Thursday, April 18, 2024

Bobservations

At one end of our back deck we have a huge Holly bush, roughly ten feet tall, and I am the one who usually trims it. I can reach a great deal of it from the ground and roughly three-quarters of the top from the deck but need a ladder to completely trim to top of Holly. Last weekend, I hauled a ladder from the garage and set it up alongside the Holly bush, and then called Carlos, who was edging the lawn along the fence line, to come hold the ladder while I finished my job.

Afterwards, he went back to his mowing while I carted the ladder back into the garage and then mowed the back lawn and cleaned up some other shrubbery that needed a cut.

Later, I was in the office and Carlos came back and said:

“Do I need to put the ladder away?”

“No, I put it away when I was finished.”

“Okay.”

We did some inside housework, and then I cooked dinner and after that I was back in the office doing some more paperwork when Carlos appeared in the doorway and said:

“Do I need to put the ladder away?”

“No, I put it away when I was finished.”

“Okay.”

“Um, are you Groundhogging me or gaslighting me?”

“Why?”

“Because you asked me that question a few hours ago.”

“I don’t remember … ”

Groundhogging, I think.

This Tuxedo Memory—with a little help from MaxGoldberg and Consuelo—is from August 2015:

“And, speaking of cats ... the other morning, ready to leave for work, I walked into the bedroom to make the bed and saw that.

I backed out slowly … and made the bed when I got home from work that night.

It’s not that the cats rule our house it’s just that meow meow meow meow rule. Uh oh.

Sidenote: my dear friend Laura saw this picture when I posted it to Facebook and saw that piece of pillow sticking out from the pillowcase and asked if it was some kind of corncob-shaped sex toy or something.

It isn't; we don't leave those out on the bed for the cats ... not anymore.”

Poor Consuelo, left alone there on the side of the bed with no cat cuddling her.

The transcript of an FBI interview made public last week details how Walt Nauta, an aide to Hair Furor, characterized what was the boxes of documents found at Mar-Illegal:

News clippings, hairspray, and shampoo.

Seriously. Boxes of news clippings, hairspray, and shampoo in the bathrooms, the ballroom and under the pool.

In January 2018, when reports first surfaced that her husband had paid off a porn star for sex, Melanie was furious, and jetted off to Palm Beach, leaving her cheating bastard of a husband in DC. And now that the criminal trial against Hair Furor has started, Melanie has not appeared with her cheating bastard of a husband in court; she has privately said this case is “his problem” and not hers, but also claims the case is election interference.

I wonder how she’ll feel when Stormy testifies to having sex with Hair Furor, all the gory, orange, mushroom sized details of it all.

There isn’t a jet that can take her far enough away.

Former congressman Madison Cawthorn reportedly crashed his vehicle into a Florida Highway Patrol cruiser on Monday; Alethea Shapiro shared on X that she was driving on I-75 at around 4:30 PM when a black sports car began tailgating her:

“I ignored it, assuming the person would go around me if they were so impatient, [but] when they didn’t I just decided to change lanes so I didn’t have to stress it.”

Minutes later, when traffic came to a standstill, she says that same vehicle ran into an FHP cruiser; FHP spokesperson Greg Bueno confirmed that a patrol vehicle was rear-ended by a car driven by a 28-year-old man from Cape Coral; public records show Cawthorn lives in Cape Coral.

The story doesn’t mean much since Cawthorn is a nobody once again, but after that video of his nekkid fun times with his male cousin or friend made the rounds last year, the headline:

Madison Cawthorn Rear-Ends Florida Police Officer

… took on a whole new meaning.

For the second day this week, Mr-Former-Fake-One-Term-Twice-Impeached-Currently-Four-Time-Criminally-Indicted-Not-My-President-Gurl  fell sleep in court; CNN contributor Norm Eisen tweeted:

“[Thing 45] is asleep again.”

After Maggie Haberman’s reporting for The New York Times about Napping Donald became a huge source for mockery from the media and from the Biden campaign, Hair Furor was pissy about the coverage and Haberman says he “glared” at her in court.

Well, at least he was awake.

I am heartbroken, heartbroken, I say to learn that "The Golden Bachelor" couple Gerry Turner and Theresa Nist are getting divorced after three months of marriage.

Who ever thought you could meet twenty-plus women, date most of them, schtup a few, fall in love with a couple, pick one of those and get married all in the space of a few months and that it wouldn’t last?

I mean, besides me?

This is Mark Romain, openly gay male dancer at RuPaul’s Las Vegas Drag Show, and one of the men chosen to receive a drag queen makeover on this season’s Drag Race. Hot and sexy and gay, but Would You Hit it?

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

Architecture Wednesday: Kinderhook Farmhouse

This is an old farmhouse in Kinderhook, New York, y’all, but she’s been well-maintained and nicely improved since she was built in 1789; yes, 1789. And she’s a big one, too, spreading out over 4,500 square feet with five bedrooms and four-and-a-half bathrooms sitting on a gorgeous, tree-filled 2.86-acre lot with mature trees, wide lawns and even a pool.

This center hall home is a prime example of an Adam-style Federal, developed to bring a lighter and more elegant feel to the Georgian architecture of previous eras. The design moved away from the strict mathematical proportions previously found in Georgian rooms and introduced curved walls and striking color schemes … like the greens; do I love me some green rooms.

The current designer-owners of the home have breathed new life into this neoclassic style, with a striking mix of color and form, and yet maintained some of the great traditional aspects of the house, including handblown glass windows, a thin, curved banister with wonderfully simple balustrades, three working fireplaces, and several more decorative mantels.

The original, stately farmhouse is surrounded by Samascott Orchards and could have been mine had I acted sooner and coughed up the $1.8 million asking price.

Damn my procrastination!