you know you were on TV? Weasel was the question to a Jeopardy answer the other day! Something about your noisy relatives the Badgers down the street…