My passport expires in March, so I went yesterday to get new passport photos. I knew it was going to be bad, but when I saw them . . . . I thought "Good day in the morning! I look FAT and doughy and . . . *sigh* poofy! (and my hair needs to be washed)"

For the next 10 years that will be my badge of all things international and I'm totally poofy!

Well, to be honest there's nothing for it. The reason I look poofy in the picture is because, I am poofy!

With this knowledge concretely in hand I made a decision. Weight Watchers. Yes, I will commit to an organized, advertised diet plan used by millions scorned by many. I don't care, if you are poofy and that's how you like it, more power to you. I don't want to look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy the rest of my days! And I'm going to wash my hair!

So there happened to be a Weight Watchers informational meeting at work this week, so I went.
I wasn't exactly sure where the room was so I walked into this big work area and I was just about to approach the first person I saw to ask if I was in the right place when I noticed she was fat.

I didn't know what to do. I mean, I didn't want her to think I had specifically picked her out to ask her where the Weight Watcher's meeting was! So I turned around and went to the next desk, FAT! Everywhere I looked they were all fat! I was thinking, is this the right place? Shouldn't someone on this diet be skinny?!

I was just about to leave when a modestly plump woman asked if I needed help. I asked about the WW meeting and she pointed me to the correct room down the hall to the left.

I didn't learn anything there really, except the leader's mother-in-law had died and there was a substitute leader coming. She was too late so I left. I think I saw her as I left the building.

I'm leaning toward the online option anyway.

I'll sign up this weekend to start the first of Feb.

Wish me lunch, I mean luck!

Let's go back in time . . . (do-do-do-do-do . . . do-do-do-do-do . . . ) I will now tell the story of Evil Shannon in Rome. (As best as I can remember it)

You may want to harken back to the blog of the Happy Days Hostel and Ivano (aka the Fonze.)
Evil Shannon began to make her appearence the night before I left. Fonzie had made it a point to: 1. complain volumously about the French people not being where they said they would be a the time they said they would be there to exchange keys for security deposits. 2. tell us we needed to be at the hostel at 7pm the night before we were all leaving to get the deposit back.

So, there we all were at 7pm waiting for the Fonze. And at 7:30, 8:00, 9:00, 9:30 (at which time I went to bed irratated, but sure that Fonzie would come in the night (before our 3:30am departure) to take the keys left on the table and leave out 5 Euros each.

When I got up in the wee-wee hours of the morning, the deposit fairy had not come, and our keys were still there.

Fonzie had made the mistake of leaving all the extra sets of keys in the kitchen cabinent. There were three of us leaving at the same time, and we were the only three there in the hostel. Therefore, we each had a set, and there were about 8 more sets in the cabinent. We all pocketed our keys and headed over to Fonzie's place and stood there and rang the door bell for about 15-20 minutes straight (3am.) Fonzie did not respond.

Evil Shannon had forseen this situation and had acted out before we left the hostel.

She took all the extra sets of keys and considered taking them all, but knowing that was not nice, she elected to hide each set in a seperate and inconvenient place.

Places she knew Fonzie would never look. They wouldn't have been so hard to find for anyone who cooked or cleaned (ever) but knowing he didn't (ever,) there was a set in the needs-to-be-defrosted freezer, in the never-been-used-and-therefore-clean oven, behind the kitchen door with the dust bunnies and the hair balls, on top of the dusty cabinent, in the whole in the wall (decoratively covered with a place mat) behind the filthy toilet, under the nasty sink and in the not-hooked-up washing machine.

Ivano if you are reading this I'm still laughing at the thought of how you must have reacted when you went to give the next guest his keys and found and empty box.

While I was throwing keys around willy-nilly the one of the other girls asked what I was doing. I said, "I'm hiding the keys." As though that is what one does when she leaves any hostel of good standing.
She said, "Oh." then "You're my hero!"
It's good to influence young people all around the world. I'm that kind of gal . . . influencial.

I think my computer may be fixed and coming home with me today or maybe tomorrow . . . we are both excited.

Here is the blog address of a cat:
http://www.myspace.com/rnroscar

I considered letting Buzz have his own address, but honestly he's a dog, he doesn't have much to say. "Woof! I'm a dog! Look I can roll over!" (This is not a skill needed in the wild, he's a freaky little weeny.)

All Buzz fans will have to be content with the pictures and information I provide!

WELCOME!

You have found People Eating Tasty Animals (PETA*)
We are a club that supports and encourages the eating of delicious animal flesh. Whether you are currently a member, or just visiting, feel free to look around. If you would like to become a member of this forum of meat lovers, please request an application for membership by emailing us at peopleeatingtastyanimals@hotmail.com

http://groups.msn.com/PeopleEatingTastyAnimals

I saw a bumper sticker for this group and wondered if it was real. I see that it is. I'm being encouraged to infiltrated the group.

We will see what happens.

it was dumb.
only the bumper sticker was cool
consider this:
The Most Dangerous MeatIn school they teach us that Swift's Modest Proposal is an ironic joke- but it's not. Why do you think there's no good English food? The English REALLY eat Irish babies- and they taste good. Charlton Heston prophesied in 1973 that "Soilent Green" is people. But so is vegimite. Pacific Islanders also eat their dead. Cannibalism isn't a dirty word in these cultures. It shouldn't be in ours!

Swift:
The persona is a concerned Irishman who is very intelligent, sound, and serious. He appears to be a brute and a monster for proposing something evil and immoral very calmly as if it is normal to consume the flesh of another human being. What makes his proposal to be even more depraved is that he proposes to eat the babies.

That whole Austin Power's "Fat Bastard" Baby eater thing is making sense now. . .

A few much needed facts from an email I received recently:
A duck's quack doesn't echo,
and no one knows why.
Dentists have recommended that a toothbrush be kept at least six feet away from a toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush.
(I keep my toothbrush in the living room now!)

And the best for last.....
Turtles can breathe through their butts.

um . . . so well off to Paris where I will while away my days for a week . . . honestly I was thinking I've made my vacation a bit too long.

I need vacation from my vactaion, like to work for an hour or two.

Alas I will suffer my way through the city of Paris. I'm not sure I'll be blogging until I get home.

At that time I will reveal all, well at least some . . . a few. One at least grand story of the life and time of Miss Shannon