| The old xanga is dead.
Long live the new xanga.
Seriously, I like having everything neatly in its place. Well, maybe not in physical reality, where everything in my life is always askew. But at least in virtual reality, I'm moving everything to Blogger and Google. They own the world; we might as well acknowledge this and move on.
So here is the new xanga, not on xanga, but Blogger. With new news and pictures of Vermont and all sorts of sidebars and condiment bars and high fives.
Yes!
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| Rock and Roll Hall of Shame
Tonight at Club two sixth graders got into an argument over whether "emo" meant you cut your wrists.
What would the Promise Ring say about this?
My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco will pay at the Great White Thrown Judgment for their impertinence!
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| In conversation, whilst walking to the swimming pool with the Club.
9-year-old kid: We should be be able to walk to the pool on our own.
Me: I don't think you're old enough yet.
Niner: Well, nine is the new 18, Jonny.
Me: Then what's 18?
Niner: 18 is the new 89.
Me: So I'm as good as dead? Thanks.
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| Dino Hospital
Today at Club a little girl asked if she could leave her painting of a dinosaur egg overnight in the computer lab "to heal." She sounded very sure of herself. First I asked her if she meant "to hatch." No. Then I asked her if she meant "to dry." No. Apparently, the dinosaur egg had been hurt inside its mother's stomach and it needed a night in the lab to heal before she could take it home. It's sitting there right now. Hopefully on the mend.
(That snippet above is all I could fit in the scanner. I wish you could see the whole thing. I kind of want to keep it.)
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