I am not a golden god.

I'm not going to bother apologizing for the repeated lull in activity because I recently had two experiences which forced me to come to terms with the fact that I am a mere mortal.

UNO - I exceeded my bandwidth on Photobucket. I had been posting gifs, screencaps, and silly pictures all over the internet, not thinking for a moment that my Dancing Artie Party would ever end.

Exhibit A:

Then, horror struck. I was cut down in my prime, all of my situationally-hilarious snippets turned to badges of shame.

Exhibit B: That's what shame looks like, folks.

Now I know that I have to slow my roll. Or, at the very least, create an army of accounts, thus further crowding my life with clutter. Not sure if digital clutter is quite the same as a collection of Burger Kings toys from the 90s, but you get what I mean.

Dos - Being a good American, I wanted a PB&J. Two slices of rye and one spoonful of Jif later, it was time for the jammyjam. Got my raspberry goodness all set up and was about to seal the deal/the bread together in a delicious matrimony until I saw an irregular lump on the jammyjam side. IT WAS A BUG, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. A DEAD BUG.

Not that I try to relate every possible moment of my life back to Anne Shirley and her shenanigans, but all I could think (other than, 'Ew. Ew. Ew.') was, 'Well, I suppose in the end it was a romantic way to perish. For a bug.'

My sentiments exactly, Ms. Shirley.

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There is always good news! Despite technological failings on my part, the Fringe posts are finally up. Belated One and Belated Two.

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Follower Love-Fest #10: Rich

Rich's blog is the glorious Bittersweet. I don't know where he gets all of these recipes and, quite frankly, I don't care. Everything looks tasty and gives my baking-challenged self hope that I can make tasty treats without burning the house down or poisoning my loved ones. Plus, he's a snarky dude, which I love. Hey, he says it himself, 'Sugar and sarcasm.' Always a winning combination.

When I said that I would start reading for my classes, I don

't think I was very clear.

What I meant to say was, 'I am going to carry around my copy of Metamorphoses, read about twenty pages, then get distracted, reread all of my Vonnegut books, try to organize my bookshelf, and make iced tea.' Sorry for any confusion.

Yep.

As with last time, the internet ate my newest Fringe post. Cue combination of me feeling like a douchenozzle and hating technology.

I might hop in the car and take advantage of those stress relievers labelled 'Free Windows' in front of a house up the road.

In other news, after a year of being sweaty and cranky, we finally got the air conditioner fixed. HIGH FIVE ME, INTERNET.

That is technology I can get behind. I know, I know. It's a luxury that our ancestors got along without just fine. But our ancestors also thought that maggots came from dirty rags and that mercury could cure venereal diseases. And that's just science.

Goddamn right, Azrael.

Oh ho ho. I made a funny.

Plan for the day:

-Call up jobs to check in again. (Are you sick of this yet? Tough break. So am I.)

-Unpack properly. Oops.

-Call the camera repair shop to see what the damage is to the Hammer and my wallet.

-Buy glitter.

-Run some other sundry errands.

-Make veggie burgers?

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Follower Love-Fest #9: Min

Min's blog, Don't Say Stuff Like That, is an eyegasm. Don't look at me like that. It's a delightful mix of film screencaps, fashion, fantasmagorical shoes, and sexy people. You don't know it, but I took a ten second pause there to be distracted by the pictures of Tim Roth just chilling on the main page. Are you still here? I can't for the life of me understand why.