1. I’m way too lazy to actually list 100 things.

2. I enjoy reading singles ads when I’m bored. People invariably sound so lame and pathetic, which makes me feel superior and less isolated. But yesterday I was reading one by this woman who wrote 26 things about herself, in alphabetical order. “A” was Ameli
   

Xkot on counting money.

I was going to write something about almost falling down the stairs at the music school last night, while carrying a cello and a harp, because I was looking backwards talking to a music teacher and not watching my step, but Xkot’s story is far better.

The Secret Books
[via U.D.N.]

Thanksgiving was exhausting. I baked two apple pies and au gratin potatoes and a 8 kg turkey with orange glaze (fresh-pressed orange juice, sauteed chopped onions, grated orange peel, grated ginger, honey, red currant jelly). Alpha made good corn soup. I baked biscuits. My mother-in-law made some tasty pumpkin/vegetable concoction. We had steamed broccoli and carrot sticks. Beta invited girls and they brought mashed potatoes and potato salad. Another guest brought a bunch of wine.

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Dropped Alpha off at the airport yesterday, story here, and after we’d bought nice-smelling candles and things at the Body Shop and roasted candied almonds at the pharmacy and had coffee at a coffee shop (where I ate all the roasted almonds) and looked at things at Harrod’s I saw her as far in as I could see her. She showed her ticket to the man and went through the turnstile and through the glass I watched her walk off to her gate.

She didn’t look back.

I hung out at a newsstand for a while. I was looking for something good to read, or failing literature something with naked ladies. The Playboy with Dita Teese on the cover was tempting, but I passed and also passed on some lame Penthouse collector’s issue, Bob Guccione recycling old Pets o’ the Month I guess.

Instead I bought Anne Rice “Blood and Gold” for a nice wintry shot of goth excess and Paul Auster’s memoir “Hand to Mouth” for some literariness.

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French Bug product sales on rise in Texas.
[Thanks, Melly]

An Englishman, an Irishman, a Scotsman and a vicar walk into a bar.
“What is this,” says the bartender, “some kind of joke?”