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The Passion of the Tchotchke
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Stations of the Kitsch


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Tuesday, February 08, 2005

superman is a dick

No, really. Check it out. He's a real jerk. Such a brilliant site, that, if only for coining the phrase superdickery. [Hey! It's back! There's a link to its temporary new home on the page I linked.]

Dennis has been in Vegas since Sunday, and he's getting back today and I am very happy. I'm just not that good on my own...I don't go to bed early enough, I don't eat, and Clyde also gets grumpy when he's gone and starts knocking things over.

Tonight is the Mardi Gras party at St. Ned's, so we have plenty of beads and jambalaya. I am once again so unprepared for Lent.

We're going to a Mardi Gras show (Phil Lesh) on Saturday, and costumes are encouraged, so...I made Dennis a gold denim 70s jumpsuit with gold sequin trim. It has a cape. It's kind of Jackson 5, kind of James Brown, a little Elvis. Yes, there will be photos. I'm still working on my costume. I always feel weird about costumes because I'm fat, and it seems like if I try to look pretty, that's just a joke because, hey, I'm fat and everyone knows it. But I secretly want to be pretty. So the whole process is more complicated than it needs to be, what with the self-loathing and all. There is a reason why I do not sew for myself much.

I'm still working on my sermon (working title is not: superman is a dick), and hope to have something that is rehearse-able by the end of the weekend. Right now it's the electronic equivilent of tiny scraps of paper with cryptic writing on them. Apparently I'm from the Beautiful Mind school of sermon writing.

Remember that you are dust (bunnies) and to dust (bunnies) you shall return.
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