Sugared Harpy

Heard on Christian radio today:

Don’t forget, on this New Year’s Eve, that you can have a GREAT time with God!

So, while you are dunking back yet another Michelob Ultra and singing “Just a Gigilo” on the floor of a country bar you didn’t intend to visit, I want you to think of God. It makes the Christian radio stations happy and they didn’t specify that having a great time with God proscribed “Just a Gigilo.”

Happy New Year! I wish you a happy and prosperous 2006!

Or, as Sara calls it, ZOOG. Everyone, let’s wish Sara the gift of fabulous vision so when she looks at her computer screen the year will not read as ZOOG.

I’ve kept this on my sidebar, but I must pointedly share with you the mind-numbing, joyous affair that is the Web Gallery of Art.

Go. Enjoy.

Please don’t wank off to the nudies at work. Jesus is in here, too.

Dear reader who found my site whilst googling, “can we eat silver balls?”,

There are really two ways to answer this questions. The long way and the short way. You know which way I’m going with it.

Aside from the obvious word, balls, I’m curious about the silver part. Silver balls? To eat? Are these the little silver dragées used in baking? If you’re in Europe, they are marked as a food item and people eat them. In the US, we are pussies and label them as decoration only. I say, eat them. If you can find them. Seems one über pussy brought a lawsuit in 2003 against American distributors and retailers of the silver balls, screaming poison! poison! But no! No one has ever been hurt by them! But yikes! Potential poison! If maybe, you eat like, eleventy billion pounds of silver dragées! Danger!

Pussy.

Eat them if you feel like being European and cool. And because you aren’t a pussy. But you have to buy them in France because they are not pussies and love to risk life with the eating of tiny, silvered candies on those three cookies a year.

I hope you didn’t mean any other kind of silver ball. Once, I did see a truck with a big pair of silver balls dangling from the hitch. That was cool, but it didn’t make me hungry.

Perhaps you mean the two silver balls that cap off a piercing. Like a Prince Albert. Beefy.

Maybe Christmas ornaments? Or, Ben Wa balls? Yum.

Should you eat any of those? The short answer is, if course, no. But I’ve seen weirder. Just don’t be a pussy about those dragées. That will piss me off.

Sincerely,
Melissa

Behold, the creation of Christmas Day.

We woke up to a lovely white Christmas. Gorgeous snow and snuggly little boys made today beautiful. The boys ripped open their presents and then took off outside to play in the snow.

A little while later, I looked outside to see Daniel shoving a matchbox car into the face of a snowman. Brett added another car next the first. I couldn’t see what made up the nose or mouth. Probably long-lost yard dinosaurs.

Then, they backed up a little and I could see the piece de resistance.

The boys’ snowman had one normal arm made from a tree branch…and the other side wielded a sword.

Check out this week’s Art of Motherhood. You’ll get to see a pretty picture, I promise. Because my God, the drapery, the jewels, the rich color…

If I ever, EVER, choose to leave the house in the following, remind me that I am a tool and then strip me naked. Because naked is less embarrasing than this getup.

1) Pedophile stash. I know this one is a tad difficult for me to sprout, but if you see it on me, rip it off.

2) Red, skintight, Tommy Hilfiger sweater turtleneck.

3) Acid-washed jean shorts. Tight-rolled right above the knee.

4) Little white socks. Bright white sneakers.

I would never, ever, ever, ever, feel this outfit portrayed me in my best light. But a man certainly did. He wore it out to dinner. Fucking tool.

Observed today when checking out google search terms at Statcounter.com:

When you find me in any way on Google, you read that I am a web site builder and designer.

From Google:

Sugared Harpy
The personal web log of a web site builder and designer.
www.sugaredharpy.com/ – 43k – Dec 20, 2005 – Cached – Similar pages

Why is this? It’s lovely, but ah, don’t ask me to design your site or anything.

UPDATED: I figured it out! On my own! Without my geeky husband! Apparently, the phrase is part of my template and I can change it. I hope that works.

A federal district court judge ruled it is unconstitutional to teach intelligent design (ID) in schools.

This means the world is still okay.

But it seems the intelligent design community foiled their own plans.

Judge John Jones III wrote of the ignorance of the board members who proposed intelligent design. He mentioned that these board members didn’t bother to consult scientific authorities, or even their own science faculty, during the process.

The judge wrote:

“In fact, one unfortunate theme in this case is the striking ignorance concerning the concept of ID amongst Board members. Conspicuously, Board members who voted for the curriculum change testified at trial that they had utterly no grasp of ID.”

He also wrote:

“It is ironic that several of these individuals, who so staunchly and proudly touted their religious convictions in public, would time and time again lie to cover their tracks and disguise the real purpose behind the ID Policy.”

This does not surprise me in any way. Perhaps I should be surprised, but I’m not.

The good news at hand is that religious fundies can’t screw with any more young students. Teachers can no longer read the statement that says neo-Darwinian theory (combining Darwin with Mendel) has no evidence and introduces intelligent design as an explanation of the origin of life. The statement also refers students to the textbook, which was held in the school library, called “Of Pandas and People: The Central Question of Biological Origins.” This is a book that uses seriously out of date material as data and doesn’t even address the age of the earth. Good science, I don’t think so. Fuzzy and icky propaganda, sure.

From Google News:

“In his ruling, Jones agreed with the parents, writing “ID cannot uncouple itself from its creationist, and thus religious antecedents.”

To that I say, no shit and amen.

Upon leaving my list o’ grades at the college today, I drove far too long behind a vehicle with the license plate, “Labifet.”

Labifet.

What does that look like to you? How you do read it?

I’m sure there is a much nicer reading of “Labifet” than my reading. I know I’m adding letters and sounds here, but I can’t help it. I can’t read it any other way.

Which is: LABIA FEST.

Carry on.