It's dialogue from an ad for Fandango, the movie reservation service.

God bless you. Now is there anyone else who thinks it's wonderful and funny? I mean that ad. The fake Bollywood with the paperbag puppets?

I have taken to calling Eyebrows "Chittra My Queen" on occasion.

I've seen the fandango promotions. I maybe don't pay enough attention.

Okay this one is brilliantly funny. It's two paperbag puppets, clearly Indian, singing a la Bollywood.

That whole ad is great.

It is most certainly the best Fandango ad.

(Warning; severly non-PC whine follows, read at your own risk.....)


My house is filthy!!!!!! And I have a cleaning lady come in every other week...Clearly, she thinks I'm a pushover, because all she does is organize things, and push the dirt around...

I discovered this when I started cleaning the backroom(former cats' room) to orgnize as a studio for painting furniture...have always felt bad that the floors in there, esp. in the corners, have that skim of "mud" from kitty litter, you guys with cats know what i mean...but, gasp!!!!_ when I actually got down there with Fantastick and a sponge, I could get it all off...I discovered this in all the corners of my kitchen, too...

Sometimes I think I'm too egalitarian to employ domestic help, I always feel like I can't ask them to do things I won't do...But the whole point of getting someone else to clean is so my hands(weak link), don't get too tendinitis-ed to do the work that brings in the bread and buter...It seems that anything that requires elbow-grease, I still have to do, and she'll do upkeep....Am I a princess?

No, you're quite right. It's like paying a gardener who doesn't mow the lawn. I would either explain to her what she needs to do, or replace her.

And, am I expecting too much if she's only bi-weekly?

I almost never have more than one cocktail. I may move on to copious amounts of wine, but one cocktail is pretty much my limit.

After scarpering out of a very dreary party last night we found ourselves in the bar at Cafe Gray having a marvelous time. So marvelous that I consumed two Tanquery martinis. I was home before ten and drank about a gallon of water. I feel as if an axe has been buried in my skull.

I feel your pain, Daisy. At Landmarc last Friday I ordered a martini (v. good, by the way), and was brought not only a full glass but a shaker/strainer with a refill. Plus wine. Axe in skull, gallons of water, blah blah blah. I can only imagine how much worse it would have been had I not consumed a pound o' pork belly too.

Cocktails at Belemans Bar came with refills in shakers on Saturday night. A risky business. Was feeling quite tipsy after the second, but food helped restore equilibrium.

Oh, that's my problem. I skipped dinner in favor of a face plant in my pillow.

If another person asks me if I've read The Davinci Code, and proceeds to tell me how wonderful it is

v

I've read the first sentence. I had to put the book down because I was shaking with laughter.

Thanks. I have so far resisted peer pressure to read it because I know I'll hate it.

Kiku, I'm about halfway through The Course of the Heart. Wonderful.

Actually, I've found it quite a good way of sussing out who's my peer and who isn't

v

We want to know why too!

I knew I should never have filled out that 'how much are you worth' questionnaire.

Canadian slackers, eh. They could be posting witty and convivial (or, conversely, obstuse and obfuscatory) utterances for those of us who are consumed with prep work (meaning, "watching Bob wash dishes") for Thanksgiving, but no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o.

Get on it, would ya?

Probably can't (but who are they?). Consensus will dictate a DVD or something universally appealing. We'll lean in the direction of pleasing my girl, who's endured a lack of the all-important friends and the football game.

As far as the real annoyances in real life, they are slightly diminished from yesterday, which only means that I haven't been in tears once today.

I'll be glad when the baby comes home.

My phone ringing constantly - some moron trying to send a fax.

v

I don't have a fax machine, never had one

Now I'm just letting it ring, and ring, and ring....

v

One small triumph amidst all the bloodletting is that I never get junk faxes. I have an eFax account that I opened in the good old days, when they were giving them away free and promising them for life, and I ignore their frequent pleas to 'upgrade' me to a paying one. It delivers faxes from a dedicated number to my email inbox. The number is an 0870, or 'national rate', number -- the theoretical price of a long-distance call within the UK, which is not too expensive to put anybody who actually wants to fax me off doing so, but is probably beyond whatever junk faxers thing worthwhile. Touch wood.

Allen keys If you're reading this clb, mine don't fit

v

[edit: I take it all back - just found another one that works ]

As usual, my flaky brain:

I have a kettle, the kind that goes on the stove, that I don't use very often as I don't drink tea. Today I needed boiling water (to make tea to soak prunes) so I put it on the stove. A while later a strange fountain of boiling, foaming water comes out of the spout, flooding the stove. Puzzlement until I smell it and realise that when I last used the kettle, probably months ago, I gave the inside a spray of limescale remover, intending to rinse out a few minutes later and evidently forgetting completely.

I rinse out kettle, put to boil again, and the same happens. This repeats itself about 4-5 times. There has clearly been some kind of chemical reaction inside. Looks like the end of my kettle

v

Whilst washing up a large mound of dishes last night, my brand new pudding basin skidded off the counter and smashed spectacularly on the floor.

I have a 2" stack of abstracts to review by next Wednesday.

I broke my St. John ashtray, purloined for me by Slapsie Maxie.

13-yr.-old boy who thinks he needs a brand new pair of $80 “skate” shoes because he's worried a hole in the insole by fidgeting his big toe around. $14.99 for a fresh pair of Dr. Scholl's insoles instead.

The same 13-yr.-old refuses a reasonable pair of waterproof, insulated Merrell winter clogs because they're not “cool”. So he'll slog through a Vermont winter in his awesome skate shoes, his feet frozen and wet. Yeah. Cool, man.

Meetings that run late, causing me to be late picking up my girlina at school.