Bunderwear has the gall to ask me why I haven't posted a follow-up informing the loyal reading public as to what Mrs.Ear and I did on our 10th wedding anniversary. #1 - As I told you, I'm still working on the powerpoint presentation. #2 - You are in charge of the blog now. YOU post something about my 10th wedding anniversary. Then I'll sit back and write smug anonymous comments. You know the old saying, "Turn-around, it's fair play."
In other news, this kind of thing always intrigues me. What, you are surely asking yourself, makes this so remarkable? This young lady lists among her many accomplishments that she was "born underwater." Firstly, I am not sure that it is fair to take credit for the actions of your mother or in her choice of where to ejaculate you from her crotch. Secondly, I personally have known several carp who were "born underwater," and they never got their own websites.
There is also a religiosity about this website which might easily be attributed to pandering. Such attribution would not seem far-fetched given what seems to be going on. The term "self-aggrandizement" comes to mind, only it is someone whom this particular self excreted that is being aggrandized.
This is what makes it intriguing. All of this is going on, as it is happening in so many "American Idle" inspired households, and yet beneath the nonsense, there is something bubbling which seems almost artistic. http://www.artakiane.com/akiane_art.htm#
We seem comfortable with the realization that art can emerge out of extremely harsh circumstances. It is much tougher to stomach the reality that Justin Timberlake actually has some talent. But there it is.
It reminds me of a meme.
Now, what the hell did I do on my anniversary?
7 comments:
yeah, Bunderwear, what'd he do? What'd he do? Little different having your Bunderwear underwear on the other foot, huh? Why don't you get Mrs. Bunderwear to chime in and say we're all gay? Even the one on rat poison, drinking his way to the wharf. Which, by the way, is strictly contraindicated when taking rat poison; the idea is that when you die of the rat poison, you should be sober and miserable for the full effect.
Who do you suppose took the little nibbles in the beginning to determine that you could use the stuff to kill rats AND, in just the right sized nibble, give it to humans with bad hearts and not completely kill them? I wish we could still do studies like THAT.
Nibble.
Nibble.
Nibble.
Nibble.
oops, that one died.
Three nibbles seems to be the correct amount to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
Three nibbles if you are not, of course, stinking of gin again on a Friday, OneEar. Can I contribute in any way to your life insurance policy and have my name added as a beneficiary? It seems like just a matter of time at the rate you're chasing your coumadin with booze.
Is OneEar pouring Warfarin whiskey sours?
You know, it doesn't exactly inspire confidence when a physician is betting on one's death. I do take comfort in the fact that you have been so consistently and uniformly wrong in your diagnoses of my injuries.
I must admit that I placed the same bet myself when I renewed my term life insurance 2 years ago. "I bet you I'll die," I said. "We bet you won't," they said. Silly actuaries.
Litzi, I call them coumatinis.
OneEar, "betting" and "insurance" are two entirely different things. There must be a lot of things that make them totally different. There just must be.
My diagnoses are always correct; it's your egocentricity that makes you think that when I spout diagnostic knowledge in your vicinity about something that has affected you that it somehow relates to "you" and "your" diagnoses. You've really got to focus on the linguistic details. I shouldn't have to tell an attorney THAT. It's just words, for God's sake. Why so expensive?
Today is Akiane's Birthday. Happy Birthday Akiane!
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