You Are Invited

Come back, I'm still alive! Elegant Choice is also alive, in his way, and feeling a bit better. Do not fear, when he does die I will liveblog his hilarious funeral for you, like so:

8:00 PM: The organist begins playing "Rictus Face, Rictus Face," a funeral march composed especially for the occasion.

8:02 PM: At the exact moment the final chord is sounded, a Baby Alive is hanged from the highest point of the church's ceiling, to signify the child we'll never have.

8:03 PM: My niece, wearing the same flower-girl dress she wore at our wedding, walks solemnly down the aisle and flings handfuls of her own hair at the weeping guests.

8:05 PM: A miniature man climbs a potted orange tree and defecates a pre-inserted rope of pearls on the altar.

Naked and Wrapped in the Flag

I spent election night at the hospital, where, contrary to what you may have heard, they have the worst election parties possible. All smelling of death, all costing you money, all full of Republican nurses named Dave who hate the blessed outcome. When Barack Obama was named President-Elect I ran squealing into the horrible hall and danced. "BABY NEEDS A DRINK," I shouted, but the most intoxicating option the hospital had to offer were vials of my husband's blood. Believe me, I considered it! My husband's blood will mess you! Ultimately I resisted, though, and the doctor released us at about 3:30 in the morning. We still don't know what's wrong, but we hope to hear something on Monday. I'll keep you updated.

Your Eyes Are Not Ready for This, Your Eyes Will Never Be Ready

When I have exhausted my daily sources of socialist libtard news, I am guilty of lurking at the most right-wing of right-wing sites just to see what's in the air. Today I visited Little Green Footballs, inhaled deeply, and caught the scent of a tawny killer. It seems that a group called "Native American's Against Obama" was moved to offer a tribute to that rarest of all creatures, the PUMA, and the result was magical.