the face that haunts my days

AKA, Reason #1 for the End of Bo-Em:

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He is not surprised. He is not scared. He is not standing agape at Britney’s performance at the VMAs. Nope. He is Baby Button Eyes and he looks this way all the time. He is The Overlord. And you just never know if he’s lurking around the next corner, plotting how to make your life impossible at Bo-Em.

And no — no, not Bo-heem, dude. Bo-EM. (Gah. I HATE THAT! That right there is, like, Reason #Something!)

But you must look at this face. I know it’s hard. But you must. I want you to get to know him. Size him up. Try. It’s hard because of the inscrutable button eyes, but just climb into the mania — or whatever it is — that’s there. Because we’ll be talking about ole Baby Button Eyes. Soon.

Oh, yes, we will.

the long boo-bye

Over the next couple weeks, I’ll be posting a fair amount about the end of my wee coffeehouse, Boheme.

Eh? What’s that you’re talking about, Trace? Did I miss something here?

No, you haven’t missed anything; I just haven’t talked about it yet. But, basically, this has been in the works for a little while now. At the end of this month, little Boheme will be no more. There are myriad reasons why — all of which I expect to beat you about the head with at some point in this epic tale of woey woe woe, so do try to calm yourselves about all THAT.

Please don’t feel sorry for me — on many levels, I am and will be relieved.

On the other levels — well, let’s just say I’ve learned a thing or two.

More to come later.

book covers

I took this from Sheila — I don’t think she’ll mind.

The challenge here is:

Go to the advanced book search on Amazon, type your first name into the Title field, and post the most interesting/amusing cover that shows up.

All righty. Here’s what I got. I’m posting three things:

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Tracey Emin, by artist Tracey Emin

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And this, Tea with Tracey by Tracey Caswell, subtitled “The Woman’s Survival Guide to Bermuda.”

Uhm, really? Really?? I’ve been to Bermuda and you mostly have to survive the humidity and cricket and looking the wrong way when you’re crossing the street. Oh, and the lush tropical beauty and the pastel-painted cottages with white-washed roofs and the scrumptious food and the friendly people — yes, it IS very taxing:
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Beware. You may not get out alive.

Oh, finally — this came up as well, the Daniel Green Women’s Tracey Washable Slipper, which one should ONLY wear when one is finally toddling off to the nursing home — with their “Woman’s Survival Guide to — ACKK!!! — Bermuda” hidden deep within one’s fleecy housecoat:
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and “the best thing ever: america” is ……

(The Ultimate Trash Talker)
*NSYNC!!! (Justine Henin BEL)
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(Or, The Monster *NSYNC as he-they-it was dubbed here.)

IN 2 QUICK SETS, *NSYNC EASILY DISPATCHED

PostSecret (Svetlana Kuznetsova RUS)
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TO BECOME THE OFFICIAL WINNER OF “THE BEST THING EVER: AMERICA”!!

CONGRATULATIONS!!!

*NSYNC IS The Best Thing Ever: America.

It IS. They ARE. DEAL with it and move ON.

SOMEHOW.

Later outside the locker room, a swarm of intrepid tennis reporters waited and waited and waited for a comment from PostSecret.

PostSecret, however, had gone back into hiding ……

To our winner *NSYNC: Send me your address (addresses?), your coffee preferences (light, dark, etc.), and if you like it ground or whole bean. ‘Mmmkay??

So let’s all join in and offer our heartiest congratulations to The Best Thing Ever: America — *NSYNC!!

Or your trash-talkiest congratulations. You know. As the Spirit moves. 😉

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR PLAYING!! I HOPE YOU HAD FUN — I KNOW I DID!!

results — the best thing ever: america

AND THEN …… THERE WERE TWO!

(Sorry about the lateness! I had computer issues!)

Okay.

In Semifinal action today …..

PostSecret (Svetlana Kuznetsova RUS)
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SIGNED, SEALED, AND DELIVERED CRUSHING DEFEAT TO

Google (Anna Chakvetadze RUS)
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And on the birthdate of Google, no less!

Later in the locker room, Google, racked with cyber sobs, scribbled this card to her opponent:

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ANNNND IN OTHER SEMIFINAL ACTION ….

*NSYNC (Justine Henin BEL)
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NA-NA-NA-NA-NAAAAED OVER A BELEAGUERED

Gene Wilder (Venus Williams USA)
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Later in the locker room, a still-sobbing Google found Gene Wilder crumpled in a corner, pale, wild-eyed, wild-haired, and listened in horror as he admitted to a long ago deed, dark and detestable: He himself had created the instrument of his defeat — The Monster *NSYNC. At this shocking confession, Google redoubled her blubs, threw in some shrieks, and became generally unstable, upsetting the balance of cyberspace. In the midst of all this emotional untidiness, The Monster *NSYNC barreled, roaring, into the locker room and Wilder yowled:

But it gets worse, MUCH worse! HE’S GOT A ROTTEN BRAIN! IT’S ROTTEN, I TELL YA! ROTTEN!

To which The Monster *NSYNC roared back: RAAAAAAAAAAAA!

And Google wisely interjected: Ixnay on the ottenray.

Silence. Then bedlam. Cameras and notepads clattered to the floor as reporters shrank from the soul-shrivelling “RAAAAAAAAAAS” of The Monster *NSYNC. Later one intrepid chick reporter dared to return for her notes. As she tiptoed toward the locker room, she heard it — the soft strains of a violin and Gene Wilder, Google, and The Monster *NSYNC crooning ………

If you’re blue and you
Don’t know where to
Go to, why don’t you
Go where fashion sits

Uuuttin’ on da Iiiiitz!

Diff’rent types
Who wear a day coat
Pants with stripes
And cutaway coat
Perfect fits

Uuuttin’ on da Iiiiitz ………….

See you on the court for the Final, peeps.

and the winner of the best thing ever: america is ……

Trash-talk!!!

HA! Fooled you, did I? Thought I just declared a winner all autocratically, did you?

Nope. I’m just loving all the trash-talking in the comments of this game. Also, the Boo-Byes. Dino’s (WordGirl) Boo-Bye Speech here was particularly affecting. So hooray for Dino’s losing. And *NSYNC, Old Glory, Mark Twain, and Opportunity are just generally talkin’ smack back and forth. *NSYNC penned a patriotic new pledge of allegiance and recited it to Old Glory here. I was just so moved. Really. It was almost as good as that Oompa-Loompa song by, uhm ….. oh, yeah. ME!

Just wanted to say that all you goobers are killing me. That’s all. Continue with the trash talk.

Oh, and the tennis. Yes, the tennis.