do you believe in planets?

someone needs to write a handbook

Not sure I understand the contours of our political landscape when it comes to gestures--what's in, what's out; what's appropriate and presidential, what's "hood."

Apparently--that is to say, guessing by the silly-ass media hullabaloo surrounding it waaaaaay back in, meeeh, August--there's somethin' kooky about a half-black, half-white man fist-bumping his wife on the campaign trail.

By the way, doesn't that sound dirty?  "Fist-bumping his wife"?  Fist bumping? How about "giving the fist bump to"?  Still dirty.  Bumping fists with?  Sounds like... a euphemism for something dirty. Like, "I want to purple dinosaur Barack Obama!"  We all know what purple dinosaur means in this context, right?  Well, try replacing "fists" with "uglies." 

My apologies.  Truly, I: a) can't help myself, and b) digress.

Anyheeeww, riddle me this:  why isn't anyone up in arms about the below-pictured hella-ancient former president fist-bumping the below-pictured hella-emaciated former tennis pro?  Hmmmmmm? 

It all stinks of some lewd kind of conspiracy--and if we want to talk about bumpin' whatever and dinosaurs of any hue in connection with that second image, we can take "stinks" and "lewd" in all kinds of horrifying directions. 

AND THEN. As if the fist-bumping/purple dinosaur issue weren't baffling enough:

!!!!!

Apparently there's nothing kooky at all about a crazy-ass  rifle-totin' jesus-lovin' white lady rockin' the devil horns.  Right?

I suppose, so as long she's decked out in Marc Jacobs and Prada, we don't give a--how you say--hoot. Oh, gosh golly, you really let one slide der yoh gotcha media.  You are to the presidential election as DYBIP.typepad.com is to professional tennis. And by that, I of course mean AWESOME JOB.

So anyway, about that handbook. Karl?  MBIMOTMOG? (rise, rise from the ashes!)

breakfast shoes; deep thought

Classiness and sharp wit abound around the campfire.

Or maybe we were just really, really stoned.

Just when you thought it couldn't get more profound:

Hippies.

mind barely functioning. this is what you get.

the good life...

Ah, wedded bliss! Aren't we just the posterfamily of wholesomeness?

What do you mean, "LOL"? I am a maternal force to be reckoned with!

Yes, that IS an actual baby between Reese and me.

Yes, that IS a champagne bottle in my hand.

still easily amused.

[click on the image to see a bigger version]

Tee-hee!

easily amused...

...

!

comic relieves (and DRANK)

did I mention that I have a student named THOR this term? and that he's AMERICAN?!?!?

BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHaaa!

I am such a childish ass. AND I'm going to get like eight Thors/mothers of Thors/friends of thors surfing in here through some lame google search being all like, "waaaaah I have sand in my vagina!" To which I will reply, "VASELINE!"

Be glad you didn't get emails, bitches (unless you're jennifer or rah, in which case--sorry ladies).

update; prancy little deer

Dear Sirs and Madames:

Among other things, this post will demonstrate how a college freshman writes immediately after he/she has "discovered" that magical piece of punctuation known as the semicolon; this post should irritate the living shit out of you if you have any sensibilities whatsoever.

So I hoped that by this weekend I would have some official news for y'all concerning the results of a certain interview with a certain institution of higher education; however, I have not yet received "the email," and I leave tomorrow noon for a wifi-free weekend on the coast. That's right, the west coast; that's right, the west coast of the United States.

Reese's birfday = this past week, Tara's = next week, => they are renting a beach house and having a joint birfday party with about twelve total attendees; one night of drunken karaoke in Portland wasn't enough birfday for Reese, apparently. The ordeal could provide precisely the brand of relaxation I so crave--campfires, irish coffees, and foggy mornings on the beach; it could, on the other hand, entail a great deal of alcohol and the necessarily ensuing hijinks. With at least a little luck, no one will drown; with a tad more luck, I might actually get to sleep in a bed.

NOTICE: I've uncovered in my Aperture archives a whole shitton of photos from San Francisco that I had deemed lost; make YourLizabeff happy and go look at them. I still need to post the ones of Cafe Vesuvio and that whole neighborhood; that will have to wait until after my minibreak.

Love,
Ebeff

P.S. God help me; that deer photo cracks me the fuck up.

well played, cody. well played.

Perhaps only Mary will understand why I almost fell out of my chair laughing when I saw Cody's, errr, "comment":

The only thing that bothers me? Tyra actually looks like the sweet, innocent one in this pairing.