New Zagg® iPad skin ...

Taken at Fraggle Rock

you can't see me ...

Taken at Fraggle Rock

Cleaning the computer ... yuck

Taken at Fraggle Rock

Holy ... huh ?

It's an oldie , but it's funny  :

 

Umm ....

there are some days where I feel I just don't have anything to say ( well - most days nothing important anyways ).

then there are the days where someone says it for me ....

*sigh*  I do love Chuck & Beans ...

Sweet Puppy Dreams ...

Taken at Fraggle Rock

Breaking News OJ Simpson Confesses to Murder of Ex-Wife Nicole Brown Simpson | Celebrity

Reportedly, a producer for the "Oprah Winfrey Show" pulled the confession out of him; and he will reportedly repeat his story during a televised interview with Oprah.

Oprah made headlines a couple weeks ago when she revealed that she had a dream that O.J. confessed his role in the murders to her. Now it looks as if her dream has come true. Leave it to Oprah to get the confession of the century.

Reportedly the initial interview took place in prison, where Simpson is serving a nine-year sentence for kidnapping and robbery.

Although Simpson is allegedly admitting to the murder, reports are that he is claiming that he stabbed Nicole in self-defense. That's a huge pill to swallow after evidence in the trial.

The former NFL running back and hall of famer was acquitted after being charged for the murders of his ex-wife and Ron Goldman, meaning he can't be re-tried for the murders.

Simpson has flirted with the idea of telling the world his connection to the murder. In 2006, he wrote a book called If I Did it; confessions of a killer, but the book was never published. 

This story is developing...

NOTE: VERY GRAPHIC PHOTOS

Lindsay Lohan: Tested Positive for Alcohol, So She's Headed Back to Court		(Video) Lindsay Lohan: Why She Canceled on Matt Lauer		(Poll) Breaking News: Lindsay Lohan Fails Sobriety Test		(Video) Lindsay Lohan Hustles from Home While On House Arrest

via askmichaelcohen.com

wonder if he can be re-tried ??

After a lot of thought ...

I have come to a decision in the great Katy vs Gaga debate ....

Katy.

But then I've always favored more the "bublegum" pop ...

1-04_Firework.m4a Listen on Posterous

Maybe I'm just not that into you ....

It's Pride weekend here in Denver and throughout most the country, and while our celebration is one of the largest in the U.S. I feel a bit *meh* about the whole thing this year.

Maybe it's the insomnia that even an ambien could alieve talking or maybe it's that I'm just not really happy with myself these days, but I think I will sit this year's festivities out. I will toast those who have gone before me making the Pride celebration even possible and reflect on my life whilst reading a book ( ok my iPad ) ...

and while I'm toasting ,  I will that the Gods that I picked a perfect time to take 5 days off of work ...

In brightest day, in blackest night ...

Very rarely do I go to a movie opening day anymore. I hate the crowds, the people who think they're watching the movie in their living room and have to yell out to the theater every little thing that happens onscreen, the fight for at least one armrest ( or the one-chair-between-everyone-lest-we-appear-gay rule ).  

But the hype for Green Lantern got to me ( and the fact that I could see Ryan Reynolds semi-naked ). So I dragged the b/f & roomie with me to see it.

Thoughts ?  

1) Not as "meh" as Super 8

2) Not as forgetful as Thor

3) Did I mention Ryan Reynolds semi-naked ?? 

4) I still can't wait for Cap'n America & Harry Potter ....

Movie Gumbo ...

I LOVE gumbo .....

and I really liked Super 8.  A movie made up from a stew of better and more memorable films; a little of this movie , a dash of that one , sprinkle liberally with fond memories & there you have it.  

This movie felt like one that I had missed as a 12-13 year old , right down to the film grain. Kids right outta The Goonies , at times the suspense right out of Jaws, and the  monster right outta Cloverfield. It might have tried a little too hard to tug at the heart strings ( trying to get the E.T. vibe ) but it didn't quite earn that ..... still I would definitely recommend it to anyone who isn't into Superheroes , Sequels or bad Rom-Coms.

Why I love and hate having a smartphone - The Oatmeal

via theoatmeal.com

-- amen --

United - Old vs New(ish)

Taken at Denver International Airport

new hat ...

Taken at Fraggle Rock

Sunday / Funday ...

Something fun to start off your Sunday with a smile ....

 

GUMBALL WARS : 

 

Gumball Wars from Scott Thierauf on Vimeo.

Paul Revere's Ride ...

Saying this woman is dumber than a box of hair would be an insult to hair ...  

I think she missed this day in grade-school civics class :

Paul Revere's Ride / Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  ~

 

Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,-- One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm." Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Wanders and watches, with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,-- By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay,-- A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now he gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns. A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, black and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadow brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British Regulars fired and fled,--- How the farmers gave them ball for ball, >From behind each fence and farmyard wall, Chasing the redcoats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm,--- A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo for evermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

The Hard Life of a Puppy II ...

Taken at Fraggle Rock