Getting the Finger in Tangier 

Ok, so it was exciting to go to Tangiers.
The mere idea that we were on the African Continent was enough to excite us, and while I'm glad we went...I certainly have mixed feelings about our visit.

The relentless haranguing by the beggars and street vendors made me feel like we were in some bizarre cultural video game.
The Mister had one little boy following him, tugging on his shirt and looking at him like puss in boots from Shrek.
I could have adopted him on the spot.
We eventually gave him a Euro to go away, but he was just replaced by another within seconds.

It really did feel like an attack by street vendors...and they were unappeasable. One tried to sell The Mister hash...which, if you knew The Mister is absolutely hilarious.

No matter where you looked, there was a photograph waiting to be taken. The history of the place is felt in your bones...and so was the contempt for tourists, and I suppose it should be expected. Walking through Tangiers was like walking out of a time machine and into the 9th century.

In fairness, we were part of a tour...and there certainly was no possible way to "blend in"...hell, even without the tour.

We were taken to a restaurant for tourists, and I must say that for a germaphobe...a dirty fingernailed thumb in your soup bowl as your waiter places it in front of you is shiver inducing.
I took out my hand sanitizer before lunch and it made the rounds of the table before I got it back. I was seated next to a Brazilian lady whom I couldn't verbally communicate with since my Portuguese was as non-existent as her English, but every so often she would turn to me, lower her head and look at me with an expression that needed no translation.
I had to take a picture with her...she was killing me.

My friend Piika had to stop me from walking into a Mosque...me, my plunging neckline, and what felt like my giant crucifix.

At one point I was taking a photograph of one of the small alley like streets as a woman was walking toward me...she saw my camera and immediately turned around and started walking backwards. I can only imagine how the people there feel about being perceived by outsiders as walking artifacts.

One thing I can say...I saw enough ass and nose picking to last a lifetime.

Is that harsh?
It's a dirty place.
The upside?
The immune system of the population of Tangiers must be incredible.

It sounds terrible, what I say here...but I don't mean it to be.
It's my observation.
Observation from a spoiled Canadian, who is used to a different kind of place.

What can I say?
It's an incredibly amazing place in it's own way.
Everyone should have the experience.

"Please say "Si Si"....say you and your Spanish eyes will wait for me..."


Since I'm refusing to let go of our trip to Spain, I thought that I'd share some observations with you.

Here are some:

There is no such thought as "I'm too old to wear that".
If Spain is any example, women are fashionistas until their dying breath.
Hair is dyed, fried and layed to the side...heels are worn until death.

The Spanish are very respectful of age and handicaps. Street lights have tweety bird sounds for the blind to know when to cross. Everything is wheelchair accessible. Buses all have designated seating for the handicapped and aged...and it's respected. Our friend Mystic told a story of his wife jumping up in the bus to let a woman sit down, and the woman said to him: "Do I look that old?"...a rule of thumb, I think would be...if Granny is wearing 3 inch heels, she's ok. She doesn't need a seat.


Spanish women check each other out.
They start at your shoes, and move up.

Shoes are a big deal in Spain.
There is at least one shoe store on every block, and people are impeccably dressed.
Don't even try to leave the house with your clothes not matching your shoes.
Even babies in prams have shoes matching their clothes, and often little umbrellas matching their prams...even when they're at the beach, their flip flops will match their bathing suit.

The Spanish love three things: their ice cream, their pork, and their shoes.

There are little tourist trip traps everywhere.
Doorways will have a little pointless ledge for you to trip over.
Ha Ha, you stupid tourist.

All bars have ingenious little hooks for women to hang their purses on.
Sounds like a stupid little thing...but it's monumentally convenient.
Toronto needs to look into it.

Speaking of Toronto looking into it...there is no reason why a small resort town like Cadiz should have a better transit system than a city like Toronto does.
But they do.
Their train systems work, their bus system works.
Toronto: Look into it.

Kids are well behaved.
They get a lot of attention.
They're loved...but...inappropriate behaviour is not tolerated.
Moms will slap their children, strangers will tell kids off...and kids say things like "excuse", "gracias".
Sounds minor, but it took me a few days to not cringe like I do here when a family sat down next to us in a restaurant...kids played.
They didn't terrorize.
Please explain to me what the difference in parenting styles is.

The Spanish language sounds like Greek to me.
There is a lot of  the "th" sound.
So that many us assume that they would lisp when they speak English.
They don't.
They have a very sexy accent when they speak English. Pleasant to the ear.

Observations of Morocco to come...

Pearl is BACK!

Remember Pearl the Landlord?



Well...she's back as a cop

I Gots Nothin'...

I'm busy at work, and surprisingly...I have nothing to say about things, other than it's hot and people bug me.

Here is the popular Chipmunk? Hamster? Prairie Dog? drama video....



...and for all the parodies that came within minutes after, click here.

Sunday Click Around.

The picture to your left was taken by Toronto Photographer Tanja Tiziana. Here is one of her websites: DoubleCrossed.ca.

What makes a good party? Well apparently, in the 1950's a good party consisted of all kinds of activities and games. You know...like when work forces you to go workshops and you have to participate in these circle "get to know you" things. I love how in the video, when one couple breaks from the pack to talk, the narrator tells you how you can get them back to the group. Tips for control freak hosts.

Love Come Down. Part way through the video, she has some giant flower with long tentacles in her hair. It's almost as big as her head.

I've mentioned Humperdinck and Jones on this blog before. My mother loved them both, and I can sing all their songs like a savant.
That's why it was so entertaining when I found James Gadolfini singing "A Man Without Love" and Christopher Walken singing "Delilah" from the movie "Romance & Cigarettes".
Now that I know that it's directed by John Turturro, I really have to see it.

Anyhow, that got me thinking about celebs who have cut albums or singles and for whatever strange reason think that they can sing. Here is Herve Villechaize. I don't know which is worse, his singing or the video editing. as well as Telly Savalas who lights a cigarette while he waits for his cue to talk to what looks like Loretta Switt's younger sister. Then, of course there's The Shat. But, I think he's always made fun of himself...in true Canadian form.

Mr. Romance's site is slick and well put together, but goes nowhere...just like real romance often does.

Joni got me thinking of Shirley Temple, and really...she was pretty amazing for a little kid back in the old days. I'm pretty sure they slaved her like a workhorse to perform, because back then...there wasn't any such thing as demanding only red M&M's and kool aid made with spring water that has Swarovski crystals in it.
Here is Shirley with Bill Bojangles, and here's another with Bill doing the staircase dance. Here's Sammy Davis' tribute to Bill Bojangles.
Here's "The Goodship Lollipop" and "Animal Crackers".

While I was looking at that, I found this really strange "Little Rascal's" type thing. You tell me...

This stop motion pocket change video is pretty cool.

Back in the day, I used to love Details Magazine before they went all Voguey/GQ...now, it looks like Vice has taken over the urban/edgy thing...but when I saw this, I almost wet myself laughing.
Seriously...how completely vapid and self-absorbed and proud of it, can you be?
In the first photo, the girl is only 23....NO WAY!!! ...she totally looked like a cougar. To me, anyway.

Here's an Asian guy singing in Serbian.

Here's a great diner scene with Pacino and DeNiro from the movie "Heat".
Speaking of great scenes, here's a scene from Casino, and some scenes from one of my favourite Soprano characters, Paulie Walnuts.

Ok...that's all for now, gotta go.
The Mister has plans.

Postcards from Spain



I apologize in advance for it not being the way I wanted it to be, but my software is being a bitch.

Postcards from Morocco to come...the music on this video postcard is sung by the gypsy pictured in the Flamenco Bar photos, but in true gyspy fashion, when he signed his CD he didn't sign his name, but the name of the CD...so, I can't even tell you his name.

*The picture of "The King of Poland" was taken by Piika... but I couldn't resist adding it.

I'll Get You, My Pretty...

This morning I was listening to talk radio on the way to work and the topic was this couple who have been fined $250 because their two daughters screaming in the backyard pool are bothering their neighbours.

"Still, Bayville code enforcement officer Albert Criscuolo last month issued a notice of violation to William Poczatek, 43, ordering him to keep his children quiet. The Poczatek children were "screaming and shouting" and causing "an unreasonable nuisance," according to the notice. Criscuolo could not be reached for comment.

The fracas came to a head on June 12 when the couple hosted a party at their Perry Avenue home for their 11-year-old daughter and her friends, said Rachel Poczatek. The next day, the couple received the summons.

Rachel Poczatek said she does tell her children to be quiet, but they should be allowed to play during the day.

"I don't feel my kids are doing anything wrong by being outside," she said."


The host took call after call from people who said, "they're just kids for Godssake!".

Yes.
I agree...but for a bunch of neighbours to get together to shut your kids up...they must be pretty friggin' loud.

We used to have neighbours who had a trampoline from May to July, and then a mesquito breeding above ground pool that they never covered for July and August and then back to the trampoline for the month of September.
Their kids and a bunch of other people's kids shrieked from morning until night. We have good windows and air conditioning so it was tolerable...but if I had to endure that every day with my windows open, I wouldn't be happy about it either.

...and I love kids.

No one is saying that kids shouldn't have fun, but there's an underlying issue here.
It's called respect for others.
If it's every once in a while, it's ok...but if it's every day, those kids need to be taught consideration for others.

I dunno.
It's easy to say "oh, they're just kids having fun" when they're not shrieking in your backyard.

I am What I am.

I'm a simple person who can find pleasure in simple things.
I don't need to be high falutin'.
I don't need to have the most expensive clothes, furniture or car.
I don't need to brag about the things that I have, or things that I have done, or places that I've been.

I joke often, and call myself a peasant.
I have been in situations where I have been made to feel poor, and less than by social climbers and rich people.
I have been in places where I thought that I was dressed fine, only to look down at myself and see that my clothes were not as expensive as those around me.
I have been made to feel small.

I remember a long time ago, my mother wanted to take my Grandparents out to a shmantsy restaurant in Belgrade. She wanted to show my Grandparents that she was doing well.
That she had risen from the farm and village that she was born in.

My Grandmother dressed in her church best, but not my Grandfather.
My Grandfather dressed as though he was merely going up the street to Juliska's for a drink with his buddies.
His old pants, frayed shirt and cardigan portrayed him as the villager that he was.

When the bread was put on the table, he pulled out his trusty penknife and cut a smaller piece. My mother was embarrassed, and put her hand on his arm.
"Tata", she said quietly...he pulled his arm away with force and anger, and continued cutting his bread with the penknife he always carried with him.
The one he cut tomatoes, spring onions and slanine for breakfast with.
The one he cut the string holding cornhusks with.
The one he pulled out to cut anything he needed to cut at a moments notice.

...and I silently cheered him on.

My Grandfather was a proud man.
He had a right to be proud.
He survived Dachau, and Hungarian work camps.

Who cared what the waiter or other patrons thought?
He earned the right to be who he was.

Wherever he was.

Fetal



There are things that happen in your life, that cannot be spoken to another soul.
Things that are not for public consumption.
Things that eat away at your dignity, and your feelings of worth.
But things that cannot be spoken, nevertheless.

Cannot be spoken because of shame,
love,
faithfulness…
but carried like a burden to sneak up on you at unexpected times.
To visit you just before you drop off to sleep, and cause you to remember with agonizing detail the hurt.
To cause you doubt.
To make you feel unlovable.

You dream, and dream, and dream

Tomorrow, it’s a new day.
You bury it.
You smile, and make jokes.
And people admire your attitude.
They admire your strength.

So do you.

The Mister and me hate the multiplex cinema concept.
We are lucky enough to remember the old one movie theatre with the balcony and the velvet curtains.

Now, the movie theatre is just a glorified video game arcade with overpriced food and movies.

The Mister and me don't go to the movies that much anymore because we hate the experience now. We usually wait for movies to come out on DVD and watch them at home.

Sometimes we forget why we hate the movie theatre/multiplex experience and decide to go...as we did last night. The Mister, The Stepson and me all went to see "Knocked Up", which is quite funny.

The theatre was sparse, so when the tapping on the back of my seat started, I was surprised...because if the theatre is practically empty, and you want to kick the seat in front of you for the whole movie....why the hell would you sit behind the only other people in the first 16 rows?

I turned around and glared at her.
She stopped.
Then her boyfriend showed up from the concession stand and sat down.
The trailers started, and so did the talking from behind us.
Loud talking.

"HUH HUH HUH, I wanna see that movie, blah blah blah"
Then a higher pitched: "Blahblah blah bleah blahblah"

Repeat.

The Mister turned to me and said: "Where do you want to move to?"

I got up and we moved, and then I went to the concession stand where I paid 5 bucks for 1/2 of a bag of microwave popcorn I could have made fresh at home for fifty cents.
I had to listen to some broad lecture the kid working behind the counter about the prices.
"What a bunch of rip off artists you guys are..." she says.

Yeah.
Because the 17 year old behind the counter has a lot of say in the pricing of the concessions.

People in large venues suck.

....and that's why we don't go to the movies at the theatre anymore.

I'm a Silly Head

It's Jacqueline, one of Radmila's stand-ins while she was bull fighting in Spain.

While she was away I did a post about sending a free book to anyone who wanted one - all you needed to do was send me an email at glacia at gmail dot com.

And two ladies took me up on my offer and I was very excited. So excited that I lost their emails.....

Now, it's with great embarrassment that I ask these two lovelies to send me an email again so I can ship out your books.

I hope you'll forgive me, dears.

Sunday Click Around

The the picture to your left is of a Gypsy entertainer in a downtown plaza in Madrid.
He was very accommodating, posing for me in dramatic ways.

While there are gypsies here in Toronto, they seem quite different from those who reside in Europe. When I was a little girl, I remember seeing the colourful caravans...I think those are more or less a thing of the past.

Anyhow, it got me thinking about Gypsies and their history and traditions.
Here is a bit of History and Way of Life of Gypsies, as well as Gypsies in the Halocaust.
Gypsies of the UK, and photos of the gypsy way of life.

The Onion has a series of statshots that are pretty amusing. It's fun to satirize those quick little powerpoint pages that allow you not to have to spend precious time reading up on the full facts yourself.

Here's Coco Chanel's collection from 1959.
Don't get me wrong, I love the Chanel suit...but this show, since it's in black and white, makes all the suits look identical. Here's an interview with Coco.
It's all in French (duh) but her body language and the cadence of her dialogue is just as arrogant and dismissive as I imagined she'd be.

While we're on retro fashion for a minute, here's Vintage Fashion Reels from the '60's, and Vintage Fashion 1940, where the narrator uses words like "scamp", "skippy", and "fine and gay".

Here's a little history on "Voguing".

World Monuments Watch, a watchlist of 100 most endangered sites that threaten cultural heritage around the world. Found at Cynical-C.

Bound for Glory is a site full of great photographs of America in Colour from 1939-1943.

Here is a little vignette of some guy going around asking random people "What is your personal meaning of Life?".
I don't know about you, but I think it's kind of a stupid question, since none of us know why we're here to begin with, and to assume that we really have any say in it is typically self-revolved.
Many people in the short said that the meaning of life to them was "to be happy".
What? Was that the question?

Question: "What the secret to happiness?"
Answer: "Accepting misery"

Question:"What's the difference between a realist and a cynic?"
Answer: "The number of times you've been kicked in the head".

Whatever the answer to the question: "what is the meaning of life?" it must be sarcastic, sardonic and ironic....not lame, like "to be happy".

Here's the blog of a UK Police Constable. I think that law enforcement should use the internet as much as possible. YouTube, and blogs could be a great tool if used properly.

While reading Funkaoshi, I found this article about how mean French mothers are compared to North American mothers.
I read the entire article, and I didn't think that it was just French mothers.
I recognized their parenting style as "natural consequence" parenting.
If I tell you not to do it, and I tell you not to do it, and I tell you again...and you still choose to do it, you suffer the consequences and I don't give you any sympathy because I told you not to.
It was my mother's parenting style too.

It was one of the questions I had about Spanish children.
They too are well behaved. Is it because Senora has no qualms about smacking her kid in the head (which I saw) if they don't listen or behave appropriately?
Is it because anyone who witnesses your child doing something inappropriate can tell your kid off in the street?

You tell me.
But, I'll tell you that while in Spain, I didn't cringe and plan to move when I saw a family come in and sit down next to us in a restaurant like I do here.

A Night at the Roxbury - Turkish Style.

Here are some banned TV commercials.


Here's a very odd condom commercial (I loved the sheep/Woody Allen reference).

Last night, we had a BBQ with a quite a few people.
One of my friends noted that it was a good collection of fatherless people.
In my head, I went through the guestlist and realized that she was absolutely correct...However, while the guests were all fatherless (save one) all of the fathers who were at the table are real ones.

Happy Fathers Day to all you dedicated Dads...all others, kiss my ass.

Just a Coupla Things...

To step away from what I'm compelled to blog about for a minute in order to focus on the strange developments of the past few days in the news.

"PETERBOROUGH, Ontario - A judge has ruled that a 24-year-old Canadian man is not allowed to have a girlfriend for the next three years.

The ruling came after Steven Cranley pleaded guilty on Tuesday to several charges stemming from an assault on a former girlfriend.

Cranley, who has been diagnosed with a dependent personality disorder, attacked his girlfriend in an argument after their breakup."

Ok kids, this is a groundbreaking ruling.
Who knows?
Down the line this case may be used to justify controlling all kinds of social and moral problems that some people are not mature or responsible enough to take on, and society at large eventually has to step in and handle.

Like childrearing for example.
Maybe someday, this case can be used to stop people convicted of child abuse from even being allowed to have children....a little late to stop Karla Homolka, but still...

Who knows?

On a related topic...The recent raids on gangs in Toronto have terrified the children in those households.

Don't get me wrong.

I feel for those children...but not because police scared them.
I feel for those children because their parents are desperate and irresponsible.
There's no crime in being poor, but it's a revolting thing to watch these children used as human shields in the media to protect their parents criminal lifestyles.

Why isn't exposing your child to a criminal lifestyle, opening them up to the possibility of not only police raids, but drive bys and home invasions by criminals.. not considered child abuse?

I think that's a fair question.
So, to question the safety of these children, just from and with police raids?...gimme a fuckin' break.

That's all for now.

The Dance of Death.



Our friends warned me about the bullfight.


"It's pretty bloody"
"I don't know if you'll be able to sit through the whole thing"

Even The Mister was concerned, since I am the one to hide my eyes during bloody movies.

...but I loved the bullfight.

Yes.
I know that there's an outcry for the bullfights to cease.

And for some reason, I thought that they went on for ages torturing the poor bull...

...but they don't.

An entire bullfight appears to last about 20 minutes, and unlike cows and bulls on this side of the pond who are led to the slaughter...the bulls in Spain get an opportunity to fight back.

...and sometimes they get their own.

I understand that we got to see a bullfight in one of the most famous rings in the world. The ring in Seville...and it's old. Old and beautiful, and reminiscent of the Roman ring.

Let me try to describe.

People show up to the bullfight decked OUT. Ladies in their best, with their pretty fans, men carrying their little pillows to sit on the old stone, that is hard on the bum, as us tourists quickly found out.



The Toreadors and Matadors enter in their full regalia, and pay respects to the crowd by coming right up to the boards and tipping their hats to the fans one at a time.
Their outfits are fantastic...and it got me thinking....I could get with the fantastic outfits in beautiful bright saffrons and reds...taunting the bulls with my pink cape...and then running like a bitch behind the boards as the bull chips away at the wood with fury...but that's where I would make my exit.



The rest is a dance of death...and it's beautiful.
The bull is massive and angry.
Each bull enters with their own personality and level of ire and fire.

The Matador is glorious, graceful and proud.
When the Matador makes his move, dodging the bull so closely and pulling the cape with such grace and respect for the bulls power...I get it.

All of the bull's meat and hide is used.
Not like the hunters who kill, mount the head and leave the carcass to rot in the woods...this is a dance of death...a show of respect for the power of the animal.
The crowd is respectful and hush...one man shouted out during a crucial moment as the Matador and bull stared each other down in the final moments, and the entire crowd hissed him to silence.

If you're going to die for your meat...there is no way more courtly to go than with an opportunity to kill your opponent.

I am officially a fan.

Kiss my ass PETA.

I love the aged.

Pictures of wonderful faces from Spain and Morocco at Look Up Radmila

We're Back!!!

Oh. My. God.
Spain is beautiful, and if I didn't have those tedious work/language/unemployable in Spain issues...I'd move there in a heartbeat.

Anyhow...there will be more to come, I just have to get my bearings.

The picture above was taken in an adorable little cafe in Madrid (is there any other kind?).

The little Flamenco dancer is one of the things I coveted when I was a little girl, and now...while I love, love, love those dolls...I could never make it fit without purchasing an ornate buffet cabinet and starting a collection of such dolls.
Succumbing to the cliche Eastern European style of knick knacks that don't match in a hard to dust setting.

So...I took a picture to keep instead.

Many thanks to Chris and Jacqueline for taking care of the place while we were gone.

How To Make Breast Milk Cheese


Don't say that I never taught you anything during my stay as guest blogger.

My extensive experience in making Paneer compelled me to try something different, that is, making Paneer out of my own breastmilk. Basically this is human cheese. Why would I do that? Well, basically, there are about twenty bags (each 150ml) of frozen breastmilk in the fridge, and they have passed their three months drinkability period, which means I would not be able to donate the milk like I did before. But the milk is still less than six month old, which is the actual expiry date. So what do I do with it? I could make cream soup like I did several months ago. But I really wanted to try something different, and making Breast Milk Paneer sounds really exciting.

Lovely M. from Working at Home drew my attention to this review of last night's Soprano's episode.

The climax was the lack of a climax: all the weight and tension brought upon by eight years of loyalty and betrayal, arrogance and greed. That abrupt ending forced viewers to recognize their own responses to Tony’s life, their expectations for violence, or even for the conclusion of a sentence. Sometimes life goes on, and sometimes it just stops.

Okay, so that's a review that shed some light on it and gave me more food for thought other than my own insightful, 'WTF??!!!'.

Do your family members ever send you shit that makes you wonder if they're just trying to provoke you?

I'm still trying to figure out what point my sister (who never reads my blog) out west was trying to make with this:

RULES FOR ENTERING ALBERTA:

1. Pull your droopy pants up. You look like an idiot.

2. Let's get this straight, it's called a gravel road. I drive a pickup to get dust on your Lexus. Drive it or get out of the way.

3. They are pigs, cattle and oil wells. That's what they smell like to you. They smell like money to us. Get over it. Don't like it? The No. 2 goes south and No. 1 oes east and west. Pick one.

4. So, you drive a sixty-thousand dollar car. We're real impressed. We have a quarter-million dollar combine that we drive three weeks a year.

5. So every person in a pickup waves. It's called being friendly. Try to understand the concept.

6. We started hunting and fishing when we were nine years old. Yeah, we saw "Bambi" too. We got over it.

7. If a cell phone rings when ducks are coming in, we shoot it out of your hand. You better hope you don't have it up to your ear at the time.

8. Yeah, we eat beef and pork. You want sushi and caviar? It's available at the corner bait shop.

9. The "Opener" refers to the first day of deer season. It's a religious holiday held the closest Saturday to the first of November.

10. We open doors for women. This applies to everyone regardless of age.

11. No, there's no "Vegetarian Special" on the menu. Order steak. Order it rare. Or, you can order the Chef's Salad and pick off the two pounds of ham and turkey.

12. When we set a table there are three main dishes: meats, vegetables and breads. We use three spices - salt, pepper and ketchup.

13. You bring "Coke" into my house it better be brown, wet, served over ice and plenty of it!

14. Yeah, we have golf courses. Don't hit in the water hazards - it spooks the fish.

15. Colleges? Try Olds College. They come outta there with an education and a love for God and country, and they still wave at passing pickup trucks when they come home for the holidays.

16. We have more Air Force and Army than any other Province. So, "Don't Mess with Alberta".

17. Also, remember that Ralph once said, Alberta can make it without Canada, but Canada can't make it without Alberta.

Okay, I GET it...you hate Toronto.

Get in line.

For the record, as much as I'm no fan of Ralph Klein, I've never sent anything even close to this expounding the superiority the east (vs. west) to my friends and family. So, kindly, stop sending this kind of stuff into my inbox...it's just rude.

End of rant.

I'm Beginning to Like This Kid.

Oh The Pain

glumbert.com - Can you spell socially inept?

I'm just really feeling bad for this lady.

Cat Cam



This guy attached a camera to his cat and is posting the resulting pictures.

Update:

The site is back up.

Guest Blogging

Whenever I go out of town, my mom comes over the apartment to get my mail and feed my cat. I'll give her a call and ask her how everything is going.

"Fine," she'll say. "Except I never see your cat when I'm there feeding it. I know it's around somewhere because the food keeps going down but I have no idea where it is hiding."

Guest blogging is almost the exact same thing except I don't have to put Radmila's newspaper on the table. You go through the motions, put up a few posts but you don't actually really see any new comments. When Radmila comes back I'll tell her that everything went well except all her readers were hiding behind the couch when Jacqueline and I stopped by to feed them.

Fire on Marlborough Street [1975]



From WorldFamousPhotos.com:

On July 22, 1975, photograph Stanley J. Forman working for the Boston Herald American newspaper when a police scanner picked up an emergency: “Fire on Marlborough Street!”

Climbed atop the fire truck, Forman shot the picture of a young woman, Diana Bryant, and a very young girl, Tiare Jones when they fell helplessly. Diana Bryant was pronounced dead at the scene. The young girl lived. Despite a heroic effort, O’Neil knew he had been just seconds away from saving the lives of both.

Photo coverage from the tragic event garnered Stanley Forman a Pulitzer Prize. But more important, his work paved the way for Boston and other states to mandate tougher fire safety codes.

What the World Eats



From Time.com comes this picture gallery of families from around the world and their groceries for a week.

HA!

Audrey Hepburn Photo Gallery



Plenty of wonderful photos can be found here.

Sarah Silverman Blasts Paris Hilton Live



And the camera is there for a reaction shot...

MAGICAL BOOK TOUR



I am in the process of reading the million books I have in an attempt to reduce my bookage.

I want to give these books to other people, but I don't want to do all the traditional ways of getting rid of books e.g. Book Crossing, used bookstores, in my condo lobby...because it's boring. I want my books to go to a good home. I want someone who will tell me if they liked the book or not. Someone who can tell me that the book changed their lives or that they read three pages of it and it's now being as a coaster.

So with that in mind I'd like to just mail you a book. Yup, I just want to put a book in the mail to someone who just likes books. I want to suprise someone with a book.

Now that I have access to a whole new audience, I thought I'd make this offer to the Radmila fan club. I will send you a book if you'd like one. I won't tell you which book, it'll be a big honking mystery...one day a book will show up at your home and you can enjoy it.

Do not worry, because I have really good taste in books and you will receive a book worthy of your time. Any crap books I have, will not be sent in the mail.

So, if you want a book, drop me a line at glacia at gmail dot com with your address and I will send one to you. The only catch is that I'm a bit of a slow reader so it make take a bit to get to you, but you will not be forgotten.

Note..the book at pictured in this entry has already been given away, but there are plenty of others. Terry Pratchetts, classics, and just some fun ass shit like, 'Peggy Goes to Hollywood' which I bought in that restaurant in Bayfield.

So if you love books and you love mysteries, drop me a line. Go on, I know you want to.

The Book Inscriptions Project



Posting pictures of inscriptions found in books:

We collect personal messages written in ink (or pen or marker or crayon or grape jelly) inside books.
Pictures count. So do poems. So do notes on paper found in a book. The more heartfelt the better.
Send a copy of the cover and the inscription and any details about how, when and where you found it.

Under Stairs Drawers



Brilliant!

Each step has its own drawer. I saw something just like this on Small Spaces, Big Style and they mentioned the idea comes from yachts and other boats where space is at a premium and under-stair storage is pretty common. I wonder how difficult it would be to retrofit an existing staircase with something like this.