Thanks for reminding me. 3300 grains of rice. thanks to House's medical vocabulary in part. ;-)

Nothing to see here, I just like even numbers Woohoo 100 pages

Yay! 100 pages!

I went 3 and 1 for the week on picks which is better than Da Hubby, blew the TB/Gaints call but seeing as I want the Giants in the Super Bowl I think I will continue to pick against them

Ralph Wiggim for President!

There's sunshine in Seattle and snow in Baghdad. I feel like I've fallen through the looking glass :)

galaxygirl wrote: This is so messed up. Word, and to now have it played out over the international airwaves. That has to suck On a more positive side, the new Hershey Kiss Trios are quite good. They are chocolate, white and truffle Kisses in one edited by GG to remove extra tags

Mmmmmm... I love Hershey's kisses. Maybe on the was back from Happy Trails*, I'll see if I can find some. :) In other news, I have to go work at a dance tonight. I have no say in whether I do it, what I wear, or what I do.

Innocents From Abroad, Part 1 I am posting this at the request of fffaw, but if it is too long, or inappropriate or boring, please feel free to dispose of it as you will. Being French, my parents were passionate about cinema. Along with my ba-ba, I was fed every nuance of lighting, direction, cinematography, writing and acting. As I grew to maturity, it was my (mostly) good fortune that every boyfriend, to a man, was crazy about my folks. (I must, in the interest of full disclosure, state that the feeling was usually, but not always, reciprocated.) Thus came about the Sunday Movie Ritual. Rarely did a week pass that we did not go to the movies, with boyfriends when available, without when I was bereft of male companionship. At a very young age, I somehow came to be the director, or rather, selector of these cinematic outings. The mantle wore heavily sometimes, for I had to be sensitive to my mother's modesty, and I bore the responsibility for the occasional box office flop. One Sunday, I was to be bridesmaid at a friend's wedding. The week was chock-a-block with preparations, and I hadn't given thought to my parent's addiction. I was nearly ready to leave, when my father asked me which film I had chosen for them, and which theater to go to. Frazzled and cross, I snapped at him, "Dammit, you guys watch the 10 o'clock news every night, and that bizarre movie critic must have mentioned something that appealed to you! Here's the newspaper - this week you are on your own!" I felt rather guilty, but determined that two such highly intelligent people should have no difficulty choosing a movie. When my bf and I got home, well-oiled, from an um, intoxicating, nuptial celebration, we were eager to learn of their choice, and to hear a detailed critique. We found my noble progenitors sitting at the dining room table, pale and shaken. Were they robbed? Car Accident? Bomb threat? It turns out that these intelligent, capable people were living in a time warp. They were having flashbacks to 1947, when they first came to New York, and Times Square was home to first-run cinemas. They had decided to leave their movie choice to serendipity, confident they would find suitable entertainment on the 42nd Street of long ago. After parking the car, they strolled along, scanning the marquees. They came to one that read The Naughty Victorians. "Bon, Maman, you like zee costume drama! You want to see zees one?" "Yes, and you like the historique films, Papa!" They bought their tickets, and settled into their seats. The film opened with a back view of a pert young woman in a short maid's outfit. The master of the house enters, the young house maid turns around to reveal her, well, everything, and without delay, master and maid engage in vigorous copulation. My unfortunate parents were nailed to the backs of their seats as though blown there by hurricane force winds. Once they recovered their senses, they raced to the box office, requesting a refund, declaring they did not know the prurient nature of the film. When the manager said "Don't you know what the XXX means?!", the poor innocents replied defensively and in unison, "Of course. Kisses". Clearly a compassionate fellow, the man refunded their money, and they hastened from the theater as fast as feet could fly. By this time, Griffen and I were howling and pounding the table, overcome by waves of helpless hysteria, but, clearly determined to kill their inebriated first-born, my parents pressed on, declaring that this was not the end of their misadventure. To be continued... If this is amusing and of interest to you guys, I will post the conclusion.