Aporkalypse Now: the Latest Hamdemic

Escape from Antcatraz

The British Empire and her Chickens

An hour of my life I'll never get back, courtesy of Sprint and Palm
In June I did my early gadget adopter thing and bought a Palm Pre smartphone. I've always had Palms, and this one is supposed to be the iphone killer. (I don't know why Palm never got the credit for touchscreens, by the way. They've always had them, but now that Blackberry and iPhone do as well, they're "hot.")The Pre is very cool, but there's a bit of a steep learning curve to it. Or maybe a slow one: I still hang up on people regularly when they call 'cause I'm not clear on all the "gestures." But it's FUN: you can teeny-tiny-fy an app card by squeezing it with your fingers, flick it aw

I do so know what a chicken gizzard is!
The preteen years have started, for reals. This morning I emerged from my boudoir and heard Henry talking on the phone, at about 7:30 am. Who the heck are you talking to? I asked. Turns out he called in to the radio station he listens to on his clock radio, one of those inane entertaining local morning shows. Seems they were discussing what a gizzard was (scintillating!) and asked people to call in with their answers.Henry, never shy, immediately picked up the phone and got on air. Here's the rough transcript:"Hi there, what's your name?""Henry.""So Henry, what's a gizzard?""Um, it�

necks of steel
Yes, baseball season is over as of last night. I don't need any unattractive gloating from Yankees fans. Especially since they won by spending the most money. But I'm not bitter. I just miss baseball. So, the biggest mystery in baseball (other than what the "Day-O!" song has to do with it) is what are those thick necklaces that a lot of players, especially pitchers, wear. I shall now reveal all.Phiten X30 Necklace

Super Glue my what?
If someone, even a doctor, offers to Super Glue your eyeball, just say no. I'm just saying.

visited by a bear cat
As my long-time (read: one year) readers know, we used to raise foster kittens here for the Humane Society. It was messy and time-consuming but we loved it. Unfortunately, now that I have a further commute and can't come home at lunch, we can't take care of the little furballs, but maybe again someday. One bunch stood out because the kittens were so cute -- big and roly-poly. (Of course I love all my kitties equally. Just some more equally than others.) One guy was adopted by the neighbors across the street, who named him Bear.