The Nutters

Love is a many splendored thing som Frank Sinatra sjöng.

(Frasen är mindre känd som en av stroferna i Francis Thompsons dikt The Hound of Heaven.)

Karin Boye

Hollywood conspiracy theories

Sitting by my desk at work, doing the usual Monday+procrastination routine, I started roaming the web. It didn't take me long to find something to drool over, and that picture is the one below. Please enjoy. However, in order to at least seem to be doing something, I had to move the cursor every now and then, and that's when it hit me. There's definitely something fishy going on in Hollywood... How can there be two drop dead gorgeous men like these two alive at the same time? As if only one of them weren't blessing enough?

Whammo!
Another of my momentary lapses of insanity came rushing head on.

Theory #1
(Yummy, yummy btw)
Hollywood sexy-men retail store?
Somebody had better tell me where to place my order!

Theory #2
Contemporary look-alikes makes me think....
....cloning?
Maybe even robotics?

Theory #3
Time travelling?
Where do I buy my ticket?
And how expensive is plastic surgery in the future? Anybody know?

Turning into my mother

It's early morning. Well, early according to my standards.
Huddling inside the freezing car, I can't wait to really wake up. The cold doesn't quite do it. It takes one thing to do that properly. The one thing I'm without for the moment. My vices - my cigarettes. Stressed out and delayed, as usual, I run into the store, giving a recognizing nod to the girl at the counter. She knows what I'm after, I've been in here nearly every morning. Grunting a hoarse 'thank you' to the her as she hands me my lifelines, I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection on the window glass of the store. Slowing down, on my way out of there, I take another, harder look.

At first I couldn't understand what it was that caught my attention. The reflection showed nothing new. A half crazed woman in splendid morning grumpiness, desperately clutching to her pack of cigarettes. Eyes wild, body moving sort of gangly, as if still asleep. Oversized fleece jacket to keep the cold away, glasses on the verge of falling off from the tip of her nose, hair in a bun. Think crazy librarian, and you've got it. Sure, it doesn't paint a pretty picture, but that's not the point. That is hands-down how I look in the mornings, and I'm used to it. So, why the sudden self-interest?

Back in the car, racing for work, it hits me. God, in that oversized, badly fitting fleece, I look just like my mother. *Shudder*

Post-it!

Web-loot of the day. Link in the list to the right for those who need more than just one post-it. (Things we forget)

Today's the day

To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.

- Oscar Wilde

Otto

Ladies and Gentlemen; Meet Otto.

According to the web page for the animal shelter closest to me, he's an elderly mutt, born circa 1996. Otto has a heart problem, but he’s generally a happy and active dog whom like both cats, other dogs and children. Sounds like the perfect dog right? Well, apart from the expected life span, of course.

The sad thing is he'll never know how much he's wanted. Ever since I saw his photo, I’ve been in love with the damned thing. Me, the cat person extraordinairé, pining after a dog. Madness, I say, Madness!

But for whatever reason, I can't seem to shake the feeling that's MY dog. The one who'd fit perfectly into my family. A happy companion for my daughter, an appreciative tail-wag at the end of the day for me (probably along with irritating hair shedding and disgusting slobbering, but hey, who said you could have everything?) and a gentle companion for the boyfriend. (Me, having unrealistic expectations of a dog I haven’t even met? Naah...)

So what’s holding me back? Two things really. Well, mostly anyway.

First; Morning walks. Neither me nor my daughter are what you’d call early birds. It’s imperative that the boyfriend handle those, and since he’s yet not living with us, I hold him totally and solely responsible for the incompleteness of this family. Well, no, I really don’t. But I could. And sometimes, I’d really want to.

Secondly: What you’ve been thinking all along. 14 years old AND a heart problem. He’d probably not survive the drive home.

Mongrel: cur; mutt; mixed breeds; dogs of unknown ancestry and questionable parentage.