Atomictumor

I had a dream last night.

I was over at a really nice, big house somewhere in Oak Ridge.  I was either dropping or picking up my eldest.  The woman of the house was one of those perfect types: well-coiffed, well-dressed, baking some sort of cake, sipping on a latte and generally being of a snooty nature.

After I’d been there a while, she said that she thought I was finally ready to be brought into the Oak Ridge fold.  I was ecstatic!  Yay!  I’m finally good enough for Oak Ridgers!

AT and I came over the next day and there were a ton of other couples, all similar to the original perfect housewife.  It was our debutante ball, apparently.  We were paraded around, from rich couple to rich couple and introduced.  I think at one point I made a toast to Oak Ridge with my coffee mug.

Someone asked me if I had a Cadillac, what color would I pick?  The choices were cream, brown, pink and seafoam green.  I went with the green.  That was the wrong answer.  Then AT said some things that ought not be said in front of people that snobby, and we were told to leave.

*Sigh*  We’ll never fit in…

Sophos, those stalwart fighters of spam, have identified that spammers are now using subliminal messages in their never ending battles to sell you real estate, sexual enhancers, and prescription medications.

Check out this example.

Good stuff. So much so, that I’m inspired to do it as well.

So, I’m hearing we have a water main break in Oak Ridge, off Lafayette today.

So, conserve.  We might have to start eating each other if this keeps up…

Of late, our 4 year old, Pigpen (whom GAC is lobbying to rename “Mr. Masher”, which does have some merit), has been channeling another personality.

You see, he REALLY likes dinosaurs.

So much so, that it appears that he has channelled the spirit of Ping Ping, a T-Rex from (what we would guess to be) the late Cretaceous Era, who enjoys talking in a dinosaur voice, stomping, and occasionally roaring. Theres also the subtle dinosaur whisper, but we’re not sure exactly what kind of communication it is. We assume that it was an evolutionary sidetrack.

Interestingly enough, when the person unfamilar with Ping Ping enquires as to why the lad is going around with two fingers poking out of his fist, he replies (in dino voice, naturally):

“These are my little arms.
I have a tail growing out of my butt.
My eyes are glinting.
My teeth are sharp.
I have horns here and here. (points to the horns that T-Rexs have on their legs, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that 100 years of archeology and dinosaur study are totally clueless as to the true skeleton structure of the fearsome Tyrannosaurus Rex)
My name is Ping Ping the T-Rex.
I am a woman T-Rex.
Rarrrrrrr.”

Yeah, I’m not sure where it comes from either.

Steve Irwin, that crazy croc-hunting bastard, died today while filming a documentary on the Great Barrier Reef.  He was pierced through the chest by a stingray’s barbed tail.

I’ll wait a while before I say speak ill of the dead, but you heartless bastards go right ahead.