The Internet has gotten confusing…and possibly dirty.

This Friday I depart for the ever-exotic West Lafayette, IN, to visit one of my dear friends before she graduates from Purdue University in a few weeks and makes a big southern migration back to Atlanta. Four of us are flying up together for a weekend of shenanigans, which we will be performing under the above weather conditions. I, for one, am jazzed to finally get to employ my winter clothes this season, though am glad we’re only going for two nights since winter clothes take up more suitcase space, and I’m not about to check a bag.

Stafford, you’re in the NFL now, and I bet you have allllll the iPods you could ever want! I bet your iPods even have iPods! And I bet you never go to the genius bar, you just go get new iPods!

Somehow I just sucked myself into watching youtube videos about UGA/GT and found this.

Ok, I say “somehow,” but I know exactly how it happened. We met Roscoe Dash, one half of the “All The Way Turnt Up” team, at the game on saturday, and will probably be in some youtube footage soon from his live performance on a small patch of grass on Tech campus, and I was looking for it. THERE, I SAID IT.

(via rbowen)

He’s right — he couldn’t. Neither could @mikemoore82. I loved every second of it.

Brooklyn and I were talking Google Analytics yesterday, because we are egocentric people who like to know the minutia of who’s stalking us and how they got there, and I thought my analytics had broken when I changed my tumblr theme — but I must have fixed it and forgotten, because it’s fine, and here is a snippet of the report.

All of these searches make sense to me, except for “lost her arms” — and yes, I’m going to make someone’s life more frustrating by typing that phrase into my blog and making it come up as a result again, but I’ve got to know more. Did they get here because I said something about losing weight in my arms? Did they really want to know more about someone who lost her arms? Did they lose their arms and were they looking for a support group of other Buster Bluth-types? There are too many unanswered questions left from this one little search term.

I am all for new businesses, especiall locally-owned restaurants — I am the heiress to a local barbecue fortune, after all. But naming your restaurant in child-speak and giving it a logo that’s a face made out of sandwich toppings is really asking for trouble. No one is ever, ever going to want to say they’re going to “Sammiches n’ Stuff,” because no one is ever going to want to audibly say “sammiches,” because they will sound like a three-year-old. And what is “stuff?” No one wants to eat “stuff” — stuffing, yes, but not stuff.

Maybe by the time they actually open, as this place is still under construction, they will have come up with a real name and this won’t be an issue. If you’re reading this, SNS, take heed.

getsmartblog:

To say that I love pumpkin is an understatement.  I mean, I really enjoy pumpkin… pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pie, pumpkin ice cream and now… pumpkin tart.  To be specific, it’s actually Vanilla Bourbon Pumpkin Tart and it is DELICIOUS.  Trust me, you want to make this!  And contributing to Thanksgiving cooking will definitely make you feel like a grown up— just don’t call yourself that, because thanks to Gilmore Girls we all know that…

Lorelai: You know the one thing that grown-ups don’t call themselves?
Rory: What?
Lorelai: Grown-ups.  They say “adults,” and they pronounce it “aa-dults.”

Get the Recipe Here

I was going to make an out-of-the-can pumpkin pie, but maybe I’ll get ambitious and make this instead. It will all depend on how crazy the grocery store is when I get off work at noon!

This is a screenshot of when I was working in iMovie last week, which I managed to teach myself and make a decent video in for work. This is not that impressive a feat, I don’t think — probably about as impressive as teaching yourself Microsoft Word. But anyway, the point here is that under “Initial Photo Placement” in these slideshow options, there is a Ken Burns option.

One day I would like to be so ingratiated into culture that my name becomes a term for something that companies write into computer software. If you chose the “Kristen Shaw” option, it would just make everything REALLY AWESOME.

“The errant ham ‘hit me full long in the face and ‘bout knocked me cuckoo, but I’m fine,’ a laughing Deen told WXIA-TV. She iced her nose to keep down the swelling.”

It probably slipped right out of someone’s hands because it was coated in butter, like all things involved with Paula Deen.