greenhawk81

So far I have learned that Ypsilanti's self image as as town is based on two things:

1)stressing that it is *not* Ann Arbor

2)adding the suffix -silanti to everything

The chicken salad sandwich at the coffee shop is called "chicksilanti", the crafting group is called "knitsilanti", the downtown historic district calls itself "historic hipsilanti!"

In this spirit I've been calling Olive's new cat cube a "cubesilanti".

So what if King Lear was staged a screwball comedy? Wouldn't that be awesome?

I went tonight to help my parents buy and transport tile for their bathroom, that must be gutted because of a major plumbing problem.

Tile is heavy. Buying tile involves math.

It also involves calling my grandfather who, of course, been apprised of recent unfortunate events and pissed off.

Then it involved my father speculating that $1700 is too much to pay for labor to re-tile an entire bathroom including a stall shower and demo and putting the dining room ceiling back together. My mother counters with "fuck you". All three of us start throwing estimates of hourly rates for the skilled trades out of either our asses of irrelevant circumstances.

Did I mention that the tile dude is my mom's high school boyfriend?

Look at Patrick bein' all intellectual and bearded!


I hope the detroityes forums will start referring to as Mr. Crouch and accusing him of being against prosperity again. I love when they do that.

Further LOL my parents:

My dad is,right now, patiently, calmly explaining to my mom that these are looking chocolates, not eating chocolates and that she is only to eat two chocolates a day, and not to get to the second layer of chocolates until the first is eaten.

My mother is patiently, calmly explaining that she is going to beat him over the head with a shovel and didn't he buy the chocolates for her as a gift anyway?


The dog is trying to shove a squeaky pineapple up their butts.


I can't decide if this makes me more or less excited about moving in Ypsi.

I've been on a "must be kinder to uncle julian" kick wrt my dad for the past week, seeing as how I'm his only alive and non-terrible offspring.

But I've reached my limits. I actually reached them on Sunday when I got up early for the GRE*. I walked into the kitchen where my dad just finished feeding the cats and started to make breakfast for myself, trying to ignore how goddamn motherfucking cold the kitchen was. Just as I was about to go check the heat, I realized that the back door was wide open.

I shut it. He walked over and opened it, saying, "I like it open so the cats can do outside"

I pointed out that it was 22 degrees outside and I was cold.

He told me to man up and said he does this every morning.

I observed that none of the cats were outside, none seemed interested in going outside and that one of the cats was huddle over the heat vent.

He said the following: "He's not cold. He just likes to sit on the heat vent every morning"

"Don't you leave the door open every morning? Maybe he's cold every morning?"

He said, "HE'S NOT COLD. HE JUST LIKES SITTING ON THE HEAT VENTS."

I threw up my hands in despair.






*I got a 1290, btw. Good enough for EMU, probably not good enough for U of M.

What kind of drugs are the commentators at feministe on today? They are seriously holding Sheri S. Tepper up as an example of feminist sci-fi. This is the author who has a book, "Gibbon's Decline and Fall" that centers around a group of lawyers trying to keep a young Native American girl from being convicted of killing her newborn baby because her cognitive disabilities and impoverished upbringing means she isn't capable of normal human moral reasoning. This character speaks in absurd dialect and is presented as subhuman.

She also wrote "Sing from the Sea" which is about a medieval European society that sends women away to be sacrificed by blood-thirsty Arabs who are so sexist that women have their own language because women aren't allowed to speak.

Seriously?