For the past few weeks, my new blogging friend and now generous host, Nancy, has been working tirelessly on a new template for Sugarfused, as well as having to contend with importing files from Radio to Movable Type. ***hugs Nancy*** I know I haven't been easy to work with lol! I'm excited, but a little nervous as well. Movable Type is a whole new world to me, but I'm looking forward to learning more as time goes by. This exisiting weblog will be up until the Radio subscription expires next month. All future posts will be at the NEW LOCATION. Please update your blogrolls and bookmarks!
Champagne and silly-looking party hats are welcome! Besides...tomorrow is a holiday and you can sleep late ;)
When I was a child in the 1960s the bathing suit for the mature figure was boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn as engineered.
They were built to hold back and uplift and they did a good job.
Today's stretch fabrics are designed for the prepubescent girl with a figure carved from a potato chip.
The mature woman has a choice-she can either go up front to the maternity department and try on a floral suit with a skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus who escaped from Disney's Fantasia or she can wander around every run of the mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of florescent rubber bands.
What choice did I have? I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the fitting room.
The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile strength of the stretch material.
The Lycra used in bathing costumes was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which give the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you are protected from shark attacks as any shark taking a swipe at your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.
I fought my way into the bathing suit, but as I twanged the shoulder strap in place, I gasped in horror my boobs had disappeared!
Eventually, I found one boob cowering under my left armpit. It took a while to find the other. At last I located it flattened beside my seventh rib..
The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups. The mature woman is meant to wear her boobs spread across her chest like a speed bump.
I realigned my speed bump and lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.
The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it only fit those bits of me willing to stay inside it.
The rest of me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom, and sides.
I looked like a lump of play dough wearing undersized cling wrap.
As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the prepubescent sales girl popped her head through the curtain, "Oh, there you are!", she said, admiring the bathing suit.
I replied that I wasn't so sure and asked what else she had to show me.
I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me look like a lump of masking tape, and a floral two piece which gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in a serving ring.
I struggled into a pair of leopard skin bathers with ragged frills and came out looking like Tarzan's Jane, pregnant with triplets and having a rough day.
I tried on a black number with a midriff and looked like a jellyfish in mourning.
I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear them.
Finally, I found a suit that fit...a two-piece affair with a shorts style bottom and a loose blouse-type top.
It was cheap, comfortable, and bulge-friendly, so I bought it. My ridiculous search had a successful outcome, I figured. When I got home, I found a label which read -- "Material might become transparent in water."
So, if you happen to be on the beach or near any other body of water this year and I'm there too ... I'll be the one in cut off jeans and a t-shirt!
"The Meow Mix cat food company said Tuesday it is launching a new TV program for "cats and the humans they tolerate," littered with scenes of squirrels, cat poetry, and lots and lots of cats."
"Actress Sandra Bernhard -- who Thompson said is a cat fan -- reads aloud "Cat Haikus," and viewers can send in birthday "shout-outs" to their cats, along with footage of their cats doing "something cool." The first episode features a cat that eats his meals with chopsticks and another cat that surfs in the ocean." FULL STORY
"Listen, I've been around Hollywood for a long, long time, and this reeks of a contrived, phony ending," a top executive from a rival network charged Thursday morning. "No one here believes for one second the votes landed just 1,300 apart. It's a disgrace... in fact, I think we are looking at a modern day version of the $64,000 question!"
And if you don't already know....Clay outsells Ruben 10-1 on Amazon with his yet-to-be-released CD. I'm not suprised at the controversy, but an internal audit is a waste of time. If you want to talk about a reality show being contrived, let's not forget "Mr. Personality".
Congrats to Ruben on winning American Idol last night. It went pretty much as I'd expected. Both those guys are class acts in my book, but obviously someone had to be on the losing end. And yep, I love that "Flying Without Wings" song Ruben sang. Just call me sappy....
First found at Joe's place and read again at Blogshares News. Could someone translate this into simple terms for me? I've used the P/E as an indicator for buying/selling under the impression that 3.50 is around average. Now it's 50?? A P/E of 50?? I gotta change my stategy... lol
Changes to P/E boundaries
I've relaxed the boundaries for P/E ratios to accomodate the increased capital available. UPDATE: The limit has been raised to 200 (see below).
The top P/E boundary for buying / selling with the public market is now 100 200 (previously 7.5). Which means the center for P/E is about 50 (previously about 3.75).
The top P/E boundary for an automatic collapse of the price is now 20,000 (previously 20). This means if the P/E goes over 20,000 the price will collapse to a point where the P/E is 1.0
Secretary spent the day at home with feet elevated. Menu: watermelon (breakfast, lunch and dinner). Baby's mood: well-fed and cozy - elbows and knees extended north, south, east and west. Secretary mood: contrary as hell. Secretary's husband: scared sh*tless ;) 6:53:35 PM
Bound by a dream
Breathing in a flutter of wings and supple suede where Pleasure and Pain live beyond memory
In a moment of Communion I recall a Dream Of tearful, beautiful bliss
I lived another life Over and over the lashes of a whip falling deeply speaking into the whole space of me
Slowly Dream, slowling, Bind up the moonlight Sear it into my soul and know that I shall lay with You Forever.
Noren Eron, the great Norse comic decided to bring his act to America. He booked several shows in the northern states and did well.
He then took his act down south, but he realized that the farther south he went, the less the crowd appreciated his act which had the poor guy miffed. When he got to the Deep South, no one got his act at all. After many disappointing sets, he just quit one night and returned to Norway.
This goes to show you: You should never book a miffed Norse in the South.
....or does anyone else find Blogshares to be an incrediblySLOW loading site? Maybe it's my impatient nature, but it seems to take forever to get a page up, and I'm using a high-speed connection here. Imagine my frustation at home on the dial-up. Arghhh
Driving to work this morning I caught a glimpse of a tall and willowy young black girl; hair dark and smooth pulled back tight into a ponytail falling long to the small of her back. Classic beauty in motion. A twenty-ish latte in navy slacks and white silk blouse. Coltish, too - narrow and long legged. I slowed to watch her continue across the street making her way into an office building, envious of her youth, her body, her good hair day. It was only as I passed around her that I noticed the fuzzy Garfield bedroom slippers on her feet. I smiled all the way to work. 11:02:20 AM