Thursday, August 28, 2008

You've Got Male! HAHAHAHAHA!

This is one of the funniest thing I've read in a while, lol! Again, from a favorite dollboard Prego. Enjoy the laughs!


NDR: Did I share this already? Forgive me if I repeat'll get old some day! HA!
Posted by JJ in SoCali on 8/28/2008, 4:21 pm

A little boy goes to his father and asks 'Daddy, how was I born?'

The father answers, 'Well, son, I guess one day you will need to find out anyway! Your Mom and I first got together in a chat room on Yahoo. Then I set up a date via e-mail with your Mom and we met at a cyber-cafe. We sneaked into a secluded room, where your mother agreed to a download from my hard drive. As soon as I was ready to upload, we discovered that neither one of us had used a firewall, and since it was too late to hit the delete button, nine months later a little Pop-Up appeared that said:

Scroll down...You'll love this ....

"You've Got Male!"

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The Girl in the Galliano Dress

There is a seamstress over in Thailand that makes the most STUNNING doll clothes that I've seen in a while. What's even better is that she makes famous designer dresses for the dolls including one of my favorites-- John Galliano (for Christian Dior). So, let's just go to the pictures shall we? Hope you enjoy them!


Monday, August 25, 2008

More Movie Poster Fun!

I had so much fun making these! I could go on forever! (But I won't!)

TWO versions of the same movie poster!

(by the way, the real movie, Billy Elliot, is EXCELLENT!)

(Hahaha, yes, this is a REAL title. Original title was Avalanche)

Movie Fun

Heh, I found this fun create-your-own movie poster photo tool on the Internet. Here's what I've come up with so far!


Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Knoxville: Summer of 1915

These photos reminds me of a favorite song composed by Samuel Barber to the prose/poem of James Agee, printed as a prologue to A Death in the Family. The version I'm most in love with is the one sung by Kathleen Battle in her Honey and Rue recording (c.1995, Deutsche Grammophon).



...It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently and watching the street and the standing up into their sphere of possession of the trees, of birds' hung havens, hangars.


People go by; things go by. A horse, drawing a buggy, breaking his hollow iron music on the asphalt: a loud auto: a quiet auto; people in pairs, not in a hurry, scuffling, switching their weight of aestival body, talking casually, the taste hovering over them of vanilla, strawberry, pasteboard, and starched milk, the image upon them of lovers and horsemen, squared with clowns in hueless amber...


A streetcar raising its iron moan; stopping; belling and staring, stertorous; rousing and raising again its iron increasing moan and swimming its gold windows and straw seats on past and past and past, the bleak spark crackling and cursing above it like a small malignant spirit set to dog its tracks; the iron whine rises on rising speed; still risen, faints; halts; the faint stinging bell; rises again, still fainter; fainting, lifting, lifts, faints foregone: forgotten. Now is the night on blue dew.


Now is the night one blue dew, my father has drained, he has coiled the hose. Low on the length of lawns, a frailing of fire who breathes... Parents on porches: rock and rock. From damp strings morning glories hang their ancient faces. The dry and exalted noise of the locust from all the air at once enchants my eardrums.

On the rough wet grass of the back yard my father and mother have spread quilts. We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and I too am lying there... They are not talking much, and the talk is quiet, of nothing in particular, of nothing at all in particular, of nothing at all. The stars are wide and alive, they seem each like a smile of great sweetness, and they seem very near. All my people are larger bodies than mine... with voices gentle and meaningless like the voices of sleeping birds. One is an artist, he is living at home. One is a musician, she is living at home. One is my mother who is good to me. One is my father who is good to me. By some chance, here they are, all on this earth; and who shall ever tell the sorrow of being on this earth; lying, on quilts, on the grass, in a summer evening, among the sounds of the night. May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father, oh remember them kindly in their time of trouble; and in the hour of their taking away.


After a while I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep, soft smiling, draws me unto her: and those receive me, who quietly treat me, as one familiar and well-beloved in that home: but will not, oh will not, not now, not ever; but will not ever tell me who I am.


Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Lomography and Ruth!

I really love this Lomography photo-editing effect that is freely available on the Internet! It really adds an incredible depth and richness to color photographs.

The last three would make fabulous picture-postcards, don't you think? I think I'd like to give those out as Christmas cards because there is something Christmas-y about them even though there is nothing in them to suggest that time of year...