Bad news today. Feeling sort of horrible and exhausted and uncomprehending. The last being ridiculous because it’s not like we didn’t know this was coming. Especially after the recurrence of the cancer in January.
But, oh, that does not make it one bit easier. Not one bit.
Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
I've been writing on the web since 2001, in one form or another. I have one foot firmly planted in today and one in a pink kitchen in a suburb in 1957. It's not that I want to live in the past; I just love the aprons. I also have a thing for horror movies, and a cat who is fighting cancer.
Like my stuff? Follow me on Twitter or drop me a line.
Oh, Meg. I'm so sorry. I feel so bad for the three of you. P
Very sorry to hear the news. My own cat Al died last year of
I kind of want one if it would take me back to the time when these fabulous commercials would interrupt As The World Turns which I watched in a decongestant haze on the couch while my mom made me buttery alphabet noodles out in the kitchen.
*Thanks to a touch of tuesday weld for the link. Laura, I love your stuff.
Life is a merry-go-round. Like the kind where you get on, chose the perfect horse, and start spinning, only to realize that you’ve had three sticks of cotton candy, ice cream, AND all those nachos, and while they were all delightful going down, they won’t be at all fun coming back up which is exactly what’s going to happen in a few moments.
Life is sort of like that.
What are you doing for Thanksgiving?
There was a time in American history, a dark and unsettling time, when varied and inappropriate persons decided to join in the newest pop culture trend: in other words, white people tried to rap. And too often, they did it in order to sell stuff.
Let’s explore this uncomfortable phenomenon.
First, let’s take a moment to remember what the real rappers were doing in the late 80s. Enjoy Eazy-E, and note that by no means is the song after the fold safe for work:
