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My parents and I went to Wal*Mart last night (I picked up some backup shampoo for when what I've got runs out) and we looked in the bin of discount books. We found a Beatles book (I think I already own all of the books worth owning- Mark Lewishon's two Beatles chronicles [every day in their lives and what they did on that day, one book featuring every day they ever recorded anything ever and another on what they did outside the recording booth], which I find myself studying every so often, The Beatles Anthology itself, the complete book of Beatles lyrics, George's autobiography where he published the original handwritten lyrics of all of his best songs and talked about them, and a few picture books) but this one looked really interesting, written by a man who went on the Beatles' two US tours with them as a broadcast journalist (the only one who toured with them) and so we bought it. I've been reading it and it's fascinating and very weird (he keeps talking about people getting broken limbs and head trauma at concerts, which is incomprehensible).
Last night when we got home I had one of those found-ten-bucks-in-your-jacket-pocket-from-last-winter moments, when I opened the book and found out it also contained a CD of 60 minutes of Beatles interviews.
So that was cool. (I read in Prevention magazine from some crazy sappy religious quasi-hippie lady that you should cherish these moments, so I am. Because you can always get sound medical advice from a magazine that tells you not to drink caffeine so you don't get high blood pressure on one page and then three pages later tells you to drink five cups a day, no exaggeration, if you don't want to get dementia. But it was a free subscription and this lady's column is on the back page so I don't think they expect you to listen to her anyway. Whatevs.)
Anyway, I've taught my parakeet how to shake hands (um... sort of, I put my finger near his foot and he grabs my finger with his foot and I move it up and down and then he bites my finger, but not hard) but my other parakeet is not interested in shaking hands (actually, I tell Mookie to shake paw, because I think it's cuter. Perhaps Rocco is simply insulted by my baby language, idk.)
Also, I've used a lot of parenthesis. So, time for bye byes now. Kbye.
-8:47 AM
Last night when we got home I had one of those found-ten-bucks-in-your-jacket-pocket-from-last-winter moments, when I opened the book and found out it also contained a CD of 60 minutes of Beatles interviews.
So that was cool. (I read in Prevention magazine from some crazy sappy religious quasi-hippie lady that you should cherish these moments, so I am. Because you can always get sound medical advice from a magazine that tells you not to drink caffeine so you don't get high blood pressure on one page and then three pages later tells you to drink five cups a day, no exaggeration, if you don't want to get dementia. But it was a free subscription and this lady's column is on the back page so I don't think they expect you to listen to her anyway. Whatevs.)
Anyway, I've taught my parakeet how to shake hands (um... sort of, I put my finger near his foot and he grabs my finger with his foot and I move it up and down and then he bites my finger, but not hard) but my other parakeet is not interested in shaking hands (actually, I tell Mookie to shake paw, because I think it's cuter. Perhaps Rocco is simply insulted by my baby language, idk.)
Also, I've used a lot of parenthesis. So, time for bye byes now. Kbye.
-8:47 AM
