As Bob takes over the world...Things get better. If you'd like to assist Bob in taking over more than just the foodworks department please visit the following website:
http://www.bobis.us/
Friday, September 16, 2011
In Bob We Trust
As Bob takes over the world...Things get better. If you'd like to assist Bob in taking over more than just the foodworks department please visit the following website:
http://www.bobis.us/
Miss Kitty Kill! Kill! Kill!
My mom recently sent me an email with two pictures attached to it. The first picture was of a curtain tassle, very nice and decorative. The second picture was of a curtain tassle that had been completely devastated. In this email she told me of how she came home one day to find bits and pieces of tassle laying all over the floor, and our brooding black cat Cloe sitting next to a mass of golden threads. Cloe was glaring, as is her usual countenance, but my mom suspected foul play and a set up. Luckily, a couple of feet away she saw our other cat, Miss Kitty, the little hellian. Miss Kitty happened to be covered in golden tassle strings, in fact they were hanging out of her mouth. Once again she'd tried to blame Cloe for her dirty work. Here are the before and after pictures:
BEFORE:
AFTER:
BEFORE:
AFTER:
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Chocolatecaohigh
Betsy is an idiot and decided to make a chocolate cao and almond milk with honey beverage at 9pm, so now she is WIRED. I'm going to tell you a caffeine induced story now:
Once upon a time Disabled Santa decided he wanted to go to the thrift store to purchase some new clothing.
When he arrived at the thrift store he was inundated with rows and rows of Cosby sweater, as far as the eye could see.
He became very excited at the sight of all of the beautifully patterned sweaters he had to choose from, but when he reached his hand out to grab the scratchy nylon cable-knit of one of them a rabid wolf spider jumped out of the sleeve opening!
The rabid wolf spider stared Santa down. He wasn't going to give up his Cosby Sweater without a fight.
Inevitably, an evil robot riding a dinosaur came swooping into the thrift store...
The robot dismounted, used his magic powers to turn the thrift store into a children's birthday party, then proceeded to beat up all of the children present.
Once the children were unconscious the evil robot was out of a job, so he had to resort to turning tricks on the street corner outside of the thrift store.
Eventually Satan came and forced a bunch of people into an old wooden barrel, wherein he then proceeded to flail them with switches from a Christmas tree.
THE END!
Once upon a time Disabled Santa decided he wanted to go to the thrift store to purchase some new clothing.
When he arrived at the thrift store he was inundated with rows and rows of Cosby sweater, as far as the eye could see.
He became very excited at the sight of all of the beautifully patterned sweaters he had to choose from, but when he reached his hand out to grab the scratchy nylon cable-knit of one of them a rabid wolf spider jumped out of the sleeve opening!
The rabid wolf spider stared Santa down. He wasn't going to give up his Cosby Sweater without a fight.
Inevitably, an evil robot riding a dinosaur came swooping into the thrift store...
The robot dismounted, used his magic powers to turn the thrift store into a children's birthday party, then proceeded to beat up all of the children present.
Once the children were unconscious the evil robot was out of a job, so he had to resort to turning tricks on the street corner outside of the thrift store.
Eventually Satan came and forced a bunch of people into an old wooden barrel, wherein he then proceeded to flail them with switches from a Christmas tree.
THE END!
Monday, September 12, 2011
WetsyleavesforSanFran
Betsy is now all alone, living at Wetsy's parents' house by herself (with the parents). Wetsy left for grand adventure back in SF. Betsy didn't make any immediate life plans, aside from leaving spiritual community for the real world, so is now waiting to hear back from culinary school. Betsy has decided to attend culinary school on a government scholarship because going to school to be an archaeologist was costing too much money and Betsy's real family is poor and unable to assist her. She plans on eventually going to school to study something ancient that also has to do with digging in the dirt, but she might decide to study sustainable agriculture because she just loves digging in the dirt and finding treasures, such as purple potatoes at the Bethel Farm yoga center.
That was another magical moment in my new Life without LizO: Sahaja, kirtan leader of Omland, happened to be staying with her brother just down the road so I tagged along as her roadie/groupie for a kirtan event about 45min away at Bethel Farm Yoga Center. The center is run by a couple who teach Jivamukti style yoga, have two young children, some chickens, a dog, a kitty, and two organic gardens. They also have an incredible yoga studio, a cabin, and a farm house on their property. The event was magical, one of the most powerful kirtans I've experienced outside of Ecstatic Chant, and it was coupled by an intense (or, as I have been told unusually easy) Jivamukti yoga class, which has left me mostly incapacitated. I was in a state of revelrie all of Saturday night. They also have really great coffee (cafe Bustelo!). Living on the property and offering workshops are two more women, yoga teachers and chefs, one an herbalist with amazing posture. I kind of live for Bethel Farm right now. I want to volunteer/work/teach/learn there some day. I was blessed with an afternoon of digging up magical purple potatoes in one of the gardens, which eventually entailed a baby vole rescue mission.
Today Wetsy's parents took Betsy on a hike up a sweetass mountain. My Capricorn rising/inner mountain goat (you choose your fantasy) was joyous at the opportunity to clamber over huge boulders and sidle along small cliffs. Then the adopted parents bought Betsy an ice cream cone and she looked at some animals. I love living the life of a small child with the parents I never had. We even drove an antique Fiat convertable. I don't know if there are non-convertable Fiat's, as I have never seen a Fiat in my life before now. I'm living the privelaged life nowadays. Last winter I was retired, hanging out with Izzie and the 50+ crowd, now I'm nine years old. Can somebody please commit my life to memory for future generations of irreverent jesters? Thanks.
That was another magical moment in my new Life without LizO: Sahaja, kirtan leader of Omland, happened to be staying with her brother just down the road so I tagged along as her roadie/groupie for a kirtan event about 45min away at Bethel Farm Yoga Center. The center is run by a couple who teach Jivamukti style yoga, have two young children, some chickens, a dog, a kitty, and two organic gardens. They also have an incredible yoga studio, a cabin, and a farm house on their property. The event was magical, one of the most powerful kirtans I've experienced outside of Ecstatic Chant, and it was coupled by an intense (or, as I have been told unusually easy) Jivamukti yoga class, which has left me mostly incapacitated. I was in a state of revelrie all of Saturday night. They also have really great coffee (cafe Bustelo!). Living on the property and offering workshops are two more women, yoga teachers and chefs, one an herbalist with amazing posture. I kind of live for Bethel Farm right now. I want to volunteer/work/teach/learn there some day. I was blessed with an afternoon of digging up magical purple potatoes in one of the gardens, which eventually entailed a baby vole rescue mission.
Today Wetsy's parents took Betsy on a hike up a sweetass mountain. My Capricorn rising/inner mountain goat (you choose your fantasy) was joyous at the opportunity to clamber over huge boulders and sidle along small cliffs. Then the adopted parents bought Betsy an ice cream cone and she looked at some animals. I love living the life of a small child with the parents I never had. We even drove an antique Fiat convertable. I don't know if there are non-convertable Fiat's, as I have never seen a Fiat in my life before now. I'm living the privelaged life nowadays. Last winter I was retired, hanging out with Izzie and the 50+ crowd, now I'm nine years old. Can somebody please commit my life to memory for future generations of irreverent jesters? Thanks.
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