Sunday, bloody Sunday

Saturday and part of Sunday "Sue Sylvester" was a trending topic on Twitter.  Apparently Chris Colfer started it by suggesting people replace Sue’s name in Chuck Norris jokes.  The results were highly entertaining.  Samples:

  • There is no ctrl button on Sue Sylvester’s computer.  She’s always in control.
  • Sue Sylvester doesn’t mow her lawn.  She just stands out in her yard, daring the grass to grow.
  • Sue Sylvester can read Lady Gaga’s poker face.

My other twitter favorite was #delayedtweets.  "Pac-Man for Atari 2600 is so lame."  "Geocities is so cool and will be around forever!" And so on.

I have successfully converted my entire family to Glee.  Anna asks nightly if we’re going to watch, and Dan is excited for the Neil Diamond song on Wednesday. Those two only have to watch "Vitamin D" and they’re caught up, though Anna is happy to watch "Preggers" on repeat forever.  She’s still having a hard time understanding why it’s so emotional for Kurt to admit that he’s gay, no matter how many times we explain it. This is because for her being gay is just another state of being, and it makes no sense that anyone would make fun of you for being what you naturally are. Hold onto that worldview, baby.

Anna and I also watched The Princess Diaries last night, which she enjoyed, particularly the end.  She was practicing being a princess all night long.  She OMG’d for a full fifteen minutes that Maria/Mary Poppins was in this movie, too, and she declared Lily (Princess Mia’s bff) to be not a very nice friend because she was too harsh.  

Dan’s worked overnights all weekend, which means we’ve seen him as he gets home from work and goes to bed (as we’re getting up), when he wakes to eat, and as he goes out the door to work as we settle down to sleep. Tonight’s his last, and we’re all grateful.  He’s "off" tomorrow, but he’ll be asleep for it, so it’s little consolation.

Ames is flush with cases of H1N1, and we’re hoping like hell we can escape it here until Wednesday, when as many of us as possible will get the vaccine. They’re dropping like flies in the schools, and we’ve been exposed to it in several different ways, so our odds aren’t great.  Anna’s flirted with fever and stomach upset, I ache and can’t seem to move out of chairs and couches, and who knows about Dan: he’s on adrenaline at this point.  I’m hopeful that nothing serious has blown up yet, thinking maybe we’ll escape, but reports are it’s a slow mover around here, so knocking on wood.

I’ve been massively entertained lately by the tweets of Amanda Palmer, whom I followed because she’s dating Neil Gaiman and I was always seeing only half of their conversations.  She is, as her twitter page advertises, a "force of nature," and after a few weeks of being amused by her, I’ve ended up with her album Who Killed Amanda Palmer.  It’s sometimes profound, sometimes funny, sometimes fucking strange.  So I am of course very happy with it.

Managed to write a little yesterday before full-blown blarg hit me and hope to end up there yet again tonight.  Had this idea for a more writing oriented post, but it slid between the couch cushions.  Perhaps tomorrow.

Am almost through all the research material for NaNoWriMo.  Mostly I’m eager for November 1 to get here so I can start.  In the meantime, thankfully, I have Miles.

And that’s Sunday.

3 Comments on “Sunday, bloody Sunday

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