Ok. This has got to stop.
At this moment, 225 Diaryland users list “Shakespear” on their profile as their favorite author.
Shakespear.
Not Shakespeare. Shakespear.
Stop the insanity, people! If you’re going to list something for the pretension value, at least have the common sense to LOOK UP THE PROPER SPELLING OF HIS NAME!
GOD!
It just makes me want to slap someone. Hard. With a dirty pair of Esteban’s underwear. That’s not to be trifled with, either, by the way. They glow in the dark, those skid marks.
I suppose math geeks get perturbed about people not carrying the one or some such. I’m not sure. But seriously.
225 people??!!
If any one of you reading this has Shakespeare spelled incorrectly on your profile, be ashamed. Be very ashamed. And go and fix it, damn it! Go now! Bill would want you to. I want you to. It will make the world a better place.
Actually, if you don’t own at least three separate books containing something by Shakespeare, just take him right off your profile and put V.C. Andrews or Danielle Steele or Robert Jordan or whomever on there. I mean, let’s be honest, shall we?
I haven’t the heart to look up Hemingway. I’m afraid I’ll find a lot of Hemmingways.
Gah.
You know what would be really cool? If food was priced according to caloric content. Thus, boneless skinless chicken breasts would be inexpensive and Little Debbie Snack Cakes would cost like $6 a piece or something. And Diet Coke would be, of course, free.
Just a thought.
McDonald’s would go out of business, however.
So, basically, everyone would be happy.
Esteban is prancing around like a goofball today. You see, he purchased my birthday gift and now can barely contain himself. He’s seriously like a little child with gifts. He keeps trying to taunt me with it. He likes to shake his hips and do a little “You’re going to like your giffffft” song. What is more, at least three times during our relationship, he has accidentally spilled enough information about the gift so that I can figure it out. Because he thinks I have the mental capacity of a five year old. I expect him to spell out what it is, so I don’t figure it out. And sometimes, it feels like we’re living in a hilarious 80’s sitcom, with our neighbor played by the guy who played Larry on “Three’s Company”.
So, much hilarity is ensuing as he attempts to taunt me with the elusive “Thing that plugs in” (because he ONLY buys things that plug in… that is his very nature as a technodweeb) and I look at him with raised eyebrows. Poor boy. He really doesn’t deserve such a cynical beast of a wife. I should work myself into a frenzy to give him some satisfaction, although I know that if I beg, I can make him crack like a giddy walnut.
Not that walnuts are giddy or anything. I’m just writing here, folks, nothing to see… move along.
Oh, major coolness: the $7 t-shirts are now $6!!! I purchased 5 more. I am a little squirrel of fashion. I think this brings my cache of new shirts to 12. I may have a problem. Maybe there’s a 12 step program for this. And maybe they’ll have cool meetings where I can wear my new shirts!
Rawk!
