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There will be spooooooky storm clouds. And angst!!! Soooo much angst.

(And, no, we don't think this is April fools. Wonkette linked, so it must be totally serious, right?)

ZOMG, From [livejournal.com profile] sarahpolk, via Gawker, THE AUDITION TAPE!!!

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ZOMG, vote for Tom Tancredo or a bunch of scary fucking Messicans will blow up everything!!!!

Puppies

Nov. 5th, 2007 10:08 am
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There are two types of people, or so the saying goes, cat people and dog people. And even though tiki began her life firmly in the cat person category, she has, in her dotage, succumbed to the charms of waggedy tails and flippy floppy ears and lolling tongues. That is to say, we like little puppies.

Which is not to say we're unaware of the beasts' less charming aspects. As a runner, one is ever vulnerable to the dog--or more specifically, the dog owner--who thinks of their charge as doting parents of a drooling toddler, that is, that of course everyone will find as charming as they a two-year old tyke who, after a few minutes jamming hand as far down the back of his pants as they will go, then proceeds to skip around Starbucks applying that same hand to every cup, box and wrapped pastry within reaching distance (and yes, we really witnessed this, and yes, EWWWWW!).

For those who haven't yet had sufficient caffeine, let us 'splain: many doggies have a natural tendency to give chase to swift objects. For some, squirrels and annoying crows will suffice, but many are not so discriminating, and will also pursue runner, cyclists, Honda Civics, and whatever else crosses their path.

Considering that tiki runs nearly every day of the week, and considering the number of friendly dog walkers we encounter, this is not a widespread problem, but a persistent one. There is actually one running route we can no longer take due to a certain bull mastiff belonging to a household whose denizens boast none-greater-than-first-class-postage-stamp IQs.

Today, on the way home, we encountered the man with the Scottie doggies, and since they were in more than usually effusive moods, and since we are suckers for little Scottie doggie, we paused for several moments while to let our running tights be covered in adorable little muddy pawprints.

It was two blocks later, within sight of Casa de Tikistitch, that we heard the shout. A cyclist had dismounted, and, as they tell you do to, had inserted her bicycle between herself and a great Scooby Doo-sized beast. The apparent owner shouted again, and Scooby made a U-turn, and came barrelling, and barking, straight towards us!

"Oh great," came our Last Thoughts. "We've just been playing with some teensy Scottie doggies. WE SMELL LIKE A SCOOBY SNACK!"

Time froze. But at length, to our surprise and relief, the Great Beast charged straight past us, and lit around a corner, out of sight. The owner muttered some words of apology before he too disappeared in chase. We thanked him, in somewhat colorful language, for providing us with our first Myocardial Infarction of Pacific Standard Time.

Attention, dog walkers of Seattle: tiki has made a decision. We are going to start carrying pepper spray. Not for the dogs though. For owners too stupid to know how to use a leash.
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So, usually, 'tis a day of happitation and gladness when the new Stitchies arrive from Japan. We ceaselessly reload the USPS site in order to catch the very instant that they are delivered to our mailbox.

Today, though, something has gang agley.

While the Stitchies appeared to have sailed through Customs on Sunday, they had not yet been listed as arrived by mid-morning. Which was weird, dude. So, we called up our mailbox place. The same mailbox place we have been using since Dino-Stitchies ruled the earth.

Here is the conversation.

phone: RING RING

cranky mailbox guy: Yeah?

tiki: Moshi moshi! Have our Stitchies arrived yet?

CMB: Yeah, but I refused the package.

tiki: Hahahaha! So they've arrived.

CMB: I refused the packages.

tiki: ....

CMB: We don't have enough room. We have boxes around here.

tiki: You always have boxes. You're a storage facility.

CMB: Well, you get too many boxes blah blah blah....

phone: CLICK!


tiki goes postal )
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Seventy-seven degrees out there.

(We mean 77 degrees of "we don't need no steenkin' metric system 'cause we rule the world anyway yay" Fahrenheit.)

AND, not a raindrop-containing cloud in the sky.

Not even a foofy white cloud, in fact.

On days like today, by all that is holy, we should be out on the deck, wielding an iced tea (or perhaps an ice-cold beer, either imported or micro, but definitely not Coors), and not here, watching our PC install SAS version 9.1.3 Service Pack 4.

In fact, when we're elected President tiki, we will enact a law stating that days like today must be spent out on the deck.

And if you don't have a deck, well, this is the USA goddammit, we'll build you one.

Furthermore, you know those guys who call you when you're trying to eat dinner and want to know if you're happy with you're long distance service? That's the guys we'll have building decks. 'Cause, obviously, they're in need of gainful employment. Including the supervisors. And especially including the guy who owns the company, who will be in charge of the port-a-potty.

Oh, and those guys in the truck who yelled at us yesterday when we were walking to the grocery store? Them too. They were annoying and stupid and driving a Dodge truck.

Ah, spit, computer wants to restart again. OK, OK....
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Seriously, is there a single homo-bashin' Republican politician left who's not in actuality just a self-loathing closeted gay dude?

(And, yeah, we're definitely starting to get worried about Liddy Dole. We mean, she's got really big hands for a chick.)

EDIT: The video is from 1982. Yeah, 1982. Looks like The Idaho Statesmen is really out in front of this story. According to Atrios, their reporter had wanted to break it earlier, but it had been tied up in legal hassles.

Squatters

Aug. 27th, 2007 01:35 pm
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We loves us some Trader Joe's (and not, despite the rumors, just because they have the little tiki tiki man on their grocery bags). But! We are somewhat creeped out that each time we pop over at lunchtime to grab some choco chip granola really-they're-junk-but-you-feel-healthy bars, inevitably, the shelf we want to raid is blocked by someone squatting in front of it. And we are not talking about obscured by filled grocery carts or beset with a tangle of chatty yuppies--now that's annoying, but doesn't squick us.

Listen, TJ shoppers, despite the proximity of goat cheese, you have not just descended from Mongolia, you have likely piloted your Nissan SUV to a neighborhood specialty store in order to pick up some two buck chuck. The only reason for current residents of the United States of America to be squatting is if they are currently on a backpacking trip and the franks and beans from the campfire last night didn't agree with them. STFU (Stand the Fuck Up)!
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'Tis an A Red Letter Day at Casa de Tikistitch, as we are having an Important Guest arriving later tonight. Of course, our day has been a mad whirl, as we haven't really had to apply the backhoe to the living room since our return from around the world, plus we'd received packages mailed from ourselves (we shouldn't have!) containing many foreign-acquired treasures, scattered around the premises along with cardboard boxes and packing squoogies. So, we hied straighten up, as well to brush our Stitchies teeth to an appropriately attractive shade of yellow and festoon Darth Maul in his most attractive headgear. Ten minutes before Important Guest was to dark in our doorstep, we finally stilled the vacuum cleaner. And waited.

Only to hear from IG, oopsie, we're running a bit late.

Of course, our only recourse, is to scan Yahoo Japan for disturbing imagery! And so we give you, The Honorable Mr. Pooh being swallowed by a ravenous cartoon goldfish....



POSTSCRIPT: IG's host just called. From a cellphone. In his car. His car was in fact sitting in the street outside Casa de Tikistitch. He requested, via said cellphone, that Mr. Tikistitch grab a jacket and dash forthwith outside and get in the car, so they could squire IG away on further adventures.

We're still here (our Presence was Not Requested), sipping the last of the Basket Case wine and watching our Top Chef marathon. Hung is kind of a jerk sometimes.
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So, it's 82 degrees today, which is not record-breaking, but kind of warm for Seattle, and warmer than it has been the past couple of days. There's a very light breeze, but the afternoon sun is bright.

Just spotted: a Cap Hill poser, skinny-ass white dude, ambling by wearing a grey hoodie.

A grey hoodie. With the hood up.

Our day

Aug. 10th, 2007 02:21 pm
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Went to the used CD store because it's been a whole month since we went to the used CD store since it was here and we were in like Mongolia 'n stuff.

Anyways, grabbied skazillions of CDs. (And cheated and bought a couple of new.)

And spilled them all over the counter where the Used CD Store Guys helpfully sneered at our lack of Used CD Store Guy Cachet.

The one Used CD Store Guy who's unfortunately Not Quite Cool Enough finally spoke and said, "Wow, big day."

"We've been in Mongolia dude."

*goggles*

"Mongolia?"

"Mongolia."

*goggles*

"Uh, how was it?"

"Cool."

(Tiki kind of lives to have these conversations. Yeah, we're kind of fucked up.)
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Wanted to add some babble to this imagery from our Trans Siberian experience. Here's the first thing: no WiFi on the Trans Siberian! Woe is us.

my life of suffering and grief )

The threat

Aug. 10th, 2007 10:33 am
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Here is the Stationery set heard round the world. We had grabbed it at a department store the morning of the day we flew out of Shanhai, and unthinkingly crammed it into our overstuffed carry on luggage. Unfortunately, our round-edged safety scissors constituted a looming threat to airport security! The security girl (who was actually quite nice) offered us the option of going back through security lines, customs lines, passport check lines and gating lines to place the box in checked luggage. We picked the option of throwing the box into the trash can. Mr. Tiki and Security Girl sighed, dragged the set out of th trash, deftly removed the offending scissors, and sent us on our merry way.

checked )
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The person who just sent us this is exactly the same person who always forwards crap about missing cancer kids and $50 million cookie recipes.

Beijing!

Aug. 1st, 2007 07:15 pm
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Managed to get to Beijing and, guess what, THERE IS STITCH HERE!!!!!

The last two days have been a blur of running for trains, inhaling smoke and passport checks. tiki had what was probably THE worst experience of her life on the bus into Beijing from the Mongolia-Chinese border. If you have the opportunity to take what's called a "sleeping bus," one word, DON'T!

The driver hit me.

Yeah, rilly.

travels with tiki )

Mac attack

Jul. 1st, 2007 01:18 pm
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So, our iMac is home at last.

But, the whole experience has been fucking weird, to say the least.

Snotty Genius Bar Dude told us Saturday was the earliest we might get our baby. We gave the store a phone number, but heard no updates. So, tiki called the store. We called the phone number of the local store, mind you, but once the automated operator gave us the option for repairs, it bumped us to another, apparently national, repair line. This was the first level of the weird, as we had some kind of quaint notion of calling our local shop and actually talking to some guy. Thus, after successfully navigating the menu prompts, we had to hang up and go fish out our work order, and then find some sort of obscure number on the work order, and then start all over again with the disembodied Gods of Mac.

Anywho, the repair line indicated the unit was "repaired and ready for pickup." And, that was it. No info on what the problem was, or what it would cost us to escape the store with a working Mac.

So, we tossed what has become iMac's special car blankie (Invader Zim!) into the trunk and lit off for the Apple store. We arrived to find...chaos. There was the expected roiling crowd at the Genius Bar, but no indication in the splendidly minimalist store on how to insert our names into their wacky space age graphics as next in line.

Finally, a security guard took pity on us and inquired behind the sooper sekrit Employees Only door. After repeating our story to the succession of store employees who emerged, we finally weilded aforesaid work order to a puzzled clerk. He immediately brightened upon seeing a bar code, and, after checking us both for 6 forms of ID, he left to retrieve our 'pooter.

It was then just a simple matter of deciding how one actually exchanges money in an Apple store (evidently, this had never happened before), and we were homeward bound.

We also learned that Mr. Tiki will not have lived a satisfying and fulfilling life until he is in possession of an iPhone, which is (he assures us) the coolest thing EVAR in the universe.
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Mika Brzezinski = our hero.
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Dear Nerds:

In case this is not obvious, having a conversation involves actually listening to the other party.

It does not consist of staring blankly, waiting for your turn to talk, and then repeating essentially what you've already said. Three times. We heard you the first time, thanks. And, it's still not terribly interesting.

Special note to Nerd Girls: tiki is probably not going to be overly impressed by the fact that you have tits.

XOXOXOXOXO

--tiki
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Via the incredible [livejournal.com profile] scans_daily.

If you grew up in the USA, you no doubt read some Archie comics, and recall the eternal rivalry between Betty and Veronica.

As rich girl Veronica seemed not unlike Paris Hilton--albeit lacking a little yippy dogg, but blessed with a few more IQ points--we tended to root for Betty.

Until today.



Here are the original scans.

Now, we can suffer beloved characters promoting a religion with which we do not happen to agree.

We cannot, however, abide Archie and the gang blatantly spreading teh stupid.

Hey, Betty, I'd much rather be related to a monkey than to a idjit.
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O teh drama!

We miss Michael Jackson Puppet Theater. Though, we don't miss Michael Jackson one teensy little bit.
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Paris Hilton sent back to jail in hysterics

LOS ANGELES - Paris Hilton was sent screaming and crying back to jail Friday after a judge ruled that she must serve out her sentence behind bars rather than in the comfort of her Hollywood Hills home.


"It's not right!" shouted Hilton, who violated her probation in a reckless driving case. "Mom!" she cried out to her mother.


Usually, probably like just about everyone else who's reading this, we try to avoid news about Paris Hilton. But, this is just kind of awesome.

UPDATE: Olbermann is gonna do Paris Hilton Puppet Theater! *glees*

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