Today marks the one-year anniversary of my blog. Here's my first blog entry.
"Things may be rather stale for a month or so," I wrote.
I am happy to report that they have, in fact, remained stale for a whole year. Here's looking forward to another year of poo! Rather appropriately, the traditional gift for a one-year anniversary is paper, which is probably where this blog should exist -- on paper, in a trashcan.
My obsession with all things Welsh has gotten out of hand. I didn't realize it until looking at this picture, but I am apparently trying to look like Tom Jones in 1966*.
I'm making it a goal to use these words. Actually, we have used "snirt" for a long time up here in Minnesota.
Things could be worse, I suppose, I could be trying to build my own light saber. Key element: "the 17-year-old girl and a 20-year-old man... suffered serious injuries."
Des Moines is more exciting than you might have thought.
"Police said (Bobby) Brown was at the restaurant performing during a weekly open microphone event when the people he arrived with got into a fight."
It's his prerogative to rock open mic night. So, so, so sad, and yet, not at all surprising.
Great name of the day: Phonsavanh Thammavongsa.
*I am desperately trying not to sound like a girl here, but I hate this picture. By putting it on the Internet I have set myself up for years of shame and embarrassment. Some day my children will find this picture and they will laugh and laugh and laugh, and then I will lock them in a dark and tiny box and they will have only their screams to keep them company. That'll teach them to make fun of their dad, the ungrateful little punks.