--- I think my lawn’s

--- I think my lawn’s confused. We just had our first goodly rain in
quite some time last week, and boy did we ever need it. It’s very dry
around here right now. Around late August I gave up on watering the
lawn. That’s generally the time when I start to not care so much
about how things look, because in a month and a half it’ll all be
dead and the snow will be flying, so why bother? It’s just wasted
effort. Before the soaking, the lawn was fully brown, dormant, and I
was content with that. Now I don’t think it knows what to do with
itself. Ah, rain.
Lovely. It’s still warm enough: I can go back to being green. But,
why should I bother? I’m just going to die in a few weeks anyway.
My lawn seems to be at war with itself: there are rebellious patches
who seem to be agreeing with the former statement, while others are
sticking fast to the latter. I know which part is going to win. I
wonder if it does, though. --- Nothing’s really piquing my interest
today. Wesley Clark’s throwing his hat in the ring. Pffft. What does
that make it? Ten Democratic Presidential contenders? Let me know when
they start physically beating each other and then I’ll tune in. Right
now it’s just plain boring. The only thing I wonder is if this
is the reason why Kerry’s campaign manager jumped ship earlier this
week. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see that he’s suddenly got
a new job. The one story, however, that’s just baffling me is this one.

Ok, so let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’ve got a 5’7” ballerina who weighs less than 110 lbs. and she’s too fat.
No one wants to dance with her because they complain she’s too heavy
and too tall for the lifts. What the #$%^!
Ballerinas are the least healthy people out there. And I mean that.
They do horrific things to their bodies to stay in the prima
department: they starve themselves and they’re nutritionally
deficient because of it. They generally stay away from any dairy
products because they’re too fatty and as a result, a goodly number
of them have problems with early-osteoporosis. And this doesn’t go
into the arthritis, the fact their feet generally look like a foot
binding gone horribly wrong, or the ripped cartilage, tendons, muscles
and broken bones because, contrary to popular belief, ballet is an
athletic activity. I’m 5’6” and weigh considerably more than Miss
Volochkova…now. At one point in my young life, I weighed the same.
And I only know this because I stepped on a friend’s scale: I
didn’t own one at that point in time. But I didn’t think anything
of it: I ate when I hungry, plus I was no slouch in the drinking of the
nasty, cheap, college beer. Neither am I athletic; I despise
gyms---always have, always will. I chalk it up to my mom: I got her
metabolism (or at least I did back then, says she, with a grimace). I
look back at those pictures and honest to God, despite the Audrey
Hepburn neck I had going on, it was completely unattractive. I was a
bag of bones. According to the doctor, I was a good thirty pounds
underweight. So, add in an inch of height, and then do your
calculations, and you’ll see that Ms. Volochkova is even more underweight than I was. Also add in that she’s got more muscle on her lean body now than I have ever had or will have in the future. Knowing muscle is heavier than fat, you do the math.

If ice cream was a shippable item, I’d send her cases upon cases of Chubby Hubby and Karmel Sutra. She deserves them.

--- Chuckle of the Day.

And here I thought they were only thinking about how to score their next eight-ball.

I guess you learn something new every day, don’t you?