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Trickle of Consciousness
So, I'm supposed to be getting money for something I wrote (which: hooray!), but it's coming via PayPal. I've never actually received money that way, only purchased through the account. Anyone familiar with how I get the money after it's in my PayPal account and / or what the best method of doing so is (looking on the site it looks like there are a couple different options)? Ideally, while I certainly want the money to go to my bank account, I don't want to wind up having my PayPal draw directly from my bank account for purchases after this is all over.

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Just so you know...






Jo-Ann Fabric meets all your pimp coat needs.

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So, depsite having just watched this episode the other day, I still managed to forget the word when I broke the aglet on my lace last night. In service to the public, then, Phineas and Ferb shall remind us once again:

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I don't blog dreams a lot, but my dreams aren't usually this creative, so what the heck.

Okay, actually, the first part of the dream isn't especially creative. I was at a fashion show, and the first designer's concept involved making all of his models look like Fern Mallis. Clearly that's just too many hours of Bravo TV talking.

But the second designer had these crazy male models on horses, only they were rigged with some combination of mechanical harnessing and prosthetic makeup so that they looked like honest to goodness centaurs. Well, they had weirdly spindly legs as part of the contraption that combined the two of them (there was some sort of stilt assembly that let the rider control the horse's legs with his own since it couldn't see), but centaurs. And in the dream, this wasn't just some fashion statement, but there was a whole community of people who lived like this. They had a name, but I have no idea what it is now.

It was weird and bizarre and absolutely cool, which my brain never dreams, so: go brain!

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So, watching Troy on TV inevitably made me think of Handy, which lead to the YouTube:



EDIT: And here's the original:

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I got excited when I found some affordable wire shelf-stuff that will let us make use of a lot of unused space in our over-sized, under-shelved kitchen cabinets.

Then I got depressed because I just got excited about shelving.

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Wow, but technology isn't liking me lately. Two days ago, our fridge burned out. Last night, my car battery took a big, giant poop. Perhaps I'm storing up power for some alien metamorphosis. In any case, no one should be surprised if there's an area brown out sometime within the next week. I'm just saying.

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I let this kind of thing go at the grocery store, because, you know, the express lane gaffe is rather a tradition. But: no, Gatorade. I don't want to know how much money you've sunk into your campaign to tell me that G2 has "less calories." You're stabbing my brain here. Stop it. Now.

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Forgot to mention: seen on the way to the store on Free Comic Book Day



Just so you're clear, it's not just the plate, it's also the bumper sticker:



In case it's too blurry, that's "My cultist sacrificed your honor student at Muskatonic Middle School." Not visible: the truck also had a Cthulhu fish on the back window. Now, on a beat up compact, I expect these sorts of things. On a giant pickup truck? I guess that's what you call mainstreaming.

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I was amused at the role-reversal of this Superman statue I came across on a recent shopping trip. After all those female super-heroes posed so that it looks like their breasts are the part they use to fly with, it's only fair Superman try something similar:

Supermanly

Though, sadly, he doesn't seem to have much there to provide the buoyancy.

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