If you have small children or work with small children, you've probably heard of them. Otherwise, maybe not so much... Until recently I'd never heard of either.
But now I have.
Apparently, they generally only infect babies. So the interweb tells me... Of course, should someone who is — let's say — prone to skin problems come in contact with a miniature infecting machine... Well, in such a case one might find oneself spending 3.5 hours in a hospital on a Saturday night trying to get treatment for such a condition.
The law of probability also dictates that the chances of this happening less than 48 hours before one leaves on holidays are approximately 42x10∞:1. That's an infinity symbol in case you can't see it.
The universe can bite me.
'Cept it might want to wait, 'cause I'm busy being gross right now. You know, grosser than usual.
Discrimination on the basis of family status is illegal in this country. You know that, right? Oops. I guess not.
With cheese, Sars
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There's another ad too, where 'real' Canadians talk about why they'll vote for him. One chick says she likes that he has small children. Either they're promoting illegal discrimination or that woman's a pedophile.
You might be amused. But then, you might not. What the hell do I know?
Bah. That reminds me... Next weekend it's back to school for Sars. And this time I have to take a strategy course. Or marketing. Some crap like that. Ugh. Satellite campus = crap for courses to choose from.
My garden is full of mint. Last year there was one little sprig in the corner. Now it's everywhere.That's okay. It helps to combat the smell of Miracle Poo®.
I just like this picture.
Anne, these are your shoes. Do you want them back?
This is my kitchen. Mis-matched chairs. Table designed by moi (with a little help from Ikea by way of a local yard sale). Framed Sandman and Japanese graphic novel clips. Lisa's PhD thesis as art. Oh, and some Christmas lights that I forgot to take down for nine months.