It's still snowing on and off, in short flurries of fine ice-dust. I wonder what "the Indians" would make of it. If you Google the phrase "Little snow big snow" it picks up several Canadian blogs, but I wasn't able to find any actual source of the phrase. I still like it a lot.
This is hilarious. I think I could probably have done it just as well myself with a thick black pencil and some grey crayon. I might try it later. You just take a picture of someone famous and then draw in as many wrinkles, eye bags, grey hairs and liver spots as space allows, it seems. I wonder how much "Washington-based forensic artist Joe Mullins " got paid for this stunning piece of work.
Maybe I should commission a portrait.
I rather like this as well. If you can't be arsed with the link, it's a story on the Telegraph website saying that Facebook and Twitter users are "buying more friends" in an attempt to look popular. Exactly how insecure do you need to be to:
(a) worry about how many friends you have on Facebook/Twitter and
(b) to go to the trouble of "buying" more in?
I'm a firm believer in quality over quantity, which probably explains why I have a comparatively low number of friends on the old Facebook. I think with only one or two exceptions, they are real life friends anyway. People I have actually met. In the flesh. With talking and looking and everything. Incredible, really.
Social networking. It's a fantastically lazy way of keeping in touch, and showing everyone the holiday photos without all the driving. As it is, I can't keep up with everyone, so more would make life even more complicated. And who's impressed anyway? I can't imagine what the intended audience for these people is.
Other news: The Black Lung continues to make me cough till my eyes dry out, but with the added delightful bonus of gagging and spitting. Yeah, I bet you wish I had a live webcam link, don't you? I am on the mend I think, but it is bloody horrible.
The cleaners made it here this morning, despite the snow, and were most impressed as I hacked and retched painfully through a conversation with them.
"Oooh, listen to you - you should be in bed!"
I was sent up to my study while they chiselled 4 weeks worth of crud off the downstairs of the house. As they were leaving I had another huge coughing fit, and they stood and watched me sympathetically.
"Good job you don't have a weak bladder," said one.
"Oooh yes, if you did you'd have more than that cough to worry about."
"I was fine before I had my children. Now, I daren't cough. Not like that, anyway."