Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Ice Cubes in Inferno

The kitchen is done.

NO!

Really! I’m serious! Everything is FINALLY done! (Expect for minor touch-ups)

Look!


OK, technically, the dishwasher hasn’t been re-installed. But that’s happening today. I don’t think we could be happier about the way the concrete countertops turned out. They took forever, but very nice looking, we think.


Again, technically, the sink doesn’t work and the water isn’t hooked up to the faucet, but again, that’s happening today. (I didn’t want to take the plastic covering off the sink until the plumber was done mucking around). See the spray thing over there on the right? I think that is my favorite thing of ALL time. It is SO pretty. The whole sink extravaganza is my favorite thing. I’ll be fighting anyone who tries to take over dish washing responsibilities from me. And the sink is GINORMOUS. You could baptize a baby elephant in that trough of a sink. Though I’m not sure why you’d want to do that.


We were kind of torn about the placement of the sink. We toyed with nestling it and the faucet into the right corner so there would be more counter space on the left, but in the end we just centered it. Reason #478 why our contractor is full of awesome: he MADE the wood countertop the basin sits on. And he twisted the arm of the kitchen cabinet guy to make us a vanity. Seriously, he just grabbed some spare wood flooring and whipped that out. Totally cool.


This is in the master bath. The sink is cool, but kind of odd. To plug it up, you have to screw the little stopper down. Funky. And there is no overflow, so all 12 of are children are banished from ever using the sink. Although I had some fun last night playing “sink the boats!” with the swiveling faucet.

Both Reha and I have been very busy in the evenings, so even though we could start moving our stuff back upstairs, we haven’t had the chance. Plus, I think we are a little a-scared to occupy the space. It’s so lovely and pristine. Humans would only ruin it. :-]

Jon scribbled this mess on 12/12/07 at 09:03 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Photos Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Monday, December 10, 2007

Dinner with the Armstrongs

Hi!

Sorry, I decided to take this post down.

Decided a) it wasn’t funny enough and b) it was kinda rude.

Jon scribbled this mess on 12/10/07 at 09:46 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Thursday, December 06, 2007

I Am Not a Good Person

Because this made me laugh, the first time I saw it. It also might mean that I have a sense of humor roughly akin to that of a 12 year old boy.

Although, after watching it, I don’t know, a couple dozen times, I do feel bad for the little guy.

Jon scribbled this mess on 12/06/07 at 09:45 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

The Official Ransom Note Typography Privacy Policy

By viewing this website via your web browser, peeking over my shoulder as I write (which is super annoying and I wish you’d stop), a feed reader, or absorbing the data from the ether on your new “Web 3.0 iPhone-a-go-go;” you hereby agree to the following Privacy Policy:

We know your IP address. We know where you live. We know that the odds are high that you aren’t wearing pants right now.

We are totally cool with that. Odds are astonishingly high that we aren’t wearing pants either. Pants are for wimps.

We know what browser you are using and though we silently mock and curse you for using IE 5, we believe that you would upgrade if possible, because you are fabulous like that. We know you aren’t using that ancient pile of crappy code just to spite anyone. We’re cool with it, but as soon as you can or the uptight weenies in I.T. relent, get yourself a copy of Firefox, or even Safari, which will blow the I.T. weenies’ Star Wars quoting minds.

We here at Ransom Note Typography World HQ (a hollowed out volcano somewhere in the South Pacific) reserve the following rights, with regard to any information we gather about you, beloved and fetchingly attractive reader:

If you piss us off, we reserve the right to sell your email address to the highest bidder, or if you really torque us off, we’ll just hand your email address over to the Man-Boy Love Association or the Republican Party, though sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference.

At any given moment, you agree to have us over to your house for pie or strudel. We like pie a lot, but have lately been thinking that a nice strudel never hurt anyone.

You agree to give us your cell phone number so we can call you in a twitchy haze at 3 AM and beg you to have us back. (This is especially true if you are one of our ex-girlfriends.)

If we know your IM account, expect a random stream of inane messages from us mere SECONDS after you appear online. ("Hey!", “How are you?!”, “What’s up?!”, “Have you tried to upgrade to Leopard yet?!” “Isn’t Bush a dork?!”, “What do you think of the new Radiohead?! Isn’t it AWESOME?!") We also use far more emoticons in IM than are strictly necessary and you hereby agree not to deride us for the animated, bouncing smilie faces we are prone to using to drive home our frivolous points.

Though it isn’t required by this Privacy Policy Agreement, it’d be swell if you would buy us a new HD TV.

Do NOT, under any circumstances, send us your credit card information. Otherwise you are likely to find many, many ebay beanie baby purchases, because we just need a couple more to complete our collection.

The “unsubscribe” function on the newsletter is broken. Right now, clicking the “unsubscribe me, for the love of all that is holy, UNSUBSCRIBE!!” link adds your email address into the database three more times. We are working on it. Apologies.

All the information we collect is kept in a secure location: written in light pink ink on red construction paper in a folder labeled “Misc. Recipes—asparagus gazpacho,” hidden under my bronzed baby booties in a file cabinet covered in “Danger! Biowaste!” stickers in a storage unit in Erda, UT. (Note, NO MORE NEW READERS, PLEASE! I can’t keep making that trip to Erda every other day.)

We use Browser Cookies to keep track of your every move on this site. Hey! You! The one without the pants! You were about to click the “close window” button! Take your hands OFF the mouse right now, missy!

If you do not agree to these terms (especially that one about the pie!), please re-consider.

Jon scribbled this mess on 12/04/07 at 12:13 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link
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