--- It's something like good intentions pave the road to hell. Right?
That's the quote, right? I don't know anymore. I'm foggy. I feel like
I've turned into a bobblehead doll with a two hundred pound head that
just keeps bouncing all over the damn place but, amazingly, keeps
defying the law of gravity and never crashes to the ground. Yes. You
would be correct in the assumption that is running through your mind
right now: I got the husband's junk. Ugh.
I have very little wit about me right now (like I have a great deal
when I'm not
sick, but you people are very good at humoring me, I know. Thanks) so
I'm keeping it short today and am linking to junk you should probably
read, but won't. Ok, whatever. I don't have the energy to even begin
caring right now anyway.
--- These are funny.
Sarah Jessica Parker's got a hankering to play a hick without Manolo's?
Yeah. Like that's going to happen.
Also, refreshing honesty from Mandy Moore. That girl's going to go
places because she realizes there's a very small future in being like
Britney Spears. Good for her. --- They should have given it to Turner Gill.

I mean, at least he actually cares about the Nebraska Football Program.

--- And here's wishing we'd won that big ass Powerball jackpot last week because I'd love to buy one of these.
Man oh Man. Forbes reportedly has the best collection of Faberge in the
world. And they're letting a boatload of it go. Arrrgh. I really wish I
had money because I'd love to have something made by Faberge. I don't
need an egg, although those are very cool. No, I'm talking about the
cigarette cases the Romanovs gave away as party favors. The jewelry.
The trinket boxes. All of the little, ordinary things Faberge managed
to take to a whole new level of beauty with his talent.
I love what that guy came up with. Talk about creativity. He was
amazing. Now, I suppose it's easy to bejewel all sorts of ordinary
items when your patron is sucking the treasury dry to pay for your
work. The Romanovs, no matter their horrible end, weren't exactly the
best rulers of Russia. If they'd perhaps paid a little less attention
to what type of bejeweled party favors they gave out and spent more
time and energy on social reform, it's possible that Lenin wouldn't
have had them shot in Ekaterinburg. As the Merovingian would say, it's
all about causality. But the art that survived. It's glorious. And God
only knows when a sale like this will come up again. People horde stuff
like this. Malcolm Forbes was a generous man---he shared his collection
with the world. Now, this stuff is going to be bought at auction for
astronomical prices and the eggs and all of the other goodies are going
to be shoved into the vaults of the rich and famous for all eternity.
Sigh. The best possible option here would be for Putin to make a deal
with one of the oligarchs and have them buy the stuff for the Hermitage
in St. Petersburg, and then we could all see it again. But it won't
happen. Putin' doesn't have enough cash in the treasury to compete with
the other buyers at this sale, and it's not like he's going to give the
oligarchs any ground with which to strengthen their position. It's a
shame. The Hermitage is where that collection belongs. Bummer. I still
would love to have a piece of Faberge.
--- I've officially reached the end of my rope. Back to bed. Well, back
to bed as soon as the husband puts the sheets back on. Can you believe
it? He's doing the laundry today. I should get sick more often
methinks!

Posted by: Kathy at 12:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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