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Hockey, in the news, pop culture, sports

‘prahcrastinating’ applying to jobs

Jack woke me up from my sleeping bag slumber at 7:30 a.m. Right on schedule. For all of Jack’s idiosyncrasies, he is one smart cat. But then again, he does sleep like this:

utter sleeping abandon

And then one kitty dream later, morphs into this:

no! i can't look! the world is just too much.

I’d love to somehow psychoanalyze Jack. I’ll just adopt a dog and have him do it for me. Oh, it’s going to happen. (I told you there would be pictures of my cat on here. It was practically promised. Deal.)

So I’m at Fido’s as I am every Saturday morning, editing cover letters, updating the resume yet again, tweeting, writing some fiction, gchattin’. I was thinking how incredibly tedious getting all those things done at once would be, if I had to do it on a typewriter. I’d have to start paying rent at Fido’s. But as I was looking for a photo of a typewriter, I found this:

Found in "Popular Science," Nov. 1937

Where to start. They really made that? She really has to step on the keys to type? And she really needs to wear heels and a bathing suit to do this? That dude is the champion typist? There is such a thing as a champion typist? Mammoth was an acceptable adjective? Click the photo and it will take you to a hilarious blog called Modern Mechanix with early 20th century black and white advertisements for alllll kinds of things. Worth a click.

what upppppp, hillsboro

I’m at a window seat at Fido’s, and on the other side of the window is a child with a roaring twenties like head piece with sequins and a huge flower. Her mom is in a floor-length white sundress, hair done to perfection, hot pink LV purse in tow. The mom just offered her daughter a forkful of cake across a patio table, but the daughter refused it BECAUSE SHE WAS EATING BACON WITH BOTH HANDS. My kind of kid. Make that Canadian bacon, and that’s my kid in 10 years.

Stanley Cup Finals start tonight and GOD ONLY KNOWS if NBC will actually air it in Nashville. It’s supposed to be national, but I’ve been burnt by NBC before. Thank goodness I can catch all the NHL SCF commercials on YouTube regardless. Including this year’s finals commercial:

Who’s that handsome devil (te hehe) in the New Jersey cap? The man doesn’t age. I like this commercial, but the Cup Raise is still my favorite. (Just watched it again, and it still gives me chills.) I remember the first time I saw it and after it was over, a few seconds of silence passed and then my dad said, “That was really neat.” In my father’s-speak, that’s more like, “Holy crap, that was awesome.”

I could go out to watch it, but I make a fool of myself yelling at my non-responsive television in my own home, let alone in public. Plus Jack likes to watch it too. His little head follows the puck on the screen like it’s a fly in the room. Yes, I have even turned my cat into a hockey fan. sigh.

But. Hockey on NBC means one thing:

PIERRE EFFIN' MCGUIRE

Today is brought to you by the link on that photo. Click it. ^

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