2003-06-04 - 10:24 a.m.
Even the French would donate a book
Although Quoted is pretty much limited, by design, to giving props to Diaryland diaries, I want to take a moment to pimp out this great thing that Online Diary Legend Pamie is doing with her site.
Essentially, the government has severely cut the funding for many libraries around the nation. For may libraries, particularly those in large urban areas, this funding is the main source of new books, thus they've resorted to creating wishlists on Amazon. One thing we all have in common is a love of the written word. Quoted is devoted (hey, suddenly I'm rapping, yo) to celebrating words and reading. One of the things (beside writing a popular webpage, authoring a book, acting, and being a rock star in general) that Pamie has done was give a plea to put books in the hands of the Oakland community.
I'll bet you can think of one book that changed your life or your view of yourself. Wouldn't it be a horrible thing if someone missed out on a similar ephiphany simply because they couldn't afford a book themselves and their library couldn't stock it either?
And now the quotes: (even the French would donate a book!)
I’ve got to go take a massive smelly Chirac and wipe my France. Now THERE’S some renaming for you. Freedom fries. Why not Traitor toast, or “Cheese eating surrender monkey” kissing, if that’s how you feel about it?
Freedom fries? What the fuck? Did these little sliced, fried potatoes liberate millions of slaves?
When asked “What’s up with the French?” he responded,quite simply, with, “They’re French.” I think thatpretty much says it all.
Given this year's [prom] theme: Paris in the Springtime, this can only mean one thing. A shoddily constructed Eiffel Tower. I can just envision a rickety plywood tower that crashes onto the middle of the dance floor midway through Stairway to Heaven. The headlines the next day: "15 Prom-goers Crushed by Plummeting Tower; French to Blame."
"Grandma, what were you doing while America's democracy disintigrated during post-911 Gulf War II?”
My brain has been undulating and flapping like bedsheets on the line, thinking about how postmodern language plays with itself until it goes blind, or until it is sticky and exhausted, or until it can no longer be satisfied by anything other than itself, and then language wipes itself off with some old t-shirt lying on the floor, and then language puts its pants back on.
Jeebie? I'd like you to meet Heebie. Heebie...Jeebie.
I tried to find the number of wars currently raging worldwide, and cnet suggested it could find me the best deal on wars, while allowing me to compare prices, reviews, an more.
From Domina (Submitted by an anonymous source):
A gun is simply a man-made metal penis.
That is one boring uterus. But, don't worry. We have alot to work with and I'm the master of taking something that is Plain Jane and making it the uterus of your dreams. What you have to do, LadeeLeroy is look at what we have to work with. As you can see, there's two ovaries. There's alot of unused space there that really just makes the rest of the uterus look drab and uninspired, so we'll have to do something with that space. Now the actual womb area of your uterus seems a bit, well, how should I put this? Um. Well, frumpy. You have a frumpy womb.
A woman on the street last night asked me if I meditate. "Meditate", I thought, "I barely have time to masturbate.""
I think one area where women are superior to men, is the area of multi~tasking. To a man, multi~tasking is reading while they take a shit.
Dear Clothing Manufacturers, All women are not 98-pound 17 year olds. Please make some clothes that grown-ups can wear.
At first, I couldn't get beyond a crawl, walking in such slow motion that the Little Man in my head to who conducts my internal soundtrack readied the orchestra, and lead them in a resounding version of the theme to Chariots of Fire. I started to see everything through stop-motion photography; buds bloomed into full blown blossoms right in front of my eyes, and the two feet of densely packed snow that covered one of the basement windows melted completely away.
Being crucified has a way of fucking up your whole day.
And yes, I know it's Wednesday, and the weekend happened, like, FOREVER ago, but if this journal offers anything at all - it's stale content, baby. Um, go journal! Keep on suckin'!
Note to self: when the people at Starbuck's ask me, "Would you like room for cream," remember to answer as if they had really asked, "Would you like to avoid second degree burns when you try to walk with this?"
That's like arguing about which brand of laxative is best. Whatever You pick, the end result is a pile of shit.
I want to create an entire language based soley on facial expressions.It will be called." "