swinged by a couple of blogs during the first half of my shift and found some interesting links:::
Fantasy, Ancient, and Symbolic Fonts http://www.geocities.com/timessquare/alley/1557/fonts1.htm
Hobo Signs & Symbols http://www.slackaction.com/signroll.htm#
Academy of Sorcery http://www.academyofsorcery.com/index.htm
:::so, where do I sign up:::
The Best page in the Universe http://maddox.xmission.com/
and for PC users:
http://www.tomwilson.com/david/accents/alt_key_chars.doc
Saw a funny “article” made by a fellow “blogger” (what a term) To the owner of this article, I forgot to take note of your url. Pahiram lang
ay white girl pala sya…pa-borrow!
Oneness
You know the kind of toothbrush holder that has four holes in the top, so the average American family can share it? That’s the type Doug and I have in the master bath.
Two toothbrushes, four holes. Lots of space to stake a claim. Perfect, right?
When I place my wet toothbrush in the holder, I put it directly opposite his, with the bristles facing out, on the side closest to my sink. Kind of like when I turn away from him in a queen-sized bed, and prefer to face my end table.
When Doug puts his brush away, he snuggles it into the vacant hole right next to my brush, even if mine is still dripping wet, and he points the bristles squarely in my direction.
What’s more, I am gathering evidence that he even turns my brush’s bristles to face his so they’re nearly touching, almost kissing.
It kind of freaks me out. It’s like our toothbrushes have boundary issues.
The thing is, our toothbrushes are identical, having been free gifts from the dentist in exchange for giving him our retirement money every six months. Sometimes, if they’re nestled too close together in their little spot, I cannot tell them apart. The older they get, the closer they come to resemble each other, even though he is much harder on his than I am on mine.
My little brush struggles in vain to hang onto its identity. They’re a great couple, but sometimes this oneness thing can be overwhelming.
There’s a brand new purple toothbrush in the linen closet that I’m thinking of using. If I do, I’ll sidle it up nice and close to that white one in the next hole over, and lose my fear of confusing one with the other.
And then I’ll hop in bed and roll to the middle to kiss the man I love.