First, it’s important to know that my sister Morgan is on the Internets radio RIGHT NOW. I peeped her on webcam. I got her into Weezer and JSBX and Calvin Johnson. And now look at her…a college DJ. *FNIF*

I still love her, even though she told me that she was going to have me on to “talk about the 90’s.” Boo! She’s playing good music, too, so hooray. She’s playing The Streets right now. OH FNIF. Click listen if you’re interested. I called her and requested “Forcefield” by Beck. If she doesn’t play it I’m going to hella goatse spam her.

Also, thanks Suzy-Q for the rad link. My newest LVL 40 summer JAMZ ololololols.

Dans D’autres Nouvelles

Franny wants the WHOLE UNIVERSE to know that she has SHORT HAIR, just like Junie B. Jones. She is so pleased that most of her bleached hair is cut off now. And we had a fun time in the front yard while her sister napped and I snipped away. “My hair! My hair is in the grass!”

I had to tell her 78 times to get ready for bed last night, and she was just incapable of it. The last straw was when I came in and she was wearing nothing but an outfit made of scarves.

“This does not look like getting ready for bed,” I observed.

“Umm,” Franny said.

“I’m angry that you’re not listening to me. Your consequence is that we are not going to have stories tonight.”

“Okay,” she said, and started crying. She walked over to the mirror that I have hung at exactly her height.

“What are you doing now?” I asked.

“I’m seeing what I look like when I cry with short hair.”

NUTZ, I tells ya.

Figures 1 & 2: Mugshot; Prisoner # 4090twelvedy

Also, Franny spent a good deal of time yesterday indoctrinating Strudel into the world of pretty princess dressup. I’m okay with the fact that it’s your bag, but please leave my little future soccer thug out of it, Franny. I need one to be like me, so I can play cars and Star Wars with her. No interest in Barbies, please, that’s all I ask. No quelle drama when she falls down and barely scrapes her knee. I don’t want to have to tell both of them that “yes, your hair looks very cute” every morning. I’ve got a Becky. Please, please let this one be a Darlene. (See, Morgan, that’s me remembering the 90’s again.)

Figure 3: “I SAID WEAR THE WINGS! WEAR THE WINGS!”

Figure 4: Future horrific boombooms.

When it was all up in the 90s here earlier this week, I decided to make blueberry granitas with the huge flat of blueberries I scored at the store. I chopped up a little ginger and threw it in when I was cooking the berries down and then strained it all into a pan. Having that many blueberries around for a couple of days was cool until it started coming out the other side. If I see one more blueberry boomboom in a morning droopy, I am going to screem. You would not believe how tenacious those skins are. And then she runs away and leaves a trail of little purple specks behind her.

Figure 5: Unecessary. Sorry. We were just amazed at how blue our mouths were. Because we are pretty unsophisticated librarian jerks.

Conclusion: It is fun to raise houseplants. Tying your tubes is more affordable than ever.

AAAND now I must off to the Zoo, because I have fidgety jerks. I want to stay and listen to Morgan, but I can’t keep them in all day today again. I were tired yesterday.

I am fidgety too, because I am leaving for Blogher in two days. Woot! And when the conference is over, my friend Supa is putting me up in San Francisco, which is marvelous. I need a trip like whoa. What will it be like, wiping only my own butt for a few days? IT’S A MYSTERY.