Joelle said in the early morning on July 22, 2008
I’m kind of too irritated with this ad to make intelligent commentary about it. All that keeps coming out my mouth is “WTF?” and that’s not exactly eloquent.
I was served this ad while checking my MySpace email this morning. Uh… this woman is big? Are you kidding me?! The part that makes me mad? I’m close to this woman’s size and this means I’ve busted my ass for all this time to be told I’m still fat by a MySpace ad? SCREW YOU, world. I’m so over it. I’m so tired of women not being good enough.
To hell with you, society. Bollocks to you, media! Better be careful, one of these “big” beautiful women might eat you! Stupid. Stupid!
Look, I told you it wasn’t going to be eloquent.
Joelle said around lunch time on July 21, 2008
I just had a very inappropriate lunch of fish tacos. Sorry, Flapjack. I wasn’t thinking.
This led to a conversation with Ross about favorite foods and if we were to push daisies tomorrow, what would be our last meal on Earth?
It was tougher than I thought! Because I love the aforementioned fish tacos… I’ve always considered them my favorite food, but it got me thinking. If it truly were my very last night on Earth and I couldn’t ever, ever, ever taste these things again ever… could I live without a fish taco? Yeah, probably. I eat them all the time!
So, after some totally rushed and not at all in-depth consideration, I decided I’d want:
- 1 (or more) perfect Grey Goose martini(s) with 2 blue cheese stuffed olives
- 1 small authentic Caesar salad, with homemade dressing even with the anchovies
- 1 petit filet mignon, seared medium rare, drizzled with browned garlic butter
- 1 hot mini sourdough loaf with real whipped butter (Softened, of course. I’ll be damned if I bust my bread on a rock hard foil wrapped pat in my final hours.)
- Ben & Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream (Leave the pint.)
- 1 cappuccino.
This sounds so decadent, it should be followed by two orgasms and a bubble bath, but I assume if I’m about to die, I’m probably not in the mood. Then again, if it’s my last orgasms ever… I might reconsider.
What would be your last meal?
Joelle said before her coffee on July 21, 2008
R.I.P. Flapjack – July 20, 2008
Joelle said in the early afternoon on July 20, 2008
Flapjack is hanging on by a thread. It appears he’s in advanced stages of stress and there’s not much else I can do. Neil Patrick Harris and Bill are doing great, thriving even… but Flapjack, not so much.
I had live plants in their bowls for a while, per the fish guy at Petco. But while Bill and NPH seemed ok with it, Flapjack just wasn’t having it. The plants started to die and I had to remove them. I replaced them all with fake ones and while I kept doing 20% water changes to keep the water free of ammonia and as clean as possible, Flapjack’s water kept getting cloudy and he’s become increasingly listless. Again, Bill and NPH are fat n’ happy.
A week or so ago Flapjack started burrowing his head into the marbles at the bottom and stopped moving his fins. He’d just float vertically, sometimes thrashing about erratically and smashing into the plants and sides of the bowl to the point of exhaustion. It really bums me out. I’ve tried changing the water, but you can’t do that too much or it just causes more stress. Today he started swimming in “twists”, like a corkscrew… around and around until he’d collapse on the bottom.
I know it’s just a fish, but no one likes it when a pet dies. I feel like a bad fish mom. I’ve followed all the recommended advice: slowly warm up the water by putting a lamp over the bowl (Bettas like warmer water), using de-stress drops, 20% water changes, etc. He’s lost total interest in food now, which used to be the only thing I had left, so I think it’s only a matter of time. His color is all washed out, too… he’s kind of grayish-pink instead of deep red. I scooped him out, thinking I’d just flush him, putting him out of his misery. But then I started to question if that would work or if he’s just swim through it and end up living in the sewer. What if he doesn’t die? Then I’m the jerk who flushed a perfectly good fish.
So, I put him back in his bowl, where he sank like a stone to the bottom. Even though it’s sad to watch, I’m not sure what else to do. Boo. 
Joelle said in the early morning on July 18, 2008
I was having a conversation about pens the other day, specifically markers. Most people know I’m a Sharpie fiend — I have been for years. Sure, I dabbled in Pentels in middle school. One crazy night in college, I even experimented with watercolor markers. But my first markers, my gateway markers, the ones that freed my mind, that opened my eyes, that showed me the wonders art had to offer… were Mr. Sketch.
For those who aren’t familiar, Mr. Sketch markers are these fragranced, semi-thick markers with a slant tip that come in a flat Styrofoam tray slipped inside a cardboard sleeve. The packaging is much fancier now than it was in 1982, though. And we only had like, 8 and 12-count sets; now they go all the way to 18. Luckies! Each of the colors had a corresponding scent: Black/Licorice, Red/Wild Cherry, Blue/Blueberry, Green/Mint, Yellow/Lemon, Brown/Cinnamon, Purple/Grape, and Orange/Orange, Pink/Melon, Turquoise/Mango, Magenta/Raspberry, and Dark Green/Apple.
Clearly, black was a big loser. I think that’s why I ended up loving color so much and not using black in a lot of my art. Licorice scent = bad. Unfortunately, this therapy didn’t work for my Jagermeister consumption in the ‘90’s.
I also hated Blue. I love the color, but the scent was right up there with Tidy Bowl. Aqua was alright… oh, ‘turquoise’, they called it. In my opinion, it’s aqua, but I won’t split hairs. The Blue, however, was downright repelling. It didn’t smell anything like blueberries! I feel similarly about the blue “blueberry” Jelly Belly. Same medicinal smell and taste… like what I imagine that blue barber comb disinfectant would taste like with a bit of Splenda. *shudder*
I liked most of them, but my faves were Brown because I looooooove cinnamon and well, pink… for obvious reasons. I had, on more than one occasion, been told I had ink on the end of my nose from sniffing Mr. Sketch so often. Did I have a problem? Of course not! I could quit any time. It’s not like they were highlighters or heaven forbid, Marks-a-lot! It was just fruit, I swear.
When I got to middle school, you weren’t down if you didn’t have the too-good-too-be-true golden 24-count Pentel folder filled with exotic colors like Ochre and Carmine, so I was forced through peer pressure to say goodbye to my first love. Mr. Sketch couldn’t go on with me any further. I had to brave the harsh world of art supplies and pre-teen judgement alone.
Eventually, I found a bunch of other ways to get my fix… pastels and Ticonderoga #2 pencils, mostly. And a new box of 64-count Crayolas with the sharpener in the back. Oh yeah, baby…
Now I’ve graduated to a house full of every Sharpie in every color at every stroke size. Yes, even the metallics. But I never forgot my first time with Mr. Sketch. Sometimes we indulge in a few stolen moments together in the aisles of Office Depot, but then it’s back in the box until we meet again. *sigh*
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