"Research carried out at the University of Southampton has concluded that
participants in drug trials should be better informed about the
potential significant benefits and possible side-effects of placebos."
Now, I don't want to knock placebos. An oncologist invented that flower essences thingamagiggy because of the research coming out on the positive effects of placebos, and he had nothing better.
But I really wish they hadn't brought up the possible side-effects of placebos, because now I KNOW I'm going to suffer from them, hypochondriac that I am.
At any rate, when I found out about this research, I laughed out loud, and that's worth something.
I sent a postcard to my sister this week that said "Does this postcard smell funny?"
What does funny smell like, anyway? Certainly that postcard!
Something wonderful. Something horrible. A voice for change. Philosopher. Artist. Lover. The one, the only. Completely amazing and totally annoying. Journal. Of. Clarica.
28 June, 2012
13 June, 2012
My Boring Ass Life
No, no NO! Not *my* boring-ass life. Kevin Smith's.
I checked this book out from the library because I really wanted to read a different book that he wrote (can't remember what) but this was the one I could check out at the time.
As storylines go, it sucks rocks. It's like a year's worth of blog entries of his day-to-day life, and I swear to god he includes every loaf he pinches out. Which reminds me I have to look up what a beer shit is, and I'm a bit trepidatious, because there is no eraser for the brain, and we all know the internet has no brakes. And I digress.
It's not really that it's a fascinating insight into a more-interesting-than-mine film-making life, and I'm definitely not one of those guys who follow the gossip rags to live vicariously on the publication of celebrity. That stuff's in there, but it is embedded in a matrix of the everyday stuff that doesn't really make a good story, but make a good life. And I'm not even halfway through.
This was apparently all published on his view askew online forum, which I don't read because I'm not that much of a movie geek. Or a Kevin Smith Geek. Though I do appreciate his work, even this boring-ass-yet-can't-put-it-down book. Kudos.
I checked this book out from the library because I really wanted to read a different book that he wrote (can't remember what) but this was the one I could check out at the time.
As storylines go, it sucks rocks. It's like a year's worth of blog entries of his day-to-day life, and I swear to god he includes every loaf he pinches out. Which reminds me I have to look up what a beer shit is, and I'm a bit trepidatious, because there is no eraser for the brain, and we all know the internet has no brakes. And I digress.
It's not really that it's a fascinating insight into a more-interesting-than-mine film-making life, and I'm definitely not one of those guys who follow the gossip rags to live vicariously on the publication of celebrity. That stuff's in there, but it is embedded in a matrix of the everyday stuff that doesn't really make a good story, but make a good life. And I'm not even halfway through.
This was apparently all published on his view askew online forum, which I don't read because I'm not that much of a movie geek. Or a Kevin Smith Geek. Though I do appreciate his work, even this boring-ass-yet-can't-put-it-down book. Kudos.
09 June, 2012
An Invitation
A funny thing happened to me on the way to... wherever it is I'm going. I got distracted! But I'm here today to tell you a riveting story... About Last Night.
I woke myself up. Because of a dream sneeze. Seriously! I was dreaming that I was crashing at a friend's house, and his whole family came by in the middle of the night to drop of leftovers and har de har me. I think we gave the leftovers to a homeless waif. In the parking garage next door.
And I sneezed--in the dream. NOT in real life. JUST in the dream. It was pretty gross, like there was snot all over my arm and I cleaned it up and all, but I seriously wanted to take a dream shower.
I woke myself up. Because of a dream sneeze. Seriously! I was dreaming that I was crashing at a friend's house, and his whole family came by in the middle of the night to drop of leftovers and har de har me. I think we gave the leftovers to a homeless waif. In the parking garage next door.
And I sneezed--in the dream. NOT in real life. JUST in the dream. It was pretty gross, like there was snot all over my arm and I cleaned it up and all, but I seriously wanted to take a dream shower.
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