Posts Tagged ‘Erin O’Brien’s Owner’s Manual’

I biked yesterday, a little further than I have since rib injuries Nos. 2 and 3. On my commuter bike and I think it was the most comfortable and strong I’ve felt on the damn thing yet.

On the ride, we passed 2 dead whole (as in not squashed-run over) squirrels overlapping berm and road. I almost ran over the first one, but Hubby, who was riding in front of me, gave me a heads up. Still, my reaction was quite slow and I almost, almost ran the soft fresh body of it over, right down its mammalian middle. I swerved slightly to the left and I think I clipped its little toenails.

This has been a banner year for road-kill squirrels. Every year it seems there are more than the last. When squirrels startle, you will note, they take to an erratic pattern because if another animal were giving chase, this would [theoretically] foil the predator into exhaustion from running in a zig-zag. Or did I just make that up? I don’t get it though. How does the prey not tire more quickly as well? I guess they run up trees faster than something large and large. And big and large.

Then there is the curve of pursuit, a diagram of which my kids had to draw into their Main Lesson books in 6th Grade when they were at their Waldorf school. I like the play on words pursuit of curves and I think about poeming that. Pursuit of curves, pursuit of curves….

Nancy Upton

I do not understand the curve of pursuit, as you might have guessed, considering my small brain capacity (probably like an Eastern gray squirrel’s) in spite of my appropriately curvy hip-to-waist ratio.

You can make all sorts of patterns out of pursuit curves. This is the humble triangle. When you are older, you might be ready for a pentagram. But not this day!

The very horrifying road kill of the day, to which I refer in the title of this post, had to do with gasp! several smashed red velvet cupcakes. So beautiful, so huge, so red, so smooshed flat inside of their frilly cupcake cups. They smelled good, too, a whiff of sugary love as I rode past, careful not to re-run them over as with the squirrel. I saw at least 4, a whole fancy-dinner-ful of them. What do you suppose the people did for dessert without their cupcakes? Now, my dear pets, you should look away if you are faint of heart, for here I post a photo of a smashed red velvet cupcake:

I myself have only tasted red velvet cupcakes twice. I am not a fan of cupcakes except for the ones Annie made for her 14th Birthday party last month. OH MY those were fine. Vanilla with vanilla buttercream. Out of this world!

We do take cupcakes quite seriously around here due to the aforementioned offspring’s passion for cupcake baking. Though that post featured some flower cupcakes, look at these:

They are meant to mimic lo mein or fried rice or something Chinese take-out-y. They did not taste too good, if I recall correctly. All of those toppings were made with candy, what kind I don’t remember, but gross stuff that no adults would ever normally eat. You can see the Rice Krispies, too. A clever design, I must admit.

When I was searching for an image of a gray squirrel, I found a stupid video of a squirrel and a penguin playing Dueling Banjos and it reminded me of a post a couple years back that Erin O’Brien did about that very song and the men in the movie Deliverance.

Without further ado (boy did this post end up in a different place than I had imagined it would!)

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I was going to post something light and airy today, something fun and gratitude-filled. But I found this on Facebook this morning.

Every time one of you fuckers asks what’s under attack, read it. And don’t get all namby-pamby and innocent and ask incredulously are women really under attack? and say things like it’s not so bad and nothing’s being taken away and any more of your condescending, male-entitled bullshit. If you are walking around with a dick between your legs and think that you have any clue whatsoever, you don’t. Just shut up when needed and when it’s time to speak use it well to support your wives, daughters, mothers, sisters, and grandmothers. CAPICHE?

If you came here from somewhere else and you think I’m in the She-Woman Man Hater’s Club, you don’t know me well. But I can kinda see where you might get that idea. On the contrary, I love you guys, but like Erin O’Brien says: get out of our vaginas unless you are invited in.

Okay, so Madonna doesn’t have anything to do with this post and I don’t even care much for her. But she really knows how to give the finger and her name is Madonna and this post is about women. So there.

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Me and the young’un are heading to Montreal.

Before I think the better of it, I am going to post a video of myself singing a French song. If you have any better ideas, you do your own music monday. I already did a driving in the car post, maybe more than one, so I’m trying to keep it fresh.

Erin O’Brien over at the Owner’s Manual is not only a published author of renown, but also used to do quite a lot of youtube videos. Did she ever sing on them? Further research would have to be conducted by yours truly before I could answer that; but she makes me a little braver than I might otherwise have been had she not boldly paved the way for a blogging chick like me.

The word is reign, from regner; not rain, from pleurer:

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Yeah, I got famous friends. Yeah, some of them are published authors.

Here is a link to Erin O’Brien‘s book page on amazon.com. You can pre-order it.

Okay, crap. My links aren’t working. And no, that’s not what you think, like “my lovely lady lumps links.”

YOU can do this yourself. Go to amazon.com and look up Erin O’Brien’s book, The Irish Hungarian Guide to the Domestic Arts, and pre-order it. I’m not sure why the link to her blog isn’t working, but if you like, go to the column over there on the right of my blog, yes, this blog, and look under BLOGROLL and click on The Erin O’Brien’s Owner’s Manual for Human Beings. Whew. (Why, Santy wordpress, why?)

You can already get it and read it in an e-version if you have a Kindle and are a fancy type of person.

Anyway, her book is called The Irish Hungarian Guide to the Domestic Arts and I don’t have a Kindle so I am waiting. If I lived in Ohio, I would go to the book launch. And to the reading. And if you live there, you can and should go. And get your copy signed.

Congratulations, Erin! Can’t wait! Or is that can’t hardly wait?

P.S. You know how classy Erin is? She didn’t even ask me to correct the spelling on my link to her blog over there to the right on my blogroll when I had forgotten the apostrophe after the O of O’Brien. Classy triple exclamation point

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grateful: the beach and ocean, tomorrow, maybe overnight to Saturday. This time, it’ll be Crane, the greatest beach in the world.

Stinkhorn fungi. I am starting to like them. How can you not love a group of organisms given the taxonomic family name phallaceae? I mean, how can you not love a penis? I like all of the freaky weird words that get applied to these plants organisms and their parts: gleba, hymenophore, fungal-fruiting body. Like Dr. Seuss getting his freak on, yo.

I love that there’s a website called mushroomexpert.com. That’s where I found out that the stinkhorns that pop up in our yard are phallus rubicundus.

This this this:

It gets funnier with each viewing. Well, at least up to five viewings. Love that O’Brien.

And you know what? I don’t love Michelle Bachmann’s new hairstyle that I saw this morning in my yahoo news. It’s bullshit. But, hey, people, this is THANKFUL FUCKING THURSDAY. Did I just say something nasty?

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